#right up there with “I’ll let you reload

[thkmadame]

“Say that shit about Claudia to my face!”

[phantomrose96]

Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)

Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this

...

Danny’s eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tucker’s head.

 “God. Fucking…” Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” Danny asked, as if he hadn’t been watching Tucker’s game the whole time.

“You. You’re up. I died.”

Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.

“Oops,” Danny said.

“Not your best work.” And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. “Is it Vlad?”

“No. Well, yes,” Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tucker’s mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Danny’s chair. “But at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.” Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. “It was just weird.”

“I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s definitely not the first time your dad’s gotten some math wrong,” Tucker said. “He blows up like three things a week doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he doesn’t care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.” Danny’s expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. “Vlad did, I mean.”

“Does any of the math actually work?” Sam offered from Tucker’s desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. “Like, it’s all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?”

“I think they follow some math. It’s not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, or—well the thermos DIDN’T work—until I made it work.”

The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.

“So I’m wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe they’re gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.”

“Well the order is backwards, for starters,” Sam said. “Thermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.”

“Sam’s right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?” Tucker loaded up the next level. “It was their portal, and their math, and it worked. There’s a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.”

Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ask Vlad. He’s got a portal.”

“Like Vlad’s gonna tell me.”

“Just promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. He’s easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.”

“It’s not your turn,” Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tucker’s wiggling grasp.

“I’ll let you do two in a row for your next turn.”

Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.

The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.

…

Danny hadn’t really meant to stay the night at Tucker’s place. They’d just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.

So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.

He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.

He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. “Don’t come home. Make up an excuse.”

“…Fuck,” Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.

He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Don’t come home, Don’t come home, Don’t come home.

They knew. He’d fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if they’d taken the “We accept you” angle.

Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?

Fuck.

Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasn’t actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.

Tucker’s ball of blankets rustled from the couch. “Mmph?” he asked, articulately.

“I have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,” Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. “I think they know.”  

Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.

…

Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie style—open the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?

“—absolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.”

Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.

Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.

The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazz’s expression he did not notice until second—whites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadn’t won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.

He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.

Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion on their face. It wasn’t the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.

It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.

“Danny,” Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. “Things are…! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, I’ll finish clearing up—there’s a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so I’ve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to them—”

“Danny,” Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. “Danny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. I’m just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I won’t be mad. Whatever the answer is, I won’t be mad. I just want an honest answer.”

She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.

“Were you there when the portal turned on?” she asked.

“No, I wasn’t,” Danny answered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. “It just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? That’s what you two said.”

“That was our guess ,but we don’t really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.”

“Yeah. I mean the portal’s gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone that’s—gotta be huge EMF.” Danny’s focus bounced between his mother’s eyes. “Just a guess. I really don’t know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.”

Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and that’s when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.

“Have you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that don’t feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like it’s changed in a way you can’t explain?”

She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.

“Uh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it ‘puberty’ there.”

“Danny,” Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. “Did you die in the machine?”

A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.

“I’M alive!” Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. “Look at me. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only math that works,” Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. “If one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I don’t think it was Jazz.”

This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. ‘They can’t kill me I’m already dead,’ was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.

He’d buried that worry, already. They weren’t allowed to bring it back.

“Look… at me!” Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. “Look how super alive I am! I’m awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. I’ve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! I’m not a ghost-expert but ghosts don’t have that.”

This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never ‘one of them.’ That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.

He was not dead.

“If you died in the portal, your ghost wouldn’t have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then you’d be…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know what you’d be, but you wouldn’t be alive.”

“Dad,” Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. “What an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You don’t know that! Dad you’re tired, and just because you weren’t able to solve your math problem in one night doesn’t mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said I’d help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.”

Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Danny’s face.

Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this. This is weird. I’m gonna go to school now.”

“Danny, I promise they’re just—”

Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.

It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. He’d prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. He’d duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.

Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.

…

Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterday’s sweat now that he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.

No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.

“Vlad!” he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.

Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vlad’s laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.

Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.

The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasn’t touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.

Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.

His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.

“Vlad!” Danny called again.

Nothing.

He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.

His feet clacked. His breath puffed.

“Vlad!”

He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.

“Vlad. I swear to god Vlad.”

He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.

Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadn’t previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.

“Ah, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.” The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.

Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.

“Vlad.”

“So I’ve been hearing.”

“I need you to explain the portal.”

“Ah, I see you’ve spoken to your parents.” Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. “Last I heard they weren’t taking the news very well.”

“What news. What did you tell them?”

“Me? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but… We know how stubborn your parents can be.”

“What answer?”

“That you’re dead, Daniel.”

Shock washed like ice down Danny’s spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.

“Well, I suppose there’s still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if there’s any benefit to that at all.”

“I’m a halfa. We are halfas,” Danny said.

“A silly made up word by a silly child,” Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. “We are dead.”

“I’m not dead,” and Danny’s words were small, and they were childish.

“You are. I am. Embrace it. It’s nicer this way.” Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. “It’s very freeing. After you’ve died already what is there left to fear?”

“I’m alive.”

“You’re a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body don’t work anymore, but ghosts don’t work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.” Vlad’s smile brushed his lips again, warm. “It’s nice to share this with you. Isn’t it nice to share things with people?”

Danny’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. “I’m not dead,” he declared.

“Your wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. You’ll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but they’re trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. It’s what creates one. You’ll necrotize in places but it’s okay, because you’ll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if you’re too sentimental about the puppet you’re still inside.” Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. “Ghosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. You’ll eat and you’ll sleep but you’ll find you won’t perish if you don’t. It just won’t be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You won’t get another.”

“You’re psychotic. And you’re wrong.”

“I have all the math to prove it.” Vlad leered from over Danny’s shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Danny’s balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vlad’s face like the phases of the moon as he moved. “Did your parents explain that part to you properly?”

“No, because they didn’t get the math right.”

“Oh they’ve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.” The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vlad’s cape. “No amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.”

Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.

“You stepped in and you turned the portal on, that’s what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.” Vlad’s face hardened. “No. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? They’d pressed it from the outside. It didn’t work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now we’re here.”

Danny’s eyes bounced between Vlad’s. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.

“You’re messing with me. You’re wrong,” Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. “If the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? You’re admitting to murder and you think I won’t do anything about it?”

Anger flashed like a storm across Vlad’s face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. “The killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. I’ve brought no such harm onto anyone else.”

“Then how do you have this portal?”

“This portal? This portal that I’ve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jack’s broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?” Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. “My boy Daniel you’ve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. I’m jealous. You never even suffered.”

Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.

“Put out of your misery before it even started.” Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. “I should have been so lucky.”

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vlad’s best friend who he hated more every day. He wasn’t sure what he ever enjoyed about Jack’s bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton… And now, he hated how enraged it made him to watch Maddie’s eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.

But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. There’d come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jack’s little quirks, and they’d find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasn’t, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didn’t. And he’d be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.

The day didn’t come. It wouldn’t come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jack’s ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldn’t, it would show her. She’d understand.

Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times he’d caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vlad’s help. On his tests, he failed.

So Vlad was staring at Jack’s equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.

“I’m telling you Jack, it won’t work.”

“Bogus V-man it totally will!”

It wouldn’t. But Vlad wouldn’t fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.

He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didn’t hear the whir of the power source catch.

…

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. “Acne” was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.

Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit they’d told him, and Vlad hadn’t taken it well, and he’d perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.

He’d found the error in Jack’s math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.

When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because they’d cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.

He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Masters’ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.

It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.

His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didn’t bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.

His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.

He knew why Jack’s math was wrong.

A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.

And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldn’t it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?

And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.

He’d fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldn’t work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.

He’d stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.

Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.

Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.

He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldn’t let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didn’t get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.

Vlad would save himself.

A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?

Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.

He crouched, because the portal he’d constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.

And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jack’s grip.

Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.

Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.

He would die if he did nothing.

It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and… maybe… hopefully… drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.

And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.

Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.

And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.

…

The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.

“I’ve harmed no one, Daniel,” Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Danny’s face. “I opened the portal to save myself. You’re lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.” Vlad’s head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. “Although, you’ve maybe made the title whole for him.”

Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.

“Dad didn’t kill me,” he choked. “I did this to myself.”

“How lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. If you believed me, you’d have to accept you’re not wriggling out of this. There’s no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.” Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. “I suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didn’t save you from anything.” Vlad cocked his head. “Such tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.”

Danny shook his head. His heart beat—his human heart beat—all too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vlad’s doing. Vlad’s trap. Vlad’s prison he’d been forced to join.

"That's not true. I'm not like you."

“Of course not,” Vlad said, sweetly. “How sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.”

Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vlad’s words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.

And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the portal from which he’d made himself.

...

(inspiration post from @ciestess)

[holylulusworld]

Best Valentine ever

Summary: Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former!(any male character) x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, mentions/implied cheating, fluff, Bucky being the best, flirting, violence, blood

Valentine reloaded

That night Bucky couldn’t sleep. He watched you squirm on the bed until you turned in your sleep and snuggled in his chest. You murmured his name, making his chest swell. 

“He should’ve never left you, doll. How could that bastard leave a woman like you?”

“Hmm…” You rubbed your cheek into his chest.

“His loss, huh?” Bucky looked down at you on his chest and wrapped his arms around you. “I’ll never let you slip through my fingers.” He grinned. “I can’t believe I found a firecracker like you outside that awful bar.”

“Bucky,” you lifted your head to look up at him. “You should sleep too. Stop talking to yourself.”

“I wasn’t talking to myself. All I did was reminisce about the day we spent together,” he huffed. “Did you spy on me, doll? You know, that’s impolite.” Bucky ran his hand up and down your back. 

“You were talking in your sleep, Bucky,” you yawned and snuggled back into his chest. “You said something about firecrackers.”

He kissed the top of your head. “We can talk in the morning. You should sleep now. It was a long and exhausting day.”

Your eyes fluttered close as you listened to Bucky’s heartbeat. His warm hand caressed your back, making it easier for you to drift into sleep.

“Morning,” Bucky grinned when you walked inside your kitchen. “I didn’t know what you like so, I ordered breakfast for champions.”

“What is all of this?” You gasped. Bucky ordered croissants, French toast, muffins, pancakes, a collection of fresh fruits, and three sorts of freshly pressed juices. “That’s enough for twenty people.” 

“I had hoped you’re hungry, doll,” he said and pulled a chair for you. “I have something planned for us. Only if you want to spend the day with me.”

“I have the rest of the week off,” you bit your tongue, and shook your head. “I took a few days off to…”

“I get it,” he gently squeezed your shoulder. “I highly recommend the French toast and pancakes. But you can eat whatever your heart desires.”

“You’re not married or taken, right?” You suddenly asked. “Shoot, I should’ve asked you so before I spent the night with you.”

“Doll, I’m not the kind of man going out with a lovely woman while having a girl at home,” Bucky sounded a little hurt at your question. “I swear, I’d never cheat on my girl.” He kissed your cheek. “We are not all assholes.”

“Bucky, I’m sorry,” you immediately said. “I didn’t want to accuse you of being a cheater. It’s just that you seem to be an alright guy and I wonder why you aren’t married yet.”

“An alright guy,” Bucky pressed one hand to his heart. “Only an alright guy?” He hiccupped. “I thought that I impressed you.”

“Bucky, you know that you impressed me,” you winked at Bucky. “A man like you knows how to impress a woman. You have the perfect eyes, and the smile, and know how to make a woman feel comfortable and safe.”

“How about I impress you some more and we go for dinner at your favorite restaurant? I reserved a table for two.” He hopefully looked at you. “If you don’t want to, I understand.”

“I’d love to,” you hastily said. Honestly, you didn’t want to be alone. Bucky was more than a nice distraction. “I’ll pay this time.”

“Y/N, you will soon find out that if I invite a lady for dinner, I’ll pay,” Bucky sat across the table and grabbed a croissant. “Always.”

“What if I eat the whole menu?” You smirked at Bucky. “You know, I’m a hungry lady and just got my heart broken. I’ll need lots of ice cream and sweets.”

“You should know by now that I love watching you eat.” He smirked and took a large bite of the croissant. 

You and Bucky spent the rest of the day removing the remnants of your former fiancé. He forgot a few clothes and nick-nacks you stuffed into a box.

And of course, there were still pictures of him and you in the picture frames staring at you like they wanted to mock you. 

“All done?” Bucky looked at the box you placed next to the door. “Can I get rid of it now or do you want to give it back?”

“I’ll throw it all away,” you shrugged. “It’s not my problem he forgot half of his shit. This happens when you only think with your downstairs brain half of the time.”

Bucky laughed before picking the box up. “I’ll throw it away for you, doll.” He watches your lips wobble. “I should be on my way and get fresh clothes, but I’ll be back soon. If I want to go out with you, I’ll need a new suit.”

True to his words, Bucky came back only two hours later. He wore a new dark-blue suit, and this irresistible smile when he knocked at your door.

Much to your surprise he offered a bouquet of daisies to you. He didn’t tell you that he picked the daisies for you on his way to your apartment. 

“I love daisies,” you smiled wildly. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“They made me think of you,” he softly said. “I saw the daisies on your pillows, and the picture on the wall.”

“I like them…a lot,” you grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “I like you too…a lot.”

“I like you a lot too, doll,” he held your hand for a while, looking you deep in the eyes. “Do you want to go for dinner with me, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’d love to join you for dinner, Mr. Barnes.”

“A table for two,” Bucky said to the hostess. “I reserved for James Buchanan Barnes.”

You watched the woman blanch at the mention of Bucky’s name. She nodded slowly and looked at her boss. “This—way.” She stammered, and you wondered why she looked scared out of a sudden.

She guided you and Bucky toward the best table at the restaurant.

“This is your favorite restaurant?” Bucky placed his hand on the small of your back and whispered in your ear. “I like it, doll.”

“It has the best Italian food,” you said and smiled softly. “I discovered it shortly after I moved to town.”

Again, Bucky pulled the chair for you. He didn’t know how nice it was to you that for once, someone did more than the bare minimum. “It’s nice.”

You smiled, and your heart fluttered. You felt comfortable around Bucky and couldn’t imagine spending the night with someone else.

“Do you want to spend the weekend at my house?” Bucky asked, watching you think about his offer. 

He was still a stranger to you, but you weren’t afraid of him or scared that he’d ever hurt you. Bucky’s eyes softened when you struggled to find an answer. “Sorry, doll. I shouldn’t have asked. I know we are still strangers.”

“No…we are friends,” you hastily said. “Right? We are friends, and I’d love to spend more time with you. You know so much about me already, and I barely know anything about you.”

He nodded slowly, eyes drifting toward someone behind your back. His features darkened, and he squared his jaw. Bucky inhaled sharply as the man breaking your heart stepped toward your table to stop right in front of your seat.

“I see you moved on very quickly,” your ex-fiancé sneered at you. “If only I knew you’re a slut.”

“If your ex is a loser like you, it’s easy to get over him,” you coolly replied, the voice never wavering. “You see, I moved on to someone better than you. As you said,” you smirked darkly. “I love him because I don’t love you anymore.”

“You fucking bitc—” your ex couldn’t finish his line. He was busy spitting blood and three of his teeth onto the floor. 

Faster than you could blink Bucky raised to his feet and punched your ex’s face. He watched his opponent fall to his knees, his fist bloody and his face hard.

“Never dare to even look my girl’s way. If you say her name, you are dead,” Bucky cocked his head to nod at someone storming inside the restaurant. “Sam, Steve, I want you to take care of this piece of shit.”

“Bucky,” you swallowed thickly watching the men grab your ex-fiancé to drag him out of the restaurant. “You hit him…for me.”

“Sure did,” he shrugged. “I defend what’s mine.” Bucky's features softened seeing the surprise and a hint of fear in your eyes. “Sorry. I usually don’t get violent on dates.”

“You hit him…for me,” you repeated. “No one ever did such a thing for me!” You jumped up to wrap Bucky in a hug. 

“Doll?” He wondered aloud. “Is everything alright?”

“You’re not a normal guy, right?” You glanced up at Bucky. “Your friends wore guns under their jackets and…people looked scared when you said your name.”

“Uh-I think we should talk about a few things, Y/N.”

“Bucky, are you a gangster?” You looked him straight in the eyes.

“Something like that…” He tried to avert your gaze. “What gave me away?”

“The way you carry yourself, and the gun hidden under your jacket,” you smirked. “I know it was a gun I felt when we first hugged.”

“Does this change things between us?”

“No,” hiding your face in his chest you sighed. “I don’t care about your profession, Bucky. From the first moment on, you cared for me.”

“So…can we still have this date now?”

“We will have one hell of a date, Mr. Barnes…”

Tags in reblog.

[roboenthuser]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request some fluffy relationship headcanons of Billy Kid with a shy GN reader please?

YEAHH! I gotcha anon, thanks for the request🫂

(ZZZ) Billy kid x shy GN! Reader

‼️This is going purely off the few character trailers and gameplay clips there are for Billy so I may not get everything right!‼️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Billy would love to show off to a shy s/o any chance he gets! He thinks it makes him look cooler to you (he ends up forgetting to reload and jumps into fights without ammo, or misses all his shots because he’s too busy looking at you LMAO)

•LOVES to show you off (much to your dismay) in more of a “Look at my s/o! Aren’t they so pretty/handsome!” Way. Definitely tries to build up your confidence a bit but he won’t force it

•Date nights with him would probably consist mostly of cuddling up on the couch/bed, binging shows (mostly starlight knight) at each others homes or going to eat in a secluded part of the city.

•Billy is DEFINITELY going to struggle picking up on behavioral cues from you, he may not be able to tell straight away when something’s wrong so communication is extremely important for him! You’d have to speak up about any issues you have with him or he’s gonna be clueless until it hits him in the face.

•As for physical affection, he LOVES holding you/having some sort of physical contact with you most of the time. Whether it’s a hug, hand holding, cuddling, as long as he’s close to you he’s content. He’s a bit down about his lack of lips in a relationship which means he can’t really kiss you, but alternatively he’ll (gently) touch the lower part of his faceplate/visor to your skin in his own little form of kissing<3

•If you’re not comfortable with PDA that’s okay!!! He respects that, but every once in a while he’ll lightly brush his hand against yours when no one’s looking

•THE TEASING!! He will tease you a bit for your shyness (playfully ofc) if he ever goes too far with his teasing he’s quick to apologize and bring you your favorite snacks/drink :)

•Most likely introduces you to Nicole and Anby, although he probably doesn’t want you too involved in his line of work he would like it if his two best friends met his s/o, he’d be especially happy if you ended up befriending them!

•If you ask nicely he’ll let you borrow his jacket, only for a little while though 💔

•I feel like nicknames would be a big thing for him too, Both for you and himself! His names for you would be cutie, handsome/beautiful, sweetheart, and baby, whereas for himself he would refer to himself as your “Starlight knight”

•Tries to be a gentleman (fails)

Pulling your chair out for you? Whoops he pulled it too far and you fell on the floor.

Need help carrying something? He fumbles and drops it.

He tries!! Doesn’t always succeed but he definitely tries his best!

•Overall a great partner with a shy s/o, he’s definitely not perfect but he’ll learn! You’ll have to help him out but he gets the hang of how to adapt to your shyness eventually❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RAHH!! Hope that was alright for a first HC post, once again thanks for the request anon! Reminder to everyone my request listing and rules are still open, I’ll try to get to everyone’s requests asap! Hope everyone has a lovely day/night!🫶

[afyrian]

HII CONGRATS IM A NEW FOLLOWER!!

can I request 🌾☁️ for Shoyo? (Make sure you take care of yourself or I’ll find you 🫶🏾)

a (crush)ed drink shoyo hinata x fem!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 656 | prompt: timeskip + 'mmh so the weather's nice'

    biting your nail, you stand by the front door, staring at your phone. the little bicycle's icon moving throughout the app, getting closer and closer to your apartment building. going to a restaurant and ordering with what poor portuguese that you have sends your blood pressure soaring. so you've found yourself ordering more food than necessary, just to avoid those moments.

  pacing quietly, you reload the page, practicing your basic portuguese vocabulary. muito obrigada echoes through your head, little whispers coming from your lips as you practice the pronunciation. "uh- cheiro está deliciosa.." it doesn't sound quite right as it leaves your mouth, sounding better in your head.

  looking back at your phone, you notice that the bike icon has arrived at your building. a little sentence at the bottom stating that he's in the building and delivering it. shaking your hands, you let out a sigh, closing your eyes and letting the cool air of your apartment relax you. 

  your heartbeat slows until you hear someone out in the hallway, apologizing in broken portuguese. realizing it's likely your delivery man, you shove your phone into your pocket, awaiting the knock on the door. one second.. two seconds.. time slows as a rhythmic knock resonates in the room. putting on a brave face, you unlock the door and twist the handle until it's open.

  there stands an orange-haired man holding a bag of food in one hand and a crushed cup in the other, "i'm- uh disculpe. you're bebida... esmagado."

  between the broken portuguese, you can hear what you believe to be eastern japanese. a sort of country twang in his voice. a sense of peace washes over you, "wait, i'm sorry, do you know japanese?"

  immediately it's like a light bulb has gone off, an epiphany resting between his ears. his eyes light up like you’ve never seen in a person before, a large sigh leaving his shorter stature. “yeah! i am! oh wow, i can explain this better then! it’s really sunny right now and i had my sunglasses off for a second.. just a second. and it got right into my eyes where i then fell over,” your delivery driver purses his lips, holding out the bag of food that is still intact.

  “mmh so the weather’s nice then? okay, it’s okay! really, i was just practicing ‘muito obrigada’ over and over, so the good and bad surprises equal out,” your free hand grabs the bag from his, your other hand preoccupied with playing with the hems of your shorts. 

  he gives you a warm smile as you take it, your hands briefly grazing each other, “i actually took this job in hopes of learning more portuguese! it is definitely helping, when the order delivering is easy..”

  “actually!” your delivery driver pulls out his phone, ignoring the slight amount of awkward tension in the air, “i can give you my number and we can learn together!”

  maybe he’s more used to the extroverted attitude of the people who surround him, but you immediately notice your palms sweating. the thought of getting to know someone new in a country that you’re still uncertain in makes you feel nervous. however, you can’t help but feel the energy he exudes, the warmth that radiates from him.

  “well shouldn’t i know your name first? you do know mine, from the app,” you bite your lip, holding back the playful smile that wants to appear.

  something about him sends a spark within you, heat traveling throughout your body. you don’t know what to call it, a crush? an infatuation with a man who has the attitude for the ages. “it’s hinata, hinata shoyo! it’s a pleasure to formally meet you!” he holds out his phone, number written across the screen.

  you smile genuinely this time, unable to hold it back any longer, “well, nice to formally meet you hinata, i’d love to learn portuguese with you!”

a/n: thank you for requesting anon!! i loved doing this <33 i did end up taking a very short break but it was great, also if the portuguese sucks i’m so sorry

[meiluu]

“Touch Her, and I’ll Kill You”

Leon S. Kennedy/ AFAB!Reader [no gendered pronouns, if there are let me know so I can fix it :D] cw: SMUT 18+, blood & gore, Leon goes feral, protective Leon, Plaga!Leon. Terms you may not be familiar with and their meanings: Round- the entire bullet and its casing, the bullet is the tip and the casing is the metal that surrounds it and holds gun powder which allows for the bullet to travel when the gun powder is ignited. Magazine- the term for rounds that are incased in either a type of metal or hard plastic and feed into a handgun or a rifle from the bottom. It is not the same as a ‘clip’.

not edited

Leon pov.

Leon was beyond pissed, this mission to save the presidents' daughter had gone from bad to fucking horrible. He was lucky enough to have another agent along with him, you. Someone who Leon cared for-trusted and you had been separated from him and Ashley. And he was losing what last bit of sanity he had left, he knew that you were strong, capable and so smart. All logic pointed to you being able to hold your own until they were able to find you, or until you found them. But Leon's heart was overruling his brain, taking full control, as his mind was in overdrive as it pushed each of his senses and his knowledge to try and find you. And all of this was pushed into the extremes now because of Leon being infected with the Las Plaga.

Saddler wished he could control the lethality that Leon possessed but the Plaga that he had been infected with seemed wholly under Leon's control and wouldn't respond to his commands.

With his guns at the ready, knife sharp enough to cut through anything, Leon was prepared to go to hell and back to get you. Having heard some spanish grumbles from one of the infected villagers giving him a much needed lead to find you. The chill air of the night nipping at his arms, the darkness of the night keeping him concealed as he made his way to a decrepit building. Turning back to make sure that Ashley was still in the secure spot he left her in- satisfied that she wasn't following him, he continued onward. Gun at the ready as he silently made his way into the building, once inside he made quick work of scanning his surroundings seeing no infecteds around, he moved further in. Footsteps light, measured breathing as Leon moved with a purpose, but that all falters when he hears your enraged cry.

There are hundreds if not thousands of stories out there that talk about feeling so angry that you see red. Stories of people blacking out as they fight whoever it was that threatened them or someone they cared about. That was not the case here. Leon has never felt so focused than now, as he ran to the sound of your cry. Reaching a room with dozens of infecteds along with a grotesque monster trying to give you the las plaga. What was only a few seconds, felt like an eternity in Leon's mind. His vision had completely zeroed in on the monster in front of you, his mind coming up with the perfect way to get you out and kill everything within this room. Then he was moving.

Firing off three rounds into the monster, in its faltered state it let go of you, letting you fall to the hard floor below you. Running towards you in long strides, Leon grabs your arm flinging you behind him- sliding you across the floor towards the entranceway of the room. Unnatural strength that only the las plaga could give him, using every facet to his advantage.

By the time the creature had gained it bearings Leon was right in its face, grabbing onto the creatures deformed face- bringing it down to ground. Smashing its skull into the concrete floor, its dark red blood splattering onto the ground and onto him. Raising his head he saw the swarm of infecteds running towards him- quickly aiming his sights onto the closest ones. Seven more rounds leave his gun, seven infected fall to the ground with 9mm holes through their skulls. Hearing the click of an empty magazine, with not enough time to reload Leon's holstering his gun and grabbing his knife. With an infected near inches from his face, he's stabbing the knife into its skull- a satisfied squelch greets Leon's ears. Its face falls as the life in its eyes is smothered out. Retching his knife from the skull, he's swinging wide cutting another infected’s neck-nearly taking its head off its shoulders. Both of their bodies crumbled to the ground- but there are more headed his way.

Eyes that no longer held that sky blue color but instead were a red crimson with black veins standing out against his skin that became more prominent as he fought. With the last infected slumping to the ground with its decapitated head being carelessly flung to the floor. Breathing hard, shoulders rising in falling as Leon gains control over his breathing again. Satisfied that there was no more threats within the room he's turning back to where you were still sat near the entrance. Your face was marred with a shocked expression, a mix of fear and awe at what you had just witnessed. "Are you ok?" Leon's voice is husky with exertion, your eyes meet his as you nod your head. With quick long strides Leon closes the distance between you two.

Picking you up from the floor like you weighed nothing bringing you into his embrace, burying his head into the crook of your neck inhaling your mouth-watering scent. Letting it ground him, he had found you and you were okay. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, he felt your arms hesitantly wrap around his shoulders. "I'm okay, Leon. Are you?" your voice was nervous. Not that you didn't secretly relish with the embrace from someone who you had been crushing on for awhile but after what you saw you were a bit afraid of pushing him too far. Though somewhere in the back of your mind you knew Leon would never hurt you- even with the plaga, within him. "Yes." a short and gruff reply was all you got from him.

"Where's Ashley?"

"Safe."

"Ok, lets go meet back up with her so we can get you both help."

"No."

"Leon-" unable to finish as Leon warm tongue is licking a long stripe from the base of your neck to the spot right below your ear. "You smell so good, we don't have to leave now." his voice is smooth and full of desire. "But we-" a soft gasp interrupts you, as Leon gently bites into the sensitive skin of your neck. “Let me have you.” His words are rough as he says them into your skin. Your mind blanks, there’s no way this is happening right now! “Leon- right here?!”

“Yes here, now.” No hesitation to be found in his proclamation. Maybe it was the fact that his scent was overwhelming your senses or maybe it was the fact that you’ve dreamed about being with him (maybe not like this). Whatever the case your mind was giving into his advances just like your body had already surrendered to him. Not that there was really ever a want to ‘fight’.

“Ok, but what if someone comes in here?"

“I’ll hear them before they get that close to us.” So assured of himself, no room for doubt. But you never had reason to doubt him and his capabilities.

And with some of your worries eased Leon is lifting his head from your neck. Locking his gaze with yours, his once beautiful baby blue orbs are a vicious red with black veins to accentuate them. You knew this was because of the plaga but it seemed that he had full control over himself- unlike the other people who were infected. But your thoughts are halted by his soft lips claiming yours.

Eyes fluttering shut at the sweetness of his taste, a gentle dance that quickly turns heavy as Leon nips at your bottom lip- pushing in his tongue to dance with yours. A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through Leon's chest, the intoxicating taste of you has his body burning with need. Pulling you both down onto the hard floor, lips still locked together- soft gasps of air echoing out in the space around you. Your hands are running through Leon's soft blond locks as his hands drift down. Rubbing his thumbs over your pebbling nipples eliciting a whimper from your swollen lips, hands leaving a fiery trail down towards your navel but then he is pulling his hands away from you. A pathetic sound leaves your lips at the lose of his warmth but you are quick to shut up when your eyes catch onto his teeth pulling off his gloves from his hands, discarding them like trash.

And as quickly as those gloves where thrown away are his hand back onto you, pulling up your shirt, his calloused hands caress the soft flesh of your navel. One hand travel up back to your left breast as the other dips below the waist of your pants going straight to your neglected clit. "Leon." a breathy moan of his name leaves you as he begins to swirl your clit with his thumb while two of his fingers work you open- stretching you out. The hand that had been massaging your breast retreats from under your shirt as it goes to unstrap your leather harness where your empty gun rests in. Clattering to the ground Leon pulls your shirt off of you- freeing your tits. Leaving your mouth his head is headed down taking a perked nipple into his warm mouth- swirling his tongue and softly nipping at it. Making sure not abandon the other nipple as he gives the same treatment to it.

With all of his combined menstruations your already close to your peak, fingers diligently pumping into you at a stead pace, clit buzzing in ecstasy while your chest radiates pleasured tingles throughout your body. Mouth hanging open to allow all your noises of pleasure to run free, but before you can reach that blinding peak Leon is harshly removing himself from you. A cry leaves you, you were so close, eyes raising from where they had been watching Leon worship your breasts. Now your eyes are watching Leon as he sits up on his knees, undoing his belt nearly ripping it in half. Then shoving his pants down along with his boxers- freeing his cock. Precum dibbles down the angry tip- weeping in anticipation. His hands soon find your pants yanking them down and off of you along with your drenched panties.

Your arousal hits Leon at full force now that there was no barriers between your cunt and him. Every basic instinct within him coiled with his care for you and then amplified by the plaga had turned him to a much more raw version of himself. This, what he was doing to you, was something so much more than just fuckin someone who he cared about or found attractive. (Both of those things were true). He needed you like he needed air, you had always balanced him out and you both were always so in sync with one another. Maybe it was the plaga within his veins, but at the end of the day, in the back of Leon's mind he knew all of this was true. He needed to fuck you so that you knew how much he needed you- in his plaga riddled mind combined with the past adrenaline of trying to find you and nearly going insane without you beside him- it made perfect sense to him. You were his just like how he was yours, wholly and completely yours.

He killed for you and would do it again without hesitation, he would search to the ends of the earth to find you if you became lost. And so, warm and calloused hands pulled you to him- no space left between- cock bumping against your clit and then was pushed into your wet heat. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the fullness, something you hadn't experience before. His pelvis meeting yours, hilt buried deep within you, he had reached heaven and nothing could ever compare to this feeling of being in your embrace. Grabbing your legs and placing them upon his shoulders, leaning down until his face was right above yours- with his hands now down below at the base of your spine lifting you up for him to fuck into as deep as possible.

Rough and deep was the pace Leon set, your moans unashamedly are cried out into the air around you. Not like you had a chance to smother your noises- how could you when he was hitting the inner most parts of you? With the tip of his cock bruising your g-spot as it sweetly kissed your cervix.

He was utterly ruining you, nothing would ever top this, you could never fuck anyone else without thinking of him. But would you want to fuck anyone else besides him? No, he was so perfect, the two of you fit each other so well why would you want anything else?

Deep groans mixed with husky moans tumble from his beautiful mouth, hypnotizing you in their melody. Your mind was dripping out of your ears to make room for the mind-numbing pleasure his cock was giving you. Every vein and ridge massaging your walls just right, the girth stretching you out to near pain and his length was able to mold you into the perfect cocksleeve for him. "Fuck-Fuck," Leon's words are rough with exertion, but he never once slowed down his pace.

Skin slapping against skin, the lovely sound of your cunt squelching with ever thrust of his cock into you, all in tandem with his full balls hitting your ass. Your peaking is coiling tight within your belly, and it snaps before you can even voice it to Leon, cunt erratically spasming around him milking him for his own release. With a couple more thrust Leon is burying himself as deep as he can get, as his balls tighten, releasing every drop of cum within your warm cunt. Pants leave him as you both try to come down from that earth shattering orgasm. And just as you think Leon's going to pull out of you he's turning you onto your stomach, leaning over you- shadowing your body with his- as he starts fucking with just as much vigor as before.

"Leon!"

"I'm not done with you yet-"

Mind going hazy with pleasure as your cunt lovingly continues to suck in his cock- obviously on the same page with Leon. You needed more and he was going to deliver on that. Somewhere in the back of your mind you hoped that Ashley was safe, where ever she was because you and Leon would be here for a long while.

*hehe i've cooking this one for awhile, hopefully y'all enjoy it >:) *

[chartreuxhue]

"I don't like you"

I wrote this a long time ago like back in 2022, sooooo if it's bad don't blame me. Blame past me. ANYWAYS enjoy :) Rule and stuff should be coming out soon...

Pairings: Yoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, uhhh i cant think of anything else

There were three mirror agents left, the only two people on your team left being you and Yoru. Spike had already been planted. Your back was against the wall as you held the vandell in your hands towards the entryway of the hall. “She walks through here. I’ll have to hold my own until Yoru can show and help”  or in this case finally help you. There had been no noise on comms for a long time. You were starting to think the lone wolf male was just waiting for you to get hurt so he could save you like some knight in shining armor. 

Right as you were starting to get into deep thought the mirror Skye walks into view. Three shots are fired, and the body of Skye is on the floor. You breathe. That's when you hear the two other pairs of footsteps. You took your moment and started to run, bullets were flying past. 

“Can I get a little help here!” you shouted into you comms

You quickly turned into another hallway a good distance from where you had killed Skye. You took the time to reload your gun and check for injuries, only one that you could find, a bullet graze from a phantom. “Shit! At least it wasn't as bad as last time.” 

You thought about how you were going to get out of this situation you were in. you had no more tricks up your sleeve, you were solely relying on Yoru to do something. You were starting to get worried, what the hell was he doing. Exploring the city? You watch says he was still alive and good. So what truly was taking forever. Well if he wont do anything with you alive you’ll do it yourself. You get ready to round the corner and start firing. Your foot shifted and you went to lean. 

“I’ll handle this!” 

You shifted back into the position you were before, back against the wall. You sigh, “Took you long enough!”  you thought. The sound of gunfire was heard, along with Yoru calling out that one was down. You took this as your time to make your way back to spike to defuse.

You peek around a corner, the cost looks clear so you make your way to spike. You set your gun down next to it and pull out the diffuser and start defusing. You're halfway to defusing the spike, when you hear a pistol being cocked and the end of the barrel being placed on the back of your head. “Shit! Not now of all times.”  

“How about you place that on the ground and I'll think about letting you keep your head.” The mirror Killjoy says. You place the diffuser on the ground next to you. 

“Let's not get too hasty.” you say with your hands up. You started down at the spike, its beeping was getting faster and it was making a lot more noise. You saw something blue out of the corner of your eye. You have to buy a little more time. 

“Hey , I know you have a whole reason for doing this but, I really don’t want to die directly in front of the bomb.” you say

“Oh really, well mirror you don't have a problem with it.” she says, you hear a light sarcasm in her voice. 

“Oh really, well if you can’t tell we’re actually quite different.” you say pushing your head back farther back onto the barrel of the pistol. You hear her hum as a response. You heard the little swirl noises from Yoru when he's in the dimensional drift. You slowly start reaching for the pistol strapped to your thigh.  You grab towards it as if you were going to pull it out. 

“Surprise” Yoru says as he exits the dimensional drift. You swiftly turn around and grab the pistol out of Killjoys hands before her body falls to the ground. 

The spikes beeping was getting alarmingly faster and the noises coming from it were loud too. You picked up the diffuser and went back to defusing the bomb. 

“Shit!” you said. The spikes beeping was getting faster and faster.

“Hurry up, all this will be for nothing if you get us killed.” Yoru stays behind you. 

“Shut the fuck up.” you say. You could feel Yoru getting antsy behind you while you were defusing. 

“I swear, if I die-” he was cut off by the successful defusal noise. You sighed.

You pressed a few buttons on your watch before you heard the Brimstones voice on the other end of your comms. 

“You two all set?” Brimstone asked. You looked over at Yoru.

“Yeah we're all set. We’ll be at the rendezvous point.” you said, you picked up the bag with the spike in it and handed it to Yoru. “Carry this for me, will you?” You say putting the bag in his hands and walking away. 

“Do it yourself, I’ve done everything else here.” he says before placing it on the ground and looking up at you, he scans your body for any extreme injuries, before his eyes land on the one on your dominant arm. 

“Men should always do the heavy lifting, what else are men for?” you said with a sly ass smirk on your face.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Fine, I'll continue to do everything by myself.” he says while picking up the bag and catching up with you.

……

You sit in the infirmary as Sage wrapped the injury on your arm. 

“So, I heard Yoru waited until last second to do anything.” she asked.

“Yeah, but if he waited any longer I would be dead.” 

“Well, thank god he saved you. He hasn't shut up about how well you did on the mission before with him.” 

“What!” you were stumped. Yoru was speaking highly of you. Your relationship has always been one of how better than the other. That and he very clearly annoyed the absolute shit out of you, with his whole “I’ll save the situation like always.” thinking. 

Sage finished wrapping your arm and smiled. 

“Don’t say anything to him. It might actually hurt his ego.” she says. 

She turned to continue doing more things in the infirmary leaving you to do whatever you want. So you leave the infirmary, off to find the man at question Yoru himself. 

You search the hallways for a good 30 minutes before you hear a loud banter between Yoru and Jett, coming from the shooting range

“You already know I’m a better shot than you.” Jett claims. 

“Just because you're fast doesn’t mean you're a good shot.” 

The banter goes on between the two for a while before Jett notices your presence and goes to quietly make her leave, with a playful smile on her face. 

“So you think you're a better shot than Jett.” you say. He turns his head to look at you before he scoffs. “And what's it to you?” 

“I don’t know, maybe because we all know who's actually better.” you say.

“Can I help you with something?” You’re annoying him.

“Yes, actually. I wanted to know why it took you so fucking long to do anything during the mission.” you asked, taking a seat on one of the boxes in the shooting range. 

“(y/n), are you serious right now? If you're still alive. I still did my job. Plus if you die it's not like the mission objective was to project little miss' ‘I can’t kill anything without help’” he mocked as he used a high pitched fake female voice. 

“Yoru, It took you practically 30 minutes to even do anything. The other team members, which let me remind you, are here to help you, were gone. God knows what would happen if you didn’t help me in time.” you say waving your hands around to help get your point across more. 

“Yeah, well look, you're still alive and kicking. I can’t do everything for you.” 

“I’m not saying, -” You cut yourself off out of frustration. 

“You’re not listening.” 

“I’m not listening! Do you not care for your own safety? The things that would have happened to you if I wasn't there.” He's actually serious. Is he actually upset?

“I can handle things myself. No need for me to rely on a man.” 

“Prove it,” he says. There was a very serious look on his face, a lust in his eyes. He was staring at you like a predator. 

“I have nothing to prove to you, Yoru.” you say standing up. He was now directly in front of you. Even if you had something to prove, it wouldn’t be to Yoru. 

“Oh really. You seem to have something to prove by coming to find me.” 

You take a step back, things seem to be getting heated extremely fast. With each step you take he takes, until your back hits the wall. His hands go to the wall behind you. Trapping you in front of him. 

“You're so..” he trails, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. You were starting to get all hot and bothered now. 

“You’re so annoying-” he cuts you off with a kiss, so instead of looking like a fish out of water you kiss back. He deepened the kiss. His hands move from the wall to the sides of head. A single kiss quickly turned into a make out session. Your hands went up to the back of his neck, pulling him further into you. One of his hands moved to the base of your neck, while the other went exploring further down. His hand stopped at your waist. He pulled you closer to him. Almost like you were going to disappear at any moment. He broke for air, a smirk played on his face. 

“And I thought you hated me.”

“Pent up frustrations, from how reckless you are. And how long it takes for you to help during missions.” You say wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands now rest on your hips. 

“Is that so?” 

You humm in response. You're getting extremely impatient. Not only did he stop, now you’re all hot and bothered. 

“Why do you look so bothered?” he asked.

“I don't know, maybe you started something and just chose not to finish it. You, of all people, are the last person I would have thought to not finish something.” 

His grip on your hips got tighter. 

“Don’t tempt me.” 

You smiled, maybe being annoying to him isn't so bad.

“Or what.” you asked 

He kissed you, a hard, messy, greedy kiss. Something to prove. But like most kisses it starts something different. He started to trail down from your lips. Leaving a sloppy wet trail down, a hand coming up to the other side of your neck. You moved your head back giving him more room to work with. He got to a certain spot causing you to gasp. Your hands move up into his hair. He puts his hands on your thighs and taps them. 

“Up.” he commands. 

You lifted your legs and he caught them, wrapping them around his waist. Putting a little more force between him and the wall. He sucks and nips at the spot that caused you to gasp, trying to get a noise or something out. 

“Don’t hold back, I wanna hear you.” 

A hand moving from your thigh to your stomach, and it gets lower and lower. You didn’t stop him, instead you watched his hand get closer and closer to pussy. His hand passed the button of your pants and you finally looked up, a low sigh leaving your lips in anticipation. His hand cups your clothed vagina, you can feel the tips of his middle and index fingers making slow circles. You roll your head back against the wall, holding back whatever was trying to come out. 

“Let it out,” he says in a dangerously low tone, so you do. A high pitched moan leaves your mouth as his fingers pick up in pace and change to going the full length of your pussy. A few more moans come out and then you're suddenly very aware of how loud you are being.

“Yoru, what if someone hears?” you ask, quite afraid of being caught. 

“Then we'll have to make this quick.” he says. He puts your legs down. 

“Take them off, pretty girl.” He says, as he walks to the door of the shooting range and hits a button. You take your pants off. You turn towards him, being surprised by him kissing you. 

“Now where were we?” He says, picking you and going over a table and placing you on the edge of it. He bent down in front of you. Placing both his hands on your thighs. He bites your thigh before he moves closer to your vagina, placing his tongue at the entrance and licking up to your clitt. He ended his first taste by sucking on the little bundle of nerves. Earning a moan out of you. He takes two fingers and inserts them into you and places his lips back onto your clit.

“Fuck. Me.” 

You moaned out as your hand that isn’t propping you up goes to lace into his hair. His fingers were going in and out, curling when they went as far as they could in. You never thought you would hear such lewd things going for your mouth, it feels like you haven’t stopped making noise since he got down there. It just felt so fucking good. 

He started to move but arms under your legs and wrapped around the top, a way to secure your legs open. He was only using his mouth now. He pulled back for a moment, taking a moment to catch his breath.  

“Fuck, you sound so good.”

He practically buried his face in your pussy. Eating it like his last meal. More lewd noises and moans were flowing out of your mouth. You threw your head back, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter. 

“Cum, I’m gunna-” you cut yourself off, words started to get way to hard to speak. He let out a low hum, sending the vibrations right to your vagina. It just so happened to be enough for the knot within to snap. You let out a high pitched moan, holding it for longer than you expected as he continued to eat you out through your high. When you had come down from it you looked down to meet his eyes. He smirked up at you, before releasing your legs from his grasp. You lay down completely on the table, exhausted. 

“I hate you so much.” you spoke. You hated that he could just completely make you come undone like that. 

“I don’t know, your body says otherwise.” He says as he stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his glove. He hands you back your pants. You grab them but just stare at him.

“What?” he asked.  

“Where are my panties?” you asked. Looking around. You have taken them off with your pants. 

“Oh I don’t know, they weren’t there when I picked your pants up,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes. He most likely stole them as a trophy. 

You slip your pants back on. You look around to make sure you got everything that was yours, leaving no trace of evidence of what happened. You sighed, after a good look around and walked to the door. Yoru stood waiting and watched you like a hawk. 

“Do I look presentable?” you asked, fixing your hair like you alway do. 

“Like always.” he said, he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll see you around, (y/n).” he said before opening the door and leaving with a prominent smirk on his face. 

[xo-urban]

ehe may I request an x male reader for Ghost?

Ghost x Male reader where male reader is a medic who is really gentle with people's wounds and quick on his feet, but is secretly hella aggressive?

One day the team is compromised when a mission fails and are surprised to see their medic rawdogging the enemies with just a knife and a pistol.

Had fun writing this! First ghost fic, enjoy! 🫶

Surprise Me, Pretty Boy

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Medic!Male Reader

Summary: Everyone knows that gentle you patching people up after getting hurt, but desperate times call for desperate measures and you have chosen violence.

Warnings: Violence

Word count: 412

You were Task Force 141’s medic, you were like a walking first aid kit, trained to work on the battlefield with chaos all around you. You had this gentle touch when helping others, yet you worked quickly and efficiently. It's what you’ve been trained to do from the day you joined the military.

Right now you were patching Ghost up after the two of you barely made it out alive from Grave’s men. You worked quietly, cleaning up Ghosts scratches and minor wounds.

“You aren’t doing too hot doc.” Ghost murmured lowly, watching you work for a bit, glancing back at the environment that surrounded the both of you in a bog of darkness. “Tired and winded, but I’ll make it out alive” You reassured in a soft whisper.

Ghost nodded, eyes widening at the snap of branch ruined your moment. You both tensed when you heard more than just one pair of footsteps heading towards your direction from all around. “Shit!” You cursed, finishing up Ghost’s last wound that you were tending, “Let those bullets fly Ghost!” You stood quickly, pulling him up as he grabbed his rifle with a huff, shooting as many enemies he could as they came into view.

“Keep them off our trail!” You commanded, pulling a pistol out of its holster, clicking the safety off as you unpocketed your beautiful knife in all of its glory. You were never known for violence, but desperate times need some way out.

You saw them approach, aiming their guns at you. You fired your gun, emptying bullets to their skulls with a damn near perfect aim. You threw your knife at a man, going straight into his throat, blood spurting from his mouth as you reloaded your gun in the process. You tossed the empty round to the ground, sliding over to the corpse you just killed, grabbing your knife from his throat as you kept on running, clearing a path between the enemies and bodies.

“Here!” You called as Ghost quickly followed you into a truck. You both hopped in, Ghost settling in the driver's seat. “You are full of surprises.” Ghost chuckled as he began to drive as the truck roared to life. “Expect to see more in the future darling” You smirked, “I’ll be waiting any day love” Ghost spoke, tone light and easy. You looked over at him, his eyes scrunched up like a soft smile was formed under that mask.

“Surprise me, pretty boy.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hangover 6

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Please leave any and all feedback! 💚💚💚💚💚💚

Part of The Club AU

Will leaves to the train station as you pretend at an immaculate recovery. Your back is no better than it was but you can’t let him worry about you. It’s your job to worry about him. 

You’ve been through it before. Years of running around the diner with heavy trays has taken its toll. You’ll take a hot shower and lay down and the morning will hopefully be easier. If not, you’ll just have to push through like you always do. 

When you wake, you’re stiff but you can move. Slowly.

Your daily routine takes you twice as long and has you running late for work. You clock in and tie on your apron, grunting as your back continues to pang. You hold your breath as you listen to orders and smile through the agony. 

“Table for one in the corner,” Monica say. “How about you take it? Shouldn’t be too much work.” 

“I’m good,” you insist. 

“Please, look at you. You’re moving like horse ready for pasture. Go, I’ll finish up that family by the window. Don’t worry, tip’s all yours.” 

You sigh, “you’re a sweetheart.” 

“And you should’ve taken the sick day,” she chides. 

You grab a coffee pot and head off to the corner table. You slow as the diner sits back and spreads his arms across the breadth of the booth seat. All the room just for one? Officer Storm smirks at your approach. 

“Hello, sir, coffee?” You offer flatly. 

“How long’s that been sitting on the burner? I’d like a fresh pot.” 

You grit your teeth, as much from irritation as pain. “Alright, I'll put a fresh one on, officer.” 

He clucks and rolls his eyes, “ah, now, what happened to that sugar? Huh? ‘Let me put a fresh one on, honey’.” He mimics you with a glint in his eyes. 

You stare at him as a chill crawls up your spine. His silhouette flashes in the glare of headlights and you swallow back a whimper. You nod and look away shakily. 

“Let me put a fresh one on, honey,” you repeat. 

This time he lets you go. You dump the pot and reload the filter. It’s a cheap diner, he can’t expect high-end. You don’t think he does. He only wants to make you squirm. 

As the new batch brews, you return to the table and pull out your notepad, “what can I get you, officer?” 

“Well, honey,” he says sharply as he brings his arms forward and leans on his elbows. He looks over the menu and sucks his teeth. “I’ll take the big breakfast number three. Over easy with home fries and an extra strip of bacon. As a thank you for my service, right?” 

He looks up at you and you nod, writing it all down. “Anything else, officer?” 

“Yeah, why the fuck are you walking like Frankenstein? Old bones can’t handle the cold?” 

You wince and focus on keeping your smile in place, “something like that. I’ll get your order in and that fresh coffee.” 

He snickers as you turn away. You can’t help but limp. You feel the tension screwing into your spine. Fuck. Only a few more hours. 

You put the order in the window and grab the coffee pot. You return to his table and pour him a cup. 

“Enjoy, officer.” You say. 

“Honey,” he insists. “Ah, what happened? You ain’t so sweet anymore.” 

“Officer Storm, nothing. Is there anything else I can get you for the table?” 

He shakes his head and his brows pop up derisively. He scoffs and sits back, sipping his coffee. “That son of yours, spindly, isn’t he?” 

You ball your hands as a zap runs through your hips, “he’s young.” 

“Sure is... nineteen? Still hanging out at mommy’s.” 

“Sir, with due respect, I don’t think we need to talk about him.” 

“Mm, I’m just curious if he knows his mommy is such a fucking slut.” He spits. 

“Sir, please,” you hiss. 

“I could charge you for public indecency, the way you had your ass and tits out,” he taunts and winks over the brim of his mug. 

“Why are you doing this?” You whisper. 

He narrows his eyes and looks you up and down, “because I can.” Your legs shake and you steady yourself. He slurps noisily and slams down his mug. “More.” 

You fill his cup and step back, your knee buckling slightly.  

“I’ll go check on your food.” 

“Good girl,” he purrs as he lifts his cup again. 

You hobble back across the diner. A few your other tables come up and you struggle to get your tray to their tables. You don’t see yourself getting to the dishes that night. The longer you drag yourself around, you can’t help but worry how you’ll make it home. 

“You really need to sit down,” Monica says. 

“I can’t. Need the money.” 

“I can cover you.” 

“No,” you insist and glance over at Storm. You know you can’t hide. He knows where you live and he knows you have a son. He doesn’t need to make his threats aloud. “I can do it.” 

“Alright,” she shakes her head. 

Finally, Officer Storm’s order is put in the window. You swipe it up and make your way to him. You put his plate down, then the smaller one with toast. 

“Ketchup? Jam?” You offer. 

“I think I got everything I need. Trust me, I’ll let you know if I don’t.” His blue eyes hit you like ice water and you back away. 

“Of course, sir. Enjoy.” As you turn, your toe catches and you stagger forward. You cry out as Storm pulls his foot back under the table and you land on your tray as you hit the floor. You wheeze and whine as your hips split and you writhe helplessly. 

“Oh my,” Storm remarks. 

Monica rushes over calling your name, “are you okay? Oh my god!” 

“Everyone relax, I can handle it,” Officer Storm stands over you. “Ma’am, I’m gonna get you some help.” He bends over you and puts you flat on your back. “You gotta take it easy, alright? I’m an officer. I can get you to the hospital.” 

“Sir, call an ambulance,” Monica pleads. 

“We just need to keep her stabilised. Cruiser’s faster,” he insists as he knees down next to you. You hiss through your teeth as you grip your hips. “I got her.” He bends and scoops you up, another wail rising from you. “Someone get the door.” 

[tafferling]

Dying Light: The Beast Demo Impression

Imagine, if you will, a Taff who finds a life saving sort of affection in a game named Dying Light, followed by nearly ten years of dedication to one Kyle Crane. If you’d told that same Taff she’d get to go to Techland HQ after Crane’s return was announced in Dying Light: The Beast, she’d have called you silly. 

And yet.

I had the privilege (the WHAT ON EARTH, how) to watch about forty minutes of Dying Light: The Beast today. It was prefaced by an in-person intro from Tymon Smektała (which was about the most heartfelt thing I’ve ever heard, genuinely), and shown to us on a big-ass screen. 

During those forty-or-so-minutes I might have shuffled in and out of this here physical realm a few times. 

The demo covered an early mission in the game. Here’s what happened:

We start in a small village and tightly forested woodland, a fading day around us. Crane is off to follow a lead, given by the new voice in our ear, named Olivia. The lead will take him to an industrial area. Eventually. But FIRST I get to feast on a gorgeous sunset, lots of smooth as heck parkour, and honestly when we ducked through a small apartment on the way, I wanted to say “Babe, pls stop I GOTTA TAKE PICTURES!”.

I don’t kid. Techland was not fibbing when they mentioned handcrafted; the attention to detail I was criminally denied the chance to rub my face all over has my hopes so far up, they’re tap dancing in the clouds. And then those very same hopes were given wings when two insanely talented artists walked us through how these environments have come together.

Seriously. I can’t wait to get absolutely nothing done in the game because I Must See All And Perceive All.

Anyhoo— back to the demo.

Night falls—as it so likes to do—and we’re warned about how the Volatiles and Freaks (at least I think I remember this right, I was often distracted by, you know, I mean, yeah) are difficult to avoid out here. All that dense woodland makes for shit sight lines and all. But Crane can be subtle and that means I will finally get to hide in the bushes with him come game release. Yay me!

One sec. Spacing out.

What was I saying?

Oh yeah. Stealth. Volatiles. 

OKAY, LISTEN— the sound design in the night-time section of the game was sublime. The snuffing and clicking of the Volatiles. The snap of twigs. The rustle of leaves. Stealth is the jam I like to put on my various bread-adjacent baked goods and this was delicious.

And pretty. Crane’ll be craning (hehe) his head up a lot ‘cause those stars need gazing.

But it’s also a night full of creepy crawlers and so we head towards the nearest safe house, which, in good old Dying Light fashion, needs a bit of TLC. Secure. Remove Infected. Find a spare fuse. Mess with a Charger and his buddies (the handgun came out at that moment and while I do not approve of wasting bullets, I approve of the reload animations). And, finally, plug the newly acquired fuse in and Let There Be Light.

The layout of the safe zone and the tasks to complete brought me back to Harran. I loved the safe zones there; each had its unique look, unique vibe; and was just different enough in what you had to do to secure it to make them their own little experiences. I hope we’ll see this make a comeback.

(Yes, I have not yet mentioned much about Crane. Stick with me. I’ll get there.)

After a snooze (well deserved), we continue to the industrial area, where the demo shifts to showing off guns even more so than before. Honestly, I liked the Dying Light (1) guns. I liked Crane with a gun. He’d always struck me as the type of man who’d know about 500+ ways to kill his fellows; and firearm mastery would’ve been right at the top. So. Yeah. I do like their inclusion.

I also fucking know he’ll keep them holstered for the majority of my game time, because pssst, the bow is right here, darling. We’re using that, quit pouting.

(Hey, she’s still not talking about Crane, is she okay? you may ask. Ha. No.)

We fight our way through a bunch of the Baron’s men, which eventually leads to one of those idiots shooting out some sorta electrical box. There’s a bit of a ruckus over something escaping, a few angry roars thrown in from a distance, and as we decide to investigate we run into a— scientist type? At least I think I’m remembering this right. 

And now I’ll talk about Crane. 

Beware: loads of personal thoughts here; not based entirely on canon. 

Kyle Crane might have once been a man who thought murder is still a big deal. Kyle Crane also might have once been a man who’d roll with the punches, always coming up swinging, but, you know. First he rolls. Then he swings. 

Now? After whatever happened to him between the Following and his capture, leading to thirteen years of being experimented on in what I suspect’ll be a cage of sorts? 

First of all, is murder still going to be a big deal? (No, henchmen don’t count; ludonarrative dissonance wants a word).

Yeah, he doesn’t straight up kill our new scientist friend. Just threatens him. Effectively. But there was a bit of disconnect in how Crane behaved leading up to the solution of the interrogation (him getting what he wanted) and what he eventually did. Namely punch the guy out, rather than kill him. 

I expected our scientist friend to die. I was surprised when he didn’t.

And I expect Crane to no longer roll, but to swing first and not give the narrative the chance to get the first lick in.

All of which I’m deducting from how they’ve leaned heavily into giving him the voice of a man who’s been thoroughly wrung out by that very same narrative. His tone is dark. Clipped. Gone are the expletives; the colourful fucks; and how everyone’s an asshole because that’s just a mood and a half.

And honestly? I don’t know how I feel about it. Yet. Sure, I’m all for the pent up anger we hear whenever he swings a weapon, but—

I love Crane because he wasn’t the moody, broody post-apo dude. You know the Imma chew some nails for breakfast and then get all growly over my (insert trauma here). The Joels, basically (and I gotta hell to the no on him). 

So, no, I don’t know how I feel about this yet. I’m approaching this with trepidation over how they might have removed what made Crane Crane; all in the pursuit of being darker and ‘more mature’, as it’s been said.

BUT— this was just forty minutes. That’s not much. And even if it ends up being true, I’ve still got, like, I dunno— at least another ten good writing years in me to bring that man back to the light. 

. . .

You know what, I am beginning to warm up to this idea. Please. Carry on.

EDIT: Since I’ve originally written this, the new dev blog came out and through that (along with what I’ve heard on site) have made me a lot less anxious about Crane having gone the way of the Complete Grouch. And just as I’ve been getting ideas.

ANYWAY

Our scientist friend got punched out, though not before he’s given us intel in how there’s a Freak here—the thing that just escaped, I presume, I was too busy collecting all the marbles I kept dropping whenever Crane opened his damn mouth to be sure—and how we can lure it.

Next stop(s): get freaky science gas, hop into a truck, drive freaky science gas around the countryside, and then jam it into a freaky science apparatus! 

(I have theories.)

But wait! Ambush! By more of the Baron’s men, no less. They, much like any other good collection of henchmen, have not learned from their rag-dolling buddies’s endless corpses and continue to think attacking Crane is a Good Idea.

Ah, well.

Then, finally, boss time! A Behemoth enters the arena (which is a junk yard, by the way) and it’s bringing with it a certain 10/10 Demolisher vibe paired with more freaky science. Someone’s obviously been tinkering on this gentle-boulder, leaving it with tubes attached to its body that give it this wonderful bioengineered look I’m so endlessly fond of. 

We fight!

It’s not going so well. 

Now I’m suspecting we’re seeing a method on how to build Crane’s fury up enough to unle— 

No. I am not writing that. You can’t make me. You cannot make me say the line, I refuse. I’ll just use increasingly silly alternatives, how’s that?

We get run over one too many times and Crane finally pops the lid off his fury. This applies the same orange filter as the one we got whenever Aiden redlined his biomarker (during a scripted sequence) and allows Crane to literally pick up a concrete barrier and lob it at the Behemoth. 

(You know, I bet that feels really good; delicious payback after getting car after car after car and fridge after fridge after fridge thrown at him before.)

Then he goes toe to toe with it, only to wrap up the fight by pulling the Behemoth’s head off its shoulders. Not cleanly, I’d like to add.

Soooo— what? We’ll be building fury in a number of different ways, then get unhinged and unlock the opportunity to finish with a flair? Cool cool. I’m in. Or so I’m thinking this’ll go. I genuinely do not know the ins and outs. 

What I do know though is that I lost all my remaining marbles after the fight. The camera fucking zooms out and I get to see the whole Crane. And, look, you can’t expect me to go to this event and be perfectly reasonable about this; about seeing this man I’ve dedicated nearly a decade to and remain normal. If you do, why are you even reading this. HAVE YOU MET ME?!

I have no clue if this means we’ll get third-person cutscenes or if this is a cinematic choice done solely for the demo, but a Taff may dream. Right?

The cutscene ends with Crane extracting something from the Freak into a jet injector. 

(Again, I have theories. Fury Power Progression? Fury Power Suppression?)

But anyway. Third-Person Cutscene. Taff is on the floor (not literally, but metaphysically) and the lights come on again and I SWEAR TO GOD, I will play this game at day one come hell and high water, and I am so, so, so unbelievably grateful to every single person ever involved in creating this franchise because you’re all a bunch of heroes to me.

:exhales:

Thanks for reading.

EDIT: I forgot to mention the weather. How did I manage to forget to mention the weather. We got so sopping wet in the rain. It reminded me of the heavy rainfall out in the countryside which I missed so terribly. Cannot wait to see how they've improved the weather system in this one.

From The Following:

[brighttears]

Melt

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: In Jackson, Joel panics when he can’t find you. All you did was go on a run alone, but the fear gets damn close to overpowering him. He blows up on you, but after he simmers down, he crawls back to and into your arms.

Warnings: swearing ? very G rated

Word count: 1k

A/n: this is fun :) I don’t know if this connects to The Day the Music Died or is just a standalone. Feedback appreciated ! 

—

Joel couldn’t find you. 

He asked Ellie, who didn’t know where you were, nor did Maria. Joel swept both houses and then went for the stables. There was a horse missing, and no you. He rushed to find Tommy in town, who finally told him that you’d taken a horse earlier that morning to go retrieve a gun you’d stashed.

Joel’s mind raced as he held tightly onto his brother’s shoulders. 

“She what? You let her go alone?”

“Yeah, Joel, I know she can handle herself, I wouldn’t have let her go if I didn't think it was–”

“Safe? It is not safe, Tommy!” Joel snapped. 

“Joel…” Tommy was startled, eyes wide with worry.

Joel grimaced, took his hands off of his brothers shoulders, and stomped back towards the stables.

“Hey–What, you goin’ after her?”

“Yeah I’m fuckin’ goin’ after her!” Joel shouted back. “She shouldn’t be out there all alone.”

Tommy rushed to follow. 

“Joel, she’ll be fine!”

Joel stopped and turned to look back at him, “‘Fine’? And you know that how?”

“Joel–” Tommy faltered, and threw his hands up with a loud sigh. He looked after his brother briefly before turning back to his work.

Joel’s blood was running hot. He ignored the tightness in his chest and hastened his steps as all kinds of the violence that he knew was out there flashed through his mind. 

His breath hitched when he got to the stalls and the missing horse was back. 

“Y/n,” He said under his breath, and surged forward up to the houses. 

“Y/n?” Joel called out as soon as he opened the front door.

“Yeah?” You said ingenuously, concerned by his tone. 

“There you are!” He spotted you sitting on the couch reloading your pistol, a knife and rifle laid on the floor before you.

“Joel, what?”

“‘What’? You went out alone?” he almost roared. 

Offended, you brought your tone closer to his. “Yeah, so what? I was just getting that gun I stashed. I was out there for maybe two hours, tops. Calm down, Joel.”

Shot with anger that had flooded his cup of worry, Joel continued to shout. “C–” he started, almost sneering, “‘Calm down’? No, I will not calm down, y/n.”

“Joel–”

“No. Y/n, you can't do stupid shit like this, you’re gonna get yourself killed going out there alone.” Joel took a step towards you with a fierce glare on his face, “How am I supposed to protect you when I don’t even know where the fuck you are?” 

Taken aback, you scoffed, “Joel, you’re not my fucking knight in shining armor. I can fucking take care of myself. Don’t forget I was alone for months–years! Without you. I’m not helpless. I don’t fucking need you.” You spat the last sentence out, regretting it as soon as you did.

Joel’s face fell. 

“Joel–fuck–I-I didn’t mean that like–” you stammered. 

“No. I get it.” Joel breathed hard through his nose. “You’re right. I’m not your fuckin’ knight in shining armor. Do what you want--go ahead and get yourself killed, my hands will be clean.” he snarled, turned to leave but then turned back and pointed his finger at you, “You know who does need you? Ellie. I’ll be fine,” his voice broke for a split second on the last word, “but you’ll be another loss that she has to fuckin’ endure.” With that, he strode out swiftly, slamming the door behind him. 

Outside, Joel headed straight towards the bar, his huffed breaths clouding in the bitter winter air. 

Close to the bar, he faltered, turned a sharp corner and slammed his back against the wall of an alley. He closed his eyes and leaned down, supporting his arms on his knees. 

“Fuck.” He breathed. He sniffled and quickly wiped the wetness from his eyes, chalking up to the cold air, nothing more. Joel couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “God fucking damn it.” he whispered through gritted teeth, “God damn it, y/n.”

Joel sniffled again and turned back onto the street, walking fast to the Tipsy Bison. 

He sat hunched at the bar for a while without ordering a drink. 

Then he slammed his hand on the table and got up, leaving just as fast as he had come in, back to you.

He charged in without knocking but lost confidence only a few steps in. 

You raised your head from your hands, still sat on the couch. 

Joel was heaving, his brow knit, and you swore you saw fear in his eyes. At his expression, you stood and closed the space between you.

“I…” he started, closed his mouth and then opened it again. His lip quivered, he blinked, but you spoke before him, voice flutteringly confident, “I need you, Joel.” 

Joel’s face softened, his shoulders relaxed, and he compulsively pulled you into him. 

Your bodies melted into a firm embrace, both letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Something in you both finally snapped as you held onto each other. He was so warm, so solid, and you, so easy for him to hold. It felt so natural. 

He had his face buried in your collar and you could feel his warm breath on your skin. You felt lazy in his arms, like you could fall asleep in them, but there was an electricity in your heart that kept you wide awake. Joel’s eyes had fallen closed. He held onto the moment in his mind just as firmly as did to your body. He felt like he could die right there in your arms.

This is what was missing, this closeness, this security. 

It pained Joel to have spoken to you like that, but he just couldn't handle the fear that struck his heart when he lost you–thought he lost you, thought that he could lose you. 

Holding you, knowing you were safe in his arms, the heavy grief in his heart wanted to pull him back down to thoughts of when you may not be, but it also felt light with your own heart so close to it.

Joel, lost in you, whispered, without being completely aware of what was leaving his lips, “I love you, y/n.” Once he heard himself say it, panic struck him, but only for the second before you replied just as softly, “I love you, Joel.”

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Paring: Daryl Dixon x reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warning: Swearing

Chapter: 3.02

Hearing a racket coming from somewhere in the prison, you lift your gun and aim it towards the doors leading to your cell block. When the noise gets closer, you look at Beth and say, “Take Jace and Carl with you into one of the cells, and don’t come out unless you know it’s safe.”

“Open the door! It’s Hershel!”

Hearing Rick’s voice, you immediately open the gate. Glenn, Maggie, and Stick Wheel Hershel, who’s lying on his back, passed out on a metal table. It’s not until you hear Beth screaming for her daddy that you realize Hershel’s leg is gone.

You and Carol help transfer him onto one of the beds. “What happened?”

“He was bit.”

“Carl, go get the towels from the back, right next to my bed,” Lori says, before turning to Beth, who is still holding your son. “Beth, sweetheart, go wait with Jace in the next cell.”

With everyone crowded around the bed, it was tight and chaotic. You look outside the cell and notice Daryl standing outside the cell block and reloading his crossbow. You take the keys from the gate and throw them onto the floor behind you, so only your people can reach them, and you shut the gate so you’re on the outside with Daryl.

Without saying a word, you stand beside him and point your gun in the same direction.

Out of the darkness of the hallway, five men dressed in prison jumpsuits walk in. The one at the front had a particular devilish look about him; he reminds you of what serial killers looked like on crime shows you used to watch.

Daryl aims his weapon at the man’s head, saying, “That’s far enough.”

“Cell block C,” the man says. “Cell four—that's mine, Gringo. Let me in.”

“Today’s your lucky day, fellas. You’ve been pardoned by the State of Georgia. You’re free to go.”

Three out of the five men look afraid as the tension rises. Hopefully, other survivors living in the prison meant there was food and water. Background voices become more obvious as you hear Carol instruct the others on how best to care for Hershel.

“What have you got going on in there?”

“It ain’t none of your concern,” Daryl says.

“Don’t be telling me what’s my concern.” When Jace starts to cry, the man takes a step forward. “You got a baby back there?”

You click the safety off your gun and say, “Take one more step, and I’ll blow your head off.”

He holds up his hands and whistles, “And you must be the baby mama.”

Daryl takes a step closer to him and says, “Back the fuck off now.”

“And who are you? The baby's father?” The man pushes loose strands of his greasy dark hair back and grins at you. “She doesn’t need defending; you see that crazed look in her eyes?”

You make a tsk sound with your tongue. Stupid man. You keep your aim firmly on the man and say, “I think it’s time you leave.”

“Hey, we ain’t leaving.”

T-dog appears beside you, his gun aimed at the same man, who appeared to be the leader of the small group of survivors. “You ain’t coming in either.”

“Hey, this is my house; these are my rules. I'll go where I damn well please.”

Hearing Jace’s cries become louder, you start to feel distressed, but under no circumstances are you going to lower your gun. Daryl senses your unease, and with one hand firmly on his weapon, he uses the knuckles on his free hand to knock on one of the tables. Alerting Rick and the others that something was wrong.

Rick comes running around the corner, his jaw clenching as he takes in the scene. He leans into your ear and says, “I need you back on the other side in case Hershel doesn’t make it.”

“Got it.”

You keep your gun up as you slowly walk backwards until you reach the gate, and Carl opens it. You step inside, your eyes falling on Jace, who is wailing in Glenn’s arms. You take your baby from your friend's arms and gently grab Carl’s arm. “Stay away from the gate; I don’t care what you hear, but you’d open it, okay?”

He looks up at you, confused. “What’s going on?”

You usher him into the bunk you’re sleeping in. You were afraid gunshots would go off at any moment, and you wanted the children out of the way of any stray bullets.

—

“How’s he holding up?"

Hershel’s breath was wheezy, and the sheets below him were soaked with blood. Carol looks up at you and says, “We managed to stop the bleeding, and he has no fever.”

“That’s a good sign.”

“But his pulse is way down, and his breathing is labored.” With blood-covered hands, Lori wipes her nose with her arm. “Where’s Carl?”

“In my cell with Jace, I thought it was best they stayed in there for now until we know the other survivors aren’t coming back.”

She nods and says, “Thank you.”

Hearing footsteps, you step back outside the bunk and see T-dog and Rick carrying boxes. Glenn opens the gate and lets them in. “What’s in the boxes?”

“Canned beef, canned corn, canned cans. There’s a lot more where this came from,” T-dog says.

“Where’s Daryl?”

“Keeping an eye on our new housemates,” Rick says before having a private conversation with Lori.

You feel sick with fear knowing that Daryl is outnumbered. He was good at self-defense, but enough to take on five men? You silently prayed that he didn’t need to find out.

You walk back up to your bunk and watch as Jace sleeps peacefully, his chubby cheeks pressed against Carl's arm. In a short space of time, Jace looks more like Shane; he has his father's dark brown eyes and thick dark brown hair. You lean your head against the bars and keep watch as he sleeps.

—

“Hey, munchkin,” you wave Carl over to you. It was your turn to keep watch over Hershel, who was now handcuffed to the bed as a precaution.

He pouts, “You going to yell at me too?”

During the madness of everything going on, Carl managed to slip in and out of the cell and into the infirmary without anybody noticing. He brought all the medical equipment he could find back with him, but when Lori told him off for going alone, he stormed off. You felt bad for your nephew; he was just a confused boy who didn’t understand why he was still being treated like a kid but was expected to act like an adult.

“No,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. “But please don’t do that again; I need you here.”

“Yeah, right,” he sulks.

“I need you to help me keep Jace safe… Oh shit!” Panic starts to take over when Hershel stops breathing. “Lori! Maggie!”

You struggle to remember any CPR training as your mind scrambles. Glenn and Carol had gone outside for some unknown reason, leaving you at a disadvantage.

“Do something!” Beth yells from the doorway. “Do something, please!”

You take a deep breath, pinch his nose, and breathe into his mouth. Lori rushes into the bunk and says, “Carl, go wait with your cousin.”

Lori begins compressions on his chest. You continue doing this until Hershel suddenly lunges forward, and Lori pulls you back. It’s not until he lets out a snoring sound that you know he’s alive.

—

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to sigh in frustration. Overall, it had been a good day; Hershel was still alive, there was enough food to last for a couple of months, and your group was unharmed by the inmates in the prison, but yet your mood has dropped significantly due to your tiredness. Every time you dozed off, Jace would wake up, or you’d see Shane in your dreams. You groan, feeling wetness seeping through your top and onto your skin. You only had a few tops, and all of them smelled horrendously with months worth of blood, sweat, and spit up covering them. Frustrated, you pull your top off, pour water from your water bottle onto it, and start scrubbing at it with a cloth, trying your best to be quiet since everyone else was sleeping.

Sighing, you watch Jace roll onto his stomach and crawl towards you. With a smile, you stroke his cheek and say, “you’re such a smart boy.”

You freeze when you hear a creak of a footstep behind you. Turning to look towards the doorway, your eyes lock on Daryl, who was standing there watching you, clutching something black in his hand.

When you twist your body further around, he looks at the ground, and you suddenly remember that it’s just your bra covering your top half. When heat flushes your face, you quickly grab a pillow and use it to cover your breasts. In a hushed tone, you ask, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Did I wake you?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I came down earlier and saw the little man throwing up on you, so I thought you might need this.”

He hands you one of his tops. “Are you sure? It will probably smell extremely gross without the hour.”

He smiles and says, “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

You face the wall again and put the top on. On closer inspection, you realize you’d seen Daryl wear this before; it was a dark navy blue button-up top with long sleeves. It was oversized on you but comfortable, and it was far cleaner than anything in your bag.

Daryl leans against the doorframe. “Mind if I hang a little bit?”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

[simp-ly-writes]

Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.6)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: With a princess to save, you are willing to do just about anything to get this mission done and serve your country just as you have promised since signing that contract all those years ago as an up-an-coming agent. But you are not the only one with mentality and soon enough, you are running...

Warnings:3000~ words, light swearing, blood, highly suggestive scenes and trauma. A/N: be prepared for some angst served hot and ready! Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.

Sun slips through the sheer curtains, warming your face as you toss and turn to hide from his warm caress. Whitby groans out from beside you, turning off his alarm and slides over to wrap his arms around your torso. “Few more minutes,” he murmurs in a bed-ridden voice, you smile, easing back into his arms as you interlock your legs together. An odd banging sound has you raising an eyebrow but you ultimately squeeze your eyes tighter together. “I’ll be there…” you begin to grumble, stirring back asleep but their knocks are unrelenting against the wooden door. A voice shots out in your dream, “Handler…. Handler… fucking hell… DANIELS!!!” 

You are up in an instant, smacking Witby right in the jaw as he cures out, rubbing the beginnings of stubble. “Princess is on the move, Samantha just reported a suspicious vehicle that matches the one she arrived from in the airport, we are cleared to intercept!”

“Stunning!” you cheer, quickly suiting up and leaving Whitby in the dust as he enjoys his vacation days. Beige suit equipped, gun loaded and sunglasses on you rush out of the room, bumping into a tired Gaz and jumping Johnny who eagerly cleans his tools and reloads a knife into his suit. “Mornin’ boys! Let’s go get ourselves a princess,” you announced as they cheered in reply before a concerned Price placed a hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him as he  tilted his head towards the living room and you followed. 

“You joinin’ us for he mission? Who's gonna be on comms?” He asks. Fixing your suit jacket and tie with a smirk, you look up at him through your eyelashes. “Are you insinuating I cannot do two jobs at once?” you press, watching as he stands up that much straighter, chin tilted upwards as he looks past your shoulder- the inner soldier coming out. “No Ma’am/sir- just a friend concerned for another…”

“Who said we were friends,” you continue to press forward, raising an eyebrow as the edge of your smirk twitches. John starts to smile, noticing your failing bluff before emitting a chuckle. “Hmm, maybe since Samantha told me you were crying’ in the car over some old man.” 

“Well maybe this old man has to check his hearing too, was not just you I was sobbing over… ego much?” you tease as he nods his head. “Oh, definitely. Someone has to keep you in check-”

“I’ve got Whitby to do that for me- is that not right?” you question. Not having to look over your shoulder to see him leaning against the door frame, keys dangling off one of his fingers, swishing back and forth lightly before throwing them for you to catch. “Sorry to interrupt, lovelies but times-a-tickin’.” 

“Alright, Samantha and Whitby here are going to be doing comms. They are being tested for a promotion for my position soon…” you smile towards the man, eyes thoughtful as you exit the villa and towards the driveway where a red car is parked- ready and waiting. “What are you going to do after?” John questions, opening the door for you as you mindlessly sit in the passenger's side- he snags the keys from your suit pocket with a steady hand. 

The door closes gently beside you, pulling you away from your thoughts on the future as you roll your eyes. Smooth… you think to yourself, watching as he slips into the driver's seat with a wink towards you, turning on the engine and begins to follow the rest of the crew in the yellow car ahead. “I would go off into administration or management, Handler of Handlers,” you say, watching as the landscape transforms from beaches and cliff sides towards white-painted buildings of the city. Blue doors and roofs greet your eyes as do the hordes of tourists that would only further complicate this mission. 

Suddenly your sunglasses spark to life, “Hello Agent Daniels, Samantha” fires at you- you can swear to feel her smile at the side of your face where a hidden camera was placed, observing John's movements in the driver's seat. “Samantha,” you stress her name out, “now is not the time to get back- how many more intersections till the last-”

A porsche goes flying down the hill, their sideview mirror crashing into the building, breaking off chunks of stone as they fly across the hood of your car. John grunts, turning the steering wheel harshly as the wheels of the car skid and drift around the corner in pursuit of the vehicle. “We have eyes on the car, I repeat eyes on” you yell through the radio. Gripping the top of the car as you roll down your window and stick your head out to catch a glimpse of who was in the car. “Three figures in the car, Sam I need a ID stat!”

“Already on it, Matteo Victor, Lycia Steros and Princess Theodosia. Royal is in the back- passengers side, we are cleared to use guns or otherwise disruptive methods until we come to a stand still.” 

“Fuck” you whisper underneath your breath, watching as Price has to slam on the breaks as a group of mindless tourists roam the vast streets and alleyways without a care to look where they are headed. Thankfully the yellow car that Simon is handling comes flying, slamming into the side of the Porsche that hurls to a stop. Blocked by a wall and the smashed hood of the car. 

They stumble out of the vehicle as you jump out, Price cursing out as the vehicle is still moving yet you stumble into a room, chasing after the kidnappers and the kidnapped with Gaz and Johnny hot on your tail. “Take a left next turn,” Whitby’s voice fills your ear in a clear even turn as you blindly turn the corner and smash into the side of a wall before continuing your sprint. 

Blinking twice in quick succession, your glasses fire to life as a screen projects itself to the side of your view. A map blinks open and a series of coloured lines showing each agent on the group pops up. Simon and John are two blocks down, having an odd encounter with the foreign police before making a break for it as Whitby reports. 

“Gaz, move left, it’s a shorter path- we are going to cut them off both sides-”

“Understood!” his voice echoes down the alleyway and his footsteps are no longer heard. You turn your vision back, sunlight hitting your face once more as you see a sea-side market. Various colourful stalls paint the picture in patterns and smells as you knock into a barrel of apples as they pour down the angled street. You see Gaz waiting at the other side of the street, groping his knees as he falls over- trying to collect his breath. 

Johnny has scaled one of the stands and climbs up to a residential balcony on the second floor where he waits, gun drawn and eyes on the alleyway they should be running out of any minute. John and Simon are pressing them in from behind- they have nowhere to go as you smile, cracking your neck to the side. Oh how I missed this rush…

A pink and flowing dress emerges, the Princess hikes it up, their ankles bleeding and bruised from the heels they are forced to run in as their arms are impaled by uncut fingernails digging into their tanned skin. You curse out, hundreds of screams being sound as the safety of a gun is clicked off and pressed into the side of their brown hair, tears and ruined makeup coat their face like a bad clown costume as they swear out for you to drop your weapons. Picking the gun out of your waistband, you make no further eye contact with Johnny still unseen and by the looks of it, Kyle has been ordered the same. 

You hear the heavy breathing of Whitby in your ear, you understand his current anxiety better than anyone and a bitter side of you hopes that he will now feel how you do- having to repair his torn body every night. You fling your gun to the side before turning your shoulder sharply, arm extending outward and fingers pointed straight towards the man's throat. You watch as the knife curves and slices through his vocal cords- cutting off any sound of scream. Blood splatters the dress, dyeing it a deeper blush colour as they collapse to the ground in shock. 

The gun pressed to her head now laying overtop a drain cover as the other criminal races to pick up the gun as you do the same. Head down in a full blown sprint, your legs burn as do your lungs. Shoving the woman down to the ground as you move to wrap your legs around her neck. She stumbles to a stand, hands clawing at your thighs- trying to remove you from her. Their stance wobbles as you rip the gun from their hand- face going blue as you tighten around their throat. 

“No shots,” Samantha reminds you. Switching the barrel for the grip, you slam the metal weapon rapidly into their head as they fall back into one of the shops, getting you both cut in a fishing net. Cursing out, Gaz rushes forward securing the Princess yet John and Simon are still nowhere in sight. Blood coats your hands, as you race to find another knife within your suit jacket. Their hands grip at your beige suit, turning it black as they slam a bucket into the side of your head and reach towards your tie, throwing it around your shoulder and pulling back harshly as you choke. “DANIELS!” Whitby cries out through your earpiece only to be silenced by your face, communicator falling out of your ear and meeting the pavement as you force yourself to fall backwards and out of their touch. 

They stumble to a stand as you rock on our feet, bringing up your fists in front of your face. The woman smirks, bleached blonde hair in a rats nest as they spit at your dress shoes and rush towards your waist and you feel as if you're floating. Light rain hits your features before your eyes widen, realizing you're falling down a cliffside. The woman falls towards you, punch resting to your nose as you yell out in pain. Clicking your heels together. You hear a blade sharpen before the world goes black. Eyes burning form the salt water. 

The woman swims hastily towards you, knife in hand, you mentally curse out- searching yourself to find a blade missing. Fuck, you twist away and raising your leg from their attempted stab yet the blade grazes your side as you hiss out- air bubbles floting towards the surface just as your sunglasses do. You slam your foot into their side as they drift past you in the force of their stab. They hiss out in pain, body shuttering, eyes rolling back as the whites of their eyes turn a deep yellow- mouth foaming and their corpse floating upwards to the surface. 

Whitby had arrived at the scene, leaning over the barrier, thankful to see the mission finished yet their heart ached to see you, to feel you in his arms, to feel the warmth of your body against his own and your joyous laughter as he served you your favorite drink at the bar later tonight. But in what felt like hours passing him by, various horrified faces begging him for explanations and a Princess pressed into the back of his suit jacket. Pleading for him to allow her a trip to the airport, he shoved her off, readying himself to pull you out of the water before a series of ripples emerged. 

He braces himself for a lifeless you only to cry out in happiness, arms raised at the sight of you gasping for air. A rescue helicopter soars overhead, a harness is lowered and soon you are airlifted up the cliffside. Whitby races over without a care in the world, the blades overcome any other sound above as they cut through the sky and the remaining shop fronts. You stumble out, uncaring of the healthcare provider's words as you drop the space blanket and grip at Whitby's torso, head resting against his chest as you hold one another. 

Whitby steps back, tearing off his suit jacket as he places it over your shoulders, its warmth hugging your figure as you step back in life and address your team with a proud smile. Gaz and John chaperone the princess to the back of a black SUV that Whitby arrived in. Simon was already in the driver's seat and drifting off into the distance with one knock of the roof. 

Lost in the adrenaline, in the victory as Whitby hands you his glasses, showing an overjoyed Samantha clapping happily from headquarters in the video call. “DRINKS ON ME BITCHES, I’m GETTING FUCKED PROMOTED!” You wince at the scale of her voice, side bleeding out still as Whitby does his best to apply pressure, offering a remorseful smile as you wince at the pressure. Soon a scream is heard as you look around to see where it is coming from, Whitby's eyes go wide, his shoulders still and his hand dropping from your side- blood pouring out at your shoes. 

His body falls, turned towards the sky as he observes the clouds in a peaceful state, you are frozen in horror, knees falling as you grip at his jacket and scream. The medical crew from behind you shoves you aside and the helicopter roars to life once more, its wind whipping your back hardly as you shiver with the impact. You swear to be underwater once more. Your hands wet, your skin cold and lungs burning for air. Another shot rings out from a nearby balcony in response, the thought to be dead body finally perishing as you twitch away from the sound, stumbling to a stand as you run back down the alleyway, Gaz and Price hot on your feet. 

Samantha calls for you, yet you swipe the call away and rush back into the city centre, acting just as those annoying tourists and run across the street without checking, horns honking and voices swearing out yet you remain unrelenting and continue your run. “Stop! Daniels- PLEASE,” Kyle yells out from behind you, stopping to listen to whatever Samantha was reporting as he looks back towards the seaside and up towards your running from. Cursing out he is forced to run back to help Johnny to kill-confirm the people in the car. 

John still carries on after you, hopping over the hood of a car hot on your heels. You can barely hear the word he yells out up towards you. You wonder what the locals think of you, bloody and bruised as a man yells out for you to stop for him- maybe an abusive newly-weds. Your mind goes dark, shaking your head as you take a turn into a dark street. The buildings untaken care-of. Their white paint peeling off the bricks, the roof filled with holes and you don’t even wish to know what liquid drops onto your head as you lean against the wall, taking a breather. 

Your hands shake in guilt, your rip the jacket from our shoulder, “FUCK!” you scream out, hands gripping at your hair, threatening to tear it at the seams as you slam yourself into the wall in front of you, needing the feedback of the pain as a reminder. I killed my partner, you think to yourself, that dark little vice protruding through your consciousness. “I killed my parenter, I FUCKIN KILLED HIM!” you yell out into a sob, kicking the rocks at your feet before falling to your knees and letting out a guttural scream. 

A deep chuckle sounds from beside you, your shoulders flying themselves upwards as you cringe at the tone. “A Murderer we have here,” they speak, their voice echoing in the dark small space you find yourself in. Their body heat warms your wet back, you shiver- the reminder of Whitby's arms around your frame. “And a gorgeous one at that,” they whisper, spit flying into your ear as you shove weakly at their face, returning to a fight stance as your body fights to keep itself uprising- exhaustion setting in your bones as you hear John calling for you just down the street, out-of-breath. 

“Did you know how much money I lost today?” they coldly ask you, teeth shining under the small light that gets flickered on overhead, an apartment stunning to life with the commotion you have caused. “But a person like you, oh-ho-ho,” they chuckle, forming a sharp grip at your neck as your hands fly to grip theres- black spots forming in your vision as your feet begin to sway over the ground. “You would surely get me at least a quarter of that back, and I think I know just the right dealer…” you couldn’t hear what further they had to say. Body limp and being thrown into a bag at the back of a landscaping truck. 

John hears the wheels turn as he manages to get to the alley way, cursing out he sees no signs of life and places a finger to his ear. “Samantha, this is Price.”

“Yes, John?” 

“We have Handler Daniels MIA…”

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt @no-lessthan3 @yuujisbearx @cod-z

[tacticaldiary]

Unsteady

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Little could throw Leon off, especially when he’s laser-focused on his objective, but the moment he hears that cry of pain all thoughts of acting rationally are out the window. 

Masterlist

He’s a steady man. 

Everything Leon does is meaningful. The way he moves, striding with purpose, the way he talks, to the point, those remarks rolling off his tongue naturally, the steady motions of his fingers as he smoothly reloads his gun with one hand, tossing a grenade with the other. 

Deployed to investigate an outbreak in the middle of the ruins of a city, Leon hadn’t liked being paired with her at first. 

Love and duty didn’t mix after all. 

“Watch your six.” She yells out, ducking to parry an incoming knife from the particularly agile species of zombies they found themselves in the middle of. Leon turns just in time to dodge a zombie lunging for his neck. A bullet through the head sends it down. 

Together the both of them move as a deadly, well-oiled machine. Wordless communication glances that silently request support or warn, a punch there, a chamber of bullets lost here.

“There’s too many of them, we’re overpowered!” He calls out, holding his position. 

“Retreat back to base for now!” She yells back, yanking her knife back out of a creature’s head with a sickening squelch. She scowls as the blade comes out half broken, tosses it aside, and extracts another one. “We’ll regroup and come up with any strategy. Charging forwards isn’t working-”

A creak cuts through the air, halting all conversation. Even the mangled corpses go quiet. 

“Move!” She shouts and before Leon knows it, he’s shoved roughly away as an old oil tanker collapses mere inches from where he stood. The massive barrel explodes on contact with the ground, engulfing the world in flames, bright red and hot. She lets out a strangled yelp as it burns right through her shoulder and chars her skin. A surface burn but still stinging and painful. 

“Are you alright?” Comes a yell from the other side of the wall of flames. “Shit, are you hurt?” He sounds...panicked? No, that wasn’t right. Leon Kennedy didn’t panic. He fought, thought, and charged his way through any problem. 

“I’m fine!” She tries to find a way to him, but the wall of flames produces so much heat it makes her eyes burn from the smoke. Pulling the collar of her shirt to cover her mouth and nose, she gives up finding a path back to their original position. 

She curses under her breath, “I’ll meet you there! Go back to base, I’ll find another way!” His protests come through, but she ignores his demands for her to stop and find another way. If she stayed she’d be charred to toast. The fire spreads onto the old creaky building, columns of flames mounting higher and hire. The creatures at least seem to have just as strong a dislike for the heat as she does because they’re nowhere to be seen. 

“Go!” She yells one last time before taking off into the nearest alley, clutching her burning arm. 

Getting separated was never ideal, but it couldn’t be helped. She knows he’ll be alright. Leon was anything but stupid. He was deadly, he’d be fine she tried to convince herself. 

As she starts to think she might have gotten her bearings back, a crack sounds from above her. She whirls around, gun aimed to the ceiling of the wooden beams she’s passing under, thinking it’s a zombie. 

It’s not. 

The beam creaks under the weight of the fire eating away at it, and before she can dive out of the way, it cracks and falls straight into her, trapping her in rubble and splinters, pinned to the ground. 

She screams, hot wood pressing against her skin as the fire around her seems to close it. “Fuck,” she gasps in a breath, trying to think. Prying the beams off of her does little but burn and embed splinters into her palms. 

Shit, Leon. She had to meet Leon back at the base, had to let him know she was alright, had to know that he was alright. 

 After a couple of minutes of struggling, it dawns on her that she’s not going anywhere. Her lower half and left arm are trapped. There’s no way she can lift the beam on her own, not with her injured shoulder at least. 

Was this it? She squeezes her eyes shut, chasing the thoughts away as she sweats and burns. Was this how she was going to go out? Smoke threatens to choke her, acrid and bitter in her throat, in her lungs. 

She imagined she’d go down protecting someone, maybe even her boyfriend, or that she’d be torn apart by some sort of bioweapon, but no.

She’d burn and suffocate under a goddamn beam. 

Feeling tears prick her eyes at the thought, her head feels too heavy to keep lifted, her forehead dropping to press against the dirty pavement below.

Leon...God, she hoped he wouldn’t blame her too much. 

They’d just started to make a life together. Years of dancing around, subtle flirting, and lingering glances finally led to them dating a year ago. She loved him. She really did love him and now she was never going to see him again. 

Two beady eyes glare at her from the far end of the alley.

Cold and dead. 

A zombie staggers towards her, snarling unfazed by the fire around them. It stumbles and drags itself closer and closer.

A dry sob rips itself out of her throat, the heat unbearable, panic clawing at her. Breathing short and shallowly, she wishes she could reach for something to end her pain a little quicker, but she can’t reach any of her for any of her weapons. 

Helplessness threatens to drag her under until her eyes catch on a sharp splinter of wood the size of her palm just within reach. With a shaking arm, she reaches towards it, crying out when her movements put more of the wood’s pressure on her. The splinter of about the size of her palm, is wickedly sharp. 

Glancing up again is almost too much effort to handle in between her hacking coughs. It’s halfway down the alley already.

She’d rather kill herself than end up like them.

Trembling, she presses the sharp point of the wood right onto her jugular, swallowing nausea and hesitation. 

She couldn’t let herself turn. What if she was the one who found Leon? What if she hurt him? No, she couldn’t bear it. 

Another sob wracks her body as the living corpse staggers closer. Steeling herself, she closes her eyes and tries to think about anything else. 

Don’t be too mad at me, Leon, she thinks to herself, before-

The sharp bang of a gunshot startles her, her hand jerking and digging painfully into her throat. Before she can blink away the blurriness in her eyes, her wrist is yanked away from her neck forcefully, the grip on it like iron as the wood is ripped out of her hands. 

“Not yet, baby.” She could cry at the voice, low and determined. “You’re not done yet.” 

“Le-Leon.” She coughs, “You won’t- the fire.“ A gasp rips out of her when he tries to tug her free. “Stop!” She cries out. “Can’t-you can’t. I’m stuck. Go before it’s too late.” Is all she manages to choke out. 

The look Leon gives her is one that she might have laughed at if she were in the laughing mood. 

“Like hell.” He says roughly, “We’re staying together.” She knows that tone of voice, the one that’s immovable and molded out of iron. Too tired to argue, she nods. He moves out of her field of vision behind her. 

“I’m going to lift the beam.” He says calmly but quickly. “I need you to drag yourself out from under when I do. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

When she doesn’t respond, he calls out her name, repeating himself more urgently. 

The most she can offer him is a weak nod. Her throat feels like it’s on fire.

Suddenly the crushing weight is gone, and all she wants to do is sob in relief and curl up right there and then, but Leon’s voice filters in and out of her mind. With the meagre remaining strength she has left, she claws her way out of the rubble, collapsing a bit away onto her stomach. 

Leon doesn’t waste any time asking questions when he runs over to her and picks her up, ducking through a gap in the brick wall a couple of feet away. 

“You’re going to be okay.” He says aloud, glancing down at her as he moves. Steady. Always so steady and calm. She takes comfort in it, but it’s only when she sinks farther into his grip that she notices. 

The tremor in his hands. 

The slight shake of his voice.

The poorly hidden panic in his eyes whenever he glances down at her. 

He’s panicking. Leon Kennedy is panicking. 

“Shit, don’t close your eyes.” He urges, squeezing her closer to his chest. “Stay awake. Stay awake for me, okay?” He talks, getting increasingly shaky when she can’t find the will to respond to any of it. 

In and out of darkness she drifts. Every time she feels herself swim too deep, his voice always pulls her back, like an anchor she couldn’t lose even if she tried.

When she comes back to this time, clinging onto his voice to drag her back she finds they’re back in the bunker they’d chosen as their temporary base for the mission. She’s laying on her bedroll, Leon’s roll draped over her to keep her warm. 

The man in question is wrapping her shoulder with a bandage. The numb coolness suggests he’s treated the worst of her burns

Trying to speak, nothing but a hoarse noise comes out. 

“Don’t talk.” He instructs, immediately reaching for his canteen. Gently he props her up in his arms and brings the vessel to her lips, guiding her to drink. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He praises her as she drinks. “Slowly.” 

Swallowing a few times, she tries again. “Are you...are we?” 

“You’re alright.” He assures her. “I got you out in time.” Still, in his arms, he feels her physically relax at the assurance. 

It’s not enough. Seeing her accept her demise, laying there half-trapped with a weapon to her jugular ready to end it all before his eyes...

He feels sick thinking about what would have happened if he’d been a mere second late. Seeing her slit her throat in front of him...he may have just pulled the trigger on himself there and then. 

The thought washes over him, overwhelming. He can’t stop himself from clutching her tighter, drawing her into his chest and tucking his chin over her head. “Thought I lose you for a second.” He admits hoarsely.

“I...I thought I did too.” She whispers, feeling him draw his arms around her tighter. “Thank you.” 

“I wasn’t going to leave you there.” 

“How did you know?” She asks, shifting to meet his eyes, taking solace in the deep blue. 

“I heard you scream.” 

It had stopped him in his tracks, all thoughts of anything regarding his own safety and the mission dissipating with the single sound. The only thing on his mind was to find her, to help her, to make sure she was alive and that she never made such a sound ever again while he was alive. 

“I’m glad I did, then.” It’s a weak joke that doesn’t pull a smile or a chuckle out of either of them. 

“Scream or stay silent, I’ll always find you, sweetheart.” He mutters into her hair. The trembling in his body seems to have subsided now that they were out of the fire. 

Her heart warms at his words, and even as their world is quite literally burning down outside their little safe haven, she finds that there wasn’t a place she’d rather be right now than in his arms like this, comfortable and safe. 

“Rest. I’ll take watch.” He presses his lips to her forehead, lingering there for a couple of seconds. 

Her last mumbled thanks barely makes it past her lips before she’s out cold, trusting him to keep her safe while she recovers. 

Requests Are Open!

(22/06/2023)

[abbysleftbicepp]

What Did I Ever Do To You?

A post outbreak day abby x fem!reader fic.

Warnings: Violence (if you squint), slight angst, some fluff, not proofread, I’m new to this so lmk if there is more that I can’t think of!!

Part 1

“Why did Isaac have to put me on this patrol?” You groaned under your breath as you reloaded her gun, and taking out another scar.

Truth be told, You never liked going on patrols to kill non-fungal people. You hated having to be at war with the scars. You’d rather be killing off infected, or doing other jobs at the settlement like looking after the cattle. You’d also often help out in the nursery, sharing your knowledge in the preschool rooms and telling stories to the older kids.

“Is that all of them?” Manny asked, trying to get his breathing steady again.

“Yeah I think so.” Abby sighed in relief. You could finally return after a long day of fighting scars who got too close to the settlement. Just as Abby finished speaking, a truck pulled up as if it were answering their wishes of not wanting to hike all the way back.

“I call shotgun!” Manny yelled out.

“You always get shotgun.” You rolled your eyes as you hopped into the back, letting Alice and Abby on.

“That’s a good girl.” You petted Alice as Jordan drove off.

There was an awkward silence between you and Abby. There was always tension in the air when you were together. You never even knew why.

“You did good out there. I’m surprised you could hold your own so well when you’re never out on these kind of runs.” Abby spoke up.

“Uhh…that sounded very back handed, but I’ll take it. Thank you.” You responded. The silence returned in the back of the truck, enveloping everyone.

“Did you hear what food they have in the canteen today? I’m starved.” You spoke up, trying to fill the silence that was taking over the truck.

“Uhm..I think it was potato and leek soup.” Abby responded dryly, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Thanks.” You finished, ending their short conversation. The rest of the ride home was quite peaceful. The sun was setting in the sky, creating beautiful orange and pink hues in the clouds. Alice had fallen asleep on the truck floor, she had quite an eventful day.

The air was warm, with a slight breeze contrasting to the cozy atmosphere. There were flowers starting to bloom in the grass, you could tell it was the end of spring.

————————————————————

Sitting in yours and Nora’s shared room, You listened to your favourite song through your Walkman. This hour was the one hour of solitude you got a day, and she liked to spend it with her eyes closed, listening to the calm music as she allowed her mind to wander.

“Hey Y/n, I’m gonna head out. Issac is wanting me to pull a shift for Mel.” Nora yelled before leaving the room, leaving you completely alone.

Your mind drifted to memories that you tried to push away. Your memories from back in Boston.

~flashback~

“Ellie! Riley! Wait up!!” You yelled as you followed them down a street to your shared hideout. You three had found a house that no one was using, and never got checked by Fedra. You all decorated the place and made it feel cosy. It became your safe space, a place to escape for a while.

When you finally arrived, Ellie and Riley were in a heated argument.

“Fuck you Ellie! I don’t wanna see you ever again.” Riley announced before storming out the door.

“What just happened? Are you okay Ellie?” You asked, worried for your friends. Ellie broke down crying as you wrapped your arms around her.

“Shh it’s okay..I’m right here..” you spoke, trying to soothe Ellie.

A month and a few weeks had passed, and Riley never returned. For all you knew, she was dead. So that’s what you assumed.

~End of flashback~

Suddenly, you felt someone tap you on your shoulder, waking you from your sleep.

“Huh? What time is it..?” You asked, rubbing your eyes as you sat up.

“It’s 8pm. Manny wants to have a movie night in his room, the whole groups already there but he insisted on me coming to grab you.” Leah responded. “Go get some slippers on and meet us in his room.” She finished before leaving.

You let out a groan, you didn’t want to be rudely awakened nor go to see a movie in Manny’s room. That was mainly because Manny shared a room with Abby, and you didn’t want to cross paths with Abby whenever wasn’t necessary.

Once you got your hoodie and slippers on, you grabbed your keys and dragged yourself out the door.

When you arrived you knocked faintly on the door, hoping that no one would hear it. Your hopes were soon crushed when Jordan opened the door.

“Ah you took your time, come on in.” He said, welcoming you into Manny and Abby’s room. When you walked in, everyone greeted you, everyone except Abby.

Sitting down next to Nora, you spoke up. “What are we watching then?”

“We are watching Spider-man 3.” Manny answered, putting popcorn on the coffee table before sitting down himself and pressing play.

You nodded, as you tried to focus on the tv. However, you could feel someone staring holes into your soul. You turned to look at who was looking at you, and you caught Abby looking away.

“Sly.” You thought to herself.

After the movie ended, Leah, Jordan and Nora all decided that they were too tired for another film. Manny insisted on you staying for another one, so you decided on staying. You probably wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep either way.

Manny put on Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds End, as he knew that both Abby and you had a mutual liking to the film.

After half an hour, manny got a text from one of his side chicks. “Girls, I’m afraid I’ve gotta head out. I got a hookup.” He said before rushing out the door. Now it was just you and Abby, and the tension was swallowing them whole.

When the movie finished, the tension in the room only grew. You wanted to leave and go back to your safe place, but you knew that Abby would watch your every move, and that scared you. Confidence bubbled up inside you, begging to be let out, so you spoke up;

“What did I ever do to you?” You asked looking at your hands.

“What?” Abby retorted.

“For years all you’ve done is shut me out. All I’ve been trying to do is show you kindness, show I’m worthy of your friendship but you feel disgusted to be in the same room as me.” You wanted to stop speaking, but the words would not stop spilling from your usually quiet mouth.

“I’m tired of trying to show my worth to you. I’m tired of trying to be good enough for you, when all you want is to be as far away as possible.” You continued. Abby sat there quietly.

“You tell me that you don’t have time for friends, but that’s just bullshit because we’re both in the same friend group and your kind enough to them…so why not to me?” You finally looked up, with hurt eyes. For only a split second, Abby faltered. The mask slipped for a second as she saw the pain she was causing in your eyes. You look at her with a shaky breath, seeking information that you’ve needed for a long time, but Abby never spoke. She just sat there, looking at you with shock.

You let out a short laugh, trying to take away from the tension, before walking to the door.

“Fuck you Abby.” You said as you stormed out, heading to your room.

————————————————————

COME BACK FOR PART TWO!!! Lmk if you wanna be tagged

Taglist:

@toothgapedlesbo @littlegingerperson2 @paqerings

[bihanspookies]

Could you do headcanons of Ghost, Gaz, Soap and Graves challenging the reader to marksman contest? (You can choose who wins in each)

Forgive me, bc I am not a Graves girly so I turned to the best Graves fucker I know @chadillacboseman for assistance

Regardless I hope you enjoy 🫡

Ghost

• Congratulations! You almost caused a mission to go straight into hell and your Lieutenant was pissed. It was an accident really, what should’ve been a single headshot turned into one grazing the enemy’s head and then another that hit where it was supposed to in the first place.

• Ghost had pulled you aside back at base, questioning your skills and if you were actually competent enough to be a soldier.

• Of course you were competent enough! If you weren’t you wouldn’t be here now would you? But your LT seems to think otherwise, putting you to a test to see if you could get a better score than him.

“You get a better score, I’ll let you off the hook and won’t put this in your file. Understood?”

You gave a firm yes, loading your gun and waiting for Ghost to go first. You barely clicked it into place before he started to unload all his bullets into the target, all of them right on or near the center.

He turns to you, expressionless and places his gun on the table. He says nothing except crosses his arms over his broad chest and that’s when you realize he’s waiting for you to go.

You scramble back into your booth, slipping your earmuffs and protective goggles on. You grab your gun and point, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you fire off.

Of course the first one is massively off course, having you internally curse before slapping yourself mentally to get your head in the game. You wanted to look good in front of your Lieutenant, show him that you were meant to be here but he was making it increasingly hard with his intimidating presence.

Steadily you regained yourself, focusing your attention on the target and you let the bullets loose. Not quite as great as Ghost but close enough. You slipped your earmuffs around your neck, turning back to look at him and waiting for his feedback. He simply stared at you, saying nothing before handing you more bullets.

“Again.”

Gaz

• It can’t just be work work work on the base, you gotta have some fun too every once in a while.

• You guys were chugging a few beers, still buzzing from an earlier mission that went off without a hitch. So naturally he asks if you want to head to the range for a little ‘friendly competition’.

• It was friendly in the beginning until he realized that you were slowly getting better shots than him. Quicker than quick he sobered up.

“Just a little ‘friendly competition’ hm?” You teased, watching him concentrate as he puts another hole right in the center of the target. He laughs, removing his earmuffs and giving you one of his famous smiles.

“What can I say? You just bring out the competitor in me, darling.”

You can’t help but chuckle, giving a pat on his back before going back to it and determined to get a better score.

You’re still there about an hour later, neither of you letting up and wanting the other to win.

“Last round, love?” Gaz says, reloading his gun before stepping back into his booth.

“Oh scared that I’m going to beat you?” You can’t help but poke fun him, his beautiful eyes sparkling in amusement as a fit of laughter escapes him.

“Terrified.”

In less than a minute both your pistols are empty, Gaz pulling in the sheets that was were chock full of holes. He rips his off and holds it up to compare to yours.

“Just as I suspected.”

You go to his side to look, ready to rub your victory in his face.

“A tie!”

He smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Next time I’ll be the winner, love.” He winks at you, resting his head on top of yours.

Soap

• You were outside practicing, needing to let off some steam after a not so friendly review from your captain. Your shots were wild and off center, too consumed by your frustration to actually try and get good hits in.

• You don’t even hear Soap come up behind you and watch as you shoot bullet after bullet, making him wince every time you missed.

• After a while he finally had enough, catching you when you emptied your gun by placing a soft but firm hand on your shoulder.

“Jesus bonnie, you’re shootin’ like shit out here.” He tries to make you laugh, sensing the tension in your body. You only shake him off and groan, going back to reload your gun before he stops you again.

“C’mon now, let’s do this properly yeah?” He fixes your stance, body behind yours as he guides your movements and gives you pointers right in your ear.

“Just. Breathe.”

Your shots are better sure but that doesn’t make you any less upset and he can tell. He grabs your attention once more, a look of concern on his face.

“Tell you what darling, you get a better score than me I’ll let you buy me dinner.”

That makes you crack a smile, tilting your head in confusion as you hear his proposition.

“Shouldn’t it be you that buys me dinner if I win?”

He grins wide at you, winking before grabbing his own gun and getting ready to aim and fire. Later when both your targets are full of holes, you can already tell he’s won before even seeing it up close. Your mood sours again but you do your best to hide it.

“So, where would you like to go for dinner?” He asks you, making you look at him in confusion.

“But I lost?”

“Aye, and I won. So now I get to treat you out to dinner. Again I ask, where would you like to go?”

Graves

• Now what were you thinking accepting a challenge from Graves of all people. Have you seen how cocky and arrogant he is, of course he’s gonna go all out in this.

• Shows off his skills because if you didn’t pick it up already, he’s doing this to impress you (don’t ask about his backwards logic that to impress you he’s gonna kick your ass)

• He can and WILL use pet names bc one he’s a flirt and two he wants to try and throw you off your game.

“C’mon sweetheart just a quick game, just you n me, out in the woods and shooting the shit. Whaddya say?” He’s got his hands on his hips, a confident smirk, and his rifle perched on his back. You roll your eyes so hard that you see stars but you can’t deny that his smug attitude and that good ol’ Southern charm does tug at your curiosity.

Sure you were a good shooter but were you good enough to beat him?

Short answer is: no

But damn if you didn’t have Graves sweating in his boots when it was your turn. Especially when you were so far hitting every can without even breathing.

“C’mon baby c’mon baby…” He’s muttering to himself, watching as you set up to take the final shot at a swinging can. He’s counting on the wind and his own presence to distract you and throw you off guard.

He almost wanted to hold back his yell of glee when your bullet grazed the can instead of sniping it clean off. Instead he settled for a very sarcastic and fake sound of disappointment.

“Fuck darlin’, sure is a shame.” He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head, tutting his tongue before turning to you with a big smile.

“Now about that bet.”

“We didn’t make a bet.”

“Oh, didn’t we? Well I won and I’m saying we did so.” He pretends to inspect his nails before looking you up and down, shamelessly ogling you.

“I got a few ideas in mind for this winner.”