#tbh i was thinking more for using like. a prompt generator. just get the idea and then write it out. but even that feels. wrong. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dandylovesturtles · 6 months ago

Note

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |

#rottmnt #rise leo #agent bishop #cw: psychological torture #dandy fanfiction #I want it to be clear that any time Leo is hearing “Mind Raph”#that's just his own inner voice manifesting #please don't be mad at Raph himself lol

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menlove · 1 month ago

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can you direct me to any good fics set in the hamburg days or just anything pre-beatlemania?

oooh yeah ! i loooove hamburg & early days fics so certainly :) i didn't include any paris fics in this even though it technically fits the bill of pre-beatlemania just bc that's a totally different vibe & genre of fics tbh

hamburg:

I Need My Love to Be Here

explicit. 8k. After John gets his first panic attack in Hamburg, he starts to realize that Paul might be the only person who can bring him back to himself.

Put My Heart Around the Bend

explicit. 60k. He nodded and they sat across from each other on the window sill, the clammy air from outside kissing their cheeks. John watched Paul as he lit their cigarettes, as he had done so many times before. They held eye contact, and John just knew Paul could hear how hard his heart was beating. But he wouldn't say anything. Neither of them ever said anything.

Like Love, The Archers Are Blind

explicit. 22k. He wants to push Stuart out of the way, not even with a violent yank of his collar like he sometimes imagines. Just to melt into his place like butter sliding in a pan. Have it be an effortless breath of fresh air when John looks up at him and sees it all reflected back in his eyes. It’s you. Hamburg, 1960.

Running with Scissors

explicit. bluewater9: Hannah, a smutlet idea… So just what happened AFTER John cut the clothes off that girl in Hamburg? What a conversation and, ahem, J/P consequence that must have been!

No More Situations

explicit. 14k. Set during the Hamburg years. John gets jealous of a German guy who likes Paul.

Everything's Different in Germany

explicit. 4.5k. It all feels upside down, like the door to that shop was an entrance to some parallel universe or Wonderland-like rabbit hole. He isn’t hiding under the covers with a flashlight in one hand, his throbbing cock in the other, and some meticulously-posed bird’s chest spilling over the pages and onto his lap. Instead he’s in some Hamburg back alley, the concrete chilly beneath his bum and his best mate warm by his side, while he gazes over naked men and pretends not to feel the unexpected interest in his trousers.

ageless children, animal sweat

mature. 5k.

Paul is sitting close enough to see properly, one elbow on the bartop, hand tucked beneath his chin. His eyes are beetle black and his long spidery eyelashes are twitching under the harsh club lights. It makes John sort of sick to look at him. Pale face in stark chiaroscuro, gleaming with animal sweat, Paul looks otherworldly, like something neither man nor woman. Hamburg, 1960. John and Paul go to a gay bar after a late show.

general early days:

Above Us Only Sky

teen. 1k. Nowhere to go but up.

Some Girls Will Make You Shiver

explicit. 4k. “How d’you suppose,” John said, in his normal John-voice, “how’d you think two girls go at it?”

On The Way To Work

explicit. 14k. How could Paul have so many dreams and one of them not come true? Paul and John, Hamburg and Liverpool, December 1960.

two of us (burning matches)

explicit. 6k. It won't stop raining. Paul doesn't know what his feelings are doing. John's practising his right swing. Somewhere along the way, they fuse together.

The Drainies

mature. 11k. Written for the prompt: John bullies Paul into wearing tight drainies and the result awakens something in both of them (Can also include some John vs Jim stuff since Jim didn’t approve of Paul wearing tight clothes).

Boy, You've Been A Naughty Girl

explicit. 49k. John makes Paul a bet. Paul takes him up on it. Crossdressing shenanigans and angst ensue, and ~feelings come out in the wash. 1961.

now and then (there's a fool such as i)

mature. 30k. users only. John and Paul on their trip to Caversham, Berkshire. April, 1960.

christmas lights (keep shinin' on)

mature. 12k. (prompt: paul takes john to the family christmas party in 1958) "I'd have you," Paul said, eventually, and John felt the air being knocked out of him. "If it was different. If we were different."

Come And Go With Me

mature. 94k. When two oblivious teenage boys meet for the very first time in the summer of 1957, a transcending bond to be passed on through decades to come makes its initial formation; a sanctuary, a home, a secret, a storm, a song, and a love to surpass the regular circumstances of time itself; it all starts in a city called Liverpool - but where will it take them from there?

also not to be that person but i WILL also whore out the first part of the series i'm writing w @forthlin here that's early days/getting together: i want you (every time that you're near)

#mclennon #i need to reread some of these i read so many so fast that half of them are a blur but i'm pulling from bookmarks so JFASDF #fic recs

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ratatoast · 10 months ago

Text

Son coeur est le tien

Alastor x Reader qpr (general headcanons)

a/n: halfway through writing this, i realised that maybe my idea of a qpr might be different than someone else's haha,,, also, this is the very first time I've written for hazbin hotel lol (and should i mention that english isn't my first language? haha)

that being said, i hope y'all enjoy this mess :P

also also if y'all would like me to continue writing Alastor qpr (cuz there's def a shortage on that), feel free to send me prompts :)) i obvi wont write nsfw, but other than that, i think anything is fine (?)

Being in a qpr with the radio demon would include…

Long talks over tea/coffee

There’s never any awkward silence between the two of you. You two could be chatting about the most mundane things, and the conversation would still flow perfectly.

He’d definitely learn exactly how you like your hot beverage.

I personally can’t imagine him being an avid coffee drinker tbh, but I don’t think he’d mind if you are one.

Takes your tea parties very seriously, knows all your favourite pastries, puts on some smooth jazz, brings out the fine china, etc

Loves listening to you talking about your day, your current interests, hobbies, etc. Even if the topic itself isn’t all that interesting to him, he’ll still listen to you.

The both of you love gossiping with each other. Neither of you will admit it to others though.

Petnames

You very rarely hear your given name come out of this man’s mouth.

He never calls you anything that he deems too sickly sweet, usually sticks to dear, sweetheart, or darling.

If he’s having a particularly great day, he might call you love, but that doesn’t happen very often.

Constant praises & words of affirmation

I think words of affirmation is one of his main love languages.

He constantly showers you with praises, telling you how gorgeous you look, how witty your jokes are, etc.

We all know that this man is a charmer, however his compliments to you are more than just empty words… most of the time :p

Do keep in mind that this man is a master manipulator tho, so he isn't above using sweet talk to get what he wants.

Playful banter that keeps you on your toes

He loves a good back and forth, especially if his darling is a particularly witty individual.

The two of you can turn any conversation into a battle of words.

However, if you take it too far, he’s not afraid to put you in your place with a couple of sharp words, aimed to hurt.

But most of the time it’s just good fun :)

Never having to so much as lift a finger

He’s very big on acts of service.

Forget about opening doors or pulling out chairs for yourself.

He takes being a gentleman very seriously, especially when it comes to you.

But not only is he a gentleman, he’s also a powerful overlord.

So if you ever need anything, be that a new pair of shoes, or getting rid of a particularly nasty demon, consider it done.

Being his closest confidant

We all know that Alastor has many acquaintances, however he falls short on meaningful connections.

He doesn’t let people get too close to him, and it is sort of understandable why.

You are one of the only exceptions to that.

You know more about this man than all of hell combined.

It took a while for him to open up to you, and even longer until he started telling you about his past.

He’s the kind to drop hints about himself and let you figure out the rest.

Trust goes a long way with him, I think he’d be more open to sharing his plans and such with someone that he knows won’t question his every move.

Even so, there’s still a lot that you don’t know about him, but you’ll just have to take what you can.

You can dress however you want… as long as it fits his taste

He’s not all too picky about what you wear.

Contrary to popular belief, he wouldn’t expect you to be in full glam 24/7.

If you like more revealing clothes, well, he’ll just have to make sure that anyone that dares to as much as look at you the wrong way is taken care of.

That being said, looking well put together is a must.

You represent him in a way, and he expects you to look the part.

He can’t have you wandering the streets of hell in rags that not even the lowest sinners would wear.

Absolutely no modern technology allowed

Do I even need to explain this?

He’d rather be safe than sorry when it comes to the possibility of Vox messing with you.

You are never truly alone

Alastor would make sure to accompany you on your outings as much as his schedule allows it.

But let’s be real, he’s a very busy man.

He makes sure that a few of his shadows keep an eye on you though, even in his absence.

I don’t think your personal strength matters in this case, as I’ve mentioned before, there’s very little that this man wouldn’t do for you, especially when it comes to your personal safety.

Lets you get closer to him than anyone else

This time, I’m talking about physical closeness.

We all know that he isn’t big on physical touch.

However, I feel like you could get away with a lot more than others.

When the two of you are walking somewhere, it’s not unusual for him to offer you his arm.

When you’re standing next to him, he sometimes rests his hand on your back, although that is often a subconscious thing.

If you’re having a particularly rough day, he isn’t too opposed to letting you hug him.

You can also get away with laying on his lap sometimes, and if he’s feeling exceptionally gracious, he might even pet your hair.

PDA is definitely a big no-no, on one hand he has an image to protect, but I also just don’t think he’d be too comfortable with showing his more vulnerable side in public.

As for kisses… if you haven’t seen each other in a while, he might greet you with a kiss on your hand, but that’s as far as it ever goes.

He’s not a very touchy-feely person, so if that bothers you… good luck finding someone better than the radio demon ;)

me af tbh lmao

anway, thanks for reading pookies mwah (slash platonic lol)

#alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor headcanons #queer platonic relationship #whew tbh i never thought that i would finish this #but i did my best #sorry for the french in the title btw lol #couldnt help myself

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sstormyskyess · 11 months ago

Note

omg 16 with poly tf141 would be the greatest thing ever reader brings not one, not two, but four huge beefcakes home to their shitty families holiday party that they only throw to show off their fancy house and shitty interior design, I know that probably wasn't the original idea of the prompt but if you're interested I'd love to see you write it thank you!

Family Affairs

author's note: i actually got to pull from personal experience with this one tbh, i’m gonna have to go to a party like this near the end of the year. unfortunately, i don’t have four beefcakes to bring with me 😔 at least i can imagine it though! thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!!

cw: poly tf 141, general fluffy stuff, reader has a big family [just like me, i have 14 members in my extended family just on my dad’s side]

word count: 1800+

TF-141 x GN!Reader

You groan, burying your face in your hands. You were hoping, praying that you weren't going to get that one little text message that always spelled disaster no matter when it came across your phone screen. It had been a good run, too; you hadn’t suffered this fate in a good few years. But, apparently that winning streak was too good to be true.

You look at the notification on your screen again, re-reading it for about the third time. ‘We hope to see you at the party this year! P.S., please bring your boyfriend along this time, your aunt won’t drop it,’ the message from your mom read. Boyfriend. Little did she know, you in fact had four boyfriends, none of which had met your frustratingly nosy family.

Speak of the devil—or, one of them at least—John walks into the common area, a stack of papers in his hand. “Morning, love.” He shoots you a smile before focusing his attention back on the documents he was scanning. “What’s on your mind?” He takes a seat in the chair opposite you, leaning back and crossing his legs, one ankle on the other leg’s knee.

You think for a bit before sighing. “Off-base things. Family stuff.” It’s clear he was unsatisfied with your vague answer when he met your eyes with a raised brow. You huff, knowing you wouldn’t get away with dancing around the issue for even a moment. “My mom wants me to bring a boyfriend back for my aunt’s holiday party.”

John continues to look at you, his air gone from stern to confused within a second. “You do have a boyfriend. Four of them, actually.” He tilts his head as he states the obvious. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “I know that. I just don’t wanna subject any of you to the torture that is being at those pointless parties.”

He just smiles at you again, his eyes returning to whatever was on the papers in his lap. “Maybe we’ll make it better for you. I’m sure the rest of our boys will be glad to accompany you.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking about the prospect. Frankly, it did sound like a good idea on the surface; it would be nice to spend some down time with all the people you love, after all. After another few moments of thought, you nod and stand up from your chair. “You’ve got a point. I’ll go talk to the others, then—see if they’ll be able to come with us.”

John hums in approval, catching your wrist as you walk past toward the door. “Hey. Come here.” You smile, leaning down to kiss him and appreciating the feeling of John’s hand coming up to the nape of your neck, his fingers rubbing a loose circle on your skin. “Things will be fine, darling,” he says after pulling away. “Don’t worry.”

A deep sense of dread starts to build inside of you as your mini convoy starts to approach your aunt’s house, which is technically more like a mansion based on the size of it. It had already set in the moment Simon convinced the others to let him drive. Yes, he got you to your destination way faster than any of the others would, but that was only because he drives like a maniac.

The dread slowly developing wasn’t caused by Simon almost getting everyone into a wreck at least two or three times, though. It was caused by the fact that you could already see your family’s cars lined up along the road and sitting in the driveway, memories of past parties flooding your head.

Kyle beside you must notice the way you’ve started shrinking into yourself and he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close to kiss you on the cheek. “I’m excited to meet your family, sweetheart.” An underlying joy is hidden in his voice, which brings a small smile to your face. “You sure?” You chuckle, leaning into him. “They can be a lot.”

“I’ve dealt with worse, no need to worry.” He ensures you, pressing a couple more kisses to your temple and your forehead. Your cheeks warm and you push his face away. “Stop it,” you say playfully.

Johnny helps you out of the car and wraps an arm around your waist when Ghost pulls over to park his car on the side of the street. “Who do you think is gonna be the favorite?” He asks with a grin on his face. You hum, tapping your chin and feigning deep thought. “Probably John. And not you, the responsible John.”

Johnny scoffs, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. “I am responsible! Can’t believe you would say such a thing!” You simply pull him closer and kiss him on the cheek, giggling under your breath. “I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me—” You’re cut off by him giving you a big kiss on the lips. “Fine, you’re forgiven.” He gives you his bright smile, the one that reaches his eyes and crinkles the corners of them.

Simon walks past and tugs on Johnny’s sleeve, pulling him forward. “Get moving, Johnny.” He grunts, dragging him along and taking you with him in turn.”We’re coming, we’re coming,” Johnny huffs.

You take a deep breath once you reach the front door of your aunt’s house, amping yourself up to face the music head-on. You feel John’s comforting hand between your shoulder blades and you smile, his silent support soothing your nerves and giving you the courage to ring the doorbell, officially sealing your fate. No going back now.

Surprisingly, the night was actually going well. Just like John said, being able to sit in-between two of your ruggedly handsome partners while the other two were pulling your aunt’s attention away from you was massively more comfortable compared to your other experiences in this house.

Johnny and Simon, seated next to you on either side, chatted with a couple members of your extended family while Kyle was off in the kitchen making a plate of hors d'oeuvres for you, and John was busy entertaining your aunt and mother with various war stories from his yesteryears. It seemed like everyone was having a blast, their easy smiles contagious.

You look up when Kyle sits in the armchair next to the loveseat you, Simon and Johnny were posted up on. You grin when he presents you with a small plate full of various meats and cheeses. He kisses your hand as you reach over and take the plate from him, making your face heat up. You shoot him a pointed look, but he flashes his pretty smile in return. You can’t possibly stay mad at that smile—I mean, have you seen it? You just shake your head, unable to mask the flustered look on your face.

Your grandmother looks away from her conversation with Johnny and turns her attention to Kyle. “Oh my! Who’s this lovely young man?” She listens intently as he introduces himself and then starts up her usual questioning whenever one of her grandbabies brought someone to meet the family.

You let out a long sigh, your senses already getting overwhelmed after the past hour or so of entertaining the party with your boys. You start to pick at your hors d'oeuvres, building a little stack of what looked like some sort of salami and a piece of cheese on a cracker, popping it in your mouth.

Simon’s hand comes into your downturned gaze and rests on your leg, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze, a silent check-in. You cover his hand with yours, looking up at him and smiling, effectively quelling his concerns. He nods and intertwines his fingers with yours, an affectionate glint in his gaze. You return the look wholeheartedly and let him pull his hand away to rest in his lap.

You glance up when you hear your name being called across the room and see John and your mother looking over at you. She beckons you over and you sigh, standing up and starting to head over to the two of them. You jump when Johnny’s hand pats the back of your thigh a couple times, smirking up at you. You roll your eyes and mutter a quiet ‘stop that,’ trying to hide the fact that your heart skipped a beat at the smug look on his face.

John wraps an arm around your waist once you get close enough, his hand petting up and down your side. “Your mother wants to know how we met,” he explains. Your mother pipes up, “I also want to know why you were hiding these lovely men from the family for so long.” She gives you a look. The look. You groan, running a hand over your face. “Of course, mom.”

“I’ve no idea why you were so worried about tonight, bonnie. It was perfectly fine!” Johnny pulls you down to the couch in the living room of the house you and the others had bought recently, his arms tight around you. He held you in place to pepper kisses all over your face. You try to push his face away so you can actually respond to his comment; the effort was futile, but after a few pushes he pulls away on his own. “It seems like they were on their best behavior since you four showed up with me. You’re all pretty imposing, to be fair,” you say, leaning back against Johnny’s chest.

Simon walks in with a handful of mugs filled with warm spiced apple cider, passing them around the room and then sitting in his armchair, his legs crossed loosely. He notices your eyes on him and raises a brow. “You talking about me?” You laugh and shake your head. “Not just you, silly.”

Kyle catches the tail end of the conversation after coming downstairs in his lounging clothes, sitting next to John on the loveseat opposite the couch Johnny had you buried in. “I’m sure it was mostly you, Simon.” He grins, leaning into John’s side. You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m sure most of my family was intimidated by your dashingly handsome looks, good sir.”

John rests his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers playing with the hair on the back of Kyle’s neck. “That’s a good point, darling,” he smirks, taking note of the bashful look that crosses Kyle’s features. He hides his smile by taking a sip from his mug.

“Hopefully your family feels a bit more comfortable around us next year, yeah?” John takes a sip of cider from his own mug, before setting it down on the coffee table and picking up the remote to put something on the TV, probably some shitty holiday movie. The exact kind that he likes.

You hum and hold your warmed up mug in your lap, happily cuddling up with Johnny. “Yeah, hopefully.” There’s a brief pause before you realize what he just said and the implications of it. “Wait—next year?” And once again, that signature sense of dread hits you and you groan, knowing you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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philtstone · 28 days ago

Note

Touch prompts: “feeling their pulse” for Shawn and Gus

so like .... i compromised my most staunchly held principle (there is objectively way too much of this kind of fic in the psych tag and i refuse to contribute MORE) to write this. alas; it would not let me go not sure how i feel about it as a standalone - i think it belongs in a larger fic, tbh, but im trying to be responsible and post these as prompts instead of spending weeks on a real story. i'll probably expand on it (and situate it in a generally more fun story) eventually. warnings for cursory description of blood, throw up and a broken arm & set during the events of 4x09, aka shawn takes a shot in the dark

In Gus’s memory, the Tuesday before Junior Prom is marked by the dead frogs in biology class and the most disgustingly broken bone the world ever had the displeasure of witnessing.

“Mr. Spencer!” he had shrieked, operating on pure and unadulterated survival instinct.

They were fifteen and stupid – the way being angry at your parents makes you stupid, or being scared of how much you want to see Destiny B from first period art naked makes you stupid. When Gus yelled, feeling cold all over despite the hot after-school May sun, a weird hoarse twist he wasn’t used to tightened his throat. It overrode his gag reflex, thankfully, but unfortunately also made him sound like a panicking girl. Shawn didn’t say anything. They had a system. If Gus couldn’t look at Shawn’s broken ulna without throwing up, then he also couldn’t see the tears leaking out of Shawn’s eyes as he pressed his face against the scraggly front lawn and groaned in a horrible not-normal version of his recently-cracking teenaged boy voice.

Plausible deniability for both of them.

“Fuck,” Shawn managed between sobs. Gus’s mom would have killed them both if she ever heard that word. “Gus, Gus it really hurts –”

“Don’t,” said Gus. He couldn’t look. This was so much worse than that time Shawn got a nosebleed in gym class it got all over his grinning teeth. He wasn’t grinning this time. He was shaking, like a leaf. Like one of those leaves from the plant unit in biology class, and oh, God – the frog. “Don’t, don’t, don’t.”

“Make it stop!”

Gus couldn’t. It was horrible. He’d told Destiny two weeks prior that he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up and he couldn’t even look at his best friend’s broken arm. He wasn’t panicking, not in the way Joy used to tease him for when they were kids (not grown-up fifteen year olds) and he’d get nervous around the water slides at Six Flags, but in this memory Gus felt scared in a new way that was somehow worse than water slides. “I told you that branch w-wouldn’t – I told you it wouldn’t hold, Shawn!” He shouldn’t have been yelling; it made him feel better anyway. “Why wouldn’t you just listen to me for once –”

The front door slammed open and shut and heavy footsteps rushed toward them. The broken arm probably hurt a lot, because Shawn wasn’t even mad at Gus for summoning his dad. Gus kept on shouting at his own shoes. To this day he has pretty much no idea what he was actually saying. The act of berating on its own was therapeutic.

Therapeutic had been one of the words he’d spelled right in the spelling bee.

“Shawn!”

In the memory, Mr. Spencer’s voice invades their bubble like a popping bb gun and a big bucket of cool water in summertime all at once. The broken arm was not actually his fault, but Shawn had climbed the tree because he was fifteen and angry and Gus had hung back on the ground because he was fifteen and thinking about Destiny’s long swinging braids. Somehow both of these things connected back to the general presence of Henry, weeks away from divorce, hanging over their heads. He’d been the one who grounded Shawn two days prior for skipping second period for the millionth time, and Gus wasn’t sure he wanted to go to Junior Prom (where Destiny would be, slow dancing with Micheal H for sure) alone.

“Shawn – ah, Jesus. Gus. Gus, come on, calm down, kid.” Two firm hands grabbed Gus by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet, and his tirade died in his throat. He was kind of shaking, too, but there was a sharp edge of fear to Henry’s voice that came out sounding almost angry and somehow made Gus feel better. “You’re okay, alright? You’re okay. He’s okay. This isn’t your fault. Go inside and get my car keys.”

Gus can’t really remember whether he made it to the bathroom before spilling his guts. He figures it’s kind of an immaterial detail, nineteen years later.

“Gus,” Shawn mumbles. “Gus, I got blood on you.”

“Shut up, Shawn,” Gus says.

Shawn isn’t dead, which is pretty obvious to everyone now. Gus has been convinced of it for the last twenty-four hours. If Shawn was dead, Gus would’ve felt it. This is a conclusion he came to at around eleven a.m Pacific Standard Time, still in his pajamas and halfway through one of the gross protein bars Juliet keeps in her purse to keep his brain functioning on something one tier above pure fear. He used to wonder about it in college – whether Shawn was lying in a ditch somewhere without him. The idea would float through his head on random days when he was in crisis about stupid stuff like his upcoming Chem 102 final and prone to catastrophizing, and he’d think miserably that Shawn was probably on a sunny beach surrounded by beautiful women and Dolph Lundgren, momentarily freak because dude, what if he’s in Northern Guatemala and dead, and hasn’t even said anything? That would be just like Shawn, and then, finally, he’d eat a Kit-Kat and go for a walk around campus and finish his study notes and everything would be fine. A week later he’d get a postcard, like Shawn had somehow read his mind all the way from Bardstown, Kentucky, and pretend he didn’t miss his friend someplace deep in his ever-feeling stomach.

This morning he became convinced. He’d know. That has to be how it works. Nothing else makes sense, and Gus is a person who likes to believe in the reasonable and rational when he can.

Yeah, says Shawn’s regular, not-mumbly voice in his head. Like mummies and curses and ghosts. Absolutely the most sensible person I know, buddy, bar none.

Shawn’s real voice is slurring something unintelligible and sounding a lot less coherent than he did fifteen minutes ago when jumped onto the hood of a moving vehicle. Like an action movie star. Gus can’t even bring himself to be pumped about how cool that was, theoretically, because –

“EMTs are on their way.”

“Well can’t they get here faster?”

“I’m not a goddamn teleportation service! Guster, get his head up –”

“His head is fine, will you just –”

“Stop jostling him!”

“He’s my son, Lassiter, don’t fucking tell me what to do – Shawn – Shawn –”

After the adrenaline wore off and Shawn’s legs turned to jello, getting him to sit up against the car was kind of hard. He is, as a result, currently lying on the ground with his head in Gus’s lap, manfully, while they wait. Juliet took care of locking the bad guy in the other car and has sort of shut down, emotionally speaking – her sweet face is the color of chalk and her eyes are like saucers and she keeps answering her radio so fast her hands blur – and Lassiter’s trying (ungainingly, now that the shooting is over) to take charge to make himself feel better.

Henry’s the only one who seems capable of being practical. Gus knows this version of him well.

“Gus … you hate blood. 'Cept when you're tellin' me to lick it.”

Shawn again, being unhelpful. As always. Gus is too relieved to gag. Maybe later.

“At this juncture I am neutral about blood,” Gus tells him, in his best Professional Pharmaceutical Salesman Voice. Shawn grins crookedly up at him. He’s like, half passed out already, and the only thing keeping Gus sane is the steady beat of his pulse in his neck, where it presses hot and sweaty against Gus’s hand. Hot and sweaty makes him think of their junior prom. That was gross, though Gus supposes he didn’t mind at the time. They barely made it to the thing anyway. Shawn milked his stupid cast like his life depended on it and Destiny, who was big into art, sat at their table instead of dancing with Michael H so she could doodle on it with the Sharpies she carried in her frilly clutch. She and Gus spent almost the whole night talking. She was like, his second ever kiss.

Back to the present. Through the power of Henry Spencer’s eyebrows Lassie’s been successfully banished – warded off, whatever – and Gus briefly wonders if he should be a bad friend (to Juliet) and ask that she come over and hold Shawn’s hand or something. Then Henry locks eyes with him and he realizes suddenly and inescapably that no, actually, Shawn will not want her to be here for this.

“Shawn,” Henry says.

“Hi, Dad,” Shawn manages. He’s still grinning, but his face is pale. Pasty. Shawn’s kind of tan as far as white guys go (Gus remembers Joy declaring this once, the way she always liked to declare things, when they were eight and she was twelve) so the gray tinge to his cheeks doesn’t become him. "Unhg… this’sucks. Kinda … numb tho’. I think ‘s getting better.”

It’s not really getting better. Gus looks at the dirty, slick duct tape matted into Shawn’s tattered shirt and feels his ears ringing. This is one of top ten most unforgivable pranks Shawn has pulled on him in their lifetime, without a doubt.

“Kid, I’m so sorry. I have to stop the bleeding.”

“S’still bleedin’?”

It is. Gus’s leg is damp. Probably sticky. Every molecule in his body is trying not to think about it.

“Gus, brace his shoulder.”

“Yes sir.”

Shawn’s mind registers what’s about to happen a second before Henry presses down; Gus can see it all click in his drooping eyes, which widen. The noise that comes out of his mouth is sudden and horrible. Worse than God’s most disgusting broken bone. Gus doesn’t move, but his stomach lurches, and his head spins. Henry’s pressure is firm and professional and unyielding and he can see the old brown jacket the older man stripped off his own shoulders start to stain where it rests against Shawn, who seems to be remembering that he got shot with a real live bullet for the first time since they found him.

“Dad – Dad, stop, stop, fuck! Why’d you – doesn’ haft’ – jus -”

Plausible deniability, Gus thinks while Shawn complains. It would be normal except Henry's actually apologizing. He stares at the ugliest sepia-patterned fruit on his best friend's dad's shirt and counts to ten, then twelve, then thirteen. He wonders what Destiny's up to these days. He doesn't look and pretends not to hear, either.

“Gus,” Henry says after another minute, and Gus looks up. With a jolt, he realizes that he’s watching Henry Spencer cry. Nothing about his voice has changed; nothing about his posture has changed. The faint sound of an ambulance invades their consciousness while mundane, dull tears shine in the pale afternoon sun as they leak out of the older man's eyes and down his grizzled exhausted face. “You need to throw up?”

He does, kind of. Shawn’s spare hand has grabbed the dirty fabric of Gus’s jeans in one fist. He isn’t yelling anymore and from over Henry’s shoulder Gus can see Juliet, across the road, looking over at them desperately. She probably can't see the details, but there's no way she hasn't heard. Shawn gasps a shaky breath and squeezes his eyes shut and bites down into his own shirtsleeve to muffle himself. Gus and the car are blocking the worst of it from everyone else. The sirens are properly loud now.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Henry says. “You know? It just looks like hell.”

Like he’s fifteen again, and being ordered to go get the keys. Gus shakes his head anyway, and Henry doesn’t ask again.

#i just keep thinking abt gus and henry. percolating as the girls say #i do think it needs expansion but thats just bc im being petty #my writing #psych #burton guster #shawn spencer #shawn x gus #henry spencer #touches prompt meme #psych usa #psych 2006

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moriartyluver · 1 year ago

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can we have some mtp boys (separate) on how they’d treat a fem! Reader who is on her period. You don’t need to make it historically accurate & if you’d prefer, you can make it modern au. Thank you!!!

A/N: I did this in a modern AU as suggested because I have no idea how people would have dealt with periods in the 19th century

Characters: William James Moriarty x fem! Reader , Albert James Moriarty x fem! Reader ,Louis James Moriarty x fem! Reader (separate)

Format: headcannons

Genre: hurt/ comfort, fluff

Prompt: the Moriarty brothers with a reader who is on their period.

Warnings: reader is afab, reader is female, established relationships, periods/menstruation etc.

LOUIS would be such a good partner in general so when you’re on your period? He is doing everything!

He’s already very much a househusband male wife kind of guy but it just gets so much more malewifey when you’re on your period

Oh you’re hot water bottle got slightly less warm? Louis is filling it up for your instantly

He will literally shower you in heating pads

I don’t think he’d be very physically affectionate in general, his love language is definitely acts of service and it’s very evident all the time, but if you ask to be held, hold you he will.

He’ll make you anything you want to eat no matter how strange (I always get really weird cravings on my period so if you do aswell, be prepared because Louis will stop at nothing to make you happy)

He has a whole storage cupboard packed with pads and tampons and whatever else you may use, all with your preferred sizes and brands because he’s just that caring. You never run out of pads or tampons with him around.

If any ones annoying you, he’ll be super pissed off and will actually get into a fight for your sake.

If you’re feeling emotional, he’ll be by your side reassuring you that everything’s okay. He’s a bit emotionally constipated but he tries his best for you.

If you ever need sheets to be washed or clothes to be cleaned, he won’t mind at all and he will definitely not get upset.

He himself doesn’t go out unless necessary so he’ll try stay at home with you all the time, just in case you need something (even if you insist that you’re fine)

Overall rating? 10/10 wifey material

WILLIAM probably knows more about your period than you do. Not in a gross mansplaining way but in a well educated husband kind of way

Like he definitely knows when you’re going to start you’re period based on symptoms and stuff before you get that little red surprise in your underwear. Worst feeling tbh.

He helps you learn how to track your cycle and if you’re an inconsistent period girlie like myself, he’s a great help. Imagine just getting ready to go out and then William tells you to make sure to take a pad/tampon/cup with you before you leave 💀

He pampers you too, especially if you live together, but not in the same way louis does.

He’s a bit more strict when it comes to what you should and shouldn’t eat (it’s the protective teacher in him). Liam makes you take magnesium supplements and makes sure you eat healthy even if you’re craving junk food so your cramps don’t get worse.

He’s probably calculated the perfect temperature for your heat pad/hot water bottle 😭

Probably a little more affectionate than his younger brother would be. If you’re complaining about being cold or uncomfortable, he’d put whatever book he’s reading down and hold his arms wide open for you. William absentmindedly rubs your back while listening to you complain about having a uterus

Definitely pressed kisses to your forehead while you ramble like the old fashioned lover he is 🤭

He makes sure to buy you really good quality pads/tampons and is sure to memorise which brands or types you prefer. Might slip a chocolate bar in there too. He also buys you painkillers and gives you the correct doses and everything at the right times

If you don’t feel like speaking much (he loves talking to you for some reason. its adorable) he gets a little upset but he’s a surprisingly good communicator. He doesn’t want to make you feel uneasy and bless his heart, he does all the chores and everything so you don’t have to suffer further while your uterus tries to fucking kill you

Overall rating? ∞/10 (I am totally not biased) I want to marry him idc if he’s a drawing

ALBERT is stupid. I’m sorry that’s a mean way to start off

I think we can all agree he has OCD or OCPD but he’s so sweet to you despite some seeing periods as a ‘Filthy’ thing.

You bled through the sheets? He’ll calmly help you fix that dw sweetie. If you bleed through your pants in public and anyone gives you any dirty looks or some weird shit because people hate uterus havers, he’s not called one of the most unhinged mtp characters for nothing 😊

Ok but this man knows nothing about periods though. I’m so sorry. Like you had to explain to him that no you can’t hold in the blood nor do you use your pad as a bandaid of some sort

Would probably send you one of these :(yes I made that)

He needs Louis to go shopping with him to help get you stuff because this man is smart enough for eton but not enough to know that different colours on pad packages are not flavours 🙄

Also he’s a shit cook so you still have to do that if u don’t wanna starve

Probably the most affectionate out of the brothers. He’s very cuddly with you when you need him to be (mainly because he feels bad for being so damn useless)

Overall rating? 2/10 💀

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #mtp william #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori x reader

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cloveroctobers · 15 days ago

Text

LITTLE DARK AGE — Bode Leone x Reader x Fire Country? [October Prompts] 🧡

A/N: It’s still early into the new season but there’s always potential for me to write more for reckless bode lol. This was a quick write tbh because it definitely could have been longer but I’ve barely had time to write so for those of you who like the spooks, I hope you enjoy this one! Yet this is more of a platonic love (because those are important too!) along with the rest of the characters from fire country hence the question mark lol. + mentions of a character from Chicago Med because why not? Have a safe, fun, and happy Halloween ghoulies 🧡🥳!!!!!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: GENERAL PLOTS — SURVIVING SUMMER CAMP | possibilities: our muses survived a terrifying serial killing at camp as teens and now as adults we've returned to pay our respects for the nth anniversary. only for us to find that there's a copy cat killer. or maybe one of our muses is a journalist teen actor and the other a survivor.

WARNINGS: slight language + small references to what happened but nothing graphic for the soft Halloween lovers🤞🏽

<- Read my previous October anthology prompt here.

𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺

The summer of 2006 at Camp Goulcrest has been described as one of the most horrific crimes that has ever taken place in Hadleigh, California. What was supposed to be an enjoyable time for young teens to spend their summer with other fellow teens…they would soon experience an unforgettable terror as their precious lives became targets to Hadleigh’s first and only known serial killer.

“I’ve just never expected anything so tragic to happen in a town like this.” Sixty-Three year old, Mary Dixie says with her clasped hands pressed to her mouth before speaking again, “My twin grandsons were supposed to attend that same camp next summer and now this happens? Those poor kids who lost their lives, their families, and oh for heaven’s sake, those young survivors!” She gasps while the camera zooms in on her face, as if she thinking about it for the first time, “I can’t even imagine what they’ve went through and will continue to go through. Although Edgewater—where those kids are from—isn’t that far from us, This has also affected the community of Hadleigh and our deepest sympathies are always with them. It feels as if god is telling us that the dark age is near. I’m glad they caught the bastard but may god be with us all!”

𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺

Attempting to keep up and not have your ankles roll as you’re being dragged along by the collar, the last trip on a branch irks your nerves just enough for you to snap up at the dark haired man who has his paws on you, “If this is how you treat a lady, then I see why you’re still single.”

He stops in his tracks to glare down at you, “I see you still have a mouth on you.”

You grin up at him, making sure it’s full of sarcasm until the slowly heated exchange is interrupted.

“Hey, Luke! What’re you doing?” The familiar voice catches both of your attention, turning to see Vince Leone making his way over with his wife, Sharon right in tow.

Now those were much better faces to look at!

Luke only pulls on the collar of your jacket some more but that doesn’t stop you from trying to yank yourself from his grasp. “I found this one lurking about fifty yards away in the trees. That tells me everything that I need to know.”

“Oh? Does it?” You mock.

Sharon snickers while Vince tightens his stare at you as he says your name, “…what’re you doing out here kid?”

“I’m back in town and thought taking a stroll to the one place that handed me a nice portion of trauma, would be a good idea.” You state while Vince scoffs and Luke rolls his eyes, never finding your antics to be amusing like everyone else.

Luke huffs, “We’re never going to get a straight answer out of them. Which is exactly why I’ve called it in, one of the cops will take you in since the sheriff will be expecting you.”

“Wait, what?” Sharon questions, “You can’t just go around speculating things, Luke. That’s what gets your ass in trouble all the time.”

The man frowns, knowing that was a jab and thought they were all past that.

“What other explanation would there be?” Luke quizzes, “This old abandoned camp, where the most gruesome murders took place, which they were involved in, along with your son, my nephew, happened eighteen years ago—

Vince holds his hands up, “We don’t need a history lesson, Luke. And I’m sure they don’t either.”

“…im just saying,” Luke sighs, “it’s suspicious that this place almost burned down and yet I find the one person, who has the closest connection to it, just lingering in the woods.”

You’re looking down at your nails, wondering where you could find a good nail shop…definitely not in Hadleigh’s small ghost town, that’s for sure! You only just got here two hours ago, spending majority of the time at the diner where the vanilla milkshake was giving cream sickle instead and the chicken and dumplings had extra seasoning of flies.

It took you a minute to bite the bullet to even get out to this camp but it’s not like Luke Leone bothered to hear any of that.

“Well who do you think called it in, Mr. Know it all?” You piped up, “Yeah that’s right, me! I watched the cabins go up in flames because that’s where it started before it spread.”

Luke glances at his big brother and sister-in-law.

“I think you can let go of them now,” Vince encourages but Luke still hesitates.

You pluck Luke’s wrist, making him focus back on you with a sneer. “That’s Ferragamo you’re messing up and I know you would hate to see the bill.”

“How humble of you.” Luke mutters with another roll of his eyes, “Is it sustainable?” He picks as he finally lets you go with a fling of his wrist.

Fixing your jacket yourself you sigh, “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask my auntie for you and see what she says, oh wait…she hates you too.”

That struck a nerve because the next thing you know, Luke is ready to put his finger in your smug face but Sharon steps in, shoving his wrist right back to his side, sending him a stern look before turning back to you. She takes one look at you before slipping an arm across your shoulders and leads you back to where the rest of the firefighters are just about finishing the clean up.

“It’s good to see you,” Sharon starts, always having this nurturing energy about her, “Just didn’t expect it to be like this. You know this is going to be a lot of shit now.”

You cover up a yawn before tilting your head towards the blunt haired woman with a lazy smile, “When isn’t it, Mrs. Leone?”

Equally she sends you a small smile, in an attempt to be comforting. For as long as you known the woman, she was pretty good at reading people. If your mother had lived long enough and didn’t have two older sisters who would do just about anything for you, you were certain that she would have made Sharon your god-mother instead. Plus Sharon lived for the celeb gossip and was always rooting for you, not just in the limelight either.

She turns you by the forearms while Vince is having a hushed conversation—well somewhat—since Luke has definitely raised his voice and is pointing at you, while Vince is caressing at his facial hair in frustration.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen.” Sharon takes her eyes off the two as well, “You’re gonna go with the cops and cooperate because you have nothing to hide. Vince and I will meet you there.”

You nod, not surprised that the older woman didn’t bother to hear much else of your story. Sharon had the upmost respect and trust in you still, even though you both couldn’t recall what year was the last time you visited Edgewater. All you remembered was it was sometime in the fall where your aunties put together this big event at their Victorian cottage and that always got the people talking.

“Promise not to tell my aunties?”

Sharon laughed, “And stress those highly spiritual ladies out over nothing?! I wouldn’t dare and leave that all up to you, girlfriend!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Sharon.”

“Course.” Sharon squeezes your shoulders, “Now try not to make much of a scene since Bode, Jake, and Eve all realize it’s you that I’m talking to.”

A crooked smile spreads over your lips while a throat clears. You turn to see a burly cop waiting for you with one hand on his waistband.

“Where the hell did they find you?” You ask, sizing him up just as the man states your first and last name.

He doesn’t bother answering your question and does a twirl with his finger, “Hands behind your back.”

Sharon begins, “Is that really necessary? They’re not gonna run—

Just as Sharon says this, you jerk to the right of the cop who was probably Samoan—if you had to guess—who easily follows your movements and latches onto your wrist. Playfully smiling up at him with your hands raised you say, “You’re fast, Mr…Mahuta.” You read off his chest, “Play any sports before becoming one with the law?”

Officer Mahuta glances at Sharon to see if you were in fact being so causal about this or it was just in his head. He was also new to the town, been here for six months and he heard some things about you along with your family but once he heard that you were back in town, he didn’t mind being the one in charge of bringing you in.

His sister was a fan.

“Uh yeah, Rugby back in New Zealand for about seven years.” He grins at you, honored that you kind of figured it out without him saying anything.

He even loosens his grip on your wrist, leaving you to clasp them behind yourself while winking at Sharon, who shakes her head at you.

“Oooh, New Zealand huh?” You continue the conversation as Officer Mahuta starts to cuff you, “I originally auditioned for a show that was supposed to film out there but the project got scrapped.”

Officer Mahuta begins leading you away by the elbow, “It’s the most serene place to be with the highest quality of life.”

“Yeah? So the pictures don’t do it any justice? Why leave and come to stinky Edgewater? was it a woman? Or man? Or person?” You quiz as you soon feel more eyes on you the more you get closer to the rest of the firefighters.

Officer Mahuta tells you about his wife and how they both made the decision to come back to help her ill parent. It took a turn for the worse so they ended up staying here much longer and found out they were expecting their own bundle of joy soon. It was nice to hear that some people still found blessings in disguise.

“Superstar?” Jake calls out to you, making you zone back and glance to your right where he stood with Eve.

Kicking that slight dissociation to the side you send a grin his way, “Guess who’s back?”

Eve mutters from Jake’s left, “It ain’t slim shady, that’s for sure.”

You laugh before your eyes shift further to see Bode making his way to stand beside Jake.

“Now what did you go and get yourself into?”

Is the first thing that slips out of Bode’s mouth.

You scoff, “Ask your unc, you know how obsessed he is with me and my whole family. Now that I’m here for who knows how long, it’s going to be marathon for him…because you know I’m about to give him hell.”

Bode side eyes the direction of where his Uncle Luke is, who’s now on the phone but his eyes are sharp on you as Officer Mahuta paused to let you converse with your old friends. His hand is raised in confusion, silently wondering why you’re getting special treatment but again his arm is shoved down but by his brother this time.

“I don’t doubt that.” Bode comments as Officer Mahuta lightly starts to steer you away at the widen stare Luke is sending him some feet away, “Let’s just hope it’s not you going to three rock this time.”

You snort, “Oh, I’m going to make them all look crazy for doing this, believe me. It’s going to be even more satisfying when I make Luke eat shit…so if you’re all not busy, would you care to meet up for breakfast or something tomorrow?”

Eve glances at the two men to her right and shrug, “As long as we’re not bombarded with your fans.”

“Don’t forget, apparently I’m not the only star here. At least in this town.” You tell as Officer Mahuta actually gets you moving again, per Luke’s visual request.

A equal shudder passes over the three but Bode is the one that answers redirecting it back to catching up and not the fact that they’re all standing on the grounds of the one place they tried to shove to their back of their minds, “Yeah. We’ll be there.”

“Great.” You state as you allow Officer Mahuta to lead you away into the night.

𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Bode asks from across you.

You lift your cheek from your balled up knuckles, “I’m just trying to figure out, when you decided you wanted to look like your damn grandad?”

Eve and Jake share a snicker, just as the waitress slides over your herbal tea. You thank her verbally and with your eyes before latching onto the mug then meeting Bode’s shining dark teal eyes.

“What? You’re not a fan of the new look?” Bode quizzes, while watching you barely blow on the tea before sipping at the liquid.

It was a thing, you not caring about how hot the food is temperature or spicy wise, you would dive in. Jake often joked that your aunties better watch out since their relative might just be a demon but they all knew you had a phobia of fire. Which is why it didn’t make sense for Luke to accuse you of setting fire to the old camp that required Cal Fire to come out and assist on. Sure you had motive, just as the rest of the three but you got snippy, ready to show your burn marks to the cops who interrogated you until the sheriff came back (to take over) from a quick ran he had to make.

It was obvious the old cops wanted to keep you here for the night and you might as well have, since you didn’t get released until one in the morning!

“You need to give your dad his mustache back. As for the new chop? Reminds me of how curly your hair used to be back in the day, now that? Was a look.” You informed, making Bode laugh lightly before biting into his bagel.

Eve whispers from beside you after obnoxiously slurping on her smoothie, “Careful now…”

Jake also chimes in after bumping the blond’s shoulder, “Bode can’t help it if the curls always got the girls.”

Playfully gagging, earned you some napkins being tossed your way by the man himself. You soon watch the expression on his face turn serious, which immediately, being that friend, makes you use your elbow as leverage to twist your body against the booth to see what changed this demeanor of Bode’s.

“Can you not be so obvious?” Bode gruffs, which makes Eve almost want to turn too but she figures it out once Jake mouths what she was thinking.

The table goes quiet as the dark haired woman heads to the counter, saying that she’s picking up an order. With one hand on her phone, she slowly turns towards the table you’re all seated at and waves with a smile.

“Hey, Gabi.” Jake calls over his shoulder.

Eve also smiles back at her, “Morning, Gabs!”

Her eyes flick to Bode and then you, but turns her attention back to the guy behind the counter who hands her a bag. She makes her way by the table but not without throwing in a, “Bode, hi.”

“Um, hey, hi.” Bode stumbles which makes you raise a brow.

Reaching over Eve you hold out your hand to introduce yourself, “So you’re thee Gabi I’ve seen and heard little about. I’m…old friend of these three rascals.”

Gabby places her hand in yours to lightly shake, “Uh…yeah, I’m familiar with some of your work. How did you hear about me, exactly?”

“Jake’s Instagram!” You admit, “Just to learn you two are not together anymore.”

Gabriela awkwardly glanced at Jake who shakes his head at you in annoyance, “Don’t mind them, they just say whatever comes to mind.”

“Y’all are acting like I said something horrible.” You place your hands on your chest with wide eyes, “Is it not a fact?”

“It is,” Eve verified, “Just not the first thing you need to bombard her with, given that you’re just meeting, so early in the morning.”

Gabi stretches a smile over her lips, “It’s not a big deal. Things just didn’t work out, as some relationships don’t, right?”

You hum and sip at your tea.

“Well…It was nice meeting you.” Gabi bids her farewell, “I’ll see you guys later.” She sends another glance at Bode who presses his lips together at her before leaving.

Meeting everyone’s eyes again you demand, “Okay…out with it. What was that?”

“What was what?” Bode lifts his shoulders, ready to bite back into the half of his bagel but you slap it back down onto his plate.

Mocking him with a lift of your shoulders you say, “That whole lingering look between you two. What’s the story?”

Jake rolls his neck around, while Eve points between the two.

“So are you two going to tell them, or shall I be the one to do it?”

“It doesn’t even really matter.” Jake exasperates, while Bode appears to be more interested in his breakfast than meeting your eyes.

Your brows raise, “I call bullshit. I’ve known all of you since forever and may have been living a different life in Chicago and wherever else I’m expected to be but please don’t think I’m dumb.”

Jake meets Bode’s eyes while Eve decides to tell you. You were all friends and it didn’t need to be a secret.

“Jake and Gabi used to be in a relationship as you know, and we’re actually engaged. Then that was broken up by Bode and Gabi becoming an unofficial thing—mind you this was all happening while Bode was serving his time in three rock. THEN Bode pushed her away and Gabi got involved with a paramedic dude named Diego, which led to them getting engaged pretty fast. That wedding didn’t happen either because Bode and Gabi keep going back and forth with their feelings for each other. Oh! And also Jake and Cara, you remember Cara Maisonette? Were in a relationship for a while and due to her untimely passing, rest in peace! Jake is now raising her daughter, Gen, Genevieve who was potentially Bode’s but she actually might be Rick Stengler’s.” Eve gave you the run down, while you pointed mentally connecting the dots as she talked as if you were Adele in that one livestream.

Sitting back against the booth you blink back and forth between the two men, “…what kind of soap opera shit is this?”

Jake points his fork at the short haired woman on your right, “Notice how Eve didn’t air out any of her business?”

“That’s because I’m clean from the drama baby!” Eve whoops with her fist raised up in the air.

Sipping at your herbal tea once more you say, to the two across from you, “The tabloids would have a field day with you two.”

“Thank god we didn’t go Hollywood, we’ll leave that all to you, superstar.” Jake lifts his own mug up at you, as he uses your nickname.

Bode clears his throat, deciding to ask, “Enough about our crap, what’s up with you in that department? Are you and the foot? Doctor guy still a thing?”

“He wasn’t a foot doctor.” Eve scrunches up her nose.

Bode is confused, “I could have sworn—

“Uh, He’s a pharmacist?” Jake affirms so matter of factly, “And it’s John, right?”

Laughing at your friends you say, “you’re all wrong. The only thing Jake got right was his name. He’s a resident in Pediatric emergency medicine.”

“That’s a mouth full.” Eve comments as she pops some grapes into her mouth.

“Tell me about it.” You nudge Eve who raises her brows at you while you smirk.

“Ew, alright! It’s too early for that kind of talk, shut up.” Jake cringes while you just laugh.

Stretching your arms above your head you exhale, “That’s unfortunately over with after four years. He tried to say it was to focus more on his career but he and I both know he didn’t want that kind of spotlight put back on him.”

“That’s right, he was on that one show when he was a kid right?” Jake snaps his finger.

You nod.

Bode apprised, “That’s his loss, he had to have known what he was getting himself into.”

“Sure,” you shrug, “People change their minds all the time though, which is scary. We all know I’m also not the most easiest to deal with either so…I have no choice but to respect it.”

Eve nods, “yeah maybe…but if you love someone enough and the relationship is healthy then you put the work in to keep it going strong. That’s just how I see it.”

“I never liked him anyway, not that we’ve been around him much.” Jake adds with his mouth full, which makes you scoff with a roll of your eyes, “His face was too perfect and you can’t trust that.”

Oh brother!

Bode even pretends to think about it too.

“I’ve missed you guys,” you let out sigh resting your hand in the center of the table reaching out, which is shortly followed by Eve placing her hand right on top of yours.

“Are we really about to do a whole hand huddle right now?” Bode inquired after Jake stacks his right on top of Eve’s.

Jake scoffs, “Don’t act like you don’t miss this on the baseball field.”

“…Never really thought about it.”

“Really?” You quiz.

“Yeah, there’s always been too much going on to really think about what went on before.” Bode speaks, “…At least some things.”

Which definitely meant he was hinting at Riley.

You nod in understanding, “I get that.”

Bode searches your face in that moment before slowly placing his hand on top of Jake’s.

You let the ball drop, “Which is why…I’m going back to the camp tonight since it’s the anniversary today.”

“What?!” Eve peered at you sideways.

“I knew there was a catch,” Jake grumbled, taking his hand back, “Buttering us up just to throw something crazy on us.”

You shrug your shoulders, “I’m not forcing any of you to come with me. It’s been eighteen years and i was drawn there for a reason—

“Yeah it’s call unresolved trauma.” Eve answers, “I think there’s been more than enough signs to stay away from that Goulcrest. I even bet that the sheriff told you to say away from there too.”

“…I cannot confirm or deny.” You rest your elbows against the table, sticking your nose up into the air.

Eve groans with her hands thrown back up in the air, pleading with her eyes as she looks at Jake and Bode to be the voice of reason.

“It’s mostly about paying my respects.” You try to justify.

Bode blinks as he leans a bit over the table, “You shouldn’t be out there alone, especially when that place is being investigated on arson and they thought you had something to do with it.”

“Mostly Luke, since he couldn’t blame it on my aunties…but give it time.” You continue, “Clearly I’m not afraid to be out there on my own and I’ll do it again.”

Jake hisses, “That’s your problem. You don’t know when to quit.”

“Hey, you’ve guys have been here for years and not once did any of you bring it up to me in our adulthood and that’s fine, we all deal with trauma differently. I got out as soon as I could, ran away from it but can any of us really sit here and say we got the closure from what happened?”

“…my closure is not ever mentioning it again.” Jake explains, now pushing his food around on his plate.

“Keep telling yourself that, you bury yourself into your work and are strictly by the book not being open to new ideas because of what exactly?” You round off, “Having control over things is better than not having control and where do you think that stems from, hm?”

Jake swallows the lump in his throat as he fires right back, “…how would you know? You haven’t been around.”

Chuckling to yourself humorlessly you respond, “I’ve heard more than enough just sitting here listening to you talk and it’s been over an hour. Whether you like it or not, I know my friends, no matter the distance.”

Eve comes in, “if you know us enough, then it should have been in your best interest to probably keep your little second venture to camp of horrors to yourself.”

Your tightened stare meets all three sets of eyes, “Wooooow, okay! And here I thought this was a safe space to not avoid shit because that’s what you’re all doing.”

“Did you or did you not just say that we all deal with trauma in different ways?” Eve tilts her head to the side.

“I did. But I also dont need for you all to look at me as if I’ve grown three heads for wanting to honor the victims…which most of us were too, if you forgot.”

Eve sucks in her cheeks at this, feeling as if that was a jab. She had been sent off to a hospital after breaking her collarbone during one of the activities. Just to come back to multiple bloody scenes that didn’t go away even when she closed her eyes.

“How could we?! We were kids. I’ve never been so depressed before in my life. You and Bode thought I was dead, I did almost die. I don’t think it’s a crime to try and move on and that’s no disrespect to those we lost.” Jake speaks, “I tried to play it off once recognizing the address before it was announced that it was camp Goulcrest because we had a job to do. All I wanted to do was turn that damn truck around and let it burn. Once I finally snapped out of it, I knew I had to live my life and that’s what we should all be doing. Not living in the fucked up past.”

The table goes quiet.

“The thing is…the limelight isn’t bright enough for me to live the life I need.” You say with a shaky breath, “So I’ll be at the camp tonight, no matter what anyone says or thinks.”

Bode’s seen that look in your eye plenty of times before so he knew you meant it, as you collected your things and excused yourself from the deli.

𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺

Letting out a slow exhale, you stood inside what was once known as the rec hall. It didn’t experience as much damage as the cabins which completely burned down but the soot covered a good portion of it along with a hole in the wall that brought in the air that was ready for a season change. It smelled like smoke opposed to its old sap and dirt feel it used to have back then.

The ceramic wind chimes that you managed to loop around one of the lower beams, had you hugging yourself as you stared up at them afterwards. Your eyes felt like they wanted to burn remembering all the lives that were lost and you fought the urge to scratch at the burn that took up a good chunk of the side of your thigh. The more you stood in the rec hall, eyes scanning the end of the stairs, where your mind sizzled with the thought of the killer causing you harm in his off-putting mask.

A hand goes to your shoulder, a reflex was instant as you twisted the palm and pressed on their thumb, ready to break it.

“It’s just us!” Jake’s voice calls out, wincing and you immediately let go of him, “I called out to you a good five times but you seemed to be zoned out. Damn.”

“You don’t sneak up on people!”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Jake shook of his hand, “How else did you want us to get your attention?”

“By not touching me?”

“Okay, relax you two.” Eve commands as she peers up and around the ceiling of this place, “we’re all okay.”

Which sounds like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

“…are we?” Bode asks, his voice projecting a good distance from you three.

That’s when all of you set your eyes on the blond, who’s standing by the fireplace that’s tucked into the back of the spacious hall.

You’re the first that moves over to Bode, seeing that he’s holding something between his two fingers. His eyes scan over your face once more, as you latch onto his wrist holding his arm in place as you peer at the card he’s holding.

The card read: THE FOOL which was a distant memory of the joker card that was always left at the scene of The Goulcrest killer’s crime.

“W-what is that?” Jake rasped, although you can sense that he already knew.

Eve whispered, “…is that blood?”

Bode calls out your name after you step back from him, moving around the hall in search of what could be another dead body.

“What is happening right now?” Eve is frantic as she watches you, seeing you stop in your tracks, hand going to pinch at your hairline in thought.

The chimes start to whip from the beams in a manner that is less than gentle. You’re overwhelmed, knowing that there had to be somebody here because who randomly leaves behind a card like that, which is highly connected to what happened years ago?

The Goulcrest killer tried to set you on fire as if the brutal attack before that wasn’t enough. You were his last target and the first to see the camp begin to burn in present day, there had to be a connection there.

It felt like being in a trance the longer you stared at the chimes that were supposed to honor the old camp members, although it was better to define it as trigger like because the harder they whipped against the wind, the more they started to sound like the bells that dangled from the killer’s mask.

Jake and Eve were already back by the door, ready to high tail it out of there once they got a good enough look at the bloody card Bode found. It was Bode who had to remind you that you weren’t alone, just like you had to do at fourteen watching him get tortured.

Telling him that you were there and wouldn’t leave him as you lay by the stairs with only a shattered ankle at the time.

“Hey,” his voice broke through the jingling of bells that did their best to occupy your mind.

Those same bells that commonly affected your sleeping patterns so much that no pill or drug could conquer it.

“It’s you and I, remember?” Bode said, now cradling your face, “And we can leave this time, okay?”

He’s patient but firm, letting you known that now you had the choice to get away from the dark. Bode didn’t think it was the best idea being here but he also didn’t think you should be here alone and he was right—which it wasn’t about—but there was now this high risk of there being a copy cat killer.

Something all of you didn’t deserve to see a repeat of.

So you allowed him to tuck you underneath his arm, leading you out of the old rec hall to where Jake and Eve stood by the doors of Eve’s car. Once they saw the two of you made it out, they did not hesitate to hop right into the car, which was already started.

“I’ll drive.” Bode tells you, awaiting for your keys, which you surprisingly didn’t fight him on as you slapped it into his palm.

Bode watches you as you get to the passenger side of your car and he glanced over at Jake who had his window down as Eve slowly starts to pull off, “I’ve called it into the county here but you know with a smaller town like this, they probably won’t jump right on it.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Hey,” Jake calls out to Bode, who glanced at the brown skinned man over his shoulder, “…you didn’t take the card, did you?”

The look in Bode’s eye was enough of an answer to Jake, as he’s rolling his window back up.

𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺

“You should tell your aunties you’re here.” Bode suggestions in one of the motel rooms you chose to stay in.

He’s been watching you pace the floor for awhile and even muted the reruns of Family feud, finding your shuffling to be more soothing than the slightly irritating sound of the trumpet instrumental that played on that fan favorite show.

Bode’s seen your episode before in prison about three years ago with your now ex-boyfriend, John right at your side. It was weird seeing someone you grew up with be surrounded by people you didn’t think they would mesh with.

You never really had the time to just be.

After what happened at camp and being seen by numerous of doctors and counselors, it seemed as if everything was expected to go back to normal. At least that’s what Bode tried to do when it came to his healing process, dived into baseball to get rid of what still lingered, got into relationships, got into drugs, the distance between you grew as you went out to Los Angeles full-time to pursue acting, lost his sister, dealt with his father hating him, robbed a store, and you all know the rest.

It was all anything but fucking normal so in a sense, Bode understood that it was more than just paying your respects on the anniversary, it was about seeing the darkness little by little, and finding your way out for good this time.

“So they can try to locate this new copy cat killer for us and attempt to vanquish them?”

None of you saw a body or stayed around long enough to find out but it was something that was mutually felt.

A smile appears on the corner of Bode’s lips as he sat in a nearby chair with his elbows digging into his knees, “…if you think that would help?”

“No, Bode! I don’t.” You finally plop down on the edge of the bed, being aware that he was just trying to lighten the mood.

It was no secret back in Edgewater that people thought your mom and aunties were witches. Your mother was always chasing after normal whereas your aunties had no problem living in their truth.

Soon Bode’s sitting beside you, elbows digging into his knees. “…if you need me, I’m here.”

“I won’t leave you either, Bo.” You flop back against the bed, “Definitely not now.”

Bode also moves to lay back against the bed beside you, “…Did you have plans to go back?”

“To what?” You sigh, “Being under a microscope? Being tugged this way and that way like a robot…although this was what I wanted.”

Bode hums, “Originally you wanted to be on broadway, which is still huge and I won’t ever discredit that, yet you’ve been on the big screen and plenty of streaming services. If John walked away for good in terms of acting, why not take time to decide if this is still what you want?”

“…when did you get so wise, old friend of mine?” You raise your hand so that your knuckles can bump each other’s.

Bode snorts, “I’ve had time on my hands.”

“Literally.”

“Smart ass.” Bode laughs, slipping his fingers through yours.

Squeezing Bode’s hand against yours, you close your eyes. “Just you and I, Bode Leone.”

And you feel him shuffle closer with his head resting against yours.

𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺 𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺

October 2024 Masterlist here.

#drafts #bode leone #bode leone x reader #fire country #fire country x reader #vince leone #Sharon Leone #Luke Leone #jake crawford #eve edwards #gabriela perez #October prompts #spooky prompts #crime prompts

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 3 months ago

Note

Okay. It’s 💛 (perfect emoji choice by the way). I’m going be selfish and request a part 2 to Number 16 Cotton Candy. I know you said you didn’t really where to go with it, so I have a suggestion.

The torchbearer invited the reader to the town hall. I’m thus assuming that he was there (unless you’re pulling a navigating on me). I suggest that the reader perhaps either A) Demand to be taken with him back to the Bandito camp/to wherever he meets up with Clancy, or B) Somehow sneak out behind him and follow him to the Bandito camp/wherever he meets up with Clancy. I feel like some good angst could come out of that reunion if it happened (and, of course, the classic “You changed your hair” trope can occur). Maybe for the ending she can end up joining them officially.

This is just a suggestion. I really loved the first one and thought it would be cool to see it continued. If you don’t wanna do it, no problem (also I’m sorry for all my long asks. I’m a yapper).

Number 16 Cotton Candy Part 2 - Clancy x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph/Clancy × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, anything related to Dema or the Trench story that's generally triggering

Word Count: 2158 !!

Summary: Check the request!

PART 1

A/N: Your asks never fail to bring a smile to my face 💛! I had a few ideas with this one and tbh it did relatively well. Someone else reposted it wanting a part 2 so yay! I’m always checking my phone for your next request 💛(I’m not lying, I think I checked like 7 times today). I’m planning on doing an October challenge and writing something new everyday based on a prompt, obviously tøp themed! P.S. I’m also a yapper. Also incredibly proud of this one's ending - literally crying.

The town hall was normally empty, cold. But with the amount of people who looked almost like what Clancy had described bandtios as, it felt hopeful. I’d wondered who all those people were, how they’d found out about this, the banditos, and why they were here rather than in prison cells. Surely a rebellion in Dema would be wiped out instantly, even one of this size. Clancy had walked into the room, face covered in a red and gray mask before speaking to us. Everyone was quiet, anxious to hear what he had to say. Had any of these people even met him before? Did they even know what he looked like? He was shorter than I’d remembered, preaching a story I’d heard him tell 3 years ago. The story felt more important when it was being told to a room full of people rather than just me in the dressing room of ‘Good Day Dema’. Except something was wrong with Clancy. He looked sick, slowly throughout his speech he started to stumble until he collapsed to the floor. Citizens jumped out of their seats and ran in his direction, crowding around his body on the floor.

“Take his mask off!” I heard one yell while another was already removing the piece of fabric. I stayed in my seat, stretching up to get a look at the floor to see his face, one I hadn’t seen in years.

“Don’t bother,” a voice came from next to me. The Torchbearer. “He’s not here.”

“What?” I asked, turning to face him.

“He told you about seizing right?”

I nodded. There was no way Clancy was seizing, only bishops could seize. I looked back down to the floor to see a lifeless body laying there. A body which wasn’t Clancy’s, not even close to it. I stood up and started towards The Torchbearer.

“Tell me everything right now or I swear to god I’ll–I’ll…” The Torchbearer grabbed my hand and led me away from the town hall and out into the night. It was dark enough to hide from anyone else around after curfew but the real worry was coming. Soon the vultures would come out and the bishops would be able to see everything. We ran far from the hall and turned into an alleyway. “Where the fuck is he?” I shouted. He held me tightly, clearly trying to calm me down. His fingers dug into my arms, hard enough to tell me to shut up but light enough to not leave bruises.

“He–He’s safe. Off continent. I’ve kept an eye on him. The sub went down and he washed onto Vøldsoy, an island not far away from here. He’s heading back to Trench on a boat, back to the Bandito Camp,” he explained, composedly. He’d been safe on an island for the last 3 years and hadn’t even reached out once. So much for ‘I’ll come back for you’.

“And what exactly have you been doing since he was captured?” I felt weak inside and light lit by Clancy snuffed out.

“I–uh… I have an ability to guide,” he continued. “Physically I’m back at the camp but I’m able to appear to people in spirit. I’ve been guiding him. He has the ability to seize like the bishops, hence why the boy on the floor–” Even The Torchbearer wasn’t here right now. The ‘rebellion’ was turning out to be a fake movement with more talk than action.

“I don’t want to hear about the boy he used,” I interrupted, “I want to be taken to him. Now.” His face scrunched slightly and his body’s stiff composure relaxed slightly.

“I can do that.”

We waited, vultures circled over the city, eyes lit orange by the bishops. The Torchbearer grabbed my hand, leading me out into the empty street. He stopped in front of a manhole and removed the cover while I kept watch.

“There are tunnels down there. If you walk out towards the light you’ll come out in Trench. I can physically meet you there,” he explained, helping me down into the hole. The heavy black boots on my feet stomped down onto the damp ground. The air was dank and felt heavy, hard to breathe in. “You need to run before the bishops find out you’re missing, I’ll see you on the other side,” he declared, closing the lid and sealing me into the tunnel alone. I listened to exactly what he said, despite the air practically suffocating me–I ran. The roof of the tunnel was covered in wooden planks, old and molding no doubt. Light peeked through towards the end of the tunnel and I quickly made my way there. As I exited, I noticed the landscape for the first time. It was flat and dry, except for a few rocks. A bush of yellow flowers sat pristinely at the end, indicating that I was safe.

“You made it.” My entire body jolted in shock, forgetting I was actually supposed to be meeting someone. The Torchbearer was wearing different clothing from the last time I’d seen him. A navy green hooded jacket with yellow tape across his chest, a yellow bandana covering his face. He was carrying a black jacket for me and two other banditos appeared behind him, each carrying yellow tape.

“Where is he?” I said, taking the jacket while the banditos taped my shoulders.

“He’s still on the island, preparing to head back to Trench in a few days,” The Torchbearer didn’t even look back at me while he spoke. As we hiked through the terrain, I took in the environment I’d dreamed about. Clancy’s description was an understatement, it wasn’t beautiful, or colorful, or free, it was so much more than that. We walked back to the camp where I was escorted to a tent, a yellow one. The camp was full of tents and boxes of equipment. I wondered what they did for food in an environment like this. How the bishops got food into Dema. Blankets were set up perfectly inside the tent along with one essential item I hadn’t expected to be there, something I hadn’t touched in years. It brought back memories I wasn’t sure were positive but I knew exactly why it was there, The Torchbearer knew the significance, he had to. Number 16 cotton candy hair dye and bleach. He’d set me up with one of his closest friends–or so I’d heard. Debby, a bandito who had apparently been part of the rebellion since she was 13. She was born in the same region as me, had bright red hair, and was clearly the designated hair person in the group. After spending an afternoon telling her every detail of the story, she offered to dye it for me. I gladly accepted.

It was a week before The Torchbearer mentioned Clancy again. I’d begged him to tell me what was happening with him but he’d refused to say anything. Until out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, he’d enter my tent in a hurry.

“He’s arriving on the shore, pack a bag,” he declared, with no explanation. There were three banditos lined up behind him, each carrying a torch. I wondered where Debby was, she had to know what was going on.

“Who?” I asked. Any number of people could be arriving… and there was no need to get my hopes up.

“You know who Y/N,” The Torchbearer had a serious expression plastered on his face, determined. “Pack your bag.”

It took 3 hours for us to reach the edge of the forest. Torchbearer stopped right where the trees opened into a large clearing, turning to face me. We hadn’t spoken much on the hike but here we were. I’d wondered how Clancy dealt with him, someone as talkative and creative as him, and then The Torchbearer. Two completely different personalities.

“Y/N. He–uh… he thinks I’ve physically been with him since Scaled and Icy. He might be in shock,” he spoke. I didn’t have a chance to respond before I was pushed forward and out into the open. Torchbearer had handed me Clancy’s mask and followed right behind me. I scanned the field, empty other than a large bonfire that lit up the night sky. Back in Dema the night sky was just dark, no stars or clouds. I wished I had gotten out earlier, I’d have been able to see more of them. A man stumbled out from behind a tree on the opposite side of the field, right on time as The Torchbearer had predicted. I ran to him, a new set of scars on his face capturing my attention. He was dressed in a dark coat, a black beanie covering his head, eyes full of concern. Clancy had aged, sun damage was evident along with smile lines etched onto his face.

“You’re here? You–you got out? How did you get out?” He turned around as if he expected someone to be standing there. “You said–” Torchbearer stepped out from behind me, a loud sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m here…”

Clancy pointed right at him. “Josh… you’re going to need to explain where the hell you’ve been for the last 4 years.” Another secret that had been kept from me, The Torchbearer’s name… Josh. The two of them walked away together, as if I didn’t exist, continuing their conversation. I desperately tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach, the bubbling mix of rage and sorrow building up. I no longer mattered.

The whole journey back, Clancy and the Torchbearer–Josh–exchanged stories, catching each other up on the last 4 years. I returned back to my tent when we arrived at the camp, the sound of banditos running backing and forth, welcoming one of their own back. I was exhausted and all I needed was rest, that and to be left alone. Surely I hadn’t escaped for this, to be thrown aside like I was just another asset to ‘the cause’.

“Y/N?” A dirt-covered hand crept around the fabric ‘door’ of the tent, Clancy. He was the last person I wanted to see or talk to, but before I could say anything he’d stepped inside and sat down in front of me. I stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain himself. “Are you okay?” Three words no one had asked me in the days I’d been out of Dema.

“Am I okay? Am I fucking okay? You were dead, you were gone for four years Clancy! Four fucking years!” I shouted, my breath quickening. He reached out for my hands and I moved to shove him away. Clearly his reflexes had improved because he’d caught my hands and instead pulled me in close. His heartbeat thumped against my ear, gently telling me he was nervous. It had been a long time since I had been this close to anyone. I couldn’t do it anymore, I knew nothing about him. I wasn’t okay, not at all.

“I know–I’m–I’m so sorry,” his hand rested on the back of my head, the first proper touch we’d had since ‘Good Day Dema’. “I’m sorry Y/N.” Tears started to well at the edges of my eyes, threatening to spill over. My face burned and contorted into a pained frown, every muscle in my body aching. He rocked us back and forth, whispering comforting words into my ear. My mother used to do that when I was angry. I was the type of person who only got angry when they were scared or sad–it wasn’t clear which one this was.

“I loved you,” I sighed heavily, letting my head drop. I hadn’t admitted that to anyone, including myself.

“I still love you,” he cupped my face, leaning his forehead against mine. I hated him and loved him at the same time. “Come here,” he removed his large–and heavy–jacket, placing it to the side of my blankets along with his beanie. His hair… it was gone. The brightly coloured pink we’d bonded over was now gone. The color I’d just dyed my own hair. I’d stolen one of the bandito’s beanies to keep warm on the hike and still had it on, hiding the color.

“I want to hate you.”

“You’re allowed to. You–you should. I made a promise and didn’t hold to it,” he traced my palm lines instead of looking at me.

“You have no hair,” I chuckled tiredly. He sat back, brows furrowed in surprise before shrugging.

“It was easier to shave it off instead of letting it grow out.”

“I liked the pink,” I muttered. Clancy curled a strand of hair that was hanging out from the beanie around his fingers.

“I can tell. You changed your hair too,” His eyes darted over my body, “What is that… number 16 cotton candy?” The tears finally fell from my face as I nodded, I removed the beanie and let my hair fall freely.

“I missed you.”

Hope you liked it 💛! Looking forward to the next request :)

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11thsdoctress · 2 years ago

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I seen that you been asking for request for writing and I can't get out of my mind the idea of a one shot based of snap out of it by the artic monkeys. Where the doctor (ideally 10th but I don't really mind if you use any other) had a relationship with the reader in the past and they meet before a long time and reader is gonna get married and the doctor try to stop them. Sorry if was too long of request and thank you in advance! ✨

oK SO IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO WRITE THIS,,,, bUT,, I LOVE THE PLOT I WANNA TAKE TIME AND DO IT JUSTICE,, I wanted to stick with the prompt to it's exact originally, but I just went on and branched out tbh,,, I hope I did a decent job (after all I wrote this with one braincell) also,,, I love Ten (and David Tennant in general),, I've been meaning to write something with/about him,, he's sooo adorkable :(( ========================

Just Like Old Times (10th/Tenth Doctor x Reader)

Fandom: Doctor Who

Ship: 10th/Tenth Doctor x Reader

Warnings: n/a Word Count: 2276

It was a fickle feeling, knowing that the both of you had something going on, even though you knew the Doctor for just a few years, it felt like he was a childhood friend for more than a decade or two.

Now your world was back to its normal, dull, and mundane manners, leaving the TARDIS was the hardest decision you’ve made in your life, but who could blame you? Not even the Doctor could blame you for a time of some normalcy.

A few years had gone by, you met a man, and suddenly everything happened so quickly, from the first few small dates to outings, to him proposing, to which you said yes, After all, you were in love with him, right? Or the idea that he reminds you of the Doctor? Are you really in love with the man that you call the love of your life? Or was it just an infatuation?

You try to shake your head away from these thoughts since it was the day of the wedding ceremony, it was still really early, the sun barely touching the horizon, and the bridesmaids were still fast asleep, you decided to take a head start in preparing for your big day, you pass by your wedding dress on the mannequin, a nice white gown, with some blue accents to compliment with the dress, you took a moment to try to process the moment, but you went ahead to prepare.

—------

*whirring, buzzes, beep-boops, whoooosh-*

It was one of those nights when the Doctor reminisces about the two of you, he always had a feeling that something was missing every time he woke up, and starts a new adventure, hell, even sometimes see you in his peripheral, only to be his imagination playing with his brain and hearts,

The moment you walked out of the TARDIS was extremely difficult for the Doctor to move on from, He tried to forget everything for a bit, but it was no use, all he could think about was that it was his fault that you had left him with his time-traveling box,

He had blamed himself that he had put you at a distance, blamed himself that he knew that he was afraid for you to get closer to him, not only of putting you in danger, but afraid to allow himself to express how much he loves and adores you in all the ways he could imagine.

“Oi! Spaceman, where are you heading off to this time?” Donna had pulled him back to reality as she looked a bit worried before grabbing the keys to her home.

“Oh it’s nothing, just thinking of visiting some old friends.” he put on a smile before saying his goodbyes to Donna and heading back to the TARDIS’ console and sighing,

“Maybe I do need to relax.” he looks at the monitor, and his reflection on the monitor, “Alright, let’s pick this date then.”

*whirring, buzzes, beep-boops, whoooosh-*

The TARDIS had landed on in a sunny morning in London, next to a beautifully decorated garden, the door swung open, The Doctor cheerfully opened the door and looked around the place, he smiled bitterly as he recognized the familiar garden, stepping out and started to empty out his mind from the adventures.

He had wandered off in to the garden, the sights and scents of roses, orchids, and lavenders had filled him, bringing back all the memories of him and you in this very place, the time you had brought him ice cream from your favorite parlor, the time he had read you a book while having a picnic, and the countless times of afternoon to night strolls.

All of these bittersweet memories flooding his head filled his hearts with the familiar flutter and heaviness of the guilt that was lingering with him for a while, it was a momentary bittersweet bliss he felt until he saw a signage,

“Mr. & Mrs. Wellington Wedding Ceremony”

Intrigued and curious, The Doctor went around to sneak in and to look who were the lucky couple. Spotting the groom, he just mumbled to himself, “eh, could’ve been worse.” before trying to find out who was the lucky bride,

The Doctor snooped around more to satisfy his curious brain, as he got to a photo album of the couple, he slightly regretted feeding his curiosity by finding the album to see you in the photos.

He felt that the world around him froze, he didn’t want to believe the thing he was seeing, he looks around him, before running to the back of the venue. His hearts were racing as he was trying to calm down, He wanted to deny that he saw you in those photos, he was trying his very best to get you off of his mind.

He wandered around until he reached the park, little ways down the road, not that far from the wedding, settling on the bench near the river, he was trying to convince himself that you were happy with someone else, but there was a nagging feeling in him that he has to do something. It was truly an internal battle, his mind was now wandering into endless, ‘What if’s’ and hypotheticals, until he was interrupted by a voice he tried to forget and at the same time, longed to hear,

“Doctor?”

—------

The wedding was a disaster,

James, your supposed soon to be husband, was delaying the wedding hour by hour, since his business was on the edge of a international deal to make them skyrocket in the stocks. You felt stupid to let him tend to his business instead of pushing through with the wedding, and honestly now it felt like the wedding ceremony was skipped entirely.

You tried to keep yourself together, convincing yourself that it was better for the both of them, since, at least it’s going to help the both of you in the finances in the future, but hell, you couldn’t even live and experience the wedding ceremony itself. There was this feeling that bothered you, and to take a breather, you headed to the back of the venue to calm your nerves, to prevent yourself from snapping at the disaster.

As you slowly inhaled and exhaled, to lower the tension and stress of the situation, there was a figure at the corner of your eye, walking to the bench you once had great memories with a memory, the more you looked and analyzed the figure, you were in disbelief when you saw the familiar brown suit and the messy hair, you had to make sure in what you saw was not a hallucination, you were frozen there, you couldn’t believe it, he was there. The Doctor was there.

You had debated with yourself, thinking on which was going to be your next move, let him be or approach him,

Taking a gulp, you slowly approached the bench, mustering up all the courage you needed before letting out,

“Doctor?”

It felt that time had stopped, it was surreal for the both of you, for you, you’d never thought that you would say that word or name ever again,

For him, he’d thought he would never hear that voice calling for him ever again,

He quickly turned around, stumbled a bit as he was trying to come up with something to say,

“I-It’s been a while, huh?” you look down, “would’ve sent you an invite, but didn’t know how to…” You awkwardly say, just to avoid the the silence,

There was a pause, an unbearing one, before the both of you say at the same time,

“I’m sorry!”

Both of you were surprised on how the apologies came out at the same time,

“I should be the one saying sorry here.” The Doctor went a bit closer as he looked at you, “I was the one that was scared to say anything-”

“No, I should be the one apologizing since I was the one that walked away on what we could’ve fixed!” You insist as you looked at him,

“Seems like both of us have things to say sorry for.” He says, trying to make the atmosphere less intimidating,

As it became more comfortable and exchanging jokes and banter, the both of you sat on the bench next to the river, asking questions just to catch up, everything was easy going and breezy,

“Never thought I would land on your wedding day.” he says as he sighs, trying to hide the bitter thoughts that accompany with it,

Never thought I’d see you again after what I did.” You look away, regretting the harshness of the reply,

“Wouldn’t blame you.” There was a while of comfortable silence before the Doctor had to ask the question that was in his mind for a while,

“Do you still love me? Or do you resent me for everything?” He asked as his voice had a hint of sadness and nervousness as he was trying to brace for your answer,

“Doctor, I could never hate or resent you, honestly, for a while, I resented myself for walking out, not doing anything to get to you, or at the least-” you sigh, “said yes to this.” gesturing to the white gown you were wearing, “but I can’t do anything about it, can I?”

“Then how were you so sure that this type of forever suits you?” He suddenly asked,

“What do you mean?” You looked at him,

“Well, you’re questioning a major choice that affects your life, why did you say yes to this?”

You thought about his question, it was something you really had to ponder, realizing alot of things, you met your soon to be husband at your lowest time, and he very much acted like the Doctor,

The more you thought about the reasons, the more you realized that you were still very much in love with the Doctor subconsciously. Slowly by slowly, you were regretting the choices you had made ever since walking out of the TARDIS,

The Doctor suddenly pulls you in an embrace, noting your habit of spacing out and shaking, as soon as you realized what he was doing, you snapped out of the state of overthinking and calmed down, “I can’t just back out of this, I have to push through with this, I signed up for this, I have to take that…”

“You can.”

“No I can’t.”

The Doctor was about to say something, until you heard your soon to be husband calling to you, “Baby, what are you doing with this guy?” He harshly grabs your wrist, causing you to whimper,

“What the hell you think you’re doing? Treating her like that?” The Doctor was not happy with that.

“So? She belongs to me.” He plainly and arrogantly says as he was dragging you away from the Doctor’s comfort,

You could feel the anger piling in the Doctor as he was trying his best not to punch this guy, “I’d be careful if I were you.”

He pushes you in his car, “As if.” He gets in the car and it speeds off, You were hopeless, you were comfortable and honest for once in a while. As the car was speeding off, it was the uncomfortable silence that stressed you out the most, James was about to say something but the driver of the car interrupted, “Is that a flying blue box?”

You looked through the window behind you, seeing the familiar TARDIS, you had hope in you for once,

James notices the flying blue box behind the car as well, “What the hell is that?!”

The doors of the TARDIS opened as The Doctor was now in sight with his sonic screwdriver in hand, he points it to the car door on your side. Noticing the plan, you were about to jump out of the 120mph car and into the blue box, but you felt a grip on your wrist,

“You’re not going anywhere.” James angrily says, The blue box is now next to the car, matching the speed,

“Yes I am!” You punched him square in the face,

As he winced in pain, he lets you go, in the window of opportunity, you hurriedly made an effort to grab the Doctor’s arm and jump to the TARDIS, in which you ended up landing on top of him and the doors shutting,

As the TARDIS flew up and into space, both of you took a moment to catch your breaths before both of you broke into laughter,

“I miss this!” you exclaimed as you both sat up,

“I miss you.” He says as his laugh turns into a smile,

You blushed at his sudden confession, not really expecting that he would still feel that way towards you, however, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t feel the same way.

“I miss you too.” you say as you leaned your forehead against his, a usual thing that the both of you did, The Doctor’s smile grew wider and his hearts beat faster after hearing you say that,

He slowly held your face and leaned in closer for a kiss, and it felt that he was longing for this moment for a while, it lasted for a few minutes before he scooped you up, carrying you bridal style, as if he was the one you married.

“The next time I see you in a wedding gown, I better be the groom.” He says, making the both of you laugh as he carries you towards the TARDIS’ halls towards his bedroom, after all, the two of you needed to rest before going on more adventures, just like old times.

======== author's note: aaaaaaaaaaaaa I hope to write more since I really love doing this, and ofc requests are open, wait for announcements for it hdksjksdjfhkdsj hope ya'll enjoyed this-

#doctor who #10th doctor #tenth doctor #10th doctor x you #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #tenth doctor x reader #dw fic #dw fanfic

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