#the fandom is so dead and small but I hope these may reach someone else who likes the series lol

[pompadorned]

Hello Hajime no Ippo enjoyers…any of you guys in here? Have some sketches I’ve done while watching the show / reading the manga. It’s very good.

[rebelliousstories]

Old Wound

Relationship: Cooper Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Death, Brief Strong Language

Word Count: 1,167

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: She was supposed to be dead. He held her while she died in his arms. How is she here?

“You ever think about what’s gonna happen when we’re dead, cowpoke?” She asked.

It was a cool night, probably winter now if Cooper was remembering right. It had been so long since he felt a proper winter that he was not sure after all these years. He turned his head to the woman that was resting on his chest as they huddled around a fire to keep away the chill.

“You on drugs or somethin’?” Cooper’s serious tone made the woman burst out with laughter. She pushed herself up so that she was level with his face to look into his beautiful ocean blue eyes.

“No but, you’ve survived centuries. I may get a few decades if I’m lucky. I was just wondering if you’ve ever thought about what’ll happen when we die.” Her repeated question did not even make The Ghoul miss a beat.

“We’re gonna become food for someone or somethin’ else. That’s what’s gonna happen.” He stated, trying to get the woman to lay back down.

“I meant the afterlife, baby. Like do you think that there’s the pearly gates, or just nothingness?” She laid back down and let the man run his ungloved hand over her head, and through her hair.

“I hope there’s an afterlife, but if there is anything these last couple centuries have taught me is that God is cruel. So whatever is waiting for us, we take it as it comes.” Howard pressed a kiss in the wake of his hand and felt the woman relax into him. That answer seemed to pacify her as they settled in for the night and went to bed.

If only he could ask her what was waiting for them on the other side of death’s embrace. It had only been a couple weeks and the sting was still fresh, but you know cowpokes. They take it as it comes. Cooper had been traveling alone this entire time with a chip on his shoulder, and saddened eyes.

Walking into Filly, there was a vacancy in his pouch where his chems would be. The thought alone made him want to shoot something. She always got his chems for him because they would give the pretty girl a discount, but the ghoul behind her would get nothing. He had not needed to get his own since she began traveling with him a couple of years ago.

A sign on the door pointed him to where he needed to go. His spurs clinked against the wooden floors as he went inside the little apothecary. There was a bell that he ringed, and soon a man stepped out from behind a curtain.

“Sixty chems.” The Ghoul left no room for small talk, and set the necessary caps on the counter between them. Without a word, the man disappeared and retrieved the items for the mutant. Each man pocketed their own items and said nothing as they turned to go back to what they were doing before.

As soon as Cooper stepped out, gasps and shouts were heard through the downtown area. At first he thought it was him; ghouls were not exactly welcomed in many parts, especially him. But it was not. A woman in distressed clothing was walking around and looking for someone or something with desperation in her eyes. Looking at her from underneath the lip of his hat, The Ghoul thought that her clothing was remarkably familiar.

“Get lost, Ghoul. You ain’t welcome round here.” One of the shopkeepers shouted at the woman, who was clearly very lost. She said nothing as she kept looking around and did not even respond to the man. However she did respond when someone threw something at her. Trying to protect herself, she reached for something on her hip, only for that object to not be there. It was not until she turned around the Cooper felt his breath catch and his heart stop.

It was her. His little spitfire girl was right in front of him. There was no way though. She had bled out in his arms. She died in his arms. He felt the last breath leave her body, and her pulse stop. And yet, here she was. Standing in front of him as if nothing had happened. The sound of a gun cocking caught his attention, as well as the end of a barrel trained on the woman. In an instant, Howard shot the assailant first before he had time to harm the woman. She did not flinch, but rather calmly looked to where he stood and gasped out his name in a hushed whisper.

Cooper marched right up to her, and observed. Not a hair was different from the last time he had seen her. He did not even allow for another moment to pass as he grabbed her arm and began to drag her from the market. Once they were in a quiet part, he let go and could not hold his tongue.

“Who the hell are you? Why are you wearin’ her clothes?” Cooper demanded, holding his gun out to point at the woman.

“What- what are you talking about. Coop, it’s me. This isn’t funny.” She pleaded, feeling afraid as this was the first time in years that she had been at the end of his gun.

“Prove it,” he breathed, “what did you tell me you hoped was waiting for us in death?”

“I never told you.” She whispered. “But you told me that no matter what, we cowpokes take it as it comes, so it didn’t matter. Please Coop. Just put the gun down.”

With a deep breath in and out, he did as she asked. Cooper rushed forward and took in another deep breath, this time with the scent of her. But there was something off about her scent. It smelt much more… ghoulish. Pulling away, he saw her same eyes staring back at him. Those same eyes that he begged to open just one more time a few weeks ago.

“How?” Cooper asked, running his hands everywhere he could.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I am, or what happened that I came back. All I know is that one minute I’m in your arms, and the next I’m picking myself up off the ground and all alone.” She repeated the process of running her hands everywhere she could as her lover was doing to her.

“Hate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but I think you’re a little like me. Who the hell knows with all the radiation bullshit.” He whispered, chuckling lightly at the face she pulled when he proposed his theory.

“I guess there are worse things to be. I’m just glad I found you again.” Cooper was brought into a tight embrace, as she buried her face into his chest and breathed in his scent.

“Me too, darlin’. Me too.” He whispered back, pressing kisses to her hair as he was glad to just hold her in his arms again.

[dilucids]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCelebrity crush, Genshin boys idol! au

admitting you're their celebrity crush and their reaction to your reaction

includes: kaeya, diluc, zhongli and xiao

( can't stop thinking about idol! au genshin. any type of celebrity but it's hinted that you're a singer in xiao's. )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 KAEYA ALBERICH ━━ FROSTWIND SWORDSMAN 〕

━━ this man is sooooo fucking slick with it.

━━ he'll slyly bring it up in an interview or a live with a smirk on his face and then act as if it never happened when someone questions him.

━━ his members just stares at him when he brings you up, knowing, that beneath that sly persona and nonchalant act, there was millions pounds worth of fan merchandise in his room.

━━ he would evade the subject and if it's an interview, the host would have to pry answers from his members instead as he sits there proudly with a smile on his face as his members tell his fan behaviour instead of him.

━━ in a live, he would somehow convince his fans they were hallucinating but someone would post the clip and everyone would just go ballistic, it'd be one of those "top ten things i can't believe kaeya managed to get away with: gaslighting his fans into believing they were crazy."

"Who's your favourite celebrity?" Kaeya reads out from the comments passing quickly through his Instagram live, he pretends to think. A smile forms on his face when he 'decides' on an answer, "probably [Name]."

He watches the comments speed through even quicker before changing the subject, dropping the matter as if it never happened. His fans are all freaking out though, wanting to get more details on his crush on the celebrity but Kaeya ignores all comments about the subject. They never die down though, only ending when Kaeya himself ends the live.

━━ you may have ended on the same show some time after him and the host brings it up ( 100% planned for views ).

━━ it makes you smile because you've already been informed about this topic by your fans and kaeya's.

━━ you'd end up thanking kaeya for the support and say that you've also been lowkey a fan of his group but you've never openly stated that to anyone.

━━ his fans and your fans immediately get to work and start tagging kaeya's insta/twitter, group and personal, under the clip of you shyly admitting you're a fan of his also and he goes mental.

━━ probably sits there watching the entire interview with a huge smile on his face, and it doesn't leave, not even after he finishes the interview ( bonus: diluc is very disturbed ).

━━ HUGE ego boost for the rest of the day. kaeya's normally very confident but he's extra confident, like starts strutting around like he's the shit and even had the balls to nod his head at diluc as if to say "what's up" with the largest shit eating grin on his face.

━━ diluc definitely thought he was picking a fight.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 DILUC RAGNVINDR ━━ DARKNIGHT HERO 〕

━━ more likely to come from one of his members than him.

━━ or he'd be very smooth with it, and brings it up rather subtly. it'd be a small "oh, i ingest their content and enjoy it" and he'd just continue about his day

━━ and his fans will still go insane because diluc actually enjoying something seems weird, especially another celebrity's work

━━ this would obviously reach you, who was an open fan of his group, and you'd freak out when you see it but wouldn't bring it up because he only said he enjoyed your work, not he was a fan.

━━ would definitely get questioned if he was being interviewed on a talk show, he wouldn't evade the question.

━━ he doesn't really see a point in lying, so he simply shrugs and tells the host that he is a fan and owns some merchandise.

"Diluc, a few fans are curious about your statement the other day," the host redirects the questions to Diluc, who raises an eyebrow. "Is it true that you're a fan of [Name]?"

The question makes his heart pick up a little, he leans back on his chair and clears his throat, composing himself before nodding. "I am a fan," the host seems happy by his response. The conversation continues to steer in this direction, asking Diluc if he had attended any fan meetings or merchandise, how he would feel if you two collaborated for a project and then finally ending once the host asks other members if they were fans of anyone.

━━ he thinks nothing of it, continuing with his day as usual but when he gets mentioned by your twitter? the man loses his shit.

━━ he sits there staring at his screen like he was hallucinating and literally tunes everything else out, staring at your little: "i'd love to work with you too!" message with a small smiley face at the end.

━━ he checks the account multiple times just in case it was one of his fans trolling him but clicking on the @ takes him back to your account so he gives in at some point

━━ he types out a normal, professional "thank you, i hope a time comes when we can collaborate" and "i look forward to more of your works" but he's still losing his shit.

━━ stays in his mind for at least a week.

━━ fans always bring up the fact that y'all never did end up collaborating.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 ZHONGLI ━━ VAGO MUNDO 〕

━━ the public is very aware.

━━ he's never made an attempt to hide how he is a fan, not even the massive poster in his room or the little keychain that he hangs on his bag nor the red eyeliner belonging to a makeup brand that you became a brand embassador for, also now one of his favourite brands.

━━ so no one is really surprised when he talks about you or your upcoming work, what is kinda surprising is when he straight up says that he says you're his ideal type.

━━ not because it's shocking that you'd be anyone's ideal type but because they didn't expect the out of the blue question from host and it's even more mind boggling when the man doesn't even stutter nor even think before just saying your name.

━━ members are sat beside him literally losing their shit in both negative ( scandals and shit ) and positive ( it's fucking hilarious ) ways as he just blinks.

━━ he doesn't even look the slightest bit worried as he stares dead straight through the host's head.

━━ obviously scandals emerge, there are positive and negative reactions. some people suddenly realise how good you two would look together and others are mad you "stole" their man because we have delulus in all fandoms.

"So Zhongli," the host starts before clearing his throat, obviously a tad uncomfortable under the eldest member's sudden gaze, "who is your ideal type?" The members also seem curious, as they stop their interactions, staring over at their unusually emotionless member.

One member laughs, waving the question off as a joke and as a way to avoid any possible scandals, knowing that Zhongli wouldn't filter his words due to his lacking understanding of social cues. "C'mon, there's no way that he has an id━━"

"If I had to say, then [Name] suits my preferences." The member who tried to wave it off blinks, staring at Zhongli like he just murdered someone and other members laugh. The host seems pleasantly surprised, peering at the camera with a raised eyebrow and a certain look on his face. The entire studio never gets over it.

━━ it's brought to your attention on twitter because twitter is usually where shit goes down.

━━ you've always been aware that zhongli has been a fan but you've never been able to speak up about it due to your management.

━━ luckily for you, your contract with your previous strict company had ended just a while ago and under your new management, you were more free to do whatever you wanted.

━━ so obviously, you quote tweet the video, tag his account and say in a jokingly way that he should take you out on a date first.

━━ he doesn't publicly reply to your tweet because he already got in trouble with his management for answering such a risky question anyways and your tweet is a little too suggestive.

━━ but he also wants you to know he has seen the tweet. so his solution? to slip into your dms.

━━ and all of a sudden, the next time you're both seen together, you're besties? so people started connecting dots and shit, were they good at connecting them. moral of the story: never underestimate zhongli fans because collectively, they may be able to beat zhongli in an iq test.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 XIAO ━━ CONQUEROR OF DEMONS 〕

━━ best believe this man got death threated or held at gunpoint into admitting you're his celebrity crush.

━━ or he didn't do it at all and his members confessed for him just to tease him.

━━ happens on a group live, members are just vibing.

━━ xiao is sat in the back somewhere, scrolling through his phone with his earphones in so he doesn't notice his members shifting the camera to him or jumps onto him whilst holding the camera.

━━ when he does notice though, he takes out his earbud and your song just blARES through his earphone and it's fucking loud.

━━ he immediately turns it down but his fellow member already has this shit eating grin on his face and jumps onto xiao, successfully grabbing his phone and showing the live of 100k+ people.

━━ his homescreen is one of those "boyfriend/girlfriend/partner material" lockscreens of you and it shows that your song had been playing.

━━ xiao literally attacks his members and grabs his phone back, walking off to escape the embarrassment but can hear the echoing laughter as he walks down the hallway and slams his door closed.

Xiao lets out a sudden 'oompf' when his members glomps right ontop of him, grinning widely as they held up a camera to show off themselves and Xiao. Glancing at the camera, Xiao takes off an earbud, freezing when a loud upbeat tune echoes throughout the open area. Xiao ignores the feeling of his face heating up and turns down the song, ignoring the obvious gleeful stare of his member.

Almost on instinct, he moves his phone away but curse his parents for their genes because all it takes is a little stretching for his member to have his greasy fingers all over his phone, ripping it out of his hands and immediately running away to shield themselves from the wrath of all 5" and a bit of Xiao. When they deem it safe, they click on the home button of the screen, grinning amused at the homescreen.

"Look at fanboy Xiao!" And just like that, Xiao's cold demeanour had been shatteres infront of a plethora of people.

━━ you find it one of the most endearing things ever.

━━ literally how could you not? you find pride in yourself to have such a popular member of an idol group enjoy your work and it helps gain a little more confidence in yourself.

━━ it's brought up on a talk show kinda casually where the host is one of your friends so they are slightly teasing you for it all the whilst remaining on the professional side.

━━ and it's obvious to say that you're embarrassed by the way you chuckle and mess with your fingers and hair, but you hold yourself together anyways and manage a sweet "thank you for the support" to xiao when the host asks if you wanted to say something in case he was watching.

━━ and the very next day, on xiao's official instagram, he has a signed album and poster of yours, tagged and everything.

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 10

WC: 1633

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: anxiety, angst, brief fears of infidelity, discussions of childbearing and marriage/gender roles, psych theories, some manipulation, age difference, brief mention of domestic violence (there is none)

A/N: If you have any questions regarding the tags for this chapter and want to ask me about it before reading please do so! The chapter is not necessarily dark but I understand that some may want me to give a more detailed warning/context. I want all my readers to be as comfortable as possible 💙

🧠

It started out small. He would bring up Dr. Stratton during conversation more and more often. Three times now he had been late to office hours, causing you to have to wait outside his room, nervously checking the time. But it’s nothing, you continue to remind yourself. They’re just good friends that haven’t seen each other in years. And you trust them both.

When another Friday night passed with Laszlo skipping drinks in favor of meeting with Karen, you decided to stay in as well. It had been a month since they reacquainted with one another. In those weeks you had seen less of him outside work. Your sex life was stagnating too, much to your annoyance. He had even canceled at the absolute last minute on a dinner date. Naturally, you had begun to feel a twinge of jealousy at his lack of attention. He kept saying it was work related. Nevertheless, the sullen temperament you'd adopted went unnoticed by the doctor. You felt foolish; you weren’t so needy that you had to make a big deal about it. So you said nothing on the issue.

You sat on the old couch in your apartment. Bitsy was getting ready to go out with Lucius for date night. Picking at your fingers, you decide to ask your roommate for advice. “Hey Bits?”

“Yeah?” she called from her bedroom.

“Can I ask you a question about Lucius?” you start.

“Sure, what’s up?”

You pause as you think of how to word your thoughts. “Do you ever, like, get jealous? When he hangs out with other girls I mean.” Her head pops out of the door frame as she finishes fastening her earring, eyebrows raised in question. “It’s just that Laszlo has been spending a lot of time with Dr. Stratton now that she’s back in town. I trust them and everything, but I’m starting to feel a bit left behind I guess…” you trail off.

“Oh honey, that's normal.” She waves a hand through the air as she speaks. “There’s this girl at the lab that Lucius works with and for the first month I was convinced she was trying to steal him away from me. Turns out she just wanted Marcus, his brother!” Bitsy lets out a cackle.

“Right…” you pick at the skin around your fingernails. “I just feel silly about it. I’m sure I’m overreacting to the whole thing, though. Laszlo would never do anything, and I don’t think Dr. Stratton would either,” you remind yourself outloud. "There's just this thing John said to me about them having a past and I can't get it out of my head."

“It's not silly.” Bitsy had moved further into the bedroom, causing her voice to be slightly muffled. “But if it bothers you that much, talk to him about it. He’s a psychologist, it’s kinda his job to understand emotions and things like this. And if he loves you like you say he does then he’ll put a bit more effort into giving you his attention.”

You marinate on what she’s told you. Bitsy is right, if it bothers you that much then you need to bring it up with him. Be an adult, use communication, and all that. “Why’re you always right and level-headed about everything?”

“Someone’s gotta be, with a hot head like you,” she snarks. Her phone buzzes letting her know her date is downstairs. With a squeeze on the shoulder she bids you goodbye, telling you to let her know if you need anything.

_

The atmosphere in Dr. Stratton’s office felt off. What was usually so open and warm had felt forced and awkward. You were still ignoring the guilt of your jealousy at the doctor. She wasn’t as talkative today, unlike usual. Instead, it was strictly business. You chalked it up to her having an off day.

The two of you discussed in more depth the fetishes and kinks from the list you had compiled. Unfortunately, due to spending less time with your boyfriend the last few weeks you hadn’t had much of an opportunity to try any of the new tricks you were learning about. Therefore, you had little to really talk about in that regard. You found that you didn’t particularly mind, as you were feeling less inclined to want to share about your love life due to your envy towards the woman in question.

Dr. Stratton quietly gathered together her notes from the session and placed them into the folder. You were about to ask if she needed anything else from you when her lips parted before closing again. She leaned forward on her desk towards you. Her fingers steepled under her chin.

She licks her lips. “There is something I wish to discuss with you unrelated to the study.”

You didn’t like where this was going. Dread pooled in your gut at the concerned look on her face. “O-okay.”

“Now I want you to understand that I only bring this up out of concern for your wellbeing and emotional health. But some of the things you have told me over the course of this study have me worried.”

What on earth could you have said that would cause this sort of reaction from her? She was the most calm and collected person you had ever known. To have her speaking out made your heart race in your chest.

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before opening her mouth again. “In truth I worry about your current relationship. I fear that-”

Brows furrowing, your mind goes to the worst conclusion. You blurt out “what? No! He doesn’t hurt me or anything, I don’t know what would have given you that impression but I- ”

The doctor reaches out with her hand to settle on your forearm. “My dear take a breath, I meant no such thing.”

You take a deep inhale to compose yourself. “Then what are you talking about?”

“Speaking as your friend, and as an alienist, I fear that this boyfriend is potentially using you for your youth,” she begins the tale she concocted, unbeknownst to you. “In my experience as a psychologist, the young women such as yourself that I encounter with significantly older male companions find themselves locked into the relationship. Typically, it is from dependence on money at first. Over time, the male pressures the woman to be compliant in things like marriage and childbearing. I understand how difficult it is for a woman as driven as you to balance your aspirations with relationships and domestic matters. Do you want children?”

Her statement and question take you back. Confusion is written all over your face. Marriage? Children? Neither you nor Laszlo had ever brought up either subject. You didn’t even know if it was something he was interested in. “Wait what? I'm not sure I follow…”

“Men around his age go through an identity crisis in which they begin to become aware of their mortality. A change in priorities. The most common desire is to procreate, to start a family in which to pass on their wisdom is strongest here. Are you prepared to give him children soon? Of course there is nothing wrong with wanting to be a mother, it is a very noble role. Yet you do not strike me as someone ready for such a large step.”

You can barely form a coherent thought at her onslaught. The whole conversation was so out of the blue that you felt incredibly lost. Did you want children? Did he want children? Now? You wrap your arms around your torso to stave off the uncertainty and anxiety you feel creeping in. No words come to your defense at her interrogation. You are speechless, jaw dropped.

She stands and crosses the room, placing her cool hands on your cheeks. “My dear you are still a child yourself. This is something you need to consider. To… consider the possibility that you can’t give him what he needs. That he may need someone closer to his age with the same priorities, someone more willing to give in to his needs now. I don’t think you’re ready for that. I’ve seen the cost that these girls face. And the societal pressures and judgement you would face being with someone so much older? I think it could throw you into a state similar to after your friend passed. I wouldn’t want to see you in that position again. I want you to have your freedom."

Dr. Stratton looks up at the clock suddenly; “oh! My, I’m going to be late for a meeting, you’ll have to go. I don’t believe we need any more sessions for the study, but I will let you know if anything changes.”

You are too in shock trying to process everything she said to you as she ushers you out of the door with a “think about what I said, dear.” The door shuts behind you.

Karen sat with a huff. She felt a tad guilty for what she had said to you. She had no idea if Laszlo wanted marriage or children, he hadn’t when they were first together. But times change. She hoped that by using the angle of kids and identity crises that she could subtly plant a seed of doubt in your mind. Strike quickly and overwhelmingly, plant the doubt that you weren’t right for him, then push you out before you have the chance to seek answers or reassurance from her. It seemed you bought her false concern as actual worry. You were a great girl. But you were just that - a girl. You couldn’t give Laszlo what he needed, not like she could.

Now she simply had to wait and let your mind eat away at itself, leaving him for the taking.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @thatoneartgalsstuff @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[divinefireangel]

SF9 and Pick Up Lines

Oh dear here we go 😂

SF9 x GN! Reader

Sometimes the reader uses pick up lines and sometimes SF9 😆

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: A super quick fluffy mini imagine for my lovely fellow fantasies. Hope you like it!!

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: All ages and all readers (nothing specified with respect to gender, appearance, etc of reader). Fluff. Jae's is a lil suggestive but that's it. Lmk if I missed any!

Inseong

" Babe I can't figure out why the bluetooth speaker isn't working." You pouted.

" It was working fine when I used it in the morning. Ah! Yes. Maybe the charge is over. When was the last time you charged it?"

" I don't remember" You answered sheepishly.

" Try charging it my dear."

" Okay babe. Or should I call you 'Google' because you're everything I've been looking for."

Sighing in disappointment he looked down, shaking his head sideways.

" What! That wasn't so bad! "

" Do you really wanna know? "

" No." You stuck you tongue out at your boyfriend.

" You're cute"

Youngbin

" And then she went on about her vacations to Hawaii and the number of times she's been there. It was so annoying because all we were talking about were active volcanoes. There's one in Hawaii too and that's how-"

" Binnie you aren't listening to mee!" You whined.

" Sorry. You're just so cute it's distracting."

" Aish stop." Blushing, you pushed his chest lightly.

Chuckling he pulled you closer.

" Go on then. Continue your story."

" But you aren't paying attention." You smiled.

" I will now!" He gestured you to carry on with your story.

Jaeyoon

" Chocolate cake!! "

" From your favorite bakery too." Jae quipped in as you stared at your gift in awe.

" I wish someone looked at me the way I look at chocolate cake." You said sighing.

" I can look at you like that." He said engulfing your body into his, making you giggle.

" I meant in a way of wanting to completely devour it."

Smirking he gave you a knowing look. Biting his bottom lip, he leant down to kiss your collar bone. Gasping you try to push him away.

" I wanna eat my cake!" Laughing, you succeeded in pushing him off.

" But what about my cake?"

"JAE!"

Sanghyuk

Standing around the most boring people you huff in annoyance. Why did you have to wait here of all places to be picked up for your date. Just when you were about to check your phone, you saw him, the only star in your sky. Sanghyuk.

He looked around, clearly not able to find you. With mischief in mind, you placed your hand around your mouth, in an attempt to amplify your voice.

" You must be one hell of a theif because you stole my heart from across the room!" You said loud enough for everyone, including your lover to hear as you pointed your gaze and hand towards his direction.

Blushing furiously he walked over to you so fast he probably would've sprained his leg if he hadn't been careful.

" Hello lover." You raised your eyebrows smirking.

" As much as I love you I don't think this is a place for a very loud proclamation of love." He said, a smile dancing on his lips.

Shrugging you grabbed his hand made your way out, passing many jealous and judgy eyes.

Juho

" Babe babe babe!" He said rushing over to you from the group of people he was talking to.

" Is everything okay? Did you get that producer's number?" You asked.

" I did but that's not important."

" Okay what is? Did you forget the gift envelope?" You questioned disappointed.

" Noooo. That's not it. They may ask us time leave soon."

" What?! Why?"

" Because you are making the other people look bad." He finished smiling brightly.

" Aish. Really Ju?"

Grinning in triumph he kissed the top of your head, taking your hand to lead you to the dance floor.

SeokWoo

Typical. Of course they had to move your favorite cereal on the top shelf. Getting on your tippy toes you almost reached the box when you saw a hand, one all too familiar hand, reach up and take the box down for you.

" Is this what you wanted?" He asked smirking slightly.

" Are you a tower? Because Eiffel for you." You flirted looking up at your boyfriend.

" No I'm just really tall" He said cutely not knowing how to react to your compliment.

Grinning you take the box from his hand and put in the shopping cart. Looking around the aisle, noticing that no one is there you wrap your arms around your tall beauty. Looking up at his face smiling when he reciprocates the gesture you lean up to kiss him.

Yoo Taeyang

Waking from your nap, trying to figure out where you are, you realize that you are in your boyfriend's bed. Your thoughts interrupted when a sudden pang of pain grew in your head.

Great. A headache after a nap is just what you needed. Getting up to pee, your change into pajamas and venture out of the room towards the kitchen.

Might as well make coffee to control the headache from becoming a migraine. Stopping dead in your tracks at the entrance of the kitchen, you notice your lovely boyfriend standing at the stove, unmistakably making you coffee.

Looking up at you, after feeling stared at, he offers you a soft smile and a hand to take so you can cuddle into his side.

" Did the sun just come out or did you just smile at me?" You asked with a small smile that only he can bring about in you when you have a sore head.

" That's the oldest one in the book!" He said laughing as you hid your face in chest.

Youngkyun

" Oo babe check out these new jackets my mom sent!"

" Did she send me any?" He asked.

" No." You giggled as you tried one on.

" How does this look? It's kinda like the professional but not so professional type blazer. Don't you think?"

" It's lowkey casual. Try this one." Trying on the one he suggested you thought it was of a bigger size than yours.

" It's too big on me." You pouted.

" But you look nice in it. Like a baby."

" But the point is to look hot. Hot and beautiful too." You informed him.

" You know what you would look really beautiful in?"

" What? Is it in one of thes-"

" My arms." He said dramatically opening his arms. Rolling your eyes in playful disbelief you threw a nearby jacket at him.

Chani

" This is when he picked out his first tree all by himself." Chani's mom said pointing to a picture in the album that is situated on your lap.

Groaning he hid his face in your neck. Giggling you pet his head. Hearing the cooker whistle Chani's mom went to the kitchen.

" How come there isn't even one picture with you on top of a tree. I thought that's where angels were." You whispered to his ear. Lifting his head with a smirk he replied,

" Because I am the devil."

" Oh! Makes sense I guess. I mean, you are as hot as one." You winked.

" Ayy no!" He exclaimed blushing as you silently snickered knowing you won.

[raendown]

Fandom: Marvel Pairing: SamBucky Word count: 2070 Rated: T+ Summary: Steve had only just been thinking about how much he missed his best friend when his phone started ringing. Great minds think alike! Except apparently Bucky had meant to call someone else entirely and Steve was not at all prepared for the discovery of this baffling - but adorable - secret.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

From Where You Are

He may have staunchly denied it every time Tony or Natasha or anyone else teased him for it but Steve knew damn well that he had a - very slight! - penchant for dramatics. Dramatics like slamming an entire plane down in to the icy ocean rather than just turning the damn thing around and flying in circles until Peggy or Howard came up with the latest madcap rescue plan. Yeah. He was a self aware guy. Which meant he knew exactly how much teasing he would get if he so much as dared to open his mouth and complain about life on the run. 

Because as well as Steve knew himself, his friends knew him better. He might be lucky to get a whole three words in to his sentence before any of the people he currently had available to listen would guess exactly what he was really complaining about. He missed Bucky. So sue him! He’d already spent seventy years thinking his best friend was dead and then another two knowing he was out there but not exactly all there. Now finally he knew exactly where Bucky was. He knew that Bucky knew exactly who he was. They could be best friends again. 

Through video calls only. 

Steve clenched his jaw against the urge to close both eyes and whine at the unfairness of it all. Leaving Bucky in Wakanda had been the right choice for everyone but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Could the world maybe stop being so unfair for just five damn minutes? Give a guy a chance to reunite properly with the one thing that had centered the first couple decades of his life? Maybe get a hug or two in while Bucky was only one-armed and half defenseless against a few rounds of proper manly affection? It didn’t sound like too much to ask. Yet here he was sitting up just past midnight trying to calculate time zones to figure out if maybe he could get a quick call in now that Sam and Natasha were falling asleep. If he snuck out on to the balcony he might be able to avoid waking them and therefore avoid the inevitable teasing over his ‘very obvious pining’.

So lost in his own head was he that Steve nearly threw his phone against the wall when it began signing in his hand. It took a slow blink or two for his thoughts to clear enough that he understood no, he had not called Bucky out of rote habit, Bucky was calling him. Score one for that mental best friend bond he’d heard the other two joking about the other day. Steve was smiling as he accepted the call and held it up at an angle he hoped would get his face properly. 

“Hey, Buc- oh my god, are you okay?” 

Small on the screen and folding in to himself like he was trying to be just as small in person, Bucky’s eyes were wild where they stared somewhat just over top of whatever device he’d used to call from. He took several ragged breaths in and let them all out a little too heavily before he could speak. 

“No.”

“I’m here, pal, what’s up?”

“Can you- where’s Sam?”

Steve felt his eyebrows lift up together. “Uh, Sam? Is in the next room. Why?”

A good question, he felt, since in the eight or so months since they had all last been together in Wakanda, Bucky had never once so much as breathed Sam’s name during these scattered video calls. Steve had seen them have maybe two conversations in the palace and both of those had been stilted as hell. Two men dancing around the fact that they’d both tried to kill each other on several occasions. Now here was Bucky jerking his eyes over to look directly at the camera and Steve had never seen him look so haunted before. Which, really, was saying something.

“I want to talk to Sam,” he said, voice quiet, aching with something Steve hadn’t heard before. They had talked about Bucky having nightmares. He’d just never seen one, not even the aftermath. Bucky had been a keep-it-close-to-the-chest guy long before what happened with HYDRA.

“Uh, okay. Sure. He might be asleep but I’ll just- yeah.”

Feeling more than a little confused, he did just that. Stood and marched to the door with a single minded purpose that could only come with being given a mission. Bucky wanted to talk to Sam and he might not understand why but he was going to make that happen even if he had to wake the man up. 

Thankfully, he did not have to wake the man up, although if he’d waited even a single full minute longer that might have been the case. Sam hadn’t even taken the time to undress or properly get in to what passed as his bed for tonight. He was still sitting half slumped against the wall on a little nest of blankets, carefully positioned in exactly the opposite corner from Natasha because one simply did not sleep next to a Russian super spy knowing that the slightest disturbance would send her in to full mission mode in less than five seconds. Besides, Sam had laughed when he pointed that out, I’m a serial sleep cuddler and I don’t think that’s a great idea here. Who knows how many knives she’s got under her pillow? 

“Sam?” Fond amusement rippled through the layers of worry as Steve watched his friend’s head loll towards him, indolent and exhausted. “Hey, uh, Bucky’s on a call. He wants...to talk to you?” That got a reaction. His eyes cracked open to take in the phone Steve was holding out and his chin lifted faintly in greeting.

“Hey man,” he ground out, voice coarse with near-sleep. “‘Nother nightmare?”

“Can you tell me a story?” Bucky asked. 

Steve very nearly dropped the phone. He almost dropped it again when Sam, without any external reaction whatsoever, immediately launched in with, “So you know that guy Dwayne I was telling you about? From homeroom? God, lemme tell you about how stupid this guy is. We’re at prom, right? And there’s this honey he’s had his eyes on for like three months only she went to prom with Harry Murdock- yeah, you know, the quarterback. Fuckin’ quarterbacks, man.”

It was kind of like watching something his own weird dreams might come up with. A sequence of events that made very little sense once you’d woken up and tried to piece it all back together. Sam’s eyes gradually slid closed again but his mouth just kept going like this was all totally normal, like he often spent his nights sitting up and telling Bucky random stories about the other kids he’d gone to highschool with. And on the opposite end of the call Bucky’s face grew less haunted with every word until the panic had drained out of him entirely and his own eyes were sliding down. He must have been using a tablet or laptop because the camera stayed perfectly centered on him even when his head at last fell gently down against his chest. 

“-and I mean, yeah, I get what he was going for with the ribbons but fuck, it really just made the whole thing worse. Best night of my entire highschool career gone right down the drain because Harry Murdock was too ashamed to tell his parents he wanted to take me to prom and Lisa Furlow was too good of a friend to tell anyone she was just a beard. Obviously the teachers were mad about the horse being there but- ah. He fall asleep?” It took a second for Steve to realize his friend was asking him a question. 

“Yeah. He did.”

“S’good. Good. ‘M gonna too. Night, Steve.” And then he was out too. Sam’s head lolled again, face going slack, and Steve was left standing there with a phone in his hand and several new knots in his chest, all of them shaped like confusion. 

Well. That. Had happened. Lifting his hand, Steve watched the live image of his best friend sleeping peacefully, a direct contrast to the shaken man who had reached out for help. Reached out to someone who wasn’t Steve. He’d be lying if he tried to say some part of that didn’t sting but he was a big enough person to recognize that helping Bucky was so much more important than stroking his own ego even if he did still feel like the ground was shaky between them after everything that had happened. Watching the man now, he certainly couldn’t deny that whatever the hell just happened seemed to have helped. Bucky hadn’t looked so at peace since he’d volunteered to go back in to cryo while the Wakandans figured out a way to help him. 

Movement from the opposite corner of the room drew Steve’s eye and when he glanced over he found Natasha sitting primly with both eyebrows raised in question. Not having much of an explanation, he could only give her a helpless one-shoulder shrug. They held each others’ gazes in matching confusion for several beats until Steve turned to look back at where Sam lay, asleep and content, slumped against the wall. He was definitely going to wake up to an aching back. 

And a whole lot of questions. 

Unfortunately for Steve’s overwhelming curiosity, he was still self-aware enough to know he didn’t have the heart to wake Sam, not knowing that it was ultimately his own fault the other man was so tired. If he hadn’t shown up on Sam’s doorstep that day they wouldn’t both be here, on the run from their own country, unable to call home to the people they cared about, worn to the bone from running and fighting and hiding themselves away in whatever dingy hole they found to crash in for a night or two. No, Steve would not be the one to disturb any rest his friend managed to find. 

“You gonna hang up some time this century?” Natasha’s voice murmured through the shadows. 

“Oh, yeah, I probably should.”

She watched him do so with what was probably an all too obvious reluctance. Then she grinned. “We’re giving him the third degree tomorrow, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“So many questions. I need to know absolutely everything that led to Sam Wilson telling the Winter Soldier bedtime stories. Everything.”

“That was weird, right?” Steve ran a hand through his hair, absently noting a tremble in the fingers. “We should probably get some sleep too. I mean, you try. Don’t think I’ll be able to get any.”

Natasha unfolded herself from the floor with the corners of her mouth curling up in a little smirk he couldn’t bring himself to look away from. “No, I think I’ll be fine. Let’s go get some coffee. We’ll coordinate our plan of attack for when this guy gets back to the land of the living.” She jerked one thumb at Sam’s form and Steve finally had to peel his eyes away just to hold in the laughter that wanted to spill out. 

“Alright. Yeah. Coffee. And a plan of attack. Sounds good to me.” 

“What was it they called you? The star spangled man with a plan?”

Steve groaned and covered his eyes with the hand not still holding his phone. “Please tell me there’s no surviving footage of me prancing around on stage in tights.”

“Why would I need footage when I get front row seats every time you suit up?” Natasha sauntered away from him, probably - definitely - aware exactly what shade of red she’d just left on his face. Front row seats indeed. He certainly didn’t mind his own front row seat whenever he had the chance and the times Natasha had to join them out here on the run from their own government gave him plenty of chances. 

One last look at his phone made him smile before Steve slipped it in to his pocket and gently clapped both hands together, rubbing his palms back and forth. Coffee did sound good. Coffee with Natasha while they figured out exactly how much hell to give Sam over how he was apparently reading bedtime stories for a man he hadn’t said two words about in all the time since they’d left Wakanda. This was going to be fun. 

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 19

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: Just...sorry

Notes: This was just the worst

Taglist:  @mcntsee @amwitherspoon @cxlpxrnia @fcvcritecrime​ @aysegust​ @sagewrites111​ @spawn0fsatan​ @itsemy01 @thedelusionreaderbitch

It took nearly another week for the Shu army to arrive, a day after that the Frejdans arrived and Kaz felt his plan falling into place.  He had told Jesper that the next morning he had to make sure that Y/N was away from the Darkling, get her out of the Little Palace.  He promised chaos so that the sharpshooter would have an easier time getting her out.  Kaz didn't what would happen next but he knew there was no other way to get her to save Ravka like she wanted.  The Darkling would never stop, only Y/N could stop him.  Inej noticed his mood getting darker as the day before the start of the war ended.  She sat next to him by one of the fires and waited for him to acknowledge her. "Its going to hurt her," he said softly.  Inej nodded. "You are doing something noble Kaz, it has to be the end of the world," she said.  Kaz sighed and shook his head. "What have I become?" he said, leaning his head to his cane.  Inej reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.  He noticed once again that touch wasn't bothering him much anymore.  He could thank Y/N for that, but of course he couldn't.  He knew she liked what he sent her, Jesper reported that she wore the necklace everyday, but that still didn't make him feel better for what happened.  After tomorrow who knew if he'd ever get to apologize to her.  He didn't have a contingency plan, if this didn't work it was all over.  He stood finally.   "Kaz, you're a good man," Inej said.  He glared at her.  "That look doesn't quite scare me as much as it used to."  He scowled and walked away but secretly he was pleased.  He could be both a ruthless killer and a good man.  He hoped this would be enough.  

Y/N wasn't sure when the fighting started.  She was woken up by the Darkling himself coming into her room and dragging her from bed, pulling her into the hall where she heard shouting and saw Grisha running everywhere.  Jesper came running and handed the Darkling a saber made of steel.   "Thank you Fahey, take Y/N to the roof, I am going to take care of Mal before dealing with the rest of the resistance," he said, face full of rage.   Y/N felt genuine fear as her chain was given to Jesper.  Jesper was about to take off when another Fabrikator joined them.  "Make sure they get there Rege."  He nodded and followed them.  They turned towards the roof but stopped just short of the stairs.  Rege ran up a few steps before realizing they stopped.  He turned, about to yell when a loud bang rang out and he collapsed, a small hole bleeding from his front.   "The kefta, they're bullet proof..." Y/N said, turning to Jesper.  He winked at her. "I may have been working on something fun just for the Grisha," he said.  She smiled at him.  He took the chain and shackles off her but wasn't able to remove the collar.  "Come on, let's go, Kaz told me to get you out of here." "Jes, what if he gets killed...I can't lose Kaz..." she said as they headed through another of her tunnels towards the east side of the palace.  They could flank on that side, take some of the Grisha by surprise.  Jesper stopped just before the went out the door. " Y/N, I promise you that you will see Kaz again.  You'll be with him by the end of the day, I swear it on my guns," he said.  She nodded and hugged him again.  "Now let's kill the Darkling, you know to use a machete?"  He held out the weapon that was leaning on the wall, ready for her.  She took it and nodded.   "He remembered it was my specialty," she said and Jesper nodded as they exited and ran out.  Most of the Grisha on this side of the palace were distracted by the Frejdans that were attacking so Jesper and Y/N slid into the action easily.   Y/N was quite capable of handling herself without her powers but she couldn't deny that the weakness she felt from not using them was taking a toll on her fighting.  She kept having to remind herself of what she was fighting for to keep going.  She kept an eye on Jesper, and he on her, working together to make their way to the center of the fight where the Darkling was commanding a small group of shadow creatures, clearly trying to get to Mal.  Mal was commanding the resistance fighters well, shooting his rifle and taking out anyone in his way, Matthias was using his druskelle training to keep the Grisha at bay, looking like a true warrior.  Jesper caught sight of Wylan throwing bombs from behind a garden wall and he started to make his way over there.  Inej had somehow climbed to the roof and was taking out Grisha along the torrents, the Inferni firing from above dropping to the ground, throats slit before they fell.  The only person Y/N couldn't see was Kaz.  She was trying to keep an eye out, hoping he stayed  back, had planned the attack and let the others take their time to battle.  She didn't want to be powerless to protect him.   The Darkling was approaching Mal so Y/N fought harder than she had before, getting to her brother in arms and facing off against the creatures the Darkling made, striking them down with the Grisha made steel they held.  It seemed to reflect the actual sunlight in such a way that it destroyed the shadows, making the Darkling create more instead of just making them reform.   "Glad you could join us," Mal said as he shot a creature behind her.   Y/N turned and sliced a Grisha before they use the wind against her friend.  "Is that collar still a problem?" "Yes, I can't use my powers at all with  it," she said.  "And the Fabrikator disappeared before I could get him to take it off." "O we've been handling it, Kaz and Nina have figured something out with him," he said.  She almost stopped but then a Grisha hit her with a water sprout and she swiped out, taking off the Grisha's arm.   "Kaz is here?" she asked.  Mal shook his head. "No, they're hoping you can do this yourself," he said.  Suddenly the Darkling was there, swatting Mal aside, sending him off with his  creatures. "Mal!" Y/N screamed before the Darkling was on her, hand around her neck. "I see that you tried to trick me puppy...but now I think you've shown how useless you really are," he said, throwing her to the ground and moving to cut her.   "STOP!" she heard his voice and turned.  So did the Darkling.  He finished the cut and Kaz fell.  Suddenly everything stopped for Y/N. "KAZ!" she screamed.  She looked at the Darkling and screamed out her agony and the collar broke.  She felt everything rising in her, all her pain and anger came out, darkness engulfing everyone.  Only she and the Darkling were here now, facing each other.   "Impossible...how did you..." She started firing fire at him, no gloves needed, the fire just appearing.  She shot wind at him, knocking him back.  Tears were stinging her cheeks, creatures trying to tear her apart but she felt none of it.  She was shattered, her soul destroyed, what did she have holding her back now?  The Darkling looked at her in awe as she squeezed her fist.  He was able to  send a creature to knock her off balance.  He dove at her and she pushed a tide against him, throwing him to the side. "This is the power you have...you are so strong.  Your love is dead, give in, this darkness is who you are.  Imagine if I could teach you how to truly use this power," he said.   Y/N stopped for a moment and the Darkling rose, watching her. "I am darkness, but I'm not just darkness," she said.   "But you should be, Y/N, imagine what we can do together, we can take the world and make it how we want it," he said, approaching her, taking her face in his hands.   Y/N slid the hidden knife from her sleeve, another gift from Kaz.  She stabbed up, aiming between the ribs where he had shown her, making sure to pierce the heart. "I want Kaz in my world," she said, pushing the dagger further up, the tip poking out the other side.  She yanked it out and the Darkling fell dead to the ground.  She fell to her knees, the darkness still all around, it was spreading.  This Fold she was creating was going to keep going unless she pulled it back.  But how could she?  What reason was there for light anymore?  Kaz was dead, why should everyone else get to live.   " Y/N, this isn't you," she heard his voice in her head.  "This, this is my darkness.  Well, at least, the darkness I thought was in me.  You brought out the light in me." "I can't Kaz...what is the point of light if you won't be there when I bring it back?" she whispered. "The point love, is that someone has to lead the Dregs, are you going to let Jesper do that?  Or Inej?  God Jesper would never have money for them to eat and Inej is going to disperse them to be a diplomat now," he said.  She laughed and felt some light struggling to come out.  "I love you Y/N, just remember that, I love you for being the light in my life, don't let me down.  Don't give up on me."   "I love you too Kaz," she said to the darkness.  She fell to her knees as she pulled back the dark and released the light.  The fighting had stopped, no one sure what had happened.  Once the light was back it took only seconds for the Second Army to see that their commander was not only dead but now they were outnumbered.  They fled.  The resistance stopped, looking at Y/N on the ground.  She let out a strangled sob as she crawled to Kaz's body.   " Y/N..." Mal said, moving to pull her away.  She shoved him back. "Please...Kaz please!" she begged even though she knew there was nothing to be done.  The cut had hit home.  She leaned over his face, forehead to his as she sobbed on him.   " Y/N...I'm so sorry," she heard Jesper say. "You promised!" she yelled at him.   "I know...I...I'm just sorry." Inej came over then, putting her arms around Y/N who finally fell to sit back.  Jesper joined Inej in hugging her. "I'm so sorry for this Y/N," Inej whispered, "so sorry."

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (42)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Ah... that expression of shock on your face, that lack of reaction... Or at least that frail voice that is yours. Danny couldn't have dreamed of a better reaction from you. We would think we were in a movie, where the girl discovers a terrible secret about her boyfriend. This is actually the case, with one exception: We are not in a movie. Danny watched you, his sneaky smile on his lips, like a cat watching the little mouse in his cage, the lion watching the gazelle, or the wolf devouring the poor little doe that will soon serve as his meal. He was slowly moving towards you, but you backed up against the wall, causing him to stop.

“Surprise, Honey. Happy to see me?” He said with a provocative smile.

“J-Jed? No... I don't believe it. It's a nightmare... or a prank! You can't...” you start to say.  

“Can’t what? Being the one who since all this time harasses you every night making you doubt about your loyalty to your boyfriend? I can tell you my sweet little star, that all this is real. But... let's redo the presentations. Jed... never existed. My real name is Danny, Danny Johnson, to serve you.”

“You've been lying to me all this time... But why??”

“Think twice Sherlock. I am... quite wanted in other states. I wasn't going to swing my true identity, to a complete stranger I had just met. And then... there was a good chance... that you have heard of me. But luckily for me... that was not the case.”

“Your office...”

“Want to take a look? since the time you wish to enter it, now that you know the truth, I can show you. Follow me.”

Danny walked past you, while looking behind him to see if you were following him. He unlocked the door of his office and opened it so that you could finally enter it. He saw this expression of surprise on your face again, and this temporary absence of voice made him shudder. Everything went as he had imagined. It remains more than to know how all this would end.

“It's you who... who did all these murders... these innocent people... McKellan and... Hoggins.” You said finally.

“Nice deduction Sherlock. This is me. All those nights when I was inventing an excuse to go out... it was only for that. Spying, stalking... and kill.” Respond Danny leaning against the door.

“And also, to see me as Ghostface. You... you tried... you tried to rape me... and you pretended nothing had happened the next day.”

“And I apologize for that. But I had to... play my role. You would have suspected me too soon otherwise. I had to dissuade you from Jed. Let you accept me as I am. More confident, more... Enterprising then Jed." Replied Danny.

“From the beginning you lied to me. On everything. Your identity, your past, your work... I'm sure this story about this Carla is not real! You invented it or stole it from someone!” you said a little angry.

“Everything I told you about my past... is true. My parents were real assholes. Treating me like a dog. And as for my life with Carla... everything is true. Except one thing: When I learned that Dr. Pheels, the one who cared for her, had let her die, I went to see him one night. I entered through the window. He was in his office. I confronted him with his actions and he... he has denied everything.  *You won't be able to prove anything Johnson. No one will believe you, you're wasting your time, Johnson. You'd better leave and find yourself another jug to fill your nights. And if she's sick... think of me. You can touch a small part. * At that time... I took out a knife that I had taken from home... and I slaughtered him like never before. My first murder, the one that made me who I am today. This is where Jed Olsen was born as well.”  

“And I would still be there. You won't get rid of me as easily. I've told you before: I'm a part of you now.” said Jed in Danny’s mind.  

“That night. You could have killed me. You could have made me yet another victim of your massacres. And yet you left me alive, you played with me, you... persuaded me to kill Hoggins. At least to let you kill him. Why? Why didn't you kill me that night?” you ask calmly.  

It's true. He could have killed you that night. It would have made you just another victim and move on after hiding your corpse somewhere. He could have done it so many times... But he didn't. On the contrary, he lets you live, he spends time with you, shares his life and his past as you did with him. By curiosity? that's what he's always said to himself so far... but in the end isn't it for another reason? Isn't it more because he has found, or at least he thinks he has found something he thought was lost forever? And that he wanted to protect at all costs?

“Lying to her won't do much good here Danny. We both know that. Be honest with her. Like she was with you. And be honest with yourself. Believe me.” said Jed in Danny’s mind, leaning in front of him.  

“I could have. At first, I confess that I did it out of curiosity, to see how far you could amuse me and I would have killed you as soon as you bore me. But... you were... so innocent. But just as fierce. Like Carla. She was like you, dreams full of heads, with punchlines when it was necessary. And a heart of gold, always ready to help people and do good around her. And the more time I spent with you, the more I felt like I was reliving my life before.” responds Danny sincerely to you.  

“Good choice. It's a bit late, but better late than never.” replied Jed smiling.

“Now, that's the question everyone is asking. You know everything. What are you going to do?” Asks Danny to you.  

Danny looked you straight in the eye, his smile having sag to make way for a more serious face. He had his knife in hand, ready to use it if you ever try to play the heroes or warn the police. He would like to not do that, but his secret has to come first. Even if it means killing you. He doesn't want to, but he won't have a choice. He no longer has a choice, and neither do you. You could have stopped before, avoided this relationship. It would have been easier for him. But here... it will be the first time for him that he will have to kill someone reluctantly. There is no turning back now. For both of you. This is where everything will play out.

Deep in his mind... Danny knows how it's going to end. There is no chance that you will accept all this. Even if you have shown flaws, he knows that you will denounce him, or try to stop him. If that really happens, so be it. But he can't help but hope. What a stupid spirit of humanity. And yet, what was not his surprise, when he saw you approaching him hugging him. For a few minutes, he waited for you to take out a knife or a weapon of some kind to attack him. But nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just... a normal hug. As if none of this had happened. Nothing had been said.

“Well... I... I didn't expect that. Unless this is a ruse on your part.” said Danny suspicious.

“What good would it be now that I try anything against you? You said it: if you fall, I will fall too. And... you may be an assassin... you've always been there when I needed... you listened to me, you protected me. You could have killed me a long time ago... and you didn't. And all those moments we spent together... I could never forget them. Never.” You respond without letting him go.  

“Me neither.”

“I guess you've made it. You have succeeded in making me your accomplice. That's what you wanted. You wanted me to enter your world.”

“It won't be easy... but I would teach you to get ready for this new life. Lie... Keep one's mouth shut... Trick... As long as you are with me, nothing will happen to you.”

Danny gently took your face with his gloved hand before placing a quick kiss on your lips. But before he can back off, you kiss him passionately, hugging him a little more. He is not a doctor, or even a psychologist, but he could easily conclude that he caused you to have Stockholm syndrome. Or at least something close to it. However, he will have to be careful in the early days. He doesn't know if all this is real... or if you cheat. It's in Danny's mentality, he was betrayed too often in his youth, he will not let himself be fooled so easily.

“We're going to have to put ... two three little things to the point. First, outside of these walls, and when someone comes here, I'm Jed. no one should know my true identity. Not even Mattew and Melina.” starts Danny.  

“It's horrible... to have to lie to them. They're friends, I'm sure they would understand.” you respond.  

“They will especially warn the cops. At least after researching me. Journalistic curiosity, honey, can wreak a lot of havoc. Especially at the level of the closest people. Second, if the police come to ask you about Hoggins, you say you don't know anything. You tell them that the last time you saw him was when he threatened you in your café. Your employees will be able to confirm this.”

“Because I have to use them as an excuse now?” you replied.  

“Everyone around you can serve as an alibi. I've done it often... very often during all these years.” responds Danny shrugging his shoulders.

“Anything else to know?”

“Even if you know about my office, I'd appreciate not seeing you inside. Everyone has their own business. Was I clear enough?”

“Yeah.”  

“Good. So, how was your day?” Danny asks as if nothing had happened.

“As usual... I had two calls. For the succession, it is settled. And my aunt can't wait to meet you one of these days. But other than that, nothing very extraordinary. I'm exhausted.” you respond sighing.  

“I know exactly what you need to... relax.”

Danny slowly lowered his hands until he reached your ass, putting a small slap. You jump slightly before looking at him, biting your lips slightly. A smirk comes to his face, provoking you just with the look. His piercing blue eyes, the secret of his charm. And it is in a fiery kiss that you both direct in the room, undressing each other before finding yourself on the bed, completely naked. The kiss continued, more sensual, and Danny finally entered you, making you moan with pleasure. He waited for you to relax before he began to move, and every move caused the two of you an insatiable pleasure.

No need to hide, no need to live under Jed's identity, no need to be Ghostface to satisfy his fantasies. Now that you know everything, now that you know who he is, he can finally be himself. He will continue to "play" Jed outside his walls because it is not necessary to arouse the suspicions of either office colleagues or the police. And even less of Wilhelm. This guy is a real leech.  

Now with you he can finally be himself. You are the sweet little star of the devil. And no one will be able to approach you. In every sense of the word... the beast has been released. And nothing can stop it.

Not even himself.

***

(And it's done! This chapter was quite quick to write because since it is the continuation of the previous chapter, the ideas came to me quite quickly. Well, it's true that almost the entire chapter is mostly dialogue between Danny and the reader, but really, I didn't see how I could write it other than that. I don't forget the fic RE8 and the little teasing I talked about! By the way, if at the moment you do not know what to play, whether on Switch or PC, I recommend Road 96, a real surprise that I love! I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya!)

[softranswolves]

For It May Not Be My Time

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Rating: Teen

Ships: n/a

Characters: Derek Hale, Laura Hale, Lydia Martin, Stiles Stilinski, Deaton

Words: 1598

LAURA HALE APPRECIATION WEEK - DAY FOUR THEME: resurrection

When Lydia shows up at his door to tell him his name unlocked the last of the list, he doesn't react. He knows Braeden is watching him, gauging how he responds. He knows Lydia will slowly come down from her premonition and switch to fix-it mode. She came alone, not wanting him to feel subjected to the pack's stares, but he knows that Stiles knows, and the kid has never been great at keeping pertinent information quiet.

He insists that he's fine each time he's asked, Braeden deciding to let him stew in whatever he's feeling while Scott and Stiles try to get more out of him. The latter goes so far as to goad Derek, trying to taunt him into talking but that isn't something they've ever done and he doesn't plan on starting now. It's easy to push back when they ask, because he's being honest. He isn't looking forward to dying, but he's resigned to it, knowing he's made his mother proud, made his family proud. He's worked to right the wrongs Peter has done, making Hale a respectable name again. Maybe he'll get to be with them soon.

"She didn't show you the whole list, did she?" Stiles asks a few days later. The whole pack has been working overtime to protect their own and figure out who is behind the deadpool in the first place. Kira returned after staying in hospital with her mom, and Scott has taken some time away from everyone to be alone with her, leaving Stiles with nobody else to pester.

"Why does it matter, Stiles? I'm marked for death, I know that already." He's exasperated but tolerant, realizing he might actually end up missing the banter they have. His gaze doesn't leave the gun he's reassembling, a task Braeden gave him for when he needs something to fill the spare time.

"Because there's a name on it that might draw your attention, sour wolf." Stiles is serious, and while this has become the norm after his possession, it's still out of place.

"So? Who was it?" He can hear the uptick in Stiles' pulse, scents anxiety in the air, but maintains his focus. If he engages, Stiles may take it as invitation for another attempt at a heart-to-heart.

There's no response for a moment, just the sound of paper unfolding, before a crumpled sheet slides into Derek's line of sight. He looks up at Stiles, who crosses his arms and simply nods toward the paper to emphasize Derek should look at it. Obliging, he scans the sheet, landing on a name two-thirds down the list.

"That's not possible," he says, eyes stuck on the letters. He doesn't pay attention to the numbers, just that string of impossibility.

"Are you sure?" Stiles asks, voice tense but gentle.

"You saw her body, you know it's not possible."

"Also shouldn't be possible for Peter to be alive, what with his quasi-possession of Lydia a few months ago, yet here we are."

Silence blossoms between them, and Derek thanks the universe for Stiles letting him sit with the information.

"Could it be outdated? Maybe the list isn't live, maybe it was made years ago," Derek suggests. He looks up to Stiles, eyes wide in hopeful shock. The only response he gets is a shrug as Stiles considers and starts to pace, running a hand through his hair in contemplation.

"I mean, it could be. We still don't know anything about it besides where the money came from. Lydia says she can feel a tangible thread to Laura, but she never met her and couldn't say for sure what it means."

Derek nods, standing to look out the window in thought.

"Have you talked to Deaton? Maybe he knows something, being human like you."

"We were kind of waiting to see what you wanted us to do," Stiles says. "She was your sister, after all, and there's no way we're bringing it to Peter without you. Y'know, her literal murderer?" He's pushing at Derek's buttons again, but this time he doesn't mind quite as much. He just nods again before turning back to Stiles.

"We can take the Camaro," Derek says, walking toward the door after grabbing a jacket and his keys."Though we should stop to pick up Lydia."

"Why Lydia?" Stiles asks as he follows after Derek.

"She can explain to Deaton what feelings she's having about Laura. He may be able to interpret them better than you or I could."

"Makes sense." Stiles is quiet after that, not saying anything for so long that Derek thinks it may be the longest he's gone without talking.

While he may have preferred this conversation to happen between the veterinarian and himself privately, he knew Lydia and Stiles would be useful at asking questions he may not consider and keep Derek from going too far off the deep end. The last time he'd been in a room with him alone was the night he kidnapped Deaton, thinking him to be the Alpha at the time. Things may have changed but he still kept his distance.

The boys drive to the Martin house, texting Lydia to join them, and continue the last few minutes to the Vet Clinic. Lydia was unsurprised when she sat down in the car, but seems uneasy around Derek, as though his impending death prediction is making her uncomfortable. He doesn't let himself dwell on it, instead focusing on clearing up his confusion.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Deaton asks when the trio arrives, motioning to the chairs in the back to sit in. Lydia takes a seat while Stiles continues the pacing he had started at the loft, and Derek simply hands Deaton the list of names.

"See anyone on there that shouldn't be? Any impossible names jumping out?" His voice is raised despite his efforts, and he clenches his fists to ground himself.

"I do," Deaton starts, his usual tone of knowing more than the rest of the room. "What do you think?" He directs the question at Lydia.

"I think... it's not an accident that her name is there," Lydia tries. "These lists, they don't feel arbitrary, as if everyone supernatural in Beacon Hills was added. Cora isn't on there, and as far as we know she's alive." She doesn't seem to want to meet Derek's eye, but he can understand it.

"So you think she's alive." It's a statement, not a question, but Derek' bluntness cuts through the room.

"I didn't say that," Lydia says quietly. "She doesn't feel dead, but she also doesn't feel alive either. It's not the same as when you were taken by Kate, but it's similar." She stands and puts her hand on top of Derek's, a similar motion to a few weeks ago when he'd been lying on the same table they're gathered around now, only a teenaged version of himself.

"So where does that leave us?" Stiles asks. He notes the way Derek has gone tense, and decides to push once more. "Derek, what's wrong? Isn't it a good thing if your sister is still with us?"

He's leaning over the table, arms holding his weight up at the edge, and he shakes his head, smiling to himself a little.

"I was so ready to die," he breathes out. "I'm just so... tired, and when Lydia told me my name was a key for the deadpool? I was relieved. I could stop fighting, stop pretending I know what the hell I'm doing, and be with her again."

Lydia reaches her arm up to rub circles against his back, feeling his sigh beneath her hand.

"The others, I miss them everyday. But for years it was just me and Laura against the world. I don't know what I'm supposed to do if she's alive somehow."

"You keep fighting," a voice chimes in, and it's familiar, too familiar. Derek spins around to see his older sister standing there, a sad smile on her face as she plays with the pendant hanging from her neck.

"Laura? Wha- how?" Derek is frozen in place, mouth hanging open as he stumbles over his words trying to speak properly.

"I'm sorry, Derek, I'm so sorry." She rushes forward to pull him into a hug before taking a step back, holding him at arm's length. "You've grown in just these past few months, Der. Look at you." She has tears in her eyes and laughs a little.

Derek still hasn't spoken, but Laura doesn't seem to mind.

"I haven't been back too long, I promise. I just needed to get my bearing before I came back into your life, especially considering how mine ended."

"How did you come back?" Stiles cuts in, curiosity getting the better of him. Laura turns to look at him but someone else answers first.

"Peter," Lydia says. "It happened when I brought back Peter, didn't it?" Her voice is small, shaking slightly as she recalls those traumatic months, only part of which she actually remembers.

"You're the smart one, aren't you?" Laura answers. "I still don't really know how, and Deaton hasn't been able to fully explain it either. But yes, when you resurrected him, it ended up like a package deal. Whether it was some karmic twist of fate or just Hale blood keeping us bound together, I'm back. And apparently being hunted despite only the people in this room knowing I'm alive." She scoffs at this last bit, turning her attention back to Derek.

"I'm back, baby brother. What do you say we figure this out together?"

[j-wont-stop]

The Scarred (Chapter Five)

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Five)

Word Count - 2156

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - Panic attack, murder, cussing

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

The vase fell from her hands, the shattering glass echoing through the hall. Penelope’s mind grew petrified as she stared at the card sitting in the mess of glass, water and flowers. She fell back against her door frame, her breathing sharp and fast as she began to hyperventilate. She gripped onto the front of her bra to pull it away from her chest, looking for any kind of relief, any way to find space for her to breathe properly. Yet it did nothing. She knew she was making a scene, and she wanted so badly to hide away in her apartment. But what about the mess? She asked herself amid the chaos. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the ambience around her.

“’Scuse me-?” Penelope shot straight up, eye frantically darting towards the new voice. A tall, slim man stood before her, hands held out in front of him as an offering of peace. “Apologies, I didn’ mean to alarm ye. Are ye alrigh’?” His bright eyes held a gentleness in them, the same as his voice. It was soothing in a way she had never before experienced. It was hardly able to calm her, however, in her panicked state. “Righ’, dumb question…” He mumbled to himself, glancing between Penelope and her welcome mat. “I’ll clean this up righ’ quick fer ye, tha’ alrigh’?” She gave the smallest nod, letting go of her bra to wipe the tears from her face as he disappeared.

She closed her eye, grounding in an attempt to compose herself. Never had she broken down in front of a stranger. And never had she felt more humiliated by it. Her eye snapped back open when she heard the sound of a plastic bag, eyeing the man warily as he walked back to start picking up the glass shards. He noticed how her breathing had only slightly improved, but it was progress.

“Why are you helping me?” The sound of her voice caught him off guard as he continued picking up the pieces.

“Juss doin’ my duty.”

“In Gotham?” The man sighed and looked up at her from where he was crouched on the floor.

“‘Ard as it is to believe, miss, not erryone in this city is a crook.” It wasn’t until then that she noticed his thick accent. It was a surprise to her, however one she greatly accepted. She felt childish for it, but she was excited as it was her first time meeting someone with one. “Ye wann’ keep this?” He asked, holding the Joker card between his index and middle fingers. She hesitated before reaching to grab it. “Now, I’m not all tha’ superstitious,” He stood up with a huff. “But if tha’ is a genuine Joker card, I’d watch out if I were ye. Yer either really lucky, er ‘bout to be really dead.” He noticed the growing fright in her eyes. “Or! Some guy is juss actin’ the maggot and playin’ wit’ ye.”

“People were scared enough to impersonate Batman, I don’t think they’d dare to impersonate The Joker himself.”

“Then pray yer juss really lucky.” He spoke in a softer tone. He began to tie the bag as she continued to carefully watch him. “I don’t believe I’ve caught yer name yet?”

“Penelope.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Bishop.”

“Penelope?” The name left his lips in curiosity. “Tha’s a new one.” Her eye shifted to the ground. “Bu’ it’s refreshin’.” The man offered her a friendly smile, but her expression remained constant. “Liam Garson. Juss moved in couple a doors down.” He pointed off to his left.

“Why?” He threw her a confused look. “I mean, why Gotham?”

“Oh!” Liam chuckled. “Well, why not? Barely any restrictions with the mob and cops runnin’ ‘round lie’ chickens wit’ their ’eds cut off. Sure, muggers an’ the lie’ crawl abou’, but tha’s the price ye pay fer freedom, righ’?” He contained himself from beaming when she gave the ghost of a smile.

“Well, I see where your morals lie, Mr. Garson.”

“Liam.” He jested. “An’ I may lack some, but I’m better off than over ‘alf the boyos ‘ere.”

“’Boyos’?” Penelope gave a small chuckle.

“Males, juveniles, youngins.” She nodded in understanding. “Well, I’ll let ye be. Juss wanted to check on ye and make sure ye were alrigh’.” He started to back away. “If ye need anythin’, I’m in 329.” With a final salute, he disappeared into his own apartment. Penelope slowly turned around to head into her own, closing her door softly.

She looked down at the card caught in her nimble fingers. She couldn’t help the jolt that rushed through her body when she realized that if it was his card, he knew where she was. He knew who she was. She was somebody to him and she wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified. It made her start to question her own morals. Any other person wouldn’t even think to be flattered, so why would she?

He was a murderer, a psychopath who wanted nothing more than to watch the city burn. And yet she had half a mind to consider being flattered. Really lucky or really dead. Why would she be dead? Had she angered someone without her knowing?

She froze.

“The boss.” She whispered to herself in realization. The bald man worked for The Joker. Which meant he knew where she worked. How much else did he know? Who all knew? How many people were following her? Question after question ran through her head and it was almost unbearable. She didn’t know what she even did to be on his radar in the first place.

“-patrolling the streets trying to trace his whereabouts for the time being, but so far-“ The news anchor’s voice hummed softly from her TV and she practically ran over to it, snatching the remote from the coffee table to turn up the volume.

“Well, John, I think it’s safe to say that The Joker’s escape is truly devastating for the people of Gotham. Not only in the sense that he has escaped, but it gives the chance for other criminals to wreak havoc on the city knowing that Batman will once again be busy with him.” The woman on the other line spoke. Penelope scoffed at her words.

“Way to give them ideas.” She mumbled to herself with a wide eye.

“Let’s just hope that Batman is able to do what he does best, and fast. Cause-“ Penelope switched the TV off, having heard enough of it. It upset her that the city was putting their faith in a masked man, that none of them had the nerve to do something themselves. That they couldn’t even rely on their own first responders. That she couldn’t rely on first responders.

She began to peel off her bandages, dragging her feet towards her bathroom. So much had happened in only a week and it all started to catch up to her, her head starting to pound from it all. The note. The glass. The bald man offering her a large sum of money for just a vase of flowers, finding out he worked for The Joker, finding out The Joker had been tracking her for who knows how long.

Penelope reached into her medicine cabinet for pain killers, deciding on taking two with a glass of water. Finally she laid down on her bed, snuggling up to her great fuzzy blanket with her eyes closed in an attempt to fall asleep. She briefly thought about telling Emma, but if she truly was dealing with The Joker, she wanted her involved as little as possible. For her safety. She thought to herself in reassurance before sleep took over.

———————————————————————

The sounds of rushing water and seagulls filled the air around her, the occasional pair of footsteps passing by that she grew wary of from time to time. The sun began to disappear in the horizon, painting the sky with breathtaking shades of pink and orange on the rare cloudless evening. Music played softly from her phone that sat on one side of her, her dinner left half eaten on the other. Her short legs dangled lightly over the ledge as she watched from the pier. It was almost tradition on warmer nights, seeing it as a rarity. It would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the littered concrete and occasional plastic bag that floated by as a reminder of where she was. Along with the gun that clicked from behind her.

“I’d say just jump and save me the work, but then I wouldn’t get your money.” A gruff voice spoke. She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare turn her head or flinch a finger. Her heart rate picked up, stomach churning. “Well?” The man urged, losing patience.

“I-I don’t have any.”

“How’d you get that nice dinner, then, huh?”

“Been saving up for it.” A lie. The man just chuckled.

“Alright. How about you get off of there, put your hands up, and then face me. Slow.”

“I-I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t raise my hands.” She told him as she awkwardly turned around on the ledge.

“Alright, enough talking-“ The man halted, red quickly seeping through his jacket. Blood dribbled down his chin. She watched in horror as he collapsed.

“I agree.” Penelope looked up to see the man who had helped her the day before. He walked around the mugger towards her, bloodied switchblade in hand. When he saw her flinch he slowed his pace, tucking away the weapon to make her more comfortable.

“Y-you just-“ She spoke frantically, pointing towards the now dead body with a shaky hand.

“Killed a man?” She nodded quickly. He tilted his head dismissively. “Aye. The bastard ‘ad it comin’.” She shied away from him as he took a seat next to her, arms folded. “Relax, miss. I juss saved yer life, did I not?” He looked over at her to see her chewing on her cheek.

“Why?”

“���Why’ what? Why did I do it-?”

“Yes.” He hesitated for a moment.

“Why not?” The man shrugged. “Was either he killed you or I killed ‘im, an’ I wouldn’t dare let such a beautiful woman go to waste lie’ tha’.” Penelope scrunched her nose and scoffed.

“Beautiful woman…” She mumbled to herself. “If you think I’m easily won over by flattery, you’re wrong.”

“With all due respect, miss, I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout fer meself.” The brunette noticed her eye take on a more gentle stare. He sighed, scratching at his beard.

“Why’re you here?” She asked, rubbing her left arm.

“I could ask ye the same question.” Penelope looked at him quizzically.

“Dinner.” Liam nodded.

“Was on a walk. ‘Eard the ruckus. Came to see what was ‘appenin’.”

“That’s quite a coincidence.”

“Aye. It sure is. A damn good one, if I do say so meself.” Silence fell between the two of them, however it was peaceful. Penelope quite enjoyed it. “If ye don’t mind me askin’,” Liam broke in. “What do ye plan on doin’ wit’ this Joker business? Assumin’ it’s not too late already. I mean, ‘ave ye told anybody?” She shook her head, focusing on her breathing.

“I haven’t.” Penelope swallowed as Liam raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Ye ‘aven’t? Well, why not? Not even the cops?”

“What’ll they do?” She finally looked up at him. “What will they do? You’re the one that was saying yesterday that they’re all running around like chickens with their heads cut off.“ She began to rant, everything starting to catch up to her. Her eye began to glisten as it watered over. “And if they can’t help me, who can? Certainly not Batman!“ She spit the masked man’s name with venom. “They couldn’t even keep him behind bars to keep the city safe! Why the hell would they care to keep The Joker from coming for just a single person, a nobody, from coming for me-!”

“Miss!” Liam held onto her shoulders, keeping her steady. In a moment of desperation, she clung to him, and once again she caught him off guard as she started to break down for the second time. He began to gently stroke her back and sighed. “Ye’ve been dealing wit’ this a while now, ‘aven’t ye?” He spoke just above a whisper and he felt a shift in her head, a confirmation. A van sat in the distance, tinted windows making it impossible to see through. It was cracked enough for him to see who was in it and he made eye contact with a pair of almost pure black eyes, giving them a faint nod.

[nocturnaldivinationsfallingstars]

A Stray Bullet Part 1

Fandom: Gotham Characters: Victor Zsasz, female!reader, James Gordon, and an OC called Grace Warnings: None Summary: The reader is James Gordon’s sister and works for the GCPD and is dating Victor Zsasz. The reader has kept it a secret from her brother, until one day when she takes a bullet that was meant for him. Victor then shows up at James’ place to see the reader. Word count: 3,407 A/N: This is a reupload. Something’s are going to be different from the original one of this.

Sinister, dark, grey clouds rolled in over the gloomy and grungy city of Gotham as they so often did on a near daily basis as of late. The clouds barely allowed any soft golden rays of sunshine to seep through its thick layer above. As if hinting towards darker and more menacing days approaching, the once glorious city now in mourning for a much beloved family. You allowed yourself a sparing glance to the ever darkening sky for a very brief moment. A scowl creased your brow as you and your partner, Detective Grace Allen, walked up the steps of the GCPD, kicking beads of water up from the various sized puddles that formed on the worn concrete steps leading towards the tall wooden doors from the previous night.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” you muttered out to your “close” friend.

You couldn’t help the disappointment in your voice at the lack of sunny days in the city. Grace simply grunted in return, taking a sip from the to go cup of coffee in her hand. You wouldn’t go as far as calling Grace your best-friend, after all you didn’t have that close-knit friendship that your brother and his partner have. Where they can talk to each other about their problems and such. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to have that kind of closeness with her. It more had to do with the fact that you felt as if you couldn’t; Considering how Grace would reply to your questions, or her lack of a reply, sometimes being the prime reason. 

A part of you had to admit that it had been that way since the days after your police academy training. Since the day you had been placed in the Gotham City Police Department, along with your brother James, as a detective. If you had to be honest with yourself, you hadn't expected to be placed there. In fact, there had been a part of yourself that thought you would leave Gotham for good; leave the crime and dreary atmosphere behind. To leave your brother to clear up the mess of criminals that roamed rampant through the streets of your home like a deadly disease. A disease that left nothing but chaos, pain, and death in its wake. So you can move on with your life somewhere else, somewhere less toxic.

However, you also couldn't deny the part of you somewhere deep down inside that knew you wouldn't leave. No, you couldn't leave the crime riddled streets. To some degree, that nagging part of yourself had been correct. You're still here; fighting for your city, just as much as your brother.

“Oh, you mean it is like every other typical day here in Gotham?” Grace asked bitterly, you barely heard the words escape her mouth. You were so focused on your thoughts that her voice seemed muffled. When you didn't respond as a frown came across her features, “hello?” Grace suddenly asked, drawing the word quickly waving a hand in front of your face trying to gain your attention. “Earth to [Y/N]!” she exclaimed with irritation present in her voice.

Your brows shot up in surprise and settled back into place. “Sorry, what?” you asked her, blinking your eyes a couple of times to allow your vision to clear and turning your head towards her. Grace rolled her eyes at you, shaking her head. The two of you came to a stop in front of the double doors belonging to your workplace. You grasped the long slender brass handle with your hand.

"Forget it," she replied as you wrenched the door open wide enough for Grace to slip through. You made a motion with your free hand for her to proceed into the bullpen. Grace gave a simple nod of her head as a thank-you. "You're in your own world as it is." She brushed it off.

The look that you shot her made it extremely clear to your partner that you were absolutely not in a good mood today. Not that she could blame you for being in such a terrible mood, especially with how your current investigation was going at the moment.

Grace had received a call from someone at the GCPD who had been working the night shift in the early hours of the morning on her work phone. Telling her something about a brand-new lead on your case, and that someone may be able to identify who the prime suspect could be. However, as the two of you investigated the person who had called in the lead, someone back in the office got a call about a body being found in an old run down alleyway besides an equally dilapidated club somewhere in the Narrows. 

This call had been placed about an hour or two after you and Grace had gone to check out the lead. Rendering all the questioning prior to getting the news useless and placing the case back at square one. Meaning you were, once more, looking for a new lead and another new suspect. One that hopefully wouldn’t end up dead like the other. Naturally this had put you in a bitter mood. It would have done that to anyone. You felt as if you had finally made some headway with it, only to be let down. Even Grace seemed to be angry about it. At the very least, the two of you had to wait for the autopsy results on the new body that surfaced.

You weren’t sure if you were hoping the person's death would be connected to your case or if it was just a coincidence. Knowing Gotham however, it certainly wasn’t a simple coincidence. But one could hope.

"So much for my day off." You muttered to yourself with a quick shake of your head, your hair brushing against your neck sending a tickle through you. Truthfully, it was not unusual for you to always be working when you had an open case that piqued your interest and got you overly invested in it. You amended your shift and made it so that your day off was the following week. However, with the way that the case has been progressing so far your day off may as well be postponed until a much later date. A habit that you have seemed to develop rather early on in your career at the GCPD.

"I guess we'll have to keep working," the voice of your partner sounded out, "extra hard." She added on, jerking you from your thoughts of the case and your day off being postponed once again. You sighed once again, following her into the police department. The sound of chatter and phones ringing filled the air in the bullpen. The distinct smell of coffee and smoke, from those that did smoke, bombarded your senses.

"I suppose," you huffed out in defeat, making a face at the cigarette smell. You had thought that you'd have unravelled the mysteries of the case by now; that the investigation would be over with, as you didn't want it to roll over to next week. Dropping your hand from the brass door handle down to your side, you let the door swing closed with a groan.

The inside of the police department looked just as dismal as the unpleasant weather outside. The fluorescent lights above the grey metal desks did absolutely nothing to brighten the already slightly depressing workplace up. "Look, I know this isn't what you had planned today since it is Sunday," Grace started as she pulled the uncomfortable wooden chair from under her cluttered and unorganised desk, plopping herself down with a long, deep sigh. A mischievous smile stretched its way across her pink lips. "You most likely wanted to spend the day with your boyfriend. Hell, you probably already had plans with him that you had to move to another day." She told you, as if she was trying to persuade you to confess to having a boyfriend. Her dark blue eyes followed your every move, watching as you shrugged off your copper-red leather jacket.

"Okay, I don't have a boyfriend." you countered with a snort, rolling your eyes at her and threw your jacket over the back of your chair hauling it out from under your clean, tidy and organised desk - a complete opposite to Grace's one.

"Okay, sure," Grace snickered as she pushed herself forwards in the chair, her elbows going to the desk in front of her. You couldn't help but notice the disbelief that shadowed her features.

Linking your fingers together you leaned forwards, mimicking your friend. "If I had a boyfriend, don't you think I would have told you?" You asked and offered a small sweet and slightly irritated smile, placing your chin on top of your fingers. 

"No," she answered far too quickly for your taste. "No,  you wouldn't."

She got you there. It was, to you, too private to say to anyone. Puffing your cheeks out, your eyes darted down to the case file on your desk. "Well, I don't have a boyfriend." You told her once more, this time your voice holding conviction in hopes that she would stop bringing it up and believe you for once.

Your hopes soon shattered when it didn't make her stop. In fact, if anything, it merely served to make her talk about it all the more. Her attempts at convincing you to confess to your secret boyfriend becoming all the more clear now.

Grace snickered, shifting in the chair and lowering the hand that had been propping her chin up on the table. She reached a manicured hand towards the never-ending tower of paperwork piled high on her desk. "Says the person who takes private calls and checks her phone every few hours during a work day," she teased, grabbing the first file on the messy pile.

You squeezed your eyes together tightly, sucking in a deep breath of stale air and released it. You had to admit you really hated the fact that she took notes on literally everything that you did when she was around.

With a gentle shake of your head, you opened your eyes to find her grinning at you. "It's called having other friends. Some of which want to talk to me privately," you stated matter-of-factly. This caused Grace's top lip to twist upwards at your words.

“I loathe you,” you grumbled out, pushing yourself away from your desk with ease. Firmly planting your hands flat on the cool surface of your desk, on either side of the case file in front of you. Your chest heaved as you breathed out a couple of deep breaths. Your eyes scanned the buzzing police department. A few criminals sat in the cramped jail cells in the corner beside one set of stairs leading to your brother’s and his partner’s desk. A couple of criminals sat in handcuffs at some desks run by other officers. Nothing too out of the ordinary there. But it seemed to be a tad quieter today than it typically would be.

“You don’t loathe me,” your friend replied in a sing-song voice. “If you just admit to having a boyfriend that you don’t want anyone knowing about, then I can drop this whole conversation.” Your fingers pressed against the desk, turning the tips of your fingers white.

"Who has a boyfriend?" James asked absently as he came to a stop beside your desk, letting his heavy hand fall to your shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. His eyes darting towards the wide-open door of the captain's office. You looked up at your brother and tilted your head to the side as your eyes followed his gaze and stayed fixated on the door. After a long time, you averted your gaze towards James, quirking a brow at him questioningly. 

Evidently your brother hadn't paid attention to who had spoken just a couple of minutes ago. He gave a slight wave of his hand, like he was waving off your unspoken question. "[Y/N] has a boyfriend, but she won't admit it," Grace responded, sending a wink your way.

Reaching up you slapped the palm of your hand against your face, a growl of frustration escaping you. "For the last time, I do not have a boyfriend." You protested with a loud groan.

James chuckled half-heartedly at your misfortune, shifting his hand from your shoulder and up to your head, giving you a pat on the head as he so habitually did. "I highly doubt she does," he spoke up, directing his attention to your partner. "I would have known if she did have a boyfriend. We tell each other many things after all." You smiled triumphantly as James confirmed your point-blank lie.

For a moment you allowed yourself to wonder if he completely believed you didn't have one. It would be ignorant of you to assume he didn't think otherwise, you hadn't mentioned anything to him. Therefore, in a way it would be extremely unlikely if he didn't believe it. You almost felt terrible for not coming clean to your brother. He's usually so sweet, lovely, and supportive of all your boyfriends when you tell him you're seeing someone. But this is considerably different to the previous ones because the man that you're dating is an extremely dangerous hitman, the best there is in Gotham. A hitman that works for none other than Don Carmine Falcone himself. The kingpin's personal hitman that he calls upon whenever he has some 'business' to take care of, which is almost daily. The name that belonged to the hitman that you're dating is Victor Zsasz. 

You weren’t entirely certain if Victor and your brother met in the past. But you knew for a fact that if James had encountered him before, then he wouldn’t be too thrilled about your current choice in men. James would presumably try his best to convince you to stop seeing Victor, or even get involved himself. For now, however, you wanted to keep it a secret from both James and Grace. 

"I have got to go, okay?" James asked you, not that he needed permission to go. It was more to let you know he's done with the conversation. You gave a soft hum and gentle nod of your head in response. James pat your head once again before walking away from you and by Grace. He nudged her arm on his way by, "don't tease her too much, or she'll never open up to you." He told her and Grace hummed in acknowledgement to his piece of advice.

"Hey, it's rude to call me out like that!" you called after him, only to get a wave of his hand in response.

Grace snorted out a laugh of amusement at your expense. "Don't say a word," you exhaled as a warning and pulled yourself closer to your desk. You pressed your lips together as you scanned the small pile of files and paperwork to your right and then down to the file that sat in front of you begging to be opened. **At least my pile is smaller than Grace's** you thought to yourself.

"I wasn't going to say anything." she hummed out, the corner of her lips curling up into a barely noticeable smirk, her eyes more focused on the pieces of paper she had in her hands. 

"No, but you were thinking about it." Grumbling, you flipped the file in front of yourself open, grabbing one of the two pens from the pen holder on your desk swiftly. Slowly and quietly you sifted through the pages of paper while anxiously awaiting the results from the medical examiner.

"[Y/N], you do realise I just want us to have a similar kind of friendship and closeness that Jim and Harvey have right?" Grace suddenly inquired out of nowhere. Your eyes snapped up from the papers and over to Grace hesitantly. 

Leaning back you carefully placed the pen on the desk next to the now scattered papers. 

"I understand that," you nodded, your tongue daring out between your lips to moisten them since they suddenly felt dry. Your brows shot up in surprise at the sudden change of conversation. The fact that Grace had actually told you that she wanted the same kind of friendship as Harvey and James was surprising. "I do understand that, but I don't want to tell you everything right away. I will in time though, just give it... well, time." Grace nodded along, listening to you explain.

"Things right now, for me at least, are a bit... all over the place."

"That's fine and all, but don't make it seem as if you don't trust me. That you don't want anything to do with me." The tone of her voice changed in a matter of seconds. Annoyance, hurt and anger dripped from her words. You knew you were acting a bit cold and stiff towards her. You never meant to make her feel as if you didn't trust her or that you didn't want to be friends with her. 

Reclining back in the chair which creaked under the shift of your weight. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that," you started to tell her, hoping you could tell her about the fact that her lack of replies made it seem as if she wasn’t exactly welcoming the idea of being friends. Without a word she stood up from her chair and turned to walk away.

Pressing your index and middle finger to your temple, you exhaled sharply. That wasn't how you were expecting things to go today with Grace. Usually she would try to get you to joke about something. Every so often it worked and other times it didn't work out that way. 

“Great going there,” you muttered to yourself in a hushed voice, shifting in the chair again to get comfortable. Gradually you lowered your hand back to the cold metal desk, deciding it may be better for you if you got on with your work. Talking to Grace about it could wait for another time. You went to pick up the pen and to sort through the pages, when the sound of three sets of foot falls caught your attention. Now, this wasn’t an unusual thing to hear in a police department, plenty of people walked in and out of the department on a daily basis. However, these foot falls sounded familiar to your ears.

When a loud knocking sound of knuckles hitting one of the many metal desks came from behind you, you and everyone else on the first floor of the department turned around quickly to see who it was that demanded the attention of the entire GCPD. Your eyes landed upon two women. One was dressed in a leather skirt, a bra looking corset and black combat boots. The other woman looked as if she was wearing a netted dress with an under bust leather corset and black combat boots.

A look of confusion and recognition passed over your features, replacing the frown that had formed from the previous with Grace. You recognised the two women from when you had first met Victor; he had just finished a job, and the three of them exited the alleyway. You had walked into Victor by accident, too busy arguing with your brother over the phone. You and Victor introduced yourselves before going your separate ways. If your memory was serving you correctly, Victor referred to the women as the Zsaszettes.

“Oh fuck,” you muttered out breathlessly, saying this more to yourself than anyone else in the bullpen with you. Your eyes landed upon your very own secret boyfriend. Victor stood in the middle of the room, his hands balled into fists by his side as he looked around the dull room. A couple of workmates close to you spared a sideways glance once they heard you speak, questioning and puzzled looks on their faces. It wasn’t long before their attention went back to the tall, pale man in front of them. Victor looked satisfied with the attention he had gained.

You did have to admit, Victor dressed up in his black suit, with his braces hanging loosely behind him looked hot as all hell. And ever so slightly intimidating. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, an effect he seemed to have on you from the very start.

[humandisasterskywalker]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Touch-Starved, Hallucinations, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, No Beta We Die Like Clones Series: Part 6 of Whumptober 2021 Summary:

Whumptober 2021

Day 6 - TOUCH & GO

bruises / touch starved /hunger

"I’m happy knowing you are a hallucination Anakin, you don’t have to worry that my clarity about the situation will stop me from having them. I don’t mind. They give me someone to talk to.”

Obi Wan had been presumed dead. Anakin had to let him go, but he had never ever been able to truly give up hope. Part of him always hoped, always dreamed that he would find his Master. He never gave much consideration to the state that Obi Wan would be left in...

.

.

.

Anakin froze.

He glanced around. The city was quiet, nothing particularly out of the ordinary for a Mid Rim planet that had not been touched by the war.

Definitely not the kind of place where he would feel that.

Not that he ever thought that he would feel it again. He had accepted it. He had been forced into accepting that his Master was gone.

He had searched for so long that it was the only possible solution.

But then why had he just sensed Obi Wans force signature.

He reached up to where his Padawan braid should have been. Obi Wan should have been the one to cut that. Geonosis had robbed the order of so much, but it had robbed Anakin of a Master.

It couldn’t have been him.

It couldn’t.

But Anakin couldn’t help it.

He closed his eyes letting his breath even out and reached out with the force.

His mind pushed through the city passing over street after street, thousands of unremarkable sentients. Uninteresting signatures.

Disappointment washed over him. This is why he stopped. This is why he had forced himself into acceptance. He had stopped hoping because every disappointment was like losing Obi Wan all over again.

He began to withdraw when he felt it.

Just on the edges of his consciousness, like it had been deliberately hidden there was a spark.

A spark of familiarity.

It was faint but it was there. It had to be.

There was no way anyone could have such a similar signature to his Master. Obi Wan had been unique, even amongst the Jedi order. No one else in the galaxy could have such a similar impact on the force. Of that Anakin was certain.

He was moving before he realised it, the informant he was supposed to be meeting with gone from his mind. He was fixated on only one thing.

Obi Wan. Obi Wan was here.

The speeder bike he commandeered was old, sputtering and not going at anywhere near the speed he wanted it to. He ignored the traffic, swerving between the stationary and slow-moving land speeders and probably breaking every planetary traffic rule in the process.  But Anakin didn’t care. The signature was getting closer. Obi Wan was getting closer.

The buildings grew darker and more run down as he left the city centre, the streets growing more empty.

He stopped the speeder outside a warehouse. It was more than rundown. It was practically decrepit, several of the windows were broken and the roof looked like part of it had already collapsed.

Some street urchins began to creep towards him, before turning in the other direction when they caught sight of his lightsaber.

Good. They should be afraid. Everyone on this planet should be afraid of him, for keeping his Master from him. He closed his eyes taking a deep breath. Those were not thoughts worth following. There would be no point finding his master again just to lose him by again by falling to the dark.

He pushed open the door, igniting his blade to light up the room.

The room was large but bare. Any of the old industrial equipment had been ripped out leaving it empty.

There was no sign of Obi Wan.

Anakin tried to fight off the rising tide of panic. He could sense Obi Wan, he had to be here. He had to.

He scanned the room looking for something, looking for anything that could give him an idea. Any clue as to where Obi Wan could be.

There. On the far wall, the door to the old supervisors' office was different. Shinier. Far too new for a building like this.

He moved to inspect it. Definitely newer.  The rest of the building had been unsecured with decaying manual locks on the doors and windows, the very embodiment of low-tech. This door however was the opposite. There was a complicated computer panel next to the door, grafted into the concrete of the floor and completely out of character with the rest of the building.

Anakin wished he had brought Artoo, rather than leaving him in his starfighter back on the ship. The astromech would have been able to slice it within minutes. He looked more closely at the panel. He probably could slice into it if given the time. And the patience.

Anakin drove his lightsaber through the door. He did not have the patience.

The door was heavy duty, but it wasn’t a blast door. It only took him a few minutes to cut an opening through the dura-steel.

He stepped through. The corridor beyond was dimly lit but that didn’t matter. Anakin could sense him strongly now. His Master was here.

His Master was alive!

Anakin rolled an industrial door aside and froze.

Obi Wan was sat slumped against the far wall. He looked up at the sound of the door and gave a small smile.

“So it is you who is visiting me today dear one.”

Obi Wans face was covered in bruises, his hair was wild and his beard had grown out of control. He didn’t look at all like the immaculately presented man he had always known.

But it was undeniable that it was him.

“Master! I…”

“You haven’t come to see me for a while Padawan. Qui-Gon has been the one who has visited me the most recently.”

“Master, but Master Jinn is… he’s dead.”

Obi Wan waved a dismissive hand. “Oh I know he’s not real, just like you aren’t but it is nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t one of them.”

“But Master I am real. It’s me. Anakin!”

Obi Wan narrowed his eyes.

“None of you have tried to convince me you were real in a while. I’m happy knowing you are hallucinations Anakin, you don’t have to worry that my clarity about the situation will stop me from having them. I don’t mind. They give me someone to talk to.”

Anakin was panicking again. He hadn’t considered the state Obi Wan would be in, single minded in his determination to find him that he had given no thought to the attention that he may need. If he had been suffering these sorts of hallucinations for such a long time… He would need to see a mind healer. And soon.

“Master look at me!” Anakin begged. “Do I look like I did the last time I saw you? Can’t you see I’m older? Why would you hallucinate that.”

Obi Wan looked unsure for the first time.

“You don’t have your braid.” He muttered. “Why don’t you have your braid?”

“I was Knighted by Master Yoda, we… we couldn’t find you. I-” Anakin's voice cracked. “I wanted to wait. I wanted you to do it, but we couldn’t find you.”

Obi Wan looked smaller like the world was closing in on him. His eyes darted around the room, frantic.

“You have always looked like you did on the last day I saw you when you have visited before. Why do you look older? Why?”

Anakin edged closer. “It really is me, Master. I swear.”

Obi Wan wasn’t listening to him. He was talking to himself quickly, trying to convince himself.

“They never come this close. They never touch. He won’t be able to touch. Don’t hope. It’s not real. You can’t hope.”

Anakin knelt down in front of him.

“Master. I am here.”

He reached forward.

The moment his hand touched Obi Wans face the man let out a sob.

He slumped forwards into Anakin's arms.

“It is you. It's really you.”

“I found you, Master!” Anakin felt tears on his cheeks. His words choked. “I always hoped. I always dreamed.”

“Never lost faith in you. My dear one. My Padawan. The best Padawan.”

“I’m sorry it took so long. I failed you.”

“You could never fail me Anakin.”  He ran his hand up through Anakin's hair, rubbing his hand where the braid used to be. “You’ve been Knighted. I’m glad. I wish I could have been the one to cut your braid.”

“I wanted you to be,” Anakin whispered. “It didn’t feel right. Master Yoda treated me well but it wasn’t you. It should have been you.”

“You honour me Anakin. You would have honoured me as a knight even if you never found me.”

Anakin felt Obi Wans grip tighten.

“You found me he” whispered. “You are truly here.”

“I won’t leave you again Master,” Anakin said. “I promise. You will never be left alone like this again.”

Obi Wans eyes closed. His conversation became incoherent again. “Found. They were never able to touch. Never before were they able to touch.” He squeezed Anakin's hand again.

“We’re going to get you back to the Temple Master. We’ll get you better. We’ll get you home.

“Home” Obi Wan agreed.

Anakin gathered him up in his arms. His master was light, far too light for a man who was only a couple of inches shorter than him. What had happened to him Anakin thought darkly.

He drove back to the ship as quick as he could. He didn’t let go of Obi Wan for a second, terrified that he would disappear the moment he did.

Obi Wan never let go of his hand.

[wingsofhcpe]

whumptober day 2- choking

fandom: shadow & bone

pairing: fivan [ivan x fedyor kaminsky]

rating: T+

additional warnings: blood, injury, gore

you can also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34208404/chapters/85175464#workskin

[tagging @camilleisback upon request <3]

He makes it out of the Fold by the skin of his teeth. He uses everything that he has at his disposal; his powers, his experience, even the little bit of faith to the Saints he has retained over the years. It’s enough to get him out in the end, but not enough to make sure he does so unscathed.

Ivan crawls the last few meters away from the outer reaches of the Shadow Fold, tendrils of darkness still clinging to his clothes -or whatever has remained of them, anyway- as if they’re trying to pull him back into the hell he just barely escaped. He knows it’s all in his mind; the Fold isn’t sentient, although it houses sentient forms of life. Still, if there’s even the slightest possibility that something, be it the darkness or its monstrous inhabitants, may appear out of nowhere and drag him back inside, he knows with mortifying certainty he’ll be unable to get away a second time. All of his strength, his willpower, the force of his very life, is spent. It’s quite literally bleeding out of him as he collapses for good between the abandoned ruins of Novokribirsk’s outer reaches, the thick red liquid soaking into the barren ground. Within the haze of pain and exhaustion that muddles his thoughts, Ivan realises what poetic justice means; he helped cause this disaster. He helped drain all life out of this ground. Now, he’s giving it all back with his own blood. That’s alright, he thinks. It’s the circle of life, after all; when someone dies, their essence returns to the Making at the Heart of the World. Their life force seeps back into the heartbeat that makes the earth turn, that moves the waters, feeds the animals, drives the Grisha. They must all return to it when they’re ready.

And Ivan is ready. He really is. He is content to be sacrificing himself for General Kirigan’s righteous purpose, for the good of all the Grisha, for the safety of everyone in Ravka. He’s content to be reunited with his deceased brothers, his father, his uncle. And he would have been content to leave this cold, cruel world behind, if it wasn’t for one thing. One mere little thing that’s still holding him back. That is making him think he’s not yet ready to leave this plane of existence.

He doesn’t want to leave Fedyor behind.

It’s foolish, really. They’re soldiers, and the knowledge that one or both of them will most likely meet an untimely death, far out of reach from the other, has been ever-present in their relationship even before they made their feelings known. It had all been a silly little fantasy, a comforting but naïve dream, thinking that they may get the chance to grow old together, to die in bed held in each other’s arms after living to see Ravka in peace. Ivan had always believed himself to be a pragmatist, if not a pessimist- but this dream, this hope… Fedyor had almost made him believe they would get their happy ending. And now… it hurt. It hurt to think that he would leave Fedyor behind. That his death would extinguish his beloved’s warm, bright smile. That it would break his heart.

What Ivan wouldn’t have given to be able to speak to Fedyor one last time. To say all the things he may have kept to himself all those years. ‘I love you’. ‘You’re the light of my life’. ‘There is nothing more important to me than you are’. Fedyor knows already, and Ivan is aware. But still- he has been frugal with words of affection. Fedyor deserved so much more than his silent. Sometimes actions may speak louder than words, but others, you need to hear those words from someone’s lips. Words are comfort; words are a promise. Ivan didn’t realise until now. But now it’s too late, far too late.

Ivan closes his eyes as the sun sets below the horizon, somewhere to his left. Part of him mourns its descent; he already misses the warmth, the light. The sun… Fedyor is his sun. The Starkov girl, the traitor, may be the Sun Summoner, but nothing she does will ever come close to the warmth radiance that Fedyor emits just by existing.

“F-Fedya…” Ivan chokes on his own blood, sputtering and coughing until his lungs feel like they’re on fire. He knows he’s alone, and that Fedyor can’t hear him. But he wants to speak his beloved’s name just once more. A prayer, a goodbye.

Darkness seems to ebb out of the Fold and engulf the world around him, but it is just the night. Simply the natural order of things. Ivan gradually begins to shiver, his temperature dropping by the minute due to blood loss as well as the lack of a proper heating source. He groans softly; the little spasms that run through his body make the pain worse, make his wounds feel as if they’re being torn anew over and over again. But soon even those weak sounds fade, his strength nowhere nearly enough even for that. It’s barely enough to keep him breathing. To keep his heart beating.

The hours pass, or at least he thinks so; he cannot be sure. When he hears the distant sound of hoofbeats on the ground, he initially dismisses it as a hallucination, or perhaps even Death itself riding on its black steed to come claim his soul. But then something else tugs at the corners of his senses; a sound as familiar as breath, as life itself. A heartbeat he would be able to recognise even if he was already dead.

Ivan wants to stand. He wants to shout, to draw the attention of the one person that’s still keeping him tied to this world, that is making life worth living. But he cannot move- he cannot even speak. He can only lay in silence and pray with all of his might to whatever Saint is still watching over him, that Fedyor will detect his heartbeat just as Ivan detected his. That he won’t just ride right past him, leaving him to die alone, and cold, and in so much pain.

Don’t leave me. Fedya, please, don’t leave me.

Call it a miracle, call it divine intervention, or just luck. But the sounds that have stirred Ivan from his dying slumber draw closer and closer, until there’s no further doubt- it’s not a hallucination. It is real. This is real. He’s not alone.

A voice, a familiar and adored voice, calls his name. Fedyor is suddenly kneeling on the ground next to him, the flickering light of a traveling lantern illuminating his face. His eyes are brimming with tears, and all he repeats, over and over, is Ivan’s name.

“Vanya, my Vanya. It’s alright. I’m here now. You’ll be okay my love, I promise.”

Strong arms lift him slowly, as carefully as possible, and Ivan hears his own voice distantly as he cries out. Saints, the pain- it’s unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He feels his insides may drop out of his body from the gaping wounds across his chest and stomach, and he’s not certain whether or not his right arm is still properly attached to his body. It surely doesn’t feel like it is. But Fedyor whispers words of comfort to him, even as Ivan chokes and coughs up more blood. He cannot reply, although he dearly wants to; he wants to thank Fedyor, he wants to ask him not to leave him, to be gentle because oh, it all hurts so bad. And even though he’s unable to talk, and can only stare at his beloved pleadingly through blurry eyes, Fedyor understands. Fedyor has always understood, and now it’s no exception. He presses a soft kiss on Ivan’s blood-streaked brow, and sets himself to work.

Ivan flashes in and out of conscience while Fedyor and his Grisha companions clean and bandage his wounds. Even amidst unconsciousness, however, Ivan can feel his partner’s steady, unwavering and comforting presence. And he knows, now, that everything will be okay.

The next time Ivan comes properly around, the pain has subsided. Someone has lit a fire between the ruins that have offered shelter to the group, and there’s something soft and warm enveloping him. It takes him a moment to realise it’s Fedyor’s kefta, having replaced his own torn and ruined clothes. Fedyor himself is holding him in his arms, humming a soft Fjerdan lullaby- one that Ivan had sung to him during a particularly bad injury, while the Healers at the Little Palace had been patching Fedyor up. Despite himself, despite everything, Ivan’s lips twitch into a small smile. Fedyor smiles back, and leans down to gently bump their noses together.

“I’m here, lapushka.” He says reassuringly, as if he knows it’s just what Ivan needs to hear. The latter sucks in a wobbly breath, but Fedyor immediately shakes his head.

“No, don’t try to talk now. Just rest. I’ll stay with you.”

There’s no need for words between them, as there has never been. But Ivan silently promises, both to Fedyor and himself, that as soon as he regains his ability to speak, he’s going to tell Fedyor every day how much he loves him, how much he means to him, how thankful he is that Fedyor didn’t abandon him out here in the darkness and the cold.

Before sleep overtakes him, he swears he won’t ever again leave those words unspoken.

[blitzturtles]

Title: It Starts Like This, Ch. 6

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba, FugoNara / NaraFugo (Could be platonic, honestly, tho the BruAbba definitely isn't.)

Summary: “What?” he snaps.

“I’m just thinking.”

A pause. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Notes: Turns out being dead has a bit of a long term effect. Who would have thought?

This fic got away from me, so I'm breaking it down by character interaction (sort of). Here's another Bucci-centric chapter for the Bucci-centric fic.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Additional Notes: Sometimes having two disabled folks in one relationship is... rough. Not at all based on real life experiences...

Content Warning: couple fighting and a panic attack.

Also, for unnecessary clarification: Moody doesn't zipper through anything. Abbacchio goes around barriers and resets her timer as needed. Oh, and I use she/her for Moody. I've got a fic planned for that eventually.

There's also a mild mention of a headcanon I have where Bucci is technically Narancia's guardian. For school and healthcare purposes. (Fugo emancipated post-disownment, and Giorno kind of flies under the radar.)

-

Bucciarati won’t admit it, but there’s something devastating about the first medication not working. Or not working well enough. They can’t be sure, but he’s not willing to continue on something that ultimately failed to curb such a traumatic experience for one of the people he cares for most. He can’t quite shake the guilt that’s been slowly wearing away at him for days.

It’s only the anxiety of having another seizure in front of his famiglia that has him permitting Abbacchio staying home once more. He can’t do that to Narancia again, and he knows that it won’t be any less stressful for the rest of them. It’s bad enough when Leone has to deal with the fallout, but he’s better prepared for it. He’s seen worse, and it’s part of what they both signed up for. For better or worse, in sickness and in health. They’ve done everything but scribbled their names on the paperwork to make it official, but Bruno thinks that, with everything else they’ve gone through, they’ve more than earned their right as one another’s life partner.

Still, that doesn’t mean that Bucciarati likes to be watched like a lab experiment. With eyes that are waiting for the slightest hint that something’s wrong. It makes him acutely aware of the fact that he could have another seizure at any given moment. That he might have one with no warning signs, or at least not any that he’d recognize as such.

That’s the problem with auras; he can’t seem to recognize them for what they are.

He’s being unreasonable, he knows. He hasn’t had enough seizures to know whether or not he’ll learn to recognize the warning signs, but it feels like it’s been an eternity already. And a thousand seizures, rather than a small handful. Part of that is due to how poorly he feels afterwards, and how off he feels on the medication. Part of it is how all of this has disrupted their lives in every way imaginable. And all of it has him in a sour mood.

“You’re upset,” Abbacchio starts with a frown. It’s the first time either of them has spoken all morning.

“I’m frustrated.”

Abbacchio hums in response. A quiet sound that wouldn’t normally grate Bucciarati’s nerves, but it gets under his skin and festers.

“What?” he snaps.

“I’m just thinking.”

A pause. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it,” Abbacchio answers, snappish and untrue. Even if it were, he knows why. Understands better than anyone else.

Bruno’s eyes widen slightly. A startled, wounded look evident in his blue irises, but his gaze hardens and he sneers,

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“Bruno, wait--”

But Bruno is already gone with nothing but a trace of gold left behind.

Damn that stand.

______

It’s a childish thing, to storm off, especially when Bucciarati knows that Leone’s only worried. That he hadn’t meant the words that came out of his mouth, and that he’s as scared as Bucciarati is. That this is all out of his depth, regardless of what they feel for one another or what promises they’ve made. It’s still terrifying the way it’s terrifying to watch Abbacchio cough up blood some mornings.

He regrets leaving the moment he stops moving. Stops tearing holes through walls and leaving Sticky Fingers to put them back together. It’s like someone punched the air out of him, and all he can do is sink to the ground, on his knees, with his head held in his hands and his mouth open, gasping for air.

Each breath comes too quick, and leaves before he feels like he gets any air. There’s something wrapped around his chest. Too tight, and somehow pulling tighter. It’s all he can do to lie down. Before the next inevitable comes. He already feels too light-headed with a lingering dizziness that makes it impossible to think through.

“Bruno,” the voice sounds familiar. Too much like his own echoing in his ears, but he’s not talking, much less calling his own name. His voice wouldn’t sound like that. Wouldn’t sound steady, if not worried, but, when he looks, there’s a mirror image of himself looking down at him. It falls to its knees, and a familiar sound rings out in the air as Moody’s timer runs out. She reaches for him as purple wraps around her frame once more.

“Bruno,” Leone repeats, this time in his own voice, from his own body. He all but collapses on his knees beside his stand and reaches out with careful hands to brush Bucciarati’s hair from his face.

Time freezes for a moment. Bucciarati expects consciousness to flee him without warning, but the air lingers. Stale and stiff and impossible to breathe, and all he can do is try and try to pull enough of it into his lungs to try to chase away the spots dancing across his vision.

Recognition flashes across Leone’s features. Where his hand has gone still in Bruno’s hair, it moves once more. A gentle carding. A distraction from the racing fears in Bucciarati’s head. He can’t calm his breathing no matter how hard he tries. It feels completely out of his control, and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Leone asks him seemingly out of the blue, but he knows that’s not right. That Leone must have been talking since his arrival, but Bruno can’t recall a word that’s been said.

“Yes,” he breathes, because he is now, and he meant to before. It’s just so hard to hear anything past the roaring in his ears.

“You need to calm down a little bit. Take some deep breaths,” Leone tells him, as if Bucciarati hasn’t been trying to do that since he stopped moving. There’s a sense of impending doom that lingers, pressing down on him until it’s crushing and unbearable.

“Hey,” Leone calls, tapping Bruno gently on the forehead, “You gotta focus on me, alright? Stop listening to whatever’s going on in that thick head of your’s, and listen to me. I need you to breathe in-- slower than that. Okay, good, hold-- now out. Annnd in--” They go through the steps several more times, until Bucciarati can successfully follow the counts more often than not. Finally-- finally he can breathe. Oxygen filters through his system, and his vision begins to clear. It’s only then that he starts to put the pieces together, and it’s shame that replaces the panic.

“I’m-”

“Don’t,” Leone cuts Bruno off before he can apologize. “I get it.” He moves to catch Bruno when he wobbles a bit too much upon trying to sit up. “Take it easy, will you?” He sighs and sits back.

“Sorry,” Bruno says, for lack of anything else to say.

“I’ll kick your ass if you apologize again.”

Bruno opens his mouth, and Leone quirks an eyebrow. It’s enough of a threat, empty as it may be, to convince Bruno to click his teeth together.

Leone huffs a sound that might be a laugh. Or it might be the last of his sanity slipping away. He scrubs his hands over his face and sighs. “I’m sorry. For what I said earlier. That was shitty. I’m just-”

“Scared?”

“Terrified.”

“That’s fair,” Bruno muses quietly. He absently wipes at his face, and it’s the first time he realizes that there are tears there. Streaking down both cheeks and plentiful in nature. He can’t remember the last time he had a panic attack. He’s better at running from his problems than he is dealing with them head on. At least the ones emotional in nature. The rest he’s always tackled with little more than a hope and a prayer to a deity he’s long lost faith in. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I told you to stop apologizing.”

“When have I ever listened to you?” Bruno snarks back, shoulders relaxing slightly.

Leone snorts, “Not a day in your life.” Bruno has the scars to prove it, too. Bastard. “C’mon. Let’s get off the floor. I’m getting too old for this.”

It’s Bruno’s turn to laugh this time, “You’re barely in your twenties.”

“And I’m too goddamn old. Up,” Leone pushes himself to his feet before reaching his hands out to pull Bruno upright. There’s a pause where the two are lost, staring at one another, and Leone decides ‘fuck it’. What better time to go for a kiss then after your partner has a full on panic attack? They’ve done worse with far more questionable timing.

Bruno responds to the kiss with a pleased little sound in the back of his throat. He tugs Leone closer, wanting the contact more than anything. He can feel Leone’s hands cradling the back of his head, fingers linking together at his nape.

“Gross! Get a room!”

Leone curses as they break apart and shoots Narancia the meanest look he can, “I will murder you.”

“Only if you catch me!” And the kid is off before Leone can even respond.

Bucciarati can’t help laughing at the whole display. He grabs for Leone’s hand before his partner can seriously consider killing Narancia. “May I remind you that I’m legally responsible for him?”

“They won’t find the body.”

“Leone!”

[marvel-m-lee]

Fire, Note books and a- kid? •Part 1 of M-Verse•

Warning! This series will include gruesome descriptions of blood, bodies etc. These may be rare but they will be graphic. (This one doesn't have much tickling but it has a⁸ little haha)

This Series is also a tickls series, so if you dont like it, sorry oof.

Fandom: Marvel

-

"CRAP" Sam yelled as he flew right under a collapsing tie beam. "Language!" The cap yelled through the intercom, they were on a mission. There had been an explosion in an old warehouse building, no one knows how it happened but once they got there the place was covered with fire and dead bodies.

They were now in the building, fighting what they believed to be ex hydra workers that went into hiding for more experiments.

Cap fought from the ground whilst Sam was trying to get some shots from above while reading looked for any potential prisoners.

"Ain't seeing nothing from RedWibg Cap, the place is about to blow, we've gotta get out" Steve had just taken out about 17- now 18 Hydra agents, throwing them in the burning flames or beating them in combat.

"Alright, have one more look around the perimeter. Nat get the Jet prepared for exit incase the place actually does blow" He yelled, fighting off the last two Hydra agents in his area, throwing one onto another knocking them into a large fire screaming.

"K, sam make sure there arent any survivors" Nat ran back to the jet and started it up, the lights turning on as it slowly began to hover over the ground.

"Will do Widow" Sam flew up above the collapsing building to get another view of the area.

"Black Widow or Natasha" A sassy voice explained down the intercom.

"Okay Spider Lady" A grunt was heard that made both Cap and Sam laugh. Sam was looking through Redwing and his own eyes and couldn't seem to spot anything. "It all seems clear" Just as he were about to fly back down though he noticed something.

A young girl, her hair stuck together with some blood, mixed with dirt and wood. Her skin covered with brown mud and small cuts, she wore a white ripped hospital gown, too no longer white- or had seemed to be in years?...

"Holy shit-"

"Language!"

"There's a kid- west bound, see if you can get her. Covered in dirt and seemingly blood, right near where the fire seemed to have started from the burnt wood scraps and dying fires around her"

"A kid? West bound? Nat how long we got left?" Steve asked, running through the flames, dodging their burns and running as fast as he could.

"Before the place explodes? From my view about 150 seconds, just over two minutes. But you're gonna need to be fast so we can all get out." Nat watched over the intercoms and the computers showing where Steve was.

"Take a left"

"What?"

"Take a left! I'm giving you the fastest route to the west bound. Keep running until you find large doors, go through them and the last one at the end should lead to the girl"

Steve stopped asking the questions and complied. It wasnt his first time saving a kid, but the closer he got, the more he saw about the place. Cages, torture chambers, training halls.

This place wasnt a good one, especially for a kid... He thought.

He found the large doors, chained shut. Before he reached them he threw his shield, breaking the locks almost instantly. He ran through, but stopped in his tracks. The room was full of blood, the sticky walls glossed over, there were bones, some shattered, some scattered. Not hundreds, probably enough for the bodies of a good couple of people though... it was gruesome. Some of the worst things he had seen in a while, probably since... well. The blip?..

How was a kid kept here? How did we not know sooner?...

The thoughts span round the super solider head, taking up more time than he would have cared for.

"Steve? What's happened why'd you stop? We've got a minute!" Nat asked, she was getting impatient, the adrenaline was rising and so were the flames, everyone felt on edge here, as soon as they stepped down something felt very wrong.

"Shit, yeah. Alright, I'm going!" Steve ran and soon found the young girl, she didn't seem too strictly harmed for being so close to the flames. And for surviving in this, this prison.

"Got her, how long have I got left?"

"45 seconds"

Steve now had the young girl over his shoulder, he was trying to run even faster than he had before. This place. Something else had been happening here.

As the 100 year old ran though, he seemed to notice the fire die down wherever he ran to, creating a simple path for him to run in. He spotted the jet, Sam was standing in the open doorway, waiting to see if cap would make it. Silently cheering him on.

"10 seconds Cap"

"Start taking off now, we'll make it."

"FUCK NO! HURRY UP MAN" Sam yelled, this time to Captain America ratger rgan through the intercoms.

Time felt like it was going in slow motion, Steve got close enough just to jump and as soon as he did the whole place behind blew up. It all went so quickly after that, Sam grabbed his hand, holding on with all his might as Steve held the young girl. Nat, quicker than ever, sped off into the sky, miles from the ground to make sure the explosion wouldn't hit them as harshly as it should have.

Steve lay on the floor, with the young girl cradled in his arms behind the shield so she wouldn't get burnt. He was staring at her, even though she was covered in- well not so flattering things, she was beautiful. Something within began stirring. Something warm, familiar...

"Holy shit my dude. We almost died!" Sam droned, going to sit down on the chairs they had.

"We usually almost die, its part of our job" Nat explained, walking in and rolling her eyes. "Nahhh, Nat even you know that place was off" Sam looked over to the spy who sighed and walked over to Steve to help him up.

"How's the kid?"

Steve stood up and pulled away the shield to show off a little girl with y/c/h hair, covered in mud and pieces of blood, tucked up into his chest, breathing gently. "Wow" Sam sighed from the back.

"She's not in as much bad of a state as I would have imagined?" Nat said, watching over the little girl. "She wasnt too close to the big fire, must have been thrown into the mud and spotty snow from the explosion." Sam suggested.

Steve just held onto the small angel in his arms. He felt as though it were only he and she in the world, that time was no longer relevant. He memorized every piece of her face, even the pieces with dirt, cuts and bruises.

Suddenly Nat snapped him out of it, "Alright, I'm going to go get Bruce over. See if she's alright. For now just but her on a bed." Steve nodded as the Spider left to go call Dr. Banner.

"We haven't got beds though?- oh fuck you man" Steve laughed at Sam, he had just pulled out a bed from the sides of the ship. "You didnt know?" He teased. He and Nat had let sam sleep on the chairs or ground for the past few years. It seemed to be a secret agreement not to tell him amongst the avengers.

"Nah man, that's cold" Steve placed the little girl down and pulled up the walls of the bed to make sure she wouldn't fall out. Watching her little breaths as Sam's words started to fade away.

"Oi you even listening to me?" Sam asked unamused sitting up and looking at the fallen solider. "She's gonna be alright Steve" Steve sighed, deep down he knew she'd be fine. But he felt something strange. Fear. Like he had just found an old journal or someone he hadn't seen for a very long time.

He sighed and stood up, walking over to the bird man who was now sitting up watching the soldiers actions. They both heard Natasha in the background talking with Bruce.

"She's gonna be alright Steve"

"I hope so..."

It was a while till they had all landed at the compound. Rogers and Wilson played some card games- dont question it, Roger's made Tony buy him loads for each mission. He enjoyed the games. He also won most of them.

Steve picked the young girl up and brought her to Bruce as the doors opened up, they lauded her down on a hospital bed and hurried off. Bruce stayed back checking in on everyone. "The mission?"

"A success as always"

Steve seemed quiet, Sam answering fir him rather than fir himself. He watched the girl be scurried along into the building.

"Did you clean all her wounds?"

"Mhm"

Steve looked down and nodded before they all began walking. He didnt mean to seem any less- well captain america-y, but he definitely had something on his mind. Bruce began to follow quickly to ask what's up.

"Hmm? Oh.. nothing. Just worried for the child" Steve tried to brush the feeling off but couldn't his gut had other plans. They wanted to see the girl, see if she was okay.

"She's gonna be alright, she only needs a few tests done- safe ones of course, blood pressure, cut cleansing etc" Bruce smiled at the much taller man. Oh god he was short. Steve smiled back to the Dr with 7 PHD's.

"Thanks Banner, I'm gonna go see Stark"

"Okay, stay safe, I'll tell you when she's improved"

Steve nodded and walked into the building, turning an opposite way to Banner and going to go see Stark. Steve was secretly very grateful Bruce would tell him about the child once she was improving. He felt a connection.

"Stark?" The 100 year old asked, knocking on the doors to the Lab.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, Open the Doors for Roger's Pleade and Thank you" The billionaire didnt move from his seat, he had been working on some new tech as usual.

"Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y" Steve walked in, still in his spandex from the mission covered in blood and dirt with little scuff marks all over from the fire flames.

"Its an 8 Code Pin Rogers"

"I know I know, I just can't seem to remember it"

Tony rolled his eyes and looked up leaning on his chair with one arm resting over the top.

"What's up?"

Steve furrowed his brows. "Hmm?"

"You, you seem... less Super, more Man"

Steve rolled his eyes, "I'm not Super Man Tony!" Tony just shrugged and chewed the side of his cheek.

"Dunno there Cap" The genius stood up and walked over to him, the man was much seemingly smaller without his heals on, just bare foot walking around. He got extremely close to the Cap and got on his tip toes leaning in. If he wanted he could have kissed the man he were so close, though they both knew it wouldn't happen, Tony just liked getting close to annoy people.

That's when the billionaire squealed and almost fell to the ground with a jump back, a light blush on his face. "Dick" Steve smirked at the man, he sure was one ticklish man, billionaire, genius who cares. He was still ticklish. Tony went to go sit back down.

"So what's up?" This time, happily keeping his distance.

"I saved a kid today"

Tony furrowed his brows and chuckled, slowly clapping his hands. "Well done soldier, you saved a kid"

"Tony im serious"

"Well I didn't really think you were lying-"

Steve stepped forward making the Billionaire loose his confidence. He never minded being tickled, but then again it didnt help his reputation being melted into a giggly mess. He was still really nervous. Steve smirked at the man but then continued.

"She was covered in dirt and bits of blood. But before I found her, I ran through a hall. It was Dark, but the raging fires lit it up. There were bones, scattered. Probably enough for a good few people, some big some small. And blood, all over the walls..."

Steve tensed up, remembering the place. "It reminded me of the war with Thanos."

Tony stayed quiet, no longer fearful of childish tickles. It seemed horrifying. Even for them. "Okay, send me the Locations, I'll get F.R.I.D.A.Y up and working on it alright?" Tony wasn't the best when it came to comforting, but he knew he could do something.

Steve looked up at him and smiled thankfully, but Tony coukd tell there was something else bothering. Yet he didn't want Steve to be too focused on it all.

"Hey, here" Tony grabbed something from within a draw, it had a captain America's shield on the front, he handed it to steve. Just a normal sketch book. And some pencils. "You're welcome to use these and sit down at the window or something while I work. Keep your mind off things.

"Thanks Tony" Steve smiled at the billionaire, he wasnt great at comforting, but he knew what Steve wanted. It was a strange friendship that's for sure.

"Look at the first page too! I did a little something" The billionaire smirked as Steve turned the book open, on the front was an IronMan helmet with a little speech bubble saying "I Am IronMan" and a little stick figure with a shield in a cage in the bottom corner saying "I stink!"

Tony burst out laughing at Steve's expression. Let's just say his laughing continued for longer than expected...