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punkshort · 9 months ago

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i know who you are | 1. the beginning

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A head injury on patrol causes you to lose your memories of the outbreak and the people you have grown to know and love over the last ten years.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and wounds, vomiting, angst, amnesia

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I shortened the timeline a bit - all of the events from the first game have happened, but this takes place ten years after the outbreak instead of twenty.

Series Masterlist

Pain.

That was all you could recognize at first. The back of your head throbbed so badly, you couldn't even open your eyes. There were sounds, but they were unidentifiable through the searing, red hot pain radiating across the back of your skull. Tenderly, you reached your hand back to press against the source. You recoiled instantly, the pain too much to bear. A thick and sticky wetness coated your fingers.

Then you smelled it.

The smell of metal. Coppery, familiar. Then... did you smell fireworks? Was it the Fourth of July? A few years back, your older brother was messing around with fireworks and nearly blew off his hand, ending the night in the emergency room. Your parents never let him forget it. Is that what happened? Did he make some stupid bet with you? A game of chicken wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He always brought out your competitive side.

You forced your eyes open just a crack, the sun immediately causing you to close them again. It was too bright and your brain was vibrating like it was trying to escape from the confines of your skull.

You were outside. It wasn't dark, fireworks wouldn't make sense. What was going on?

Then you heard your name. Someone shouting it, over and over, panic stricken.

You tried to hold up your hand, wave them off, tell them to stop being so loud, but you could barely lift your hand before the nausea hit. Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side, your head screaming and punishing you for the sudden movement as you heaved, emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. The force of it made your head hurt even more, if that was even possible.

The smell of acid mixed with the smell of metal, now.

Maybe you were dying.

Someone's hands were on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, yelling your name over and over.

"Stop," you pleaded weakly, tears springing into your eyes. The pain was too much.

"Jesse! Get her water!"

You groaned and covered your face with your palms. The sunlight was so fucking bright that you could even see it through your eyelids, a red glow everywhere you looked. You needed darkness. You needed quiet.

"Here, drink," you heard a man's voice say, then the hard plastic pressed against your lower lip. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the thought of anything in your stomach making you feel sick again.

"Shit, Joel's gonna fucking freak," you heard another male voice say from behind your head.

Against your better judgement, you forced your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you locked eyes with the first person you saw. A man with dark, curly hair that went past his ears, with patchy facial hair and soft, brown eyes. Your eyes drifted down to his dirty, denim jacket, and then you saw his hands. Fear shot through you when you saw the drying blood, fist still clutching a gun, and as you tried to scramble away, you bumped into someone behind you, causing you to panic.

Why were they surrounding you? Who were these people? It wasn't fireworks, it was gunpowder.

"Get the fuck away from me!" you screeched, but the dark haired man inched forward, his free hand reaching out to you, telling you to calm down, it's okay, sugar, but you continued to crawl backwards, ignoring the pain throbbing behind your eyes. What did these people do to you?

"Whoa, it's alright," the other man said. A younger man, also darker hair, but shorter.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, panic seizing you from head to toe. Your eyes flicked around the forest, the huge tree trunks making it impossible to figure out where you were.

"W-where am I? Where's my mom?"

The man holding the gun frowned and exchanged concerned glances with the other man.

"She's gone," he said gently, as if it were obvious. A strangled noise got caught in the back of your throat when you looked at the man's gun again.

"What did you do to her?" you asked, voice wavering. The man's eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and he quickly holstered it.

"I didn't do anythin' to her, sugar," he said, and again looked at the younger man before continuing. "She died the first day."

"What?" you asked, lip trembling. What the fuck was going on?!

"First day of what?"

"You don't remember?" he asked, and you could see the worry in his face. His eyes wide and his hand a little shaky.

"No, I don't fucking remember! What the fuck are you trying to pull?" you exclaimed, your voice rising the angrier you got.

"Sugar, do you know who I am?" he asked, sneakily taking the handgun that laid abandoned by your side in the dirt and tucking it into the back of his pants.

"No," you spat, then winced and clutched the back of your head again. When you pulled your hand back, you saw fresh blood coating your fingers. Your heart began slamming in your chest and you were finding it difficult to bring in enough air to keep you level.

"Jesse, get a rag," the man ordered. Jesse jumped up and jogged over to a backpack discarded on the ground. Old, worn, faded, with splashes of blood.

Then you saw the bodies.

Well, you supposed they could be considered bodies, but they didn't look like people. Not anymore. Their skin was sagging and grey. Clothes, torn and dirty. Mangy hair ripped out in handfuls at the scalp. Their mouths were agape, revealing yellowed teeth and stinking of rot.

"What the fuck?" you whispered as your vision narrowed. You faintly realized Jesse was pressing a rag against the back of your head, trying to stop the bleeding and had you not been so scared and confused, you might have shoved him away.

"Tommy, what do we do?" Jesse asked, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. His hand shook against your shoulder as he tried to keep you still.

"We gotta get her back home, have Nick take a look at her," he said, and you looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. Talking about you as if you weren't right there.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," you told them. You tried to stand up, but fell to your knees. Tommy knelt down next to you, his arm circling around your shoulders, but you shrugged him off.

"C'mon, sugar. We ain't gonna hurt you, you just hit your head and you need to see a doctor," Tommy said. "Jesse, grab me my first aid kit."

"I gotta go home," you mumbled, and forced yourself to stand again. You couldn't see straight. Everything around you was spinning even though you were fairly certain you were standing still. "I need to see my dad... my brother."

"Shit," you heard Jesse mutter under his breath as he hustled over with a small, leather bag.

"Okay, why don't we take you to a doctor first, then we can talk about your family, alright?" Tommy asked gently. "I'm just gonna patch you up til we get back," he added, reaching into the bag for some medical tape. You watched as Tommy instructed Jesse to hold the rag against your head while he ran the medical tape around, holding the cloth in place.

You didn't have much choice. As you looked around, you were becoming more and more aware you had absolutely no idea where you were or what was happening. You definitely weren't home. There weren't trees like this back home.

So, begrudgingly, you agreed to follow them. Tommy stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp, piercing noise that made you wince. You were confused until you heard the soft pattering of hooves approaching, and through the trees, three tacked up horses emerged. A pale yellow one slowed and stopped a few feet away from you, snorting loudly and stomping its foot. You watched as Tommy and Jesse grabbed their backpacks and mounted their horses. Then Tommy seemed to realize the problem and quickly slid back down to the ground.

"I'll give you a boost," he said, crouching next to the yellow horse and lacing his fingers together. Slowly, you walked forward, eyeing the horse wearily before gripping the saddle and stepping one foot into Tommy's hands. He hoisted you up as you tossed your leg over the side of the horse and you bent forward, momentarily burying your face in its mane while you tried to stop the world from spinning. Fuck, your head was going to explode.

You followed Tommy's horse while Jesse took up the rear, all of you maneuvering around the rotting corpses littering the ground.

"What is this?" you asked, utterly confused. "Did I faint when we found a bunch of dead bodies or something? We have to go to the police," you told them, panic rising once again.

"We will," Tommy said, and you took a deep breath. Okay, things were making sense. You hit your head. Maybe you fell off your horse and knocked yourself out. You don't remember meeting these men before, but they seemed to know you, and they didn't appear to be threatening. If they were, they wouldn't give you your own horse, right?

"How far away are we from your home?" you asked after about ten minutes.

"Not far. Maybe another half hour or so. You holdin' up okay?" Tommy asked, twisting around in his saddle to look at you, his eyes briefly glancing over your shoulder at Jesse.

"Yeah, I think so. My head really hurts, though," you said, blinking slowly. "Do you have a farm or a ranch or something?"

"A what?" Tommy asked, confused until he looked down at the horses. "Oh, right. No, but we do got a barn."

"Oh, okay," you said uncertainly. You looked around at the trees as your horse obediently followed Tommy's. It was so quiet. You must have been deep into the woods because you couldn't hear any road noise at all. Looking up, you didn't even see or hear any planes. You had never known quiet like this before. It was almost... peaceful.

You looked back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Jesse, who gave you a nervous smile.

"Is he your dad?" you asked, and Jesse snorted.

"No," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and wiped the smile off his face, becoming serious again. "No, Tommy's just my friend. Our friend," he added, and you slowly nodded before turning back around.

You loosely held the reins in your hands as you made your way through the forest, the only sounds coming from your horses and the birds singing in the branches above your heads. When you crossed a small stream, Tommy called over his shoulder not much further now.

At the end of the forest was a clearing. You could see it already. A huge gate and reinforced walls surrounding what you assumed was home to these men, but it looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There were even guards with guns strolling along the top of the fences.

This didn't seem right.

"Stop," you told your horse, but of course it kept walking.

"Stop!" you shouted, and it pinned its ears back. You looked up at Tommy, who had now turned around in his saddle.

"How - I don't know what I'm doing, tell it to stop! I want to stop!" you told him as the panic rose from your chest and squeezed your throat.

"Pull on the reins," Tommy said, and you quickly tugged them, making the horse come to a sudden halt.

"Where are we? What is this?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. By now you had made it just outside the gates, and the guards on top were looking at Tommy questioningly.

"This is Jackson," Tommy said calmly, then slid down from his horse to approach you. "This is where we live. We got a doctor here who can take a look at that head wound."

"Why don't you live in a normal house? A normal town? I don't understand," you said, and the tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so frustrated and everything was so confusing and all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this ever happened.

"I'll explain everythin', I promise, but first we gotta get you to the doc, alright?" he asked as your tears began to fall. Tommy glanced up at the top of the fence and nodded. You watched as a handful of men began to crank open the gate, revealing the beginnings of a quaint -looking town.

"Can you get down? Go slow, I'll catch you if you fall," he said, and when you looked into his eyes, you could see affection there. You did as you were told. Swinging one leg over, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself to the ground, Tommy's hands reassuringly hovering above your shoulders until you were standing on your own two feet.

"Are we... together?" you asked him.

Tommy and Jesse both laughed heartily and then he quickly shook his head.

"No, sugar," he said, a smile still etched across his face. He looked over at the open gate and his smile slowly began to fade. "But we oughta get you to the doc right away."

You sat on the edge of an exam table, head tilted down, chin against your chest as the doctor Tommy introduced as Nick stitched up the laceration on your scalp. He had numbed the area pretty good with something from a very large needle that sent you spiraling into a frenzy until Nick and Tommy managed to calm you down and convinced you they were not in fact trying to drug you and sell you into sex trafficking, like you had accused them of trying to do.

Once the doctor started to work on your injury, Tommy excused himself, mumbling something about needing to talk to someone and that he would be back as soon as possible.

Nick said he had to cut away some of your hair, that you would have a small bald spot for a while, but the rest of your hair would be able to hide it effectively.

After he took care of the cut, he began to examine you further. He flashed a bright light into your eyes, making you wince and recoil. He asked you strange questions that you were confident you didn't answer correctly based on the expression on his face.

"Cordy- what?"

"Cordyceps," he repeated.

"No, I have no idea what that is. Is it a band?" you guessed, and he shook his head.

"Well, you certainly have a concussion, and I'm afraid you have some memory loss," he said, sitting down on the small stool across from you.

"How much is 'some'?"

"Uh, difficult to say, but ten years? Give or take?" he said, and you balked.

"Ten years?!"

He nodded.

"I'm afraid so. Can you tell me the last day you do remember?"

"Well," you began, relaxing your shoulders as you thought. "I remember it was fall, but it was still hot out. I had a long day at work - I'm a banker," you told Nick, and he nodded. "My feet were killing me, I had barely sat down all day. It was family dinner night at my parents' house. Me and my brother go over there every Friday. My dad made ribs out on the grill so he wouldn't heat up the house with the oven. My mom was wearing this new, green dress that I thought looked hideous but I lied and told her it was cute. And my brother was telling us about a girl he had met the weekend before."

Nick looked at you to continue, but when it became clear you were done, he sighed.

"That's the last day you remember?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, finally picking up on the concerned look he was giving you. "Was that really ten years ago?" you asked, softly this time. Nick pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and nodded.

"Oh my god," you breathed, looking around the sparse, run down room. What happened in ten years to make the world look like this? You were about to ask when you heard shouting coming from the lobby of the infirmary.

Nick jumped up and opened the door, then turned back to you.

"I'll be right back," he said, then shut the door quickly behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs lightly swinging as you tried to piece together what you knew.

Ten years.

Ten whole years, just... gone.

What memories did you make in that time? Your mom is dead, but what about the rest of your family? Is there anybody in this town that you might actually remember? You looked down at your body. You thought you looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but otherwise the same. Did you ever get married? Have kids?

The shouting got louder and pulled you out of your reverie. It was a man's voice, and it was growing closer. He sounded angry. Livid, even.

You could now hear him opening up the other exam room doors and calling your name, ignoring the voices of Tommy and Nick urging him to stop, and a jolt of fear shot through you. Glancing around the room, you looked for something, anything that might protect you or reinforce the door, but it was too late.

The door swung open and you jumped off the table. If this man was going to hurt you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you silently while you did the same. He was tall. Broad shoulders strained underneath a black T-shirt. A blue flannel was clutched in his fist. You could see his muscles twitching under his tanned skin, and when your gaze finally met his, you felt something else other than fear. Something you couldn't quite identify. You knew this man, but you didn't know how.

His hair was dark and had loose curls, similar to Tommy's but shorter and a little lighter. The beard surrounding plush looking lips had a dusting of white at the corners of his jaw, but it was his eyes that drew your attention the most. A deep, beautiful brown that told a whole story in just one moment.

Nick and Tommy stood behind the strange man, looking back and forth between the two of you. Dragging your gaze off of him, you looked at Tommy, hoping he would explain.

Then the man said your name softly and your eyes flicked back to him.

"What?" you finally said with an edge to your voice, growing annoyed with how nobody felt compelled to say anything. They just kept looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him as if you'd known him your whole life.

"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked, and your eyes drifted back to him. All three men stared at you, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Slowly, you shook your head, and Joel's face fell.

"Is it permanent?" Joel asked, turning to Nick.

Nick paused, his mouth opening and closing as he considered his answer before clearing his throat.

"It's too soon to say-"

"The fuck d'you mean?!" Joel roared, grabbing Nick by his collar and shoving him up against the door. You stumbled backwards in surprise.

"Joel!" Tommy yelled, yanking on his shoulder, trying to loosen his grip on the poor doctor but Joel just shrugged him off.

"Fix her!" Joel yelled, redness creeping up his neck as he slammed Nick up against the door again.

"I-I can't just fix her! What do you think this is? Look around!" Nick stammered, his fingers clawing at the backs of Joel's hands.

You gasped and felt your knees give out from underneath you. Slowly, you sunk down to the floor, crippled in fear. You huddled against the side of the bed, your hands clamped over your mouth as you rocked back and forth, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.

"Joel! Let 'em go, you're scarin' her!" Tommy yelled, and that finally seemed to snap Joel out of it.

His grip instantly loosened and his head swiveled towards you, his eyes softening when he saw you curled up on the floor. He rushed forward but you held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't come near me."

He froze and stared down at you, hurt written all over his face.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and you flinched. Baby?

"Maybe we should give you two a minute," Tommy said. Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"N-no! What do you mean? No!" you cried out. You clawed at the table, pulling yourself up as the tears dried on your face. Joel took a few steps back and stood against the wall, crossing his arms and dropping his head, hiding his face.

"It's just Joel, he ain't gonna hurt you," Tommy said softly, but you still shook your head.

"Look what he just did!" you exclaimed, not even caring anymore if you were hurting his feelings. "How can you say that?"

"Because he loves you!" Tommy said, sounding exasperated.

The room fell silent, the only sound coming from you as you struggled to catch your breath. You glanced over at Joel but his chin was still tucked against his chest.

"Is that true?" you asked him. He nodded, but still didn't look up from the spot on the floor.

You sighed and rubbed your palms roughly over face.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot happening right now and I'm very confused," you said, suddenly feeling guilty.

"I get it," Tommy said, looking back and forth between you and Joel, but Joel still appeared to be fixated on the floor. "Why don't you go home and rest. Can she, doc? Maybe some sleep will help?"

Tommy raised his eyebrows at Nick, trying to get him to agree and play along. Say yes. Don't piss off Joel.

"Yeah, perhaps it's a good idea if you went home. There's some evidence to suggest being around a familiar setting might trigger your memory to return," Nick said, and Joel finally looked up from the floor.

"What else can we do?" he asked as your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You really didn't like the idea of going home with this man. He clearly had a short temper and that set you on edge.

"Are there any personal effects that she holds some sentimental value to?"

Your gaze bounced back and forth between the men as they all talked about you like you were some science project.

"Yeah," Joel said with a nod.

"Alright. Start with that. Anything since you've known each other would work best, see if it jogs her memory. A necklace or a trinket-"

"Yeah, I get it," Joel said, finally chancing a look in your direction. You quickly dropped your gaze from him and looked back at Tommy.

"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy, who looked at Joel. Joel didn't say anything, he just stared right back at Tommy, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he were trying very hard to control his breathing. You looked back and forth between them, waiting for the silent standoff to end.

"I'll be outside," Joel finally muttered, then stalked out of the exam room with Nick in his wake, leaving just you and Tommy.

"I don't want to go home with him."

Tommy sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's your home, too," he said.

"He scares me," you replied, crossing your arms. "He's a loose cannon. I-I don't feel like I know anyone here and everyone seems to know me. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how scary that is?"

Tommy dropped his hands and looked up at you.

"No, I don't. And I'm sorry, but I promise you nothin' bad's gonna happen. Joel's always had a short fuse but he would never, ever lay a hand on you. He's been head over heels since the moment he met you, and you love him back, sugar."

You looked around the room, needing a break from eye contact for just a minute while you gathered your thoughts.

"How long have I known him?" you asked.

"Five years."

You nodded and chewed on your lower lip.

"And how long have you known him?"

"All my life."

Your eyes darted over to his in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"He's my older brother," Tommy explained, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh," was all you said, suddenly feeling like shit for saying such things about his family.

"Listen. Why don't you give it a chance, hm? One day. See how it goes, and if you're still uncomfortable, we'll figure somethin' else out," Tommy offered. You considered it for a moment before reluctantly nodding your head. Aside from just walking out of Jackson, you didn't see much of a choice.

To say the walk to Joel's house was awkward would be putting it mildly.

You weren't sure if he overheard your conversation with Tommy, or maybe he just could sense how you felt about going home with him, but ever since you forced yourself to leave the exam room to find him waiting for you in the lobby, he had been very quiet.

His feelings were hurt, that much was obvious, but what could you do? It wasn't like you set out to intentionally hurt him. You had no idea who he was at the time.

You still weren't sure who he was.

You tried to subtly admire his profile as you walked side by side. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose and a full head of hair, although you could tell he was older than you. By how much, you weren't sure.

You tried to see underneath the gruff exterior, wondering what on earth made you fall in love with him, but it was so hard to see past your first impression.

Well, second first impression.

Then he turned his head to look down at you. Your eyes met and you thought you felt a small flutter in your chest, but you couldn't tell if it was nerves or fear or something else but his eyes were absolutely beautiful. There was something so sincere about them and you found it oddly funny that they seemed to betray the rest of his hardened expression.

"Anythin' lookin' familiar?" he asked you. You blinked and looked around.

The street he was leading you down was filled with people. Children laughing and playing, adults chatting and smiling. If it wasn't for the setting being so strange, it would feel normal. You squinted at some of the faces as you walked by, hoping you would recognize somebody, but you didn't.

"No," you said with a shake of your head, and you thought you saw his shoulders slump next to you but you didn't want to get caught staring at him again, so you focused on looking straight ahead.

The two of you remained silent the rest of the walk, although you could feel the energy radiating off him and for the first time, you began to realize this must be just as hard for him as it was for you.

You were examining the huge watch towers that surrounded the town and wondering what on earth would require such firepower when you realized Joel was no longer at your side. You swiveled your head around, suddenly lost in a sea of people that were smiling at you as they strolled on by but you didn't see a single recognizable face. You felt the panic begin to build again until you heard your name and a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up and actually felt relief when you saw Joel.

"Sorry, thought you were still with me," he said, then tilted his head towards a side street he must have began to walk down without you.

"We live down here," he added. You heard someone call out both your names as you walked down the street. Joel waved to an older gentleman on his porch and after a brief delay, you waved as well.

"This is so weird," you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around.

"Yeah, I reckon it is."

Joel stopped short in front of a small, two-story house with a large front porch. You looked up at it, taking in every detail. The shutters, the rocking chairs, the small garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence, hoping something would click but you still felt nothing.

"This is your house?" you asked him. He watched you carefully as you continued to look around, wishing he would see something in your eye that would give him a shred of hope.

"Our house, yeah," he corrected you. You glanced up at him and quickly looked away, feeling too guilty when you saw the look on his face.

"Sorry," you whispered.

"Don't be sorry," he told you, but he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around. "D'you wanna look inside?"

You nodded and followed him past the gate and up the little stone path that led to his - your - porch steps. A flash of yellow in the garden caught your eye and for the first time, a small smile played upon your lips.

"Oh, I love black-eyed susans," you said dreamily, your hand instinctually reaching out to touch the delicate petals.

"Yeah, I know. You told me your mom planted 'em every year," he said, stopping at the top of the steps to look down at you.

"That's right," you said with a smile. "Although it drove her crazy because-"

"The bunnies kept destroyin' 'em," he finished for you.

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment: him, waiting for you to remember, and you, wondering how you could forget.

"Yeah," you finally said, then dropped your gaze and cleared your throat, giving the flowers one last look before ascending the stairs to the front door.

Joel unlocked the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping aside so you could go in first. You peered inside for a moment before taking a step forward.

The first thing you noticed was it smelled faintly like firewood and coffee. The kitchen was to your left, living room to your right, and a staircase was in front of you next to a small hallway that appeared to lead to a back door of the house.

Joel stepped inside behind you and shut the door quietly, allowing you to take your time and process everything at your own speed. He desperately wanted to drag you around the house and show you things you should remember, but he refrained. Instead, his eyes followed where yours went. When you looked at the kitchen table, he thought remember when we had breakfast there this morning? When you looked at the fireplace, he thought remember on our anniversary when we couldn't make it up the stairs quickly enough so we made love in front of the fire? When you noticed the board games, boxes all frayed and worn, sitting on a bookshelf next to the couch, he thought remember when you beat Ellie in Scrabble and she flipped the board over?

But of course, you didn't remember any of those things.

You looked around blankly, and he could tell you were trying to remember but not a single shred of recognition flickered across your face. Your eyes landed on the kitchen counter and you took a step forward.

"We had coffee together today, didn't we?"

Joel's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest.

"Yeah, you remember that?" he asked, quickly joining you at your side. You looked up at him and he could immediately tell what your answer would be.

"No, I'm sorry, it's just-" you pointed to the two mugs still sitting together on the counter and he nodded solemnly.

"Oh, right," he said, then walked over to pick them up and rinse them off in the sink. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you slowly navigate the kitchen. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up a recipe book and flipping through it, then looking at the paintings on the walls.

"Did you or I draw this?" you asked, stepping towards a portrait that was clearly of him.

"Neither. Ellie did it," he told you, and you looked at him curiously.

"Ellie?"

He nodded and just as he was about to open his mouth to explain, the front door whipped open, startling you.

"Is it true?" a young girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail asked as she barged into the kitchen. When her eyes landed on you, she dropped her book bag and stepped forward, peering at you as if you were under a microscope.

"Ellie-" Joel began, pushing off the counter, but she cut him off.

"People are saying you lost your memory or something, is that true?" she asked again, and you nodded slowly.

"Holy shit!" she sputtered, and Joel repeated her name again, but harsher this time.

"Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled out a stool that was tucked under the kitchen island and plopped herself down. "Are you, like, okay? How's your head?"

"Uh, better now. The doctor gave me some medicine and it finally stopped hurting so much, but I got a pretty bad cut," you reached back and touched the bald spot with your fingertips. "He had to stitch it up."

"Can I see?" she asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little, completely missing the way Joel perked up when he heard it.

"Sure," you said, turning around and lifting up your hair. "Can you see it?"

"Yeah, fucking gross, dude," she said with a shudder. You dropped your hair and turned back around.

"Is she your daughter?" you asked Joel, and Ellie burst out laughing.

"No way," she said, and he just rolled his eyes.

"I don't understand," you said with a frown. "Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," she told you so casually it almost gave you whiplash.

"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," you said, feeling terrible, but she just gave you a look like you were crazy. Maybe you were.

"It's cool," she said, looking back and forth between you and Joel. "So she really doesn't remember anything?" Ellie asked him.

"Only stuff from... before," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie as if trying to silently communicate with her.

"Oh," she said, nodding slowly as if she understood. "Shit."

"Before what?" you pressed, but they both ignored your question.

"Why don't you give her some time to settle in," Joel told Ellie. "Meet us later for dinner at the Bison."

"Yeah, okay," Ellie said, sliding off the stool and picking up her abandoned backpack.

"You don't live here?" you asked her.

"Sorta. I live in the garage, see?" she said, pointing out the window to a building out back with a large window in the front and a small light next to the door.

"In the garage?" you repeated, appalled, but she just laughed.

"It used to be a garage. Joel helped me fix it up and it's more like a guest house now. Right, Joel?"

"Yeah," he said, walking deeper into the kitchen so he could look through the window with you. "You helped her paint it," he said quietly.

"I did?" you asked, and they both nodded.

It looked like they were both waiting for you to say something further, waiting for you to maybe recall the color or the weather that day, but nothing was ringing a bell. You looked at them hopelessly and Joel averted his gaze.

"Go on, Ellie. I'm sure you got schoolwork," he said, and she rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards the door.

You watched her walk through the backyard and unlock the garage, catching a brief glimpse of the inside before she shut it softly behind her.

"You wanna go lay down for a bit?" Joel asked after he noticed you yawn, and you nodded. You followed him up the creaky staircase, your eyes drifting over everything you could find, hoping something would jump out at you along the way. When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped suddenly between two bedroom doors and you gave him a confused look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, the look on his face beginning to worry you.

"Nothin', I just realized..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, still staring at the two doors. "We share a room and I just realized tonight'll be the first time in years we sleep apart."

You looked away, feeling uncomfortable. You could see the anguish all over his face. His jaw ticked to the side and he was blinking faster than usual and the guilt was burning a hole in your stomach.

"I'll stay in the spare room," you said, breaking the tension. "Can you just show me where I keep my stuff and I'll-"

"No," Joel said, shaking his head. "I'll go in the spare room. You stay in our room. Maybe it'll help... it should be more familiar to you in there."

You decided not to argue with him. He finally stepped towards the door on the right and pushed it open, leading you into a master suite with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a quilt on top that appeared to be handmade in various shades of greys and purples. You ran your hand over the material thoughtfully while Joel opened a few dresser drawers and pulled out some spare clothes for himself.

"This is pretty," you said, and he turned around to look at the quilt.

"Becky a few doors down makes 'em," he said, turning back to the dresser. "You really wanted purple and I fought you on it, but you always win," he said with a chuckle. You smiled to yourself as you continued to look around the room while Joel collected a few more belongings. You noticed a pair of reading glasses on top of an old western book on one end table. The other end table had a few loose hair ties, a homemade lip balm, and a black, leather bound book with a pen on top. Without even thinking, you walked forward and picked it up, flipping through the pages one by one. It appeared to be a journal, and it looked like it was your handwriting.

Joel stepped out of the bathroom attached to your room and saw you holding the book. He swallowed and watched your face closely, looking for any sign that what you were reading made sense.

"I was gonna show you that tomorrow. Thought it would be too much today," he said after a few minutes.

"I kept a journal?"

"Yeah. You don't write it in often, but sometimes if somethin' special happened, or you just felt the urge, you would write it down," he said, putting his toiletries next to his clothes on the bed.

You closed the book and placed it back on the table, staring at the old cover, lost in thought. You had a million questions and you had to start somewhere.

"Joel... what happened?" you asked him. He frowned, not following at first until you clarified. "In the world, I mean. What happened? Because all of this," you waved your hands around the room and gestured out through the window. "This doesn't seem right. Did I join a cult or something?"

Joel shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't wanna overwhelm you," he began. You sat down as well, making sure to put plenty of distance between you.

"I'm already overwhelmed. Just please... tell me what's going on."

He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall.

"The world ended," he said bluntly, glancing in your direction. You stiffened but you waited for him to elaborate. "It was quick. Happened on a Friday, everythin' was gone by Monday. There's this fungus called cordyceps-"

"Nick asked me about that," you said, and he nodded.

"Well, best guess is the fungus mutated and got into the food supply. It, uh, it infects the brain. It grows and takes over, but it doesn't kill you. Well, not technically." He could see the confusion on your face. He wasn't explaining this right. "The fungus wants to spread, you see? That's it's basic function. If it killed the host, it wouldn't be able to spread. So, the host remains alive, but they're no longer... them."

"And the hosts are... people?" you guessed, and Joel nodded.

"Yeah. Spread like wildfire. One person would get bit-"

"Bit?" you repeated, eyes wide.

"Yeah, it's how the fungus spreads. Through blood. One person would get bit and they turn within hours."

"And there's no cure?"

Joel paused and took a deep breath, his gaze darting nervously around the room.

"No, there's no cure," he finally said.

You sat back on the bed and thought about what Joel just told you. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. She died the first day.

"And my family?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you waited for the answer. Joel looked at you, his heart breaking that he had to deliver the news.

"They didn't make it," he said, and one tear slowly escaped and slid down your cheek. "It was a miracle you even made it. That any of us made it," he added, hoping to take the sting out of it.

"A miracle?" you scoffed, opening your eyes now. "How do you figure, Joel? What's the fucking point in living like this?" you asked him angrily, standing up from the bed and pacing around the room.

"Don't say that," he said sadly, rising to his feet. "Believe me, I thought the same thing," he said, unconsciously scratching at the scar on his cheek. "But it turns out there's plenty to live for. It ain't so bad."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you challenged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What is there to live for? Because I have to be honest, I'm not seeing it."

Joel swallowed as he watched you angrily move around the room.

"Love," he said quietly, and you stopped. You stood with your back to him, your shoulders rising and falling as anger and frustration coursed through you.

Finally, you turned to look at him, tears silently falling.

"But everyone I loved is dead," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "My family is dead! Everyone I know is gone! What do I have left?" You dropped your hands and looked at him, tears steadily falling as you waited, completely forgetting the obvious answer.

"You have me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I know that don't mean much now, but I promise you, it will."

Your head fell forward, chin tucking into your chest with your hands on your hips.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still looking down. "That was so rude, I didn't mean to say it like that."

"This is hard for me, too," he said, taking a few steps towards you, then stopped. He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he had to remind himself that he was essentially a stranger to you.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin' for somethin' that ain't your fault," he told you sternly. You dragged your eyes back up to him, your shoulders slumped forward, eyes puffy and red.

"What if my memory never comes back?" you whispered. It was a question Joel didn't want to ask out loud but knew eventually it would be brought up. He took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye.

"Then I'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again," he said with a small shrug, and you let out a huff of laughter at that.

"You sound pretty confident," you replied.

"I did it once before, I can do it again," he told you, his gaze never wavering. "I'll never stop tryin'. What we have together, it's... it's rare. And it might sound stupid, but we're meant to be together. If you let me, I'll prove it to you."

Something in his eye made you feel calmer the longer you looked at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. He meant every word. You tore your gaze away from him and looked around the room again. The room you shared with him. The room where you held each other, kissed each other, made love together. Years of memories etched into the floorboards. Countless secrets whispered into the pillows. Laughter and tears echoed against the walls. Your eyes found him again just to realize he never looked away. He stood tall and firm in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for you. And you had to assume if he felt this strongly about what you had, then it must be worth fighting for.

"Okay."

Follow @punkshort-notifs for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #protective joel #joel miller x you #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #Pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #ikwya fic

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distantdarlings · 4 months ago

Text

SHEER HEAT // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.1K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Gender-Neutral Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After a month of Theo and his friends picking on you, you finally decide to stand up for yourself. It just doesn’t go exactly how you were planning.

+ WARNINGS - Gender-Neutral reader, Theo is picking on reader, language, kissing, kissing without permission, tension, not fully proofread (please lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Shameless - NAYM

- - -

The sky outside grew golden with the early morning sun. The rays of liquid gemstone shone across the windowsill, casting waves of reflection across the stone floor and your shoes. You tilted your foot back and forth and marveled at how the polished leather glistened.

There was a soft sweater across your shoulders and a small coffee cup in the corner of your desk with a sugar spoon, wandlessly swirling about the liquid.

Technically, beverages and food were not allowed in the classrooms, but Professor Flitwick was partial to you and didn’t mind if you sipped on a coffee or tea every once in a while.

Despite the early morning and your desire to be back in bed, you couldn’t help but feel the warm, content feeling spreading across your chest. You were grateful to be at Hogwarts, surrounded by your friends and—

“HELLO, TESORO!”

You jumped at the shrill shout coming from the door of the classroom. You and the other students glanced over to see a smirking Theodore Nott sprint across the room toward you.

You instinctively flinched at the sight and inched away from him just as he crashed his body full-force into your desk.

The wooden hull of it vibrated and sent your coffee mug flying through the air. You shrieked at the image and stood abruptly to avoid the brown liquid coating your lap.

Your breakfast coffee now frowned up at you from the ground with all of its shattered bits and splashed beverage.

You groaned and rolled your eyes.

“Theodore Nott, you’re such an asshole!” you shouted through gritted teeth. With a wave of your wand, the mug reformed itself perfectly, and the liquid swirled into a small bubble of liquid in the air before dissolving into bits of air.

“Ah, you don’t need that stuff anyway—it'll make you jittery and keep you up all night!” he chuckled to himself.

Just as he’d made the joke, his posse of equally annoying boys showed up behind him, laughing along with him.

“I think that’s for me to decide and not for you to send crashing to the floor!” you argued back.

“What if someone had done that to you?”

“Hmm,” he pretended to think. “Well, I suppose I’d give them what was coming to them…unless it was you, of course.” He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You sneered and rolled your eyes, realizing you’d never get anything through his thick skull.

“Whatever, Theo, just leave me alone,” you sighed and dropped back into your seat. He giggled irritatingly, headed to the back of the classroom, and selected a seat beside his friends.

You had no idea what you’d ever done to make him feel like he could harass you all the time, but you were getting to a point with his behavior. And if he kept it up, that point would be driven straight through his ugly face in the form of a fist.

At the sound of his continued giggling, you glanced back at him. Once you had, he caught your eyes and wiggled a few fingers at you.

You quickly turned back around and focused your head down on your newly-fixed mug. It was one of your favorites and—to be honest—had pissed you off entirely too much that Theo had broken it. It didn’t matter that it could be easily fixed; it mattered that he had broken it in the first place.

The rest of the class had passed relatively quickly, even though you could hear Theo and his friends’ little teasing giggles occasionally. You just did your best to ignore it.

By the time Professor Flitwick had announced that evening’s homework and dismissed the class, you were already out of your seat and halfway out the door.

You could still hear their little taunts all the way out the door and down the hallway. All you wanted to do was go back to the Great Hall, get yourself a refill of coffee and enjoy it in silence.

You had about a half-hour before you needed to be at your next class, and neither Theo nor his friends were there.

You rounded the corner to the Great Hall and slipped through the grand doors, allowing your mug to float from your hand and find its way to the nearest flagon of coffee.

If anything, coffee tended to be considered a Muggle drink around Hogwarts, but none could deny its excellent caffeine effect.

Wandlessly, you asked the mug to fill itself up to the brim and then watched as it did. You smiled a bit at the peacefulness of the Great Hall when no one else was in there.

You could hear the candles overhead and the fireplaces crackling softly, and the coffee trickling like a small stream. It gave you a sense of home, just like it always had.

When your mug was full, you took a seat at the empty Gryffindor table and settled your eyes on the flickering flames that reflected on the stone hearth.

“Hey, Tesoro.”

You jumped and turned toward the entrance. Theodore Nott was standing just there with a mischievous smile on his face.

You groaned audibly.

“Theo, I’m not in the mood. Haven’t I made that clear? I just want to enjoy my coffee while it’s not knocked into the floor.”

He laughed a bit.

“Aw, I’m sorry about that earlier,” he smiled. “It wasn’t my intention to knock it over.”

He crossed over to you and sat across the table from you. You refrained from tossing the coffee over him.

“Okay, so when I said I wanted to be alone—”

“I understood, and I’ll be here with you to support you through it.”

You frowned and stared at him. He wore a stupid smile branded across his face, obviously proud of himself for the dumb things he was saying.

“Alright, this was completely unpleasant, and I think I will enjoy my drink elsewhere.” You started to stand and head toward the exit, when Theo also stood and began to follow you.

“Theo! No! Leave me be!”

You increased your pace toward the doors, but he did the same. He matched your speed, ending up right beside you. His legs were significantly longer than yours, and he managed to keep up with you no matter how fast you were going.

You sighed and stopped right at the door, facing him.

“Where are we going?” he asked, with a shit-eating grin spread over his face.

“We are not going anywhere, dummy,” you said, rolling your eyes. “And I will stand right here until you get bored and leave.”

“I guess we’ll be here for a while, then.” He shrugged and shifted his weight against the wall, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Can I ask you something?” you asked. You crossed your arms and took a small sip from your cup.

“Anything, Tesoro.”

“Don’t call me that, please,” you said. “Why me? What about me has struck your little group’s fancy the last few weeks? You never acknowledged me before, but suddenly, you’re interested in making my day a living nightmare.”

“It’s not that; maybe we just like picking on you…”

“How does that make it sound any better?” you asked.

“I think we both know that half of the Hogwarts student body would love to be picked on by me,” he shrugged.

His confidence was a thing of admiration—you had to give him that. He seemed to know exactly what to say to keep everybody on his side at all times. Perhaps it was the charm or the family or something else, but everyone seemed to love Theodore Nott, no matter how incredibly irritating he could be.

It didn’t matter if he and his friends were picking on you for the last couple of weeks. It didn’t matter how many times you’d asked them to stop. It didn’t matter what they did to other people because they were young, attractive, white guys. You’d just happened to, unfortunately, fall onto their radar.

“You’re a cocky motherfucker, aren’t you?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“Always, baby,” he said, smiling widely. “Looks like you’ll be late for class if we keep hanging around here.”

“How do you know if I’m going to be late for class? I’m perfectly comfortable sitting here for as long as I have to if it gets you to leave me the hell alone.”

Obviously, that wasn’t entirely true, as your second period started in a few minutes, and you needed to be there. But, at this point, your pride and your distaste for the boy before you had you staying in place.

“Hope you like chicken.”

“Excuse me?”

“One of the elves in the kitchens told me that we were having chicken for dinner. I was saying that I hoped you liked chicken because we’ll be standing here until dinner is served.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Not really. I don’t think you understand how willing I am to stick around until you let me follow you.”

“You’re not following me, Theo.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t fucking like you,” you scoffed, in disbelief that he couldn’t possibly understand why you didn’t want to be around him.

“Ouch, that hurt,” he mock-frowned, pretending to wipe a tear away from his cheek. “Also, how do you know you don’t like me? We’ve never hung out.”

“Exactly! We’ve never hung out, and for some reason, you think it’s okay to harass me everyday!”

Your voice had begun to raise slightly with every stupid expression he flashed your way. He was trying to get on your nerves.

“But, maybe that’s my way of getting your attention,” he suggested. You were fuming.

“Getting my—? What the hell are you talking about?”

He parted his lips to answer, but the anger flashing through your body didn’t want to hear any explanation of his.

“Wait! Don’t answer that. I don’t fucking care.”

“I think you’ll be interested in the answer.”

“I highly doubt it.”

You pressed your hand to your forehead and took a deep breath, trying to repress the rage filling in your chest. You didn't care for any explanation he could have for you—all you had ever wanted to do was keep to yourself and enjoy your time at the most incredible school on earth.

But, for some reason, you had not been granted that for nearly a month.

What was worse was you genuinely didn’t understand why you were the target, and he’d yet to answer that, other than with whatever game he was currently playing.

You hadn’t gotten to enjoy your coffee, you were missing class, and—wait a minute. You looked back up at him. Why the hell were you even still here? You could just leave.

Theo’s eyebrows furrowed, and his head cocked slightly at the expression printed on your face.

It seemed he was trying to understand what realization had passed across your mind.

Your fingers tightened around your mug, and with your free hand, you quickly covered the top and—with a held breath—Disapparated.

There were swishing sounds all around you as if you were being pushed through a vacuum of sorts. You could feel your hair tickling against your forehead, and the coffee in your mug swishing against your makeshift hand lid, and something gripped tightly around your ankle.

The force of the process kept your head pinned upward so you could not see what was hanging around you. You just hoped it wasn’t Theo. If he had the audacity to come with you while you were trying to get away as quickly as possible, he had another thing coming. He needed to learn some boundaries.

You stopped suddenly. The whooshing and the coffee against your hand were still again.

You stood on the balcony of the astronomy tower. There were no classes during the day, and the professor rarely stayed in the tower past class hours.

You’d come to learn this the hard way when you had initially been practicing Disapparation.

You had been trying to pop up lakeside along the Black Lake and had ended up dangling on the wrong side of the guardrail.

It had been an unfortunate experience, but it had allowed you to find a space where you could enjoy studying or peace and quiet while having the gorgeous view of the campus spread out before you.

This time around, however, the view of the campus was not your focus. You turned and saw Theo standing just behind you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you shrieked, stomping over to him and pressing a rough shove to his chest. He stumbled backward slightly before catching himself against one of the student tables.

“I said I wanted to be alone! I’m tired of being followed and picked on. You’re pathetic and so selfish! I just want you to leave me alone, and if you don’t after this fucking warning, I’ll go to the Headmaster!”

He didn’t say anything; he just watched your heated vent.

“I swear to Merlin, Theodore Nott, if you bother me again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

He smirked ever so slightly. Just a tiny quirk of his lip in the upper left corner. That was it.

You screamed in frustration. “What the fuck do you want? What do I have to do to get it through your thick fucking skull? I want you to leave me alone! Do I need to hit you? Because I fucking will! Do I need to punch you, throw a drink on you, fucking kiss you? I mean, what is it that I need to do?”

Your cheeks were fiery and flushed, and you felt that you were close to tears, but still, Theo stood still, just watching and listening.

“Fuck—” Without thinking, you grabbed either side of his face and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. It lasted only a second before you pulled away, in utter disbelief with yourself.

Theo’s eyes widened, and his breaths came out in heavy pants. You knew you probably looked the same.

“Uh, I-I’m sorry,” you breathed. “I don’t know why I did that.”

There were a few moments of silence where the two of you seemed to be just glancing between the floor and each other. In reality, it was only a second or two, but in your head, it felt like hours.

Those seconds only filled the space between you for a breeze before Theo walked back over to you and mimicked your actions from earlier.

You grunted on impact at the sheer force he’d planted his lips on yours. Panicked, you shoved him away from you.

You figured you now looked precisely as he had when you’d kissed him. A second passed.

Then you were both reaching for each other, grasping at any and everything, and exchanging tastes between the others’ lips.

Your hands curled roughly into his hair, and his arms wrapped tightly around your lower back, pulling you as close as you would go.

His lips were soft but demanding, claiming exactly what he wanted and trying to force yours down into submission, but you refused. The sheer heat of your anger that had very quickly shapeshifted into lust seemed to push some adrenaline-filled strength into your body.

There was no way this jerk would force you to do anything.

You walked into him, forcing him back against the student table, where he sat against the edge of it. He pulled you in between his legs with a force like no other, never separating his lips from yours.

In response to your shove, he bit down on your bottom lip hard.

“Fuck, you’re such a dick,” you murmured in between kisses. You could taste a hint of blood spilling between your lips from his bite.

“I know,” he whispered against you.

You sucked in a breath and pulled away from him, stepping back just a bit.

“I don’t understand what’s happening…,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

“Me neither, really,” he shrugged. “I was teasing you because I wanted you.”

You stared up at him with widened eyes. “You mean like—?”

“What else could I possibly mean?” he deadpanned.

“Shut up. I was just trying to make sure. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Me neither. I’m usually pretty straightforward when I ask for what I want.”

“So, why was I any different?” you asked.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t as easy to talk directly to you.”

“But it was easy to pick on me?”

He shrugged and looked down to the floor. It seemed like he was a bit disappointed in himself, even after you’d been begging for him to stop for so long. Now that he was quiet and seemingly upset, you almost missed his mean quips and charming confidence.

“I’m sorry I made you upset. I wasn’t trying to,” he said. “I was trying to make you like me back. I don’t usually ‘flirt.’”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you snorted. “I just wish you would have talked to me. I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you—I couldn’t understand why you were suddenly being mean to me.”

“You had a crush on me?” he asked, eyebrows quirking up.

“Of course I did. You’re Theo Nott—everyone has a crush on you.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

He smirked just a bit, pride spreading across his face.

“Don’t take it so personally—it was just a little crush,” you laughed.

“No offense, but there’s no way I’m not taking this personally. I’ve wanted you since I first noticed you.”

You looked back up at him. His eyes were focused right on you, though they had switched from a kind of understanding to a flame of desire and ownership. You felt almost claimed.

Merlin, it was easy to see why so many people were so eager to be with him. The way he looked at you felt as if you were being devoured alive.

You swallowed thickly.

“I—”

“Do you want to go to my room?” he interrupted.

Well, shit. Wasn’t the whole point of the original conversation to get yourself as far away from him as possible? You’d already failed on that front, considering you’d just been sucking faces with him, but maybe you could drop this right now? You didn’t have to keep this up. He would probably play you until he was bored, just like everyone else. Fuck.

You bit your lip decidedly and nodded, accepting his outstretched hand.

- - -

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cactusisconfused · 2 months ago

Text

I think one of my favorite scenarios when it comes to ghoap is the idea of meeting each other late at night.

Ghost of course isn’t new to a horrid sleep schedule, as memories of corpses, laughter and unwanted hands invade his unconscious mind. He’s lost track of the countless times where he’s woken up in a cold sweat, mind swimming and hands shaking.

He’s formed a routine at this point. Lay in the shitty cot for a just a moment, allow his breaths to mildly slow. To allow the images to fade into the darkness.

He’d get up once he feels his legs stop shaking enough to stand, though he still used whatever ledge he can to make sure he doesn’t fall. He’d make his way to the bathroom, keep the lights off and the mirror covered with a thin towel for safety.

His hand will grab the basin of the sink, attempting to not crack it. He’ll then the water on- as cold as he can get it- and will just let his hands soak. The shock of the water makes him take a breath, grounding him to remember where he is. When he is.

Then he will stand there, letting his hands go numb; once they do the faucet turns off. He grabs the navy blue towel that he always has folded on top of the toilet tank and dries his hand. He lets his hands sit in the towel for a moment, letting warmth come back to them.

He stands for a long moment. In the quiet. In the dark. It’s just him. For that one moment it’s just him.

That thought helps him somehow.

He folds the towel three times over and puts it back where he picked it up.

Picking up his balaclava, his slides it on- the faint pressure comforting on his face

Opening his door, he’s greeted with a blinding hallway; he’s yet to find a base that greets him otherwise.

Right foot first, he walks down the hall.

One step, two steps, three steps, four steps.

He counts until he gets to the mess hall. No food is being served at the hours when he will be stalking the halls, but there’s a kettle and a coffee maker and he makes do with that.

The kettle, he fills with water, just enough to fill his own mug and nothing more. He counts the seconds until the kettle whistles then puts his tea bag in. He pours the steaming water. Then, two scoops of sugar and honey if the base ever has it.

He’ll sit down at the table in the corner of the room- skewed to be invisible from the door, but the entrance is vivid to Ghost’d eyes.

He’ll drink his tea slowly, until he starts to hear muffled talking and footsteps. In the cabinet goes his mug, after a wash in the sink. He’ll make it out of the cafeteria before anyone else comes in and he’ll start his day.

That is how Ghost has dealt with his nightmares. With the repetition of that routine.

Today is no exception.

Ghost wakes with the feeling of his skin burning, screaming, skulls pleading for help- for mercy. He takes a moment.

He goes to the bathroom. Washed his hands, dried them off and walks out of the room.

He counts his steps.

One, two, three, four.

He makes it to forty two before he slows. The sound of liquid dripping with a slight electronically buzz fills his ears.

The coffee maker is on.

Ghost turns the corner and there, at the running coffee maker stands one John ‘Soap’ MacTavish. His hair and slightly ruffled and his shirt is wrinkled some.

Ghost debates on leaving.

Ghost stays.

He watches as Soap finishes his coffee, then nearly spills said coffee as his eyes land on Ghost.

“Hells fucking bells Ghost, could ye nae have said something?!” Soap attempts irritation but there’s a relived smile that sits on his lips.

“Keeping you on your toes sergeant.” Is Ghost’s reflexive answer. In truth, his brain is still catching up that his routine has changed. Like a gps that attempts to reroute despite being surrounded by only busy high ways.

“Aye, well ye’r doing a swell job at that.” The sergeant chuckles as he moves to the table in the corner with his mug. Ghost’s spot.

Ghost stands for a moment longer. He really could just leave, spend the rest on his quiet morning in his room. It would be better for his raging mind.

His legs still move to the kettle regardless.

Ghost reclaims a moment of his routine. He boils enough water to fill the mug. He puts the tea bag in, pours the water, puts in his sugar and moves to the table which Soap is sat in.

Soap gives a nod and a friendly smile as Ghost sits. Soap sips his coffee, closing his eyes as he does. The man looks tired, bags under his eyes, his shoulders hunched in a way they usually aren’t. There’s a slight tremor to his hand.

Ghost knows what he sees and Soap, putting his mug down, knows that too. Neither say a word.

A minute passed, then another, then another.

It’s Ghost that somehow breaks the silence.

“What do you call a zoo with only a dog?”

Soap slowly blinks, his eyes lifting from his coffee yo ghost.

“What?” The man’s deep voice is heightened slightly with curiosity.

“A Shizu.” Soap stares at ghost for a moment, the gears visibly turning in Soaps head. Ghost is a moment away from explaining the joke when Soap slowly smiles and gives a small, honest laugh.

“That was pure shite L.t.”

“Another.” Is Ghost’s reply.

“We doin’ this again, are we?” Again, Soap feigns annoyance, but that tired smile remains.

“What happened to the frog that parked illegally?”

Soap sighs, letting his head descend to rest on the table. “I’ll bite, what do you call a frog that parks illegally, Simon?”

A smile forms behind Ghosts balaclava. He ignores how it feels to hear his name come out of Johnny’s mouth.

“It got toad.” Ghost hopes his smile wasn’t too audible in his tone.

The rest of the morning quiet morning follows like that. Ghost finding himself the one to talk, filling the air, as Soap lets his head lay on the table, coffee long forgotten. It feels odd for Ghost, having there be silence around Soap but somehow he finds he doesn’t mind filling it.

An hour passed before Soap stops responding. His eyes are closed and his breathing even. Relaxed.

Asleep.

When Soap wakes up to a fresh mug of coffee next to him on the table as 6am alarms start ringing around base, Ghost denies any knowledge on how the coffee got there.

When the day ends, and another nightmare brings Ghost to consciousness at the crack of dawn, Soap denies any relativity to the perfectly made cup of tea sitting at Ghost’s spot at their table.

Simon thinks, as he sits down and watches as Johnny draws, maybe a change of routine isn’t so bad after all.

Hi! Sorry for not posting for a bit got really busy with some other stuffs. Also that soap drawing will be done eventually, just gotta get out of art block first.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed.

Byeeeee

#ghoap #john soap mactavish #cod mw3 #simon ghost riley #soapghost #cod mwii #johnny mactavish #ghoap fic #one shot #I gave up on soap having an accent #my bad 😞

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lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit · 2 years ago

Note

I have a craving for a oneshot on the rocks, with a hint harsh, a drip of tagic, a taste of spice, and an after taste as sweet a sugar.

For flavoring, I was thinking about of a Nicodeme "Nico" Savory or a Mordecai Heller, which ever the Bardtender think's will taste better.

Two characters, two authors! Enjoy your flavourful drinks. (Just make sure you have a designated driver to take you home, since this is gonna be a Hell of an experience. Maybe you should sit down. No passing out in my bar!) -mod Ille

At last, my bilingual ass has been summoned for something! -mod Iphie

(CW for semi-descriptive headshot, a nasty gash to the arm and implied character death)

Mordecai’s head pounded from the blow against the brick wall. The cat who had roughly shoved him there was now practically headless, their skull shattered from a point-blank side-of-the-head shot.

Y/N was panting slightly as they both eyed the corpse. Mordecai taking off his glasses to clean the blood splatters off the lenses snapped their attention towards him and relief flooded their eyes. “Thank god, you’re okay…”

“‘Okay’ is subjective,” Mordecai grumbled, not at all surprised when a curious hand came down with blood when he checked the back of his head. “I may require medical assistance.”

“Shit. Let me see?”

On a normal day, he would have objected. He would’ve shied away from his partner’s touch and insisted that they merely get going in case the bloodthirsty felines they had the unfortunate luck of working with killed the cat they were tasked with questioning. This time, however, he reluctantly yet obediently turned around.

Y/N carefully moved his pinned ears up, mumbling an apology as they knew he didn’t like them getting touched. “It doesn’t look like much,” they said after a moment. “I think your fur’s picked up the worst of it. Once you get cleaned up you can probably get a better idea of what to do with it. Does your brain hurt?”

Mordecai shook his head slowly. It didn’t feel like anything got knocked loose, nor did his brain loudly object by spinning or pounding. “No.”

“No headache, no…?”

“Nothing, I appear to be fine.”

Y/N didn’t respond to that, instead moving around Mordecai to check his eyes. They visibly relaxed when they made eye contact. “You’re fine. Your eyes are clear. You’ve got a thick head, Morde.”

Mordecai rolled his eyes in response. Y/N snickered and held a blood-soaked hand out to him as gunshots started up again somewhere a little ways away from their alleyway.

“C’mon,” they whispered. “I think the twins are having too much fun without us.”

Mordecai pointedly stared at their hand. Y/N got the hint after a moment and wiped it off onto their pant leg as much as they could. When it was more or less clean, he finally slipped his hand into theirs and led them towards the sounds of violence.

Needless to say, the Savoys were having far more of a ball than Mordecai and Y/N did. Neither of them knew what it was about the situation that had made them so feral—what it was about their job in general—but it was to be expected that when a bit of firepower needed to be fired, there would be no survivors.

The particularly unlucky spot they had got themselves in involving not only an interrogation gone wrong, but a rival gang and couple of passing cops too.

No, the Savoys were not professional or clean in their line of work, but Mordecai had to admit they were definitely quick and effective.

By the time they turned the alleyway corner, the last shots had been fired and there were no more disturbances to be seen—or to deal with. Before long, raucous laughter replaced the blazing gunfire.

Serafine heaved Boudreaux onto her shoulder and wiped the sweat from her brow. "Seems like that's the last of 'em," she sighed, kicking one of the surrounding corpse with the steel toe of her boot. "They really thought pistols and glass could come up against us!"

"The source?"

"Dead."

"And the other intruders?"

"All dead, of course."

"And the cops?"

Serafine gave him a look. "What do you think? We're not that stupid, cher."

"What about the cargo?" Mordecai pressed, wiping the back of his bleeding hand on his trenchcoat.

"'S all here," Nico chuckled, patting the crate hidden behind a couple of bins. "Secure and ready to go, chief."

Mordecai glanced at it. His frown only soured. To think that all of this—the red stained cobbles, the spent and expensive ammunition, even the new scar he sustained to the back of his hand—was for one small box. Mr Sweet must have been incredibly eager to get his hands on whatever was inside, at the detriment of his staff.

Mordecai only hoped it was worth it.

He had been wondering that a lot ever since he joined the Marigold bandits. Lackadaisy runs had been just as messy, but at least they weren't for as senseless a cause as this one.

A sudden gasp from Y/N brought him back to the rest of his team.

"Nico, your arm!"

Mordecai's paled when he finally clocked on to what they meant. A long, deep gnash tore down the Savoy brother's left arm, the jagged wound so deep it was almost black in the low light of the alley. Blood smeared every inch of his fur and then some, staining his front and even his cheek. The glass shard used to perform the deed was still wedged inside, worryingly close to his wrist.

Even Serafine took a step back, the bloodlust in her eyes cast aside immediately.

Only Nico was calm.

He looked down and yanked out the glass, then rolled his shoulder back to inspect the damage. He shrugged.

"I've had worse," he laughed.

Mordecai knew a lie when he heard one, and when he saw that Nico's brave face was slipping by the second. Dark chuckles of dismissal lost assurance and volume until they were barely heard at all. Bright amber eyes lost focus and eyelids sagged.

He collapsed.

Serafine rushed to catch her twin, carefully laying him down on the ground. She squeezed his uninjured hand as Y/N--who was evidently playing medic today--dropped to their knees on his other side and took their claws to the coat they were wearing.

"He's bleeding a lot," they muttered fearfully, talking more to themself than anything. "We might need to take him to a hospital."

"No."

Their ears flicked as Mordecai brought them back to the present. They looked back at him. "Mordecai, this is more than I can handle. If we don't get him to the—"

"How will you explain the injury?"

"It's none of their business." There was a hard edge to Serafine's voice. "Eider he goes, or I kill you both when 'e dies."

Mordecai made his way over to Y/N and knelt down beside them. Blood was still flowing from the wound in a steady stream, it easily soaking through the coat fabric Y/N painstakingly wrapped around Nico's arm as a bandage.

"He will either bleed out before we get to the hospital," he started, straightening up again. "Or he will seizure and pass on anyway. There is no—"

Serafine lunged. Y/N grabbed her shoulders before claws met fur. "Serafine, don't! Don't. I will do what I can to keep him stable. You stay with him."

The queen was out for blood again, her ears pinned back almost flat against her skull and her tail fluffed out. Still, she relented; ever so slowly returning to crouching by Nico's side and taking his hand again. Y/N was probably one of the few felines that could talk her down from bloodthirsty to benevolent.

Mordecai stood back again as Y/N went to work, putting pressure on the wound and mumbling to themself. Serafine appeared to have gone inside herself as she held Nico's free hand in one and stroked his head with the other.

"T'es un salaud si tu penses que j'vais te laisser crever comme ça," she muttered.

Nico's chuckle was far too light for the situation. "Et toi, t'es toujours aussi têtue qu'au couvent," he teased weakly. "Y a des choses qui ne changent jamais, hein?"

"J'suis ta sœur. Je reste ici."

"En tant que ton frère, je dis que non. Les flics peuvent arriver d'un moment à l'autre."

"T'as pas le choix, mon cher."

She gripped his hand tighter, for the last time.

When his breathing started to become shallow and Y/N's canines appeared over their bottom lip, Mordecai predicted the end result.

They looked at Serafine mumbling what Mordecai presume to be a prayer before turning to him, their E/C eyes worried. An unspoken question hung between them. "What do I say to her?"

Serafine and Nicodeme were inseparable. Where one was, the other was hardly ever far behind. From what Mordecai could tell they had been that way since they were children.

There would be no easy way to pull Serafine away from her twin brother.

Y/N reached across Nico to put their hand on top of the twins' own. Serafine's head snapped up to meet their eyes. They swallowed hard before speaking. "Serafine..."

"I know."

"You don't have to stay here. If you don't want to see him—"

She shook her head, cutting them off. "I'm staying here. You leave, bring him—" She shot Mordecai a dirty glare. "—too. I don't want to see his face again. Not after his idiotic interrogation went wrong and caused this. I'll deal with him later."

"But—"

"Go."

Y/N nodded and carefully stood up, reluctantly taking their hands off Nico's arm. Serafine stroked his head again as they made their way over to Mordecai.

Their voice cracked when they spoke. "She wants us to leave."

"So I overheard."

"She's not happy."

"I heard that too."

"Mordecai, I swear to god, if you start being snarky when her brother is fucking—"

He cut them off by abruptly turning and walking away. They rushed to catch up to him, their fur bristling.

The walk between the two back to the car was silent. Y/N was oddly quiet, their eyes hard and footsteps quick. It wasn't until Mordecai reached for the driver's side door that they broke the spell. "Uh-uh, you're not driving."

Mordecai turned to them. "Excuse me?"

"You took a nasty hit to the head." Y/N wouldn't meet his eyes as they pulled his hand away from the door handle. "Even if you don't have a concussion, I don't want you driving. The motion might aggravate things and—"

"Y/N."

"—then it'll be you in the hospital and I'll have to explain that anyway and—"

"Y/N L/N."

"—then Mister Sweet is going to want answers and—"

Y/N squeaked when Mordecai grabbed their shoulders and shoved them against the car. E/C eyes finally met green ones as they stumbled over their words to silence.

"Enough." Mordecai dusted off their shoulders, and then his own paws, before standing up straight again. "We will be fine without him. She will likely be more of a savage than usual, but we will deal with that. Asa Sweet will be my responsibility to deal with, not yours."

He definitely did not want to think of the funeral, if at all. He didn't know what was sadder: the thought of it happening in the first place, or the fact that he'd likely not get one at all.

At his core, Nico was just another disposable part of the Marigold workforce. Mordecai had to get it into his head himself and stop wallowing over it all. He would need to try and get Y/N to do so as well. He could see tears well up in their eyes.

Crying never helped anyone or anything. It certainly wouldn't now, not unless they were made of magical medicine that could cure all ailments.

But as luck would have it, they were not.

That was where unprofessionalism like the Savoys got people in this business. They'd take it as a warning.

A warning that stung, but a warning to be sure. The thought of such a strong, seemingly unbeatable fighter dying in an alley, in dirt, in disgrace, made his fur bristle.

Mordecai still couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't a little his own fault, somewhere down the line.

He probably wouldn't admit it even if it was.

Y/N's ears moved back and forth, either registering his words or listening for something. They looked over both of his shoulders and back over their own. Mordecai strained his own ears to listen to, so their next words made him (embarrassingly) flinch.

"Can I hug you?"

"What? Yes. Wait, no-"

Too late. Y/N practically threw themself at him, crushing him into a hug so tight it felt like he was about to be suplexed. His hiss of displeasure went unnoticed by them, up until he awkwardly patted their head; then they abruptly let go and backed up so quickly they slammed against the car and bumped their head.

The irony wasn't lost on Mordecai as Y/N growled and rubbed the back of their head. They shot him a look when they noticed the small smile on his muzzle.

"Don't say it."

"Do you require medical assistance?"

[French Translations:

"If you think I'm gonna leave you here alone to die, you're a bastard."

"And you're still as stubborn as you were back at the convent. Some things never change, eh?"

"I'm your sister. I'm staying here."

"And as your brother, I say no. The cops could arrive at any moment."

"You don't have much of a choice in the matter, my dear."]

#🖋 mod ille #🦉mod iphiko #Oneshot on the Rocks #Lackadaisy #Mordecai Heller #Nicodeme Savoy #Serafine Savoy #oneshot #tw character death

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adelha-mathilde · 6 months ago

Text

Happy Birthday Asmodeus (Obey Me!) fic

summary: Asmodeus gets pampered for his birthday. Casual fluff stuff.

Asmodeus gave a heavy groan upon waking. Since his head was pounding like obon drums as the scent of ocean salt and lavender surrounded him. The sounds of waves sounding out in the distance as well as the sounds of birds singing close by. A chuckle also wafting out from next to the feather soft bed as Asmodeus groaned again. The woman sitting next to the bed soon leaning over him to press a cool cloth over his eyes for Asmodeus to sigh at the relief such brings from the hammering in his skull. The lady chiding him with loving warmth as she keeps dabbing the cloth over his face. "This is why I told you to count your cups, silly boy. Focus on breathing so the pain eases."

A sensation of gentle magic soon flowed over the pain so that Asmodeus might find relief from it. The demon sighing sweetly to ease back into the bed and hum a note of pure gratitude. His eyes soon opening to look to Adelha as she gazed down at him. His words soft and full of charm. "My hero... Saving me from my own foolishness during that wild birthday party. I'd kiss you if I had the strength to get up. But this feels too good to not bask in the moment."

Adelha gave him a smirk as she moved to gently tap him on the nose. Her words full of sugared affections. "Count this as your birthday gift from me, then. Honestly. Even you have limits, Asmodeus. Know your limits and abide by them. Else you'll have worse than a hangover next time." Asmodeus sighed to to towards Adelha and smile at her with that boyish charm that tended to sway many a mortal to his whims. But it only had Adelha tap him on the nose again before she speaks further. "Do not even bother trying to be suave and charismatic with me right now, sweetling. Not after Lucifer had to help me spirit you away to get you to finally rest. He's been texting all day to check in on you. I told him you will be treated to fresh air, sunshine, and a day of simple leisure. Once you woke up to greet the afternoon."

Asmodeus blinked to then roll his eyes and sigh. "The I really did go too far with that partying and fun. How uncouth of me. I'm so sorry, Margaret. I must have worried you and the others." Adelha leaned in to give Asmodeus a tender kiss. One that was sweet, warm, and chaste for Asmodeus to hum into the kiss with pure delight. Soon breaking the kiss for him to finally sit up with her assistance. So it is that Asmodeus gives Adelha a tender hu for her to hug him back. A feeling of abiding love and acceptance having the demon ease out of his charismatic act and into a more personable humility. The mask removed for just the two of them as Asmodeus rested his head on Adelha's shoulder. "Everyone kept telling me they'd been planning my birthday party for weeks. I knew that they expected me to be my jovial party hard self. With all of Devilgram watching the festivities. I knew on some level it wasn't a good idea to put up the act for so long. But I can't say no to one more toast. I can't disappoint them. They expect so much from me. It's so... Terrifying..."

Adelha effortlessly swept Asmodeus into her lap to hold him close and sigh. The bedsheet keeping him covered like a cloak as Adelha showered his face with kisses as his tears burned his eyes. Yet she simply gave him comfort and gentle patience to rub her nose to his. Words of soft love given against his skin. "I know my sweetling. But there is no stage for you to perform on here. There are no spectators or fans to demand anything of you. No cameras or fanfare to have you dance to the tune. There is only us and a vast island sanctuary to rest in." Asmodeus sniffled to let himself cry it out. A righteous purging of all the fears and faults to let them wash away with tears and the sounds of the tides. While Adelha kissed those tears away and rubbed her bare hands over his back and shoulders to coax those freeing tears from the Avatar of Lust.

A long moment is spent with Asmodeus crying and sobbing to let all his anxieties and fears fall away from his heart under the loving care of this dragon maiden. One who simply holds him close and comforts his spirit. Until his tears are spent for Adelha to dab at his eyes with the cloth. Her smile one of unconditional love and acceptance as she hums a warm note at him. "There we go. It's okay for you to take full breaths of air here, Asmodeus. I know all too well your performances for others feels like a too tight corset. So I will cut such off of your heart to let you breathe freely here. Your weakness is a precious and priceless treasure to me, sweetling. Such a sight of vulnerability is one I shall cherish for all my days and nights. Mine alone in this moment to hold as sacred."

Asmodeus sniffled to feel all those fears and that crushing weight float off and away from him. Leaving him feeling raw yet loved in a way he dearly appreciated. So he hugged Adelha to let her move them back into the fathered bed as the breeze gently wafted through the open windows. Carrying the scents of sun baked sands, ocean spray, and wildflowers. Adelha poured him a mug of fruit tea for Asmodeus to rest against the headboard and bask in the moment of serenity with someone he both trusted and treasured. Only for Lucifer to make his presence known by his sigh as he stood at the bedroom door. Yet Asmodeus simply smiled with his eyes red and both hands holding the mug with a slight tremble. The Avatar of Pride soon moving to sit on the bed with them and gently tuck a stray hair out of Asmo's eyes. The eldest brother simply tapping a finger to the mug of tea to place a spell over the tea and gift his brother some energy back. A silent yet obvious sign of love for Lucifer to smirk at them both. "The others will be expecting us to return home by next week. For now, it will be just the three of us and the puppies in Adelha's family sanctuary. This island in the Human World is a haven away from prying eyes. So we have a week to just savor the time together. Lord Diavolo hopes we enjoy the break to return with some fun stories to tell."

Adelha chuckled to sip at her own mug of tea as Asmodeus nodded to give Lucifer a real smile. One that was tired but grateful as he spoke. "This is the most thoughtful gift ever. But I do want for us to try hunting for clams to grill later on for dinner. But for now... This is perfect..."

#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me! one master to rule them all #fanfiction #fanfic #obey me! fanfiction #obey me! fanfic #Obey Me! Verse #Obey Me Asmodeus #obey me asmodeus

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selasshelves · 4 months ago

Text

Goop - 2

Ambulance

Functionally, the only difference between inside and outside was the lack of people. It's not as if the people in the school were particularly important or even relevant to my life today, but I was glad to be free of their presence. Like faceless ghosts, they just straddled the line between life and death. Humanity lived in our vibrant hallways and classrooms surrounding the gymnasium. Humanity dying in the circle they formed around the dead girl on the floor. Humanity living in the homes and buildings surrounding the school. Humanity dead in my arms.

I sat down on the plush grass, a week overdue on being mowed. I placed the dead girl's body on the ground next to me, but propped her up as if to lean against the flowering tree next to us. Her neck lolled to one side, revealing a milky white neck, free from scars or marks. Her tendons flexed gently as her head moved downwards. There was no texture on her skin, the only discoloration was of her veins and arteries faintly visible beneath the skin. Once again, I reached out and brushed my fingers against her neck. There were no goosebumps raised, only the soft texture I was expecting. I pressed my index finger into where I expected one of her carotids might be. My dead girl had no pulse. I pulled my hand away and paused, then gripped my own neck until I felt my frantic heart pounding in my chest to pump blood through my body.

I'm alive. She's not.

I have to wrench my hand away from my pulse and pull my phone out of my pants with shaking fingers. I flip it open and stare at my reflection in the little black screen. It hypnotizes me with its rendition of my face, covered in streaky black tears. I drag my gaze away from my pond and force myself to look at the sky. The blueness seems artificial in nature until I see a black cloud approaching with a greenish yellow haze underneath it. I focus on that yellowy atmosphere while my thumb finds the number pad and dials what I pray is an emergency line.

Ring.

I look at my dead girl once again, satisfied with the coming thunderstorm.

Ring.

She hasn't changed. I'm grateful, because she isn't turning blue or purple, or withering away before my eyes.

Ring.

I don't even know what a hospital is going to do for a dead girl. I don't know how long she's been dead. I don't know if they can resuscitate her, or give her something, anything. I've never known her as anyone other than dead girl.

Ring.

The longer my phone rings the more it makes me want to-

"Hello? Hello, this is 911, what's your emergency?"

"Yes, hello!" I can barely get the words out without tripping over them. "I need an ambulance, as soon as possible. Please. Please, I-"

"Certainly, but what is your emergency?"

The operator is far too calm for the situation.

"There's this girl, I found her and we're at school and it's really bad and nobody else called but she needs to come in, I think she might be dead and she-"

"Hold, please."

I stare blankly at my phone, slack jawed. A laugh bubbles in my chest and gets choked out while my fingers grip the device just a small bit harder.

"Please, please don't put me on hold because this can't wait I think she's really dead and-"

"Dead? Dead people don't go to hospitals, sweetheart." The operator interrupts me in the same, sickly sweet sterilized tone of voice. She sounds as if she's been lobotomized, and I can picture a scalpel being inserted into her skull so distinctly that I start feeling my head ache and pound.

"Dying! I meant dying, she's dying right now, but if you come as soon as possible she might live, just please. Please." I feel warmth brewing in my eyes and spilling onto my cheeks as I'm begging this sugared voice on the other end of the line for something that might not even matter. "She's dying and she needs you. She needs help." I know that she's dead, not dying, and the lie tastes salty in my mouth.

"Mm-hm." I hear slow clicking on the end of the line that must be nails on a keyboard. I feel momentary disgust at the thought that this woman gets her nails done to just be more inefficient at her job. The same disgust that unwillingly floods your chest when you see someone with too much lip filler on the street. The private disgust of seeing someone ruin a perfectly good face, combined with the private joy of knowing you at least don't look like that. The kind of shameful disgust that you really shouldn't feel, because you're shaming someone else for their own personal decision and siding with the beauty standards that pushed this person to get that filler, insert the implants, inject the Botox. In the time I had to enjoy that bitter internal monologue, this woman probably could have done her task three times over if she didn't have long, fake nails.

"An emergency vehicle will be dispatched shortly to your location. Thank you for calling!" Click.

I know the operator has hung up, but I sob and thank her anyways. The phone is shoved unceremoniously into my pocket again and my hands cradle my face. I notice the roughness of my knuckles and the hair that grows on the backs of my fingers. I have two hangnails and the few nails that have actually grown out are an unhealthy yellow color. My hands are tanned and rough from the sun that's beaming down on us right now. I doubt that the girl's hands are rough like mine.

My reverie of self reflection is broken by a flutter of wings in my peripheral vision. In front of us lands a mourning dove. She looks directly at us and coos softly, seemingly bobbing her head. I sigh softly, rummaging in my pockets for leftover granola bars or nuts. Sometimes I eat pistachios at school, and I suppose a bird wouldn't mind that kind of food. My pockets are empty, save for my phone.

"I've got nothing. Sorry."

She coos back at me. I force myself to imagine that the bird is saying something like "It's alright, I know you tried". The little creature settles down into the grass in some sort of nesting position, although I can't imagine the lawn is any more comfortable for her than for me. I study her more closely, now that it seems she's going to stay next to us for the next few minutes. She's a soft little bird, unassuming. Brown and black feathers, beady black eyes and a blueish beak. There's blue around her eyes and her feathers look smooth. It's just a bird.

I look at the girl again. It's easy to imagine her as a sleeping angel, like one you might see as a ceramic statue in an elderly woman's garden. She could be a marble bird bath, the birds resting upon it, the sunlight shining down, and the clear blue water inside it all at the same time. She was that picturesque, she was the whole painting. My head feels thick and I lay down in the grass to ground myself.

I can hear rumbling on the ground and I sit up, looking down the street. I don't realize what I'm looking for until a vehicle resembling a mail truck turns into the driveway of the school. The driveway we're sitting next to. The black storm clouds from before begin to cover the sun and the temperature drops. It all feels very real now.

The mourning dove flies into the tree above us as the ambulance comes to a stop in front of us. It's just a white vehicle, strangely unmarked. It's certainly the build of an ambulance, but I don't see the red stripes I was expecting. But it has a driver, and sirens, so that's good enough for me.

The driver leans out of the window. He's an unassuming man in his early sixties. I don't particularly care who he is. "Just me today," He says, jerking his head towards the back of the vehicle. The doors in the very back of the vehicle open automatically.

I have no choice but to steel my nerves and grit my teeth. For the second time today, I pick up a dead girl and start walking. Her weight is just as light in my hands now as she was the first time I carried her. But now I'm unsure, and my steps are shorter, my knees shakier. Coming around the side of the vehicle, I step up inside and take a look at the interior of the van. There's a small cot, which I place the girl to rest upon. One seat is in the back, separated from the driver and passenger. I assume this is normally where an EMT would sit, but for now, that seat is my new home for this ride. I struggle with the belt that holds the girl's body in place on the cot, then sit and fasten my own seatbelt.

"Ready." I call out to the driver.

He adjusts the mirror to make eye contact with me instead of just turning around and looking at me. My dislike for him grows with every passing minute.

"I don't think that you're coming, miss."

His words have that same hint of amusement to them that the phone operator's had. Once again, I'm flummoxed by the lack of sympathy and urgency every single person I have interacted with has shown me.

"I. Don't. Care." I hissed, reaching over to grab the girl's hand. "They can kick me out at the hospital, but I'm not leaving her until we get there."

The driver smiled and shifted gears. I felt the ambulance lurch and heard the engine start thrumming, matching the sloshing and turning of my stomach and the never ending static heartbeat I heard in my ears. Outside the window, I saw the mourning dove from the lawn looking at me from a branch on the tree. I took my hand back from the girl and closed my eyes.

I felt the ambulance come to a halt. My eyes open and I see that I'm in the passenger seat, next to the driver. I have no recollection of how I ended up here, but in front of me is a hospital. That's all we need.

"We're here." The driver states. He makes no move to exit the vehicle or help in any meaningful way, so I unfasten my seatbelt and jump out of the ambulance myself. The doors to the back aren't opening automatically this time, but I pay it no mind. The only thing I can think about in this moment is getting the girl inside. I don't know what's next.

I run to the back.

I grab the handles.

I wrench open the doors.

And I vomit. I fall to my knees on the pavement, and vomit old cafeteria food, bile, something that looks oddly like blood, and the remaining contents of my stomach onto the asphalt besides the ambulance. Wracking coughs are heaved out of my body as I try desperately to expel everything inside of me. My eyes have been open the whole time and try as I may, they refuse to shut. So I see the mixture being spewed from my body onto the pavement, but another image is burned into my eyes.

I dry heave one last time, and shakily rise to my feet. The doors in the back are still open. I lift my head to look inside once again.

I step into the vehicle.

I move my feet one by one to the side of the cot.

I grab my chin with my vomit streaked hands and force my head to look at the cot where my dead girl once laid.

In her place is a pile of gooey, oozing, yellow slime encapsulating a pile of black wires.

The urge to vomit returns, but I have nothing else in me to sacrifice to the parking lot. I wipe my hands on my pants and slowly,

carefully,

touch the oozing mass of remains that is my dead girl.

Something pulls my whole hand in and I shriek in terror. My scream is accompanied by another dry heave because now, my hand is truly in the guts of whatever this is. Gone are the gentle touches and frantic attempts to feel life. This is the opposite of smooth skin and cotton shirts. I don't stop screaming until I rip my hand out of the slime and shake it free of the remnant. I still felt like I was screaming until I realized I was just sobbing and heaving now. Its so sick. I can't stop the noises that are escaping my throat and I can never touch anything ever again, so I can't even muzzle myself with my own hands. I will never see these hands the same again.

Slime is a poor word for whatever this is. The viscosity demands a word like "goop". I felt how oily the mass was, how it was nothing I had ever felt before. Like glue, but more clear. Jello, only more liquid and sticky. Perhaps I only felt this way because I knew what this had been once, but this mass felt like the product of a sociopath that took each part of the human body and blended it together until it was unintelligible what it once had been.

The wires inside were not a confusing and disgusting, inhuman substance like the goop was. The goop was an alien life form, incomprehensible to me. I could not fathom what it might consist of. It was an entirely new thing that never should have existed. I doubt it was even the color yellow, my human brain could only comprehend it as such. The wires were simple wires. Black rubber on the outside, braided copper inside. Some were inside the goop, some were piled on top. How this could be, I didn't know. The only thing I had room for inside my brain was disgust, horror, and grief. Grief for my beautiful, graceful, birdlike girl.

I don't know how long I stared at the goop.

Something inside of me knows that this is deeply wrong. Something intrinsically twisted and evil happened here. Something has been wrong ever since I walked into the gymnasium this morning and saw a circle of people, completely silent in an American high school. Something has been wrong ever since I got put on hold on the 911 line. Something is wrong, and I'm the one that has to make it right.

There is a clear plastic container with green handles beneath the cot. I believe they're sold at Family Dollar for $3.99. I looked at the container, then at the hospital.

"I must be- We must be here," My voice is hoarse and doesn't sound like me. "For a reason. I don't know. I don't know."

My arms move of their own accord and reach down to grab the plastic container. I set it on the cot, next to the goop.

I do the single thing I want to do the least, I begin to pick up my dead girl for the third time that day. I screw my eyes shut and shovel the goop and wires into the plastic bin until I feel nothing left on the cot. I open my eyes and see only a vague, damp stain where the goop was. I pick up the container and watch the goop and wires jiggle inside. It's horrifying. It's disgusting. It's a little funny, but whenever I think about laughing I dry heave again, so I keep my mouth shut. It's not funny, not at all. I just can't feel disgust for this long without laughing at myself for somehow being in this situation.

But I think of my dead girl. She's in this too. She deserves to live. She deserves to have a body.

I hold the plastic container with both hands and step out of the vehicle. The doors shut by themselves behind me. Ahead of me is the hospital's entrance. I don't know what lies behind me besides my pile of sick. I step forwards and once again, I don't hear my footsteps.

The doors open for me, and I'm greeted with the sight of a pure white, sterile hospital. I can only smell bleach and hand sanitizer. The reception desk is run by a woman with acrylic nails and a small smile. I grit my teeth and walk forward, now intensely aware of my disgusting smell and clothing in this pure place of cleanliness and restoration. I can only pray she doesn't scream at the sight of what's in my hands.

"I'm here to check in, please."

#original fiction #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #creative writing #gothic horror #horror

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cxyotl · 2 years ago

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HI OK SO

first up we have . ok you need the context first. I go by Adam frequently yeah. but I’m also REALLY bad at finding names I like for ocs. so. None of these are self inserts but they’re all. theyre all called Adam. (But like /gen bc self inserts are cool)

Oc #1:

parrot hybrid. you know the dark blue with yellow parrot? imagine that. they have the taloned hands and feet that avian hybrids usually have, but they aren’t really scaled. it’s more like bone/nail structure and heavier calluses. theyre around 5’3 but 5’7-ish when tiptoeing (biological for reaching/take-off/intimidation) and a wingspan of 12-13 feet. darker hair and eyes to blend in with vegetation and dark plumage.

humans also have these really cool bioluminescent stripes along our bodies and I though, hey what if adam-1 had that but a little brighter? so imagine like really really faint scars that work in an camouflage way. for a lot of mobs (which I headcanon to be able to see infrared and other wavelengths depending on the mob) they can pick up on those things to find players/food, and so they would have slightly brighter ones that help them to blend in with colorful surroundings.

very picky eater, and sensitive to lots of sugars and wheats (parrots + cookies = hell no). mainly a carnivore when it comes to diet.

I’d say their personality is closer to omnivert. they’re very loud when everyone else and quiet with people they trust/care for. a prankster ofc. creeper noises do numbers among the crowds (evryone funkingf hates it /lh). they don’t settle down. they like a small base and exploring.

they have a prosthetic leg from the knee down that’s netherite (bc having a prosthetic break is SHIT). It makes cool clank clink noises when they walk on hard surfaces if they don’t have leather bindings for talons n such on.

not too many scars. they usually avoid conflict but they have one along their arm from a badly healed break.

that’s all I really have for 1 unless you want me to go into bone structure and anatomy n such ^^

Oc #2:

I got a little obsessed with sculk when it came out so their colour palette + looks reflect that. imagine like the “pillars” on the sculk shrieker but a little smaller and put it on their skull. like a crown almost. very dark hair. BLIND gotta make em blind. then imagine taking pitch black paint and dipping it to your elbows. their arms look like that. then the veins a bit up the arms fade from black to a sculk-blue (all vv muted though bc veins are under the skin ofc). I like the idea that the pillars would be someone else on the body too but I’m not sure where.

short! they live underground ofc they’re gonna be short. they also navigate through sound like the sculk but it’s closer to echolocation than getting your senses triggered by a sound.

low empathy, very matter-of-fact and literal. herbivore too I’d like to think they eat glow lichen and roots from the lush caves. might eat a fish or two if they can get access to one. xp doesn’t do much for them bc they’re a sculk shrieker hybrid and not a sculk one.

lots of scars!! mob run-ins, falling of ledges, etc. there’s one all along their back that looks like poorly healed roadrash from accidentally tumbling off a cliff edge.

ok I have three more hybrid ocs (another avian, a ravager, and a phantom) but I’m getting tired of typing mmy fingers hurt ^-^ feel free to tell me about yours!!

I LOVE YOURS WAILS AND CRIES

ok i got like four. first is an aardwolf hybrid. they’re a cowboy named rigby and i lov them. standard aardwolf coloring w bright yellow eyes and a red bandana. they have a touch of the tism and try to stay kinda low when they can. no big or visible scars bc they run the second they sense danger. mostly a thief and collector.

second is a cat hybrid. she’s actually a mix of two of my very first minecraft ocs! her name is gapple, shes a bobcat, and shes got one yellow eye and a purple prosthetic eye bc she was hit by a torch as a kid and that burned her eye badly. gapple is more of the fighter and shes got way more scars than rigby. notable her face where the torch burned her and her shoulders from wrestling mobs.

third one is edmund. hes my actual oldest oc had him since i was like 8 years old or smthn. hes an average enderman but he has no enderpearl so he cant teleport. taller than most endermen and incredibly nerdy. i miss him.

lastly there’s marco. hes a creeper hybrid and edmunds boyfriend. marco can’t blow up like other creepers can, not bc hes a hybrid but bc hes missing the key components to be able to do so. hes shy and a bit jumpy.

#adam i love ur ocs can they be friends w mine…..

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blorbfoosh · 4 months ago

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PART VI - Party's Aftermath

Rou stumbled down, crawling back up against the corner, long, skinny fingers curling up in her cranberry-colored hair. The woman was shaking, breathing heavily, as tears streamed down her face- Blood slowly clotting around where she got injected. Why, why, why, why, why, why, whywhywhywhywhyWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY-“WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE JUST STAYED AWAY? WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE JUST STAYED DEAD? WHY.. Why couldn’t you have just.. Left me alone?” She whispered the last part out, her voice hoarse and raspy. Tonight has been a night- A night that did NOT bode well for the two of them. “F-fuck you, Matiz. Curse you, curse you, curses lay on your s-skull. Fuck y-yourself.. Over..” Another wave of nausea rolled over her, and the redhead had to hold in the overwhelming urge to just pass right there on the floor. What a mess. Gods- Please don’t let it be what I think he injected me with.. Anything but that. The redhead would never stand the utter shame. Outside the room, waited an anxious Polar. Roulette knew that from the frantic pacing, the rhythmic back-and-forth sounds that came and went. She felt a little guilty for just leaving the woman like that- But her inner panic took over as well, leaving Nillyx in Pluck’s arms, and in Polar’s care. She trusted them. But will he be able to trust her?

..No. Probably not. He’d probably laugh it off at first, but then the look he’d give her upon realizing it was truth.. Rou took a shaky breath, pushing those thoughts out of her mind. She was fine. Okay. She’ll manage with this, sure thing.

Gather your thoughts, Rou. What have you learned from all of this? ..Right. Matiz was back, with the help of the Keiyan, which is indestructible unless they find the vessel- Fate was fucking him. Surprise. Areon became a dog- Who knows where his old body was. If it’s Matiz-.. She guessed that he used a G-Blaster on him. If it was useless to the scientist, it had to go. If not.. Then let it be wrung dry of what it can be used for, before being tossed aside.

So why wasn’t she tossed aside? She’s been a failure so many times, in so many ways. What was his original endgame? The redhead blanched just thinking about it. She hoped desperately that on the other side of the wall, on the other side, that Lyme was doing better. That they all were. ..Better off without her.

Fuckin’ useless.

———

Miss Nilly had to take a bit of time alone after they appeared smack-dab in the back porch during lunch a few hours ago. Pluck was there to witness it all blur by- And even now, he still couldn’t make sense of it. From what he picked up, Miss Nilly and Miss Rou were attacked by some bad scientist guy that the redhead knew previously- Who was also the CEO of Woven Hues. They got enough evidence to prove that the whole thing was illegal- Or so the reptilian Darkner thought. Never, not in his decade and a half of life, has he ever thought he’d end up in a larger shebang such as this. His adoptive mother, Polar, opened the door quietly and made her way to the table, setting down a few papers and sighing. Elbows on the table, hands on the head. Oh no. This wasn’t good. “..Any news, ma’am?” “No, Pluck. I- Nillyx wasn’t feeling her best, and she was clearly exhausted after that. I didn’t want to push.” She bit her lips, clasping her hands and lightly kissing her knuckles in worry. Pluck sighed, sitting down beside her, sliding a few sugar packets over to the lady. She looked up at him with a small smile. “Thank you.. Son. I don’t know what I’d do without you- Or Killa.” “..And Mista Ver?” She let out a huff, shaking her head. “..And maybe that dunderhead, too.” A few moments passed in silence, the soft tearing of paper and the quiet crunch of sugar crystals surrounding them as a fire crackled and popped. The raven-haired woman stood up and disposed of the now-empty sugar packets, before nodding at the lizard fella. “Whatever happened, we’ll all know in time. Just.. Not now. Let’s give them their space, alright? C’mon. I remember you wanted to show me some new puzzles you were working on?” Pluck brightened up at that, his starspiels(as Vercos affectionately called them-) flickering with a nice bluegreen, standing up and quickly gesturing to his little workplace. After seeing how invested he was with her own collections, Polar took the lead and taught him how to make his own. He’s been doing spectacularly- Of course, taught by none the better. Polar smiled, setting thoughts of the current mission aside.

Right now- She needed a break.

..Yeesh, ducky really is rubbing off on me. Freakin’ sunshine.

Not that she minded, anyway. But she’ll never say that.

———

It had been a week. A week since it all fell down. No word had come from Woven Hues, Fate, or Matiz. Which was good, of course, but also not. Nillyx hated and longed for the silence. The quiet. She bit her lips and forced herself to look at the ever-going messages from her family, from friends, coworkers, and.. ..There was no ‘and.’ He’s been awfully busy. You shouldn’t bother him. You know what- What he-.. He’s as real as the rest of them. Get yourself together, gods. She wiped her hands, pushing her rounded glasses up the bridge of her nose before going back to her task at hand. Ah, yes. Washing dishes. Such a menial chore.. Yet so soothing, for some reason. The Guardian couldn’t get enough of the repetitive soaking, sudding, rinsing. It gave her something to do, something to be- When her head’s all over the place and she had nothing, absolutely nothing to get back to. The house has been feeling more empty nowadays. They were all growing up. Ace was taking that job down at Karag, researching about some new bio-something they found down there. Knowing him, he’s probably gonna use that to make some sort of futuristic weapon or incredibly dangerous power source. Then Iolus, who was promoted to Lead Scientist- Since Ace had to step down anyway. Not to mention Celan- Who has a fiance now. Lovely shark boy named Virsell. He was so nice- The two were on a honeymoon in Daagat at the moment. And Aleena- She was busy as an intern, under Kan’s care. Then Psyche. Oh, stars, Psyche. It seemed just like yesterday that Nillyx molded her- Out of blood, wood, and wax. That she was holding a babe for the first time- Her own. That she was taking her first steps- To school, to her first play- To her first dance. So many firsts- And seconds, and thirds. Years- A decade, actually. And it just went by in a blink. “Stars, you old hag. This is what happens when you keep living again and again.. Time starts to blur.” Oh, what wistful memories. And then, the pain. A searing burn in her lower abandomen clawed at the woman, making her flinch and drop the plate she was holding- A familiar stickman saving it just in time. That didn’t do anything to soften the former’s fall, however. “G-GAH-.. Ah-”

“FFFFFFFfffffuck me- Nils, you good? That was like.. The seventeenth time this week already. And it’s just Wednesday.” The other was already on the floor, softly hissing, lightly holding the spot. An orange Chausie came poking around, before spotting the woman on the floor and padding over, nudging her chest softly. “Haa.. Hey, Mango. Mama’s okay, just a little- agh- Hurt.” Mango mewed, the little bean bell on her collar tinkling softly as she tilted her head. Nillyx laughed softly, slowly sitting up before patting her lap. The cat took that invitation with no hesitation- Leaping up and curling around, purring as hands absentmindedly stroked her. “Are ya sure you’re good? Cause ever since that Woven Hues bullshit started, you’ve been getting worse. The painkillers aren’t helping either.” “..It’s the Void. Since Matiz is from there, and with the Keiyan and everything- I’m bound to have some pain. But-.. It isn’t as bad as what she’s going through, I’m sure.”

Vuiden. Her mother, creator, and literal Aspect of the Void itself. She physically and metaphorically runs through her veins. Since she’s… The Void, whatever it feels, Vuiden does. And since the Void has this ever-growing, gaping hole in it… Vuiden’s body probably has a hole a little larger than a bullet wound that is slowly expanding the longer it stays open. Nilly hasn’t been to the Void in a bit- She should probably do so, since she is it’s guardian after all. “You are not going to go to the Void.” “WHAT.” Nia sighed, shaking her head, her one eye staring down at her in disapproval. Her arms folded, tail twitching impatiently. “Who knows if your condition will worsen if you go? Like- I get that you have responsibilities to get to and all that shit, but that’s why you have me. And the Adevoi. And Foltir. And for fuck’s sakes- You got Mommy herself watching over the dang thang for ya. We don’t know if you’ll worsen- Or if she will, the more you use Void. The best path to take right now- Is the low-laying one.” Mango trilled softly, looking up at her Mama with those pretty hazel-green eyes. Nillyx knew she was right- Nia was, as well. She just.. “You just hate being useless. I know. But, sometimes, that’s the best you can do. The best you can do, for all of us.”

#oc stuff #oc #original story #inspired #original au #original character #drmv #oc lore #lore #writing #writing stuff #oc writing

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leaveadoorajar · 5 months ago

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The House

It has been three days since I last wrote in my journal, longer than I have left it in years. If you’re reading this (you really shouldn’t be. Unless I am long dead, I suppose) you likely will have seen the spread of blank pages between the last entry and this one.

The last entry discomforts me. When I read it, there is a sound or a sensation, like the humming of an appliance in the other room vibrating directly though my skull, prickling over my skin. I can recall so clearly the way that thing smiled—

I should stop writing about it, lest I have to leave more pages blank.

I will need to write something here, but I admit that my mind has been occupied almost solely by that strange book and the subsequent dreams. Nightmares. What have you.

I have taken to exploring the house. Most of the rooms are perfectly ordinary fare, lounging rooms, reading rooms, smoking rooms, guest rooms. But as I explore the higher levels, I have begun to find more and more strangeness. There are laboratories up here. More than one. There is a hallway half the length of the house, and each door opens onto dusty white rooms and stainless steel, equipment covered in cobwebs. They smell strange. Most are familiar, sterile scents: antiseptic, chlorine, chemicals. Others smell of dust. One smelt disturbingly of something very close to blood.

I disobeyed Baaya’s strong suggestion that I acquire company while exploring new wings of the house (though I reason to myself that she only suggested that I phone for help while cleaning, and I am not cleaning. I realise that per our conversation, this is overly nitpicky.) and made my way into the room.

At first I thought it was outfitted identically to the room next door, with a lab table and a set of rolling shelves. Then I realised that there was something else in the room: an old gynaecology cheer, unmistakable with its metal stirrups. The seat was covered in velvet, surprisingly untouched by age and elements.

There was something about that simple chair that unsettled me so thoroughly that I left the house entirely. I am writing this sitting at a starbucks. Their coffee is, as always, horrendous, but even looking at their tea selection is fit to give me hives. The options are teabags or sugar water, and I’d rather neither. Sooner or later I will explore the surrounds and find a place that sells something palatable, but right now, I think I need something to complain about more than I need a good drink.

And a case. I’m very much in the mood for a case.

#journal entry #leave a door ajar

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nexgenforge · 9 months ago

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#art #culture #education #environmentalart #exploration #history #inspiration #photography #style #wellness #writing

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poobit · 8 years ago

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surround-sound-sugar-skulls replied to your post: fauxwoc replied to your post: ...

not to be an ass or anything but didnt you used to make that super gorey art with candy and shit? pretty sure you mde a lot of that when is tarted followin you

first of all

i was 16

second?

it was jthm, literal adult killer man , also no candy , i HATE candy gore, i literally just made the lineart pastel and thats it

#surround-sound-sugar-skulls #im calling out fetishization of children .

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graysonflynn · 8 years ago

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Prompt: McHanzo Please Stay. McCree either kicks it or joins the undead club.

title. the life of letting gowords. 320 words

[read on ao3] [read the series]

#mchanzo #fic: i'll be the blood (if you'll be the bone)#surround-sound-sugar-skulls #Overwatch fanfiction #zephyr writes #prompt fic #oh my god i am so sorry that this took so long and is not exactly what you asked for #please forgive me

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chokopoppo · 7 years ago

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surround-sound-sugar-skulls replied to your post: I have imported 77 albums to my computer this week...

what albums/?

Oh boy. I was half hoping and half terrified I would get this question. Let’s get into it.

The Many Moods of Christmas - The Robert Shaw Chorale

Speaking in Tongues - Talking Heads

Some Great Reward - Depeche Mode

The Christmas Song - Nat King Cole

Bulletproof Heart - Grace Jones

Voz D’Amor - Cesária Evora

Not Too Late - Norah Jones

Alice’s Restaurant - Arlo Guthrie

Every Breath You Take; The Singles - The Police

Dreamland - Madeleine Peyroux

Singles; 45′s And Under - Squeeze

New Orleans Christmas - Putumayo Presents

Nick Of Time - Bonnie Raitt

The Holly & The Ivy - Claire College Singers

Traveling Wilburys Vol. 1 - Traveling Wilburys

Time Capsule - B-52s

Wild Planet - B-52s

Graceland - Paul Simon

C.D. Pavarotti in Concert - Carreras Domingo Pavarotti

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band - The Beatles

If - Mindless Self Indulgence

Rossini Heroines - Cecilia Bartoli

Aretha - Aretha Franklin

The Phantom of the Opera - Original London Cast

An Evening Wasted - Tom Lehrer

That Was The Year That Was - Tom Lehrer

One Night - Arlo Guthrie

Rites Of Passage - Indigo Girls

Brothers In Arms - Dire Straits

The Commitments - The Commitments

Sister Act - Original Soundtrack

O Brother, Where Art Thou? - Original Soundtrack

Greatest Hits - Eurythmics

Christmas with Kiri Te Kanawa - Kiri Te Kanawa

Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon & Garfunkel

A Winter’s Night - Mediaeval Baebes

Viva La Vida - Coldplay

Cat Stevens Classics Vol. 24 - Cat Stevens

Her Greatest Hits: Songs of Long Ago - Carole King

Plastic Letters - Blondie

Parallel Lines - Blondie

Greatest Hits - Billy Joel

Piano Man (Single) - Billy Hoel

Compact Jazz - Billie Holiday

The Silver Collection - Billie Holiday

Landmarks - Clannad

Out of the Blue - Electric Light Orchestra

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road - Elton John

The Dance - Fleetwood Mac

Fleetwood Mac - Fleetwood Mac

The Sinatra Christmas Album - Frank Sinatra

Industrial Strength - Groovebarbers

Glory - Groovebarbers

Bark! - Groovebarbers

Don’t Smoke In Bed - Holly Cole Trio

Keep Breathing - Ingrid Michaelson

Girls And Boys - Ingrid Michaelson

Be OK - Ingrid Michaelson

Late For The Sky - Jackson Browne

Superhits - Max Raabe & Palast Orchester

Super Hits, Vol. 2 - Max Raabe & Palast Orchester

Short Sharp Shocked - Michelle Shocked

The Capitol Collectors Series - Nat King Cole

Patsy Cline Story - Patsy Cline

Far - Regina Spektor

Soviet Kitsch - Regina Spektor

What We Saw from the Cheap Seats - Regina Spektor

Swing Down, Chariot - The Golden Gate Quartet

The Cars - The Cars

Tommy - The Who

Africa (Single) - Toto

Contra - Vampire Weekend

The Cole Porter Songbook - Ella Fitzgerald

Hey It’s Pomplamoose - Pomplamoose

Tribute to Famous People - Pomplamoose

Avenue Q - Original Broadway Cast

The Cricket’s Orchestra - Meaghan Smith

The best of Aretha Franklin - Aretha Franklin

Laughter & Lust - Joe Jackson

#surround-sound-sugar-skulls #a deeply personal peek into my taste of music #I should make a list of obscure artists I'd suggest to people actually

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years ago

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Don’t Let Me Down: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 6 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 5: In The Name Of Love

Main Masterlist

A/N: Hi guys, thank you for being so patient with me! I have been editing this chapter a lot lol so i hope things make sense and there isn’t any plothole. Lmk your thoughts! Also I won’t update until August cause I have a very important exam in August and I’ll be giving up my phone soon. Hope this chapter was worth the wait, I’ve been so tired. Yesterday I passed out for a few hours while studying lol. Nevertheless, happy reading!

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Drugs, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 6K [whew]

Chapter 6: Don’t let Me Down

Dozing off while you were kidnapped and in unchartered territory wasn’t smart, but your day had been long and fatigue had worn you out. Was it even the same day anymore?

The window behind you that provided you with light some mere hours ago was covered with thick translucent glass; that’s where your neck’s flexibility ended. The soft glow of the filtered light was no clue; the beam’s luminosity could very well be that of an early morning or of a setting sun.

Your shoulders were stiff, lower back ached the worst it had in years and wrist and ankles were raw, bruising. It reminded you of the time you had tried to go to the gym to shed the pregnancy weight, and how badly that failed. Your trainer was kind enough to go easy on you, keeping in mind your hearty toddler and hectic job. It was funny how in moments of demise, one remembers the small things, one they believed to be insignificant, their failures.

Your thoughts went to Grace and your parents next, the little sparkle in all of their eyes whenever they got a gift they had been eyeing for too long or when feasting on sugar. You sometimes believed that your dad and Grace purely bonded over their joy for cupcakes and desserts. Of course, that wasn’t true, that was the cherry on top reason for her to be his little princess like once you had been.

While thinking about all of this, you did wonder if you would see your parents again. Given, you did worry about seeing Grace and her future but that was all you fretted about the past few days. If something happened to you, at least she’d be in the more than capable hands of your parents. Maybe it’d be for the best, they would nurture her far better than you could even dream of; a tear escaped at that reflection. You had to place your trust in the universe, it owed you at least Grace’s security for all that you’ve both went through.

Another area of your brain focused on one more concern; what about you and your parents? As much as you were a mom, you were also a kid who possibly might not be able to take care of her fragile, old parents either. They had the enthusiasm and the strength but they also needed you. What about that?

Wow, dark gloomy places can really be depressing.

Your dismal train of thoughts was interrupted by the grating sound of the metal door opening and you realized the room was more like a cell because metals bars were present in the place of one of the walls.

“I see you’ve woken up, sweetie.” The man from earlier, gigantic, burly and tattooed came inside and switched on the light. Your eyes ached as they uncomfortably adjusted to the brightness, a headache striking through your skull.

Surprisingly enough he waited, till you were done evaluating your now bright surroundings and done struggling. Not that you struggled much, you knew better than to anger the man whose mercy you were at. Look what happened with Steve.

“You ain’t a talker, I see. Well, good for me.” He let out a hefty snicker and continued, “The main rule here is don’t piss me off. My hospitality can and will get worse. Understood?”

You slightly nodded, your neck straining and stinging at the awfully easy task. Your mouth wasn’t gagged but it wasn’t hydrated either to answer this man. Besides you really didn’t trust yourself fully to not lash out at him. He was robbing you of your future, depriving you of your child’s future.

“I’m going to remove the restraints and you are allowed fifteen minutes in the bathroom. My man will give you the privacy but the door won’t be locked, so don’t try anything. Then I’ll feed you something and we’ll talk. This much sound good?” You nodded again and let him untie you; your eyes downcast the entire time, showing you weren’t stupid enough to pull anything.

His hands uncuffed yours and then he removed the rope tying your torso to the chair while you complied and sat still. He really went above and beyond to ensure your captivity, leaving room for no errors. His hands did wander but not quite far enough to warrant a reaction, but just enough to alarm you.

He patted your shoulders and you got up while he pounded the door twice. It opened and three men stood outside. He pointed to the door and tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows urging you to go.

You went outside as one soldier marched away, as if to be your tour guide, while the other two stood guard. Your legs wobbled with each stride as you struggled to catch up, limbs aching after hours of inactivity. Trying to keep track of the dingy hallways and the turns you took was a task you failed miserably at, your mind foggy, frame weary and soul spent. Your legs struggled to carry you even to the bathroom but you reached there somehow and collapsed inside on the toilet seat, your bruises from the restraints burning.

A sob threated to escape. Your reflection in the mirror was tainted and timorous, but over-all tired. Within hours of captivity, your face lost all its glow and your body all its strength. There was no way you’d be able to overpower even a single man here, much less the entire army of his with whatever strength they had in numbers.

You sighed and splashed your face as you tried to wash away the horrors with the grime.

"What about the call?”

“It couldn’t be traced. He was prepared.” Sam answered as he watched a fuming Steve. They had been at it for hours but without any clues. They had scoured Rumlow’s properties in the city, checked out each abandoned building and tried to hunt ‘The Vices’ scoundrels but each was in vain.

The man that snuck to Grace’s bedroom to capture the picture also evaded the cameras perfectly by sheer coincidence, nothing more than a black mass showing itself. Those were personal to him and it sucked that when he let his team take charge of the cameras, nothing came out of it.

It made no sense, even his allies got to know about you last week at Sarah’s party and even on assuming news spread from there, your abduction was far too planned and strategic. Your kidnappers almost knew your schedule as good as Steve: your work offs, day-care time, Grace’s bed time. They were even able to evade Steve’s man that periodically checked on you back then. Last time Steve checked, Rumlow didn’t even have the resources for this, far less for it to come to a point to trick Steve’s men.

Now that he had collected some records about it, he noticed that Rumlow had been buying new properties left and right. He wasn’t supposed to start the territory war, the claim for it should have taken at least a few more years according to Steve’s calculations. His growth and empire, although still less than Steve’s, was developing exponentially, almost as if he had stumbled upon some unknown treasure that funded him.

Hard questions then started hitting him; and although they were brutal, they made a lot of sense. Rumlow had a new associate.

“I’m thinking we might have a mole. Or maybe Rumlow has a new investor because look at the price of these properties.” Steve tapped the various documents lying messily on his table. “His trust fund wasn’t this well-off. We need to find his new ally. Look into it. Check our assets too, don’t leave the possibility of a mole compromising us. And get Tony on the line for whatever intel he needed to verify. I need something before the day ends. Clear?”

The men around him nodded and as soon as Bucky gave specific instructions to each, they marched off. Steve looked through the files of Rumlow’s activities to see if he missed something, to get any hint of his new partner. He did have some new recruits from his trusted allies’ legions but maybe he didn’t delve deeper enough in their backgrounds.

Bucky called Stark but reached his assistant who promised a callback as soon as possible while Sam tried to track the location again and make something out of the photo of you they had gotten. He was hoping to track the next time he called, which was scheduled tomorrow.

The boys were as busy as bees and efficient to get you back, you were as good as family. Steve huffed and got frustrated at his slip up, he needed to wind-up this foe, once and for all and bring you safely to his manor where you belonged, his little family as safe as protected as it could be. Grace might not notice your absence for a few hours but then what?

You finished eating the sandwich the man had provided you, with hands still cuffed but this time in front of you. You hadn’t eaten anything even hours before your abduction, trying to get ahead of schedule just to get the errands done with.

You were the tiniest bit grateful to at least get a trickle of your strength back. He was patient and you were surprised by his calm demeanor; maybe it came easy to him because he had the advantage against Steve in whatever he was plotting.

You finished the entire bottle of water and looked at him as he put his phone down and faced you.

“Let’s start darling.” He was awfully jolly and you were annoyed beyond measure but you didn’t let it show. “I’m Brock Rumlow, your man’s worst enemy, leader of ‘The Vices’.”

It didn’t take too good a memory to remember the name of the crew that killed almost hundreds. A montage of the people that died, the children whose corpses laid on the muddy ground and the creeps that tried to abduct Sarah, endangering you and Grace in the process played in your mind. This man in front of you was a monster, ready to light the world on fire just to set off some rockets for his own entertainment; ready to drown the entire world just to enjoy the luxury of a cruise. Terror flashed in your eyes and this bastard seemed to relish in it.

“We go way back but not as buddies as you’d have already guessed. I need something that the bastard is too stubborn to hand me and that’s why you are my leverage.”

The story was short and vague but it had everything you needed to know. These idiots thought that Steve would submit and surrender just to save you? They didn’t realize you were easily replaceable and their plan would be in vain. You have known Steve, for what, just over a month now? You held no significance to him except for being a sort-of a plaything for him for a few weeks at max. Did they just spot you together and assume you were a couple?

Your mind made theories while your eyes followed every one of his moves. He picked up his phone again and still caught you off-guard, “Look into the camera, sweetheart.” Your eyebrows furrowed and he snapped a photo, your eyes blinking away the sting due to the flash. “His demands.” He shrugged. “I need to send him proof of you being okay and unharmed every day until Monday. So, you are unscathed.” He paused and thought. “Well, for now.” He shrugged and your eyes widened at the implication. You deciphered two things. Firstly, Steve had agreed to some sort of a deal to save you. And secondly, it was confirmed that he was not going to hold up his end of the deal on keeping you unhurt.

Your subconsciousness broke your vow of silence as you whispered in surprise more than wonder, “What is that supposed to mean?” You didn’t know why you were so astonished; you were already accepting of the possibility of not making out alive but the way he said it made you queasy. Maybe he was going to kill you anyways for revenge, or to send a message. Or some other greater ploy.

“Sad to be the bearer of bad news, but you won’t make it out of here breathing, darling. A pretty face gone to waste, such a shame.”

“You’ll never get through to Steve then.” You stupidly enough played his card back at him, trying to convince even yourself that Steve did care about you and for once that might save you. The bastard smirked at you, taking your words as a light teasing and whipped out a cigarette with a lighter, smoking right in your face.

You looked down as a tear escaped, your mind numb as you registered your subtle pathetic pleading. Not so accepting of death now, are we? Well, who could blame you? You were only human. And survival is the most basic instinct of all.

A stream of tears slid down following the traitor, your nose scrunching, not at the burn due to the joint, but at the realization of not even getting to say goodbye to Grace.

“Aww,” the fiend mocked, “I really did want to keep you, alive and as my personal slut, as a reminder to that bastard that lost and what a fine asset, I must say.” He eyed your cleavage. “But I have to hold up my end of the deal, sweet-cheeks, and I promised your sexy body in a bag.”

You felt naked under his lewd gaze, mind speculating on who hated Steve so much that they wanted you dead? You were just an unsuspecting lady and in a matter of weeks, someone had marketed you as an important person in the Rogers’ household. And this false information now promised you your demise, literally, in an attempt to retaliate to Steve, who you don’t know why still bothered with you. But you were glad he did, the fact that he coming for you, even though he might prove to be late, was the only solace you could find in this dingy cell of yours. It was unexpected of him, but somewhere deep within you, you were glad he was willing to take the extra leap.

Rumlow left you alone to attend a phone-call and you wallowed in self-pity meanwhile. At least, whoever hated Steve and somewhat, loathed you, didn’t despise either of your kids.

Steve strode into Tony’s office, hoping that Tony calling him all the way out from his headquarters to Stark industries across the city bridge better be worth the time he was losing. Tony had called Steve back himself an hour later to invite over the next day, promising intel he couldn’t discuss over the phone. Irritated at the lack of clues he was able to collect in regards to your abduction, he agreed in a heartbeat, though slightly disappointed to wait an entire day.

Steve was ready to give a whooping thirty percent of his territory up for you initially when he got the call for specifications, but the motherfucker demanded sixty-five percent. If the deal would be conducted fairly, he would even be ready for that, yes, you were that precious and he was a man of his word, but his team and his intellect both knew that Rumlow would play a trick. Or he would go through the deal and then attempt an assassination on him, continue the enmity.

Because Rumlow and him despised each other so much, that words couldn’t explain the rivalry. They had been in the same premises only thrice till now, no party hosted them together anymore. One celebration had ended with a fist fight that sent Rumlow to the ER with broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a shattered jaw. Another had ended with Rumlow killing his own ex-spy, aka Steve’s late wife in front of everyone and then grazing even Steve’s chest with the same gun.

Needlessly to say, they both hated each other’s guts. It was like they came out of the womb as enemies.

Steve broke out of his pondering when Jarvis greeted him and stepped into Stark’s lab on the sixty-ninth floor. Sometimes, he felt Stark was a child trapped in a man’s body, which, of course, wasn’t true given how much of a prodigy he was, how his genius was known overseas.

He found Tony examining a small black device, barely visible to the naked eye, more like a piece of tape and also drinking brandy out of his favourite glass, one that hardly left his table to even get washed. He began pouring some for his blonde friend on spotting him but Steve shook his head. No matter how appealing alcohol seemed right now, he needed a clear head to get you back home.

“This shit better be good, Tony.” He came to stand beside his tech-savvy friend, who juggled and caught the device in his fist and then opened one of his hologram screens. “It is.”

“You must have come to some conclusions about the entire ordeal by now, Cap. Tell me.” Tony sipped his brandy while Steve grew exasperated, probably due to the lack of liquor, Tony concluded.

“Fuck you if you brought me here to play games, Tony. I have so much shit to fig-” Steve was getting impatient with each second that went by and left him uninformed. He needed to know you were safe and get you home; because he knew Rumlow was a man-whore and it wouldn’t be long before he tried something if he hadn’t already. And Tony’s games didn’t help.

“That’s mean, Cap. You are busy being a hotheaded piece of shit to your best friend and here I’ve already done the entire work for you.” Tony said, remembering to curse him back, and entirely unfazed by his fuming best friend.

“What? I swear if this is-”

“I don’t joke, you should know that, Capsicle.” Joke. “And I will tell you everything I’ve figured out but first I want you to tell me your deductions. Entertain me, I want to know how good you are at this, it’s been a while since the last time I got to see you in action.”

Steve felt relief and annoyance all at once. He wasn’t even sure since when his emotional range had gotten so vast, that he felt respite and anticipation for whatever data Tony had, anxiety and apprehension thinking of you, wrath and pure rage for that son-of-a-bitch, a little anger for Tony too for drawing this out, his pal really needed to learn how to read a room. Or at the very least, his friend. He was sure though; it was after he’d met you. Beautiful and charismatic you. Oh, how he missed you. Rot in hell, Rumlow.

Steve’s jaw ticked and tensed but he complied, the sooner he danced for Tony, the faster he’d get what his friend had brought him out here for.

“I know Rumlow has a new investor, who helps from the sidelines though. And I’m also eighty percent sure, I have a mole, or more than one of them. Maybe I didn’t check properly after those four at the carnival. I don’t know how else they got a whiff of her because only you and Pepper had met her prior to the party and I know it’s not you guys. I completely trust Wanda too so-”

Tony clapped Steve’s back to stop him from rambling and grinned, rapt by his analysis of the situation. “Impressive. Now take a look at this.” He gestured to the screen still floating there as a video began to play, a video of the penthouse that he had visited with you weeks ago.

Tony poured the glass Steve had earlier refused and handed him, “You are going to need this.”

It was day two or three of your captivity. You didn’t know exactly but you realized the passage of one night after you had woken up and talked to your captor.

You didn’t really want to sleep and be vulnerable at the claws of the men here but your barely-fed self had no choice but to conserve whatever left up energy you had through slumber. That didn’t mean you were rewarded uninterrupted snooze time, nope. Your creative as fuck mind chose to show you exactly what you suppressed while awake, a mosaic of memories of your kid.

You remembered her first steps at your parent’s house in the living room towards her Pops, the time she’d snuck up on you in the garden, her footsteps light and soft; her first nightmare and how tight she clutched you, the first time she spelled her name. You didn’t even remember your life before Grace, fuck her piece of shit biological father. It was you and her against the world.

When you had somehow gotten through the night, your day was ‘graced’ by Rumlow’s presence. The man was repulsive and a total creep, his lewd comments never stopped. Neither did his wandering hands when he untied you himself twice both the days. You slept on the chair the first night and when you woke up, he was in the room, watching like a hawk.

Rumlow generally didn’t stay to check on captives personally but you were an exception. Keeping you in sights made him grin every time; you were a trophy of his dominance over Rogers. A pleasant reminder that he had already won the ensuing battle. With the territory came the allies, as everyone favored the strong, and soon he’d set out to achieve the kingpin title that Steve was too much of a pussy to.

“There you go, sweetheart.” His terms of endearment made you heave on the inside but you didn’t react much externally, remembering his one rule of not angering him. You shook your free hands as he untied your torso, his hands playing with the clasp of your bra through your shirt after. He slid his hands up to your shoulders, dangerously close to your neck and whispered, “Twenty minutes today. Shower if you want.”

You pranced out of your chair after that and his snicker reached you, bouncing off the dingy walls of the room that held you captive. Even prisons were better than them. You made the mistake of looking back at him because you found him palming himself and winking at you.

You’d have to look for bleach for your eyes.

This was the fourth time you were in this rest room and every time, you wanted to smash the mirror, take a piece of glass and slit Rumlow’s throat. You would have been worried about your thought process if you weren’t practically in the jaws of death.

You had already killed a man, why not kill another?

Unfortunately for you, your plan had too many flaws. The sound of the mirror breaking would reach outside and his men would restrain you in an instant. The low-pressure shower and the taps won’t be able to mask the noise. And even if, by some miracle, you’d be able to do that, you would go out on a limb and say that overpowering three of his men that stood in the path that led to him was unachievable for you. Besides surviving for your kid was more important to you than revenge.

You sighed and got frustrated at the fallings of your plotting, you needed something, anything that would amount to hope in your brain. Screw your rational brain for the lack of optimism.

This bathroom was your safe space here, you refused to show emotions in front of the men but here, you allowed your thoughts to wander, even if only for a few minutes. Here, you mourned everything you were going to lose and everything you had already lost.

You sobbed and closed your eyes as your mind kept reflecting the agony you were in, as if you were trapped in a kaleidoscope, with the jewels replaced by horrors you couldn’t fathom.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye to Grace. You didn’t know that that morning would be the last time you’d get to see her off to school. That her lunchbox would be the last time you’d cook for her. That New Year would be the last time you’d get to celebrate something with your parents. You’d miss out on her growing up; that there was a possibility she’d be orphaned. You’d miss out on experiences that were destined to be yours, well were yours until Steve had ruined it all. Brock was your personal Grim Reaper here though, and you had never hated anyone as much as you did him for robbing you of your life, not even Steve.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to shout and wrangle your abductor with your bare hands. It was because of his insolent existence, his delirious need for greed that dug your grave as a normal human. It was the realization that men like him, men like Steve, killed more than a couple hundred people, even thousands with no second thought for their lives.

And even though they were alike in their torment and ambition, you hated yourself for preferring Steve over Rumlow. Maybe it had something to do with Rumlow promising you your death on a silver platter. In case of Steve, you were destined to be just another notch on his bedpost, but with Rumlow, you were fated to be one of his prized executions.

You washed your face and shook you head, wiping your tears. You still had the generous time Brock had given you but you decided against showering, you didn’t want to undress anywhere in this building, the comfort of your unclean clothes was far greater than what a shower would have provided. Maybe, he’d be repelled by you, the dirt and grime. You grimaced as you recalled him calling you attractive like this. You hoped he hadn’t meant it, that some odor would repel him.

The man led you back to the cell, and you could see the disappointment by the lack of hygiene in your captor’s eyes. He smirked in your face though a moment late, seeming to take this as a challenge. You trembled being within arm’s length of him but by the grace of God, his phone rung, a generic ringtone interrupting the looming silence before your impending doom.

He pointed his index up, as if asking for a moment and fetched his phone. Still wary of him, you scrutinized his movements closely, the name on the screen sending you reeling back. He rolled his eyes reading the name and stormed out, likely predicting a longer conversation than he had wanted.

For the first time here, you were without bounds and free to move but you couldn’t get out of the heavy metal door anyway. Besides, you were a bit preoccupied with what realization just hit you.

“See that?” Tony knew Steve missed what he was pointing out, because to him it was just two ladies gossiping, getting drunk on Chardonnay. Because that was what he himself saw on first glance, nothing out of the ordinary, just his fiancée and her Maid of Honor.

Steve shook his head, looking quizzically, his nose scrunched and his face was in an adorable frown. Tony was impressed that Steve didn’t whine again, instead waited patiently for an explanation. The crotchety Capsicle was now a tolerant dad, oh how the times change.

“This,” Tony opened his fist to show the black gadget he was playing with earlier, “is a high-tech bug. I mean it, really impressive nano-technology. But no one could one-up The Tony Stark.” He scoffed. “I found six of these, one in each of my main properties. This video right here, it shows how and when they were planted.”

He replayed the video with 150x zoom on the flower vase. The men saw as clear as day, when the blonde woman lifted it to admire the pattern and adhered a very minute, small black rectangle akin to what Tony showed earlier, disguised very well in the pattern. It was no thicker than a sticker or a piece of paper and yet it had transmitting capability far impressive than a lot, Tony told.

Steve absorbed each statement spoken to him, eyes bouncing between the documents on the glass table, the screen and his genius as fuck friend, Anthony Stark.

“So you mean to say-”

Rumlow didn’t come back for the rest of the night and for that you were grateful; you had a lot of thoughts to string together.

“Sharon Carter has changed allies. She wins the psycho ex contest.”

If you were not mistaken, and you knew you weren’t, Sharon’s name had flashed across Rumlow’s phone earlier. And you knew of only one Sharon, the one you met at Sarah’s party. You had no doubt assuming her to be involves, there were few with the name and in the same ‘business’. It made no sense, why would she betray Steve just to help a lowlife like Rumlow rule the city? You thought she loved him? Was it aversion you mistook for allurement?

You didn’t sleep that night, pacing around the room coming up with reasons, involuntarily trying to defend the blonde woman you had met only once. This right here was your problem, Your stupid heart of gold. This is why you saved Sarah, gave Steve the benefit of the doubt, and now were mentally defending a woman who had brought you to ruins. If the guards outside heard your pacing and murmurs, they didn’t disturb.

You didn’t even realize how the nighttime had morphed into the dawn, the evanescent glow of the stars turning into the glimmering orange light that intruded the cell through the thick glass. At some point, you had sat down, your head in your hands.

You prayed to God that if Steve really wanted to save you, he’d see right through this traitor amongst his allies. That he’d use that smart, conniving brain of his to do at least something right by you. You were miserable coming to terms with all this, and even though you hated it with every bone in your body, the truth was it had come down to you placing your hope in Steve. Only he could help you find your way to your daughter.

The clank of the heavy door brought you out of your contemplation, hands wiping any wet residue on your face. Your head was pounding, questions clawing at your throat just threatening to spill themselves about how and why to the man in front of you.

And so, just when the bastard was about to delve in his tormenting mind plays, you impulsively yet idiotically interrupted him.

“You know, I could hear you stomping-”

“Sharon is behind this?! Why would she even-” A hollow snivel interrupted you, just like you had Rumlow. You were afraid that he might be angered but you were still dumbfounded by the revelation. Why would she even want that?

“Nosy little bitch, aren’t you?” In contrast to his crude words, he was actually amused. More so entertained than actually mad. Maybe he was just being kind for your last days; well as kind as this mobster could possibly be.

“Yes, Sharon arranged the entire deal. You’d be surprised at how much intel that minx had and even more so at the price she was willing to pay to get rid of you.” He elaborated.

“That makes no sense. Was she always a rival in disguise? And why would she go after me? We have only met once! Sharon had-” Your brain to mouth filter had just disappeared. You, in your sane mind, would never mouth off to your dangerous captor like this, as if he was your friend with all the answers. But all your wit had away and disappeared with your time in solitary, hungry and introspecting.

It was almost some reward for the bad things you went through in span of last seventy-two hours that your abductor found you amusing and your musings hilarious and chose to answer, relishing in the horror that struck across your face at each revelation like some cruel sadist.

“Wow, you are oblivious as fuck, darling.” He sniggered and then resumed with a smirk, “Aw come on, you had to be blind to not see how desperate she is for Rogers’ cock. She wanted a family with him, house full of shitty kids. Looks like that cunt didn’t tell you they were exes.”

“Then why betray him? And where do I come in this? Me and Steve weren’t even exactly friends!”

Did you offend her somehow at the party? Was that why she wanted you dead as side task?

“Well, she viewed you as a threat, silly girl.” He shrugged, marveling at your turmoil while you were literally losing your mind, you were going to die because of a ridiculous crush. “She is a silent partner; we had a one-time deal to screw both you and Rogers over. I get the expensive land and a shit-load of money to dispose you off while she gets to pick Rogers’ pieces up after your loss and weave her way back into that household. I’d say she is at a loss because of the pathetic goals she wants to achieve, but it is what it is. A cock-drunk slut is what she is.”

He concluded and smoked a cigarette, not bothering to tie you up even after realizing that you’d been unrestrained the entire time. It was fun watching you get aggravates; people with expressive faces were few and far between in this trade full of disguised immoral humans.

Fucking jealousy got you into this mess. You’d have been more than happy to let Steve go, even though he never was yours to begin with. At least he succeeded in his task of advertising you as his. Well, good for him.

A simple conversation could have avoided this. If only you had gotten a chance to prove you absolutely hated the man. Was it even rational for her to reach out and talk? You didn’t even know each other!

Well exactly! How was she so bold in assuming you were dating Steve? Bitch should have used her ‘shitload of money’ for confirming that.

You would have been concerned by your cursing but you allowed yourself a pass days before fucking dying. You deserved a happy future with your kid; you deserved to witness her first day of elementary, even college, her first boyfriend, or girlfriend whatever; her first heartbreak and walk her down the aisle decades from now! The universe owed you that much, and you were only settling. You had deserved to watch her grow, shine. Witness all her seconds, and thirds and everything she’d go through. And now, because of one blond bitch and one misunderstanding, you’ve been stripped of that.

You collapsed on the chair as you veiled your face in your hands, not wanting the man to see you cry, after you had shown days of resilience; not wanting him to witness your acceptance of the future you’d lost.

Rumlow left the room to attend a call once again and didn’t come back for quite a while but you couldn’t care less. Your heart burned and throat hiccupped as your vision remained blurred for hours. You knew you didn’t have much time left, neither to plot nor on Earth.

You cried without restraint, your screeches echoing off the walls and back again into your own ears. You just wanted to hug your little girl one last time, clutch her as tightly as she did when she had her first nightmare. That’s all you wanted your last wish to be.

But you came to the terms with the fact that you won’t get to do that. You knew your life wasn’t that generous, and you’d have to make-do with memories of her; you just hoped you’d live on in her memories after this.

The only question that remained in your mind, after hours and hours of incessant crying was, were you willing to go down without a fight? After all, you had to buy Steve some time.

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