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dudeitiskarev · 12 days

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Almost Lover | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x ghost!female reader

Summary: You died right in front of him, yet you're still around.

Tags/warnings: death; grief; angst with a bit of humor.

Word count: 4.5k

Author's note: this is a repost from my AO3. Since I deactivated a while ago, I've been slowly, very slowly. reposting my fics on here 🥰 this piece is one of my favorites I've written so for those who haven't read it, I hope you like it! Flashbacks are in italics.

MASTERLIST

The night froze for a moment.

Like never before, you weren’t able to talk down the unsub, and your confident “we can talk about this” as you lowered your gun, became your last words – your last breath. They pulled the trigger — literally — and from that moment, everything happened in slow motion.

Yet the single gunshot that blared around was so damn fast. It broke the air on its way to you and went straight through your skull, killing you within half a second.

Nice and quick, you would’ve said.

“No.” Aaron’s ears started ringing; his eyes widened in disbelief and his gun slipped off his hand like sand at the same time your body dropped dead to the ground.

“Shots fired! Agent down!” JJ’s voice turned into a desperate scream.

No.

This must be one of Aaron’s nightmares; the ones that felt too real and woke him up covered in sweat; the ones that always made him call you in the middle of the night just to hear your voice and make sure you were alright, and the ones that sometimes ended up with you laying next to him because you wanted to be there when he fell asleep again.

The digital clock on his nightstand marked 4:47 AM. He’d been dozing on and off for the past hour since the nightmare but a gentle knock on his door awakened all of his senses.

“Aaron, it’s me.” Your voice came soft but loud enough from behind the door.

An instant sigh of relief dragged him out of bed to the front door. It wasn’t the first time you’d shown up unannounced at his place, but he still wondered, what the hell were you doing here at this time of the night? You hated driving at night.

He unlocked every lock and opened up for you. “Wha–?”

“You had a nightmare–” You interrupted him, walking in as if it was your own place “–Where I died so I came here to show you I’m very much alive.”

You toed off your shoes while tossing your coat on his couch right next to his.

“What?” You frowned, but he didn’t say a thing. He just stood there, staring at your very-much-alive self. You walked up to him and brushed the front pieces of his fluffy hair back. “Would a hug make you feel better?”

Everything you did and said was like a morning sunbeam sneaking through the blinds, bathing him with warmth. He smiled with his eyes and leaned down to you with lazy open arms, going for a tight hug where every piece of you locked and clicked together.

No.

Each step closer to you weakened, and the moment he reached your side, his knees gave up. His entire world froze right then, too. The pool of blood spreading around you was very much real, but that didn’t stop him from lifting half of your body off the floor to hold you in his arms.

There was no click.

This wasn’t happening. Not again.

“Somebody!” His heart-shattering voice echoed around, “Wake up, please.” He lightly tapped your still warm cheek as if you’d simply fainted; as if there wasn’t peace, crimson, and his own tears staining your face. “Oh, honey, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

There were no signs of you. You were just a body, and the only thing your team could do was end with the monster who had broken everyone’s heart.

No one – not even Reid – thought twice before shooting fire at the unsub, all at the same time. There was rage in every single bullet, and though it was morally wrong, in their eyes, making sure the guy was dead was the only right thing to do.

Derek’s gun was the first to run out of ammo and his muffled crying was the first one of all, too. “That son of a bitch!” His voice cracked between a sob, throwing his arms over his head in defeat. He was your running buddy, your go-to random hug, and personal hype man. The first one to notice when you got a haircut and the only one you’d had the chance to tell about your feelings for your Unit Chief.

Reid suspected those feelings, but he was waiting for an appropriate moment to ask you.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Spencer rushed to the closest bush, spraying his dinner out of his mouth. Witnessing your life being taken away seemed to be the start of yet another rough patch that was gonna be hard to get out of. The connection you two had was cosmic – like no other; you were the sibling he didn’t know he needed beside him.

Too bad you walked into his life too late and only got to be his sister for three short years.

“Oh, god!” JJ’s voice had never sounded so terrified.“Oh my god!” She brought her shaky hands up to her mouth with wide eyes and just stood there, staring at the hole in your forehead. She was trying not to panic, but she’d started to hyperventilate already.

The air struggled to find its way to her lungs, and if it weren’t for Rossi’s ability to calm her down and Garcia’s loud voice through her earbud, she would’ve passed out right there next to you.

“JJ?!” Garcia yelled. Poor thing, she had no idea. “Oh god! Did wha-what happened? Hello?! Someone please talk to me!”

All she heard was the first gunshot that triggered the shootout. Now everyone’s crying had her at the edge of her seat.

Everyone’s but yours.

“Oh, no,” she mumbled to herself at the realization. “My girl. Is she gone? Is she…”

“Garcia, baby, I’m so sorry,” Derek tried to stop the tremble in his voice. “I’m so sorry. She’s–”

Penelope threw her headphones away before Morgan could finish his sentence and took off her glasses, covering her face with both hands as the tears streamed down her cheeks. You weren’t supposed to leave her. Ever. You’d planned your vacation already to London to visit Emily in just a few weeks.

God, Emily. How was Garcia supposed to tell her?

Your sudden death was evidence of god’s sick sense of humor. Putting Aaron in the exact same position again — holding the corpse of the love of his life as the vision of a less lonely future blended with gunpowder in the air – was the most fucked up joke.

You’d turned into a memory at the snap of a finger and from right then, everything was all a blur.

They ripped you off Aaron’s arms and put you inside a black bag to carry you to an ambulance – as if there was any point in doing so. He somehow made it to his apartment, got a glimpse of his clothes stained with blood – your blood – then found himself sitting on his couch as two familiar tiny hands shook him by the shoulders.

“Dad! are you okay?” Jack asked with worried, wide eyes. He was too mature for a ten-year-old and it was too soon for him to see his father broken again.

“I’m okay.” Aaron stood up, quickly drying his tears with the heel of his hand.

“Are you hungry? Aunt Jessica made us some food. I can put some in the microwave.”

“I’m okay, Buddy. It’s time for bed.”

Next thing he knew he was in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing he could press the rewind button and time travel to any moment when he was around you.

“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice got his attention. You were standing at his office door with two matching kitten mugs full of steaming coffee. “Do you have time to share some caffeine with me?”

He gave you a warm smile and put the papers aside. “Always.”

You’d made it a habit to bring him coffee in the middle of the day to remind him he needed to take a break. And since it became a regular thing, you had to give him a mug just because. He looked forward to your date-like breaks, and it boosted him with energy to finish everything on time, even when sometimes you two spent hours just talking.

You preferred to actually take him out of his office and go to the coffee shop two blocks away, but the one time you did it, he didn’t feel like going back to lock himself at the BAU, so the couch in his office had to do it.

You sat on it and tapped next to you, gesturing for him to join you.

“No cookies?” He asked with a smile as he plopped next to you.

“I thought I had some left.” You swung your legs over his thighs. “I’m pretty sure Reid stole the last package I had in my drawer.”

“Girl Scout cookies?”

“Caramel deLites.” You nodded.

“He just can’t resist them.” Hotch sipped on his coffee before getting up and reaching inside his drawer.

“You keep cookies too?” You laughed when he pulled out a pack.

“They’re not caramel deLites–” He sat next to you again and brought your legs back where they were over his “–But…”

“Thin Oreos are perfect.”

There was some sort of interrogation from Strauss at the BAU the next morning. She needed to know exactly what happened while the memories were still fresh.

Aaron was last, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the situation; him relating the story of how his loved one ended up murdered yet again.

“I don’t see how any of this is funny, Aaron.” Erin slid down her glasses to the tip of her nose.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s funny either,” he said, and tried his best to suppress his laughter by hiding his mouth behind his hand, but his shoulder still shook.

Strauss paused the recorder and dismissed everyone that was there with a simple glance as she spoke to Hotch, “We’re gonna take a break.”

His laugh didn’t fade until he was all alone in the room and sooner than later it turned into silent angry tears. Grieving Aaron Hotchner was a whole different person. A version of himself he hoped he’d never have to be again but there he was, being suffocated by rage and guilt, even when he knew there was nothing he could’ve done to avoid what’d happened. He just wished there was a way to turn back time and trade places.

Everyone had a week off to mourn your loss after the interrogation. Not enough – no time would ever be enough – but work was work. Monsters were still killing people and the Bureau had already hung a picture of you on the wall of honor.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Penelope was the first one to say something.

The team was gathered in front of your image; your smile was contagious even through a photo.

“I know.” Morgan touched her shoulder with his and kissed her temple. “It’s gonna be hard living in a world without her.”

“I’m not ready.” Garcia wiped her tears and turned to face everyone. “I’m not ready to take down monsters without her.”

JJ smiled in an attempt to say something, but her voice wouldn’t come out. It could’ve been her picture on that wall, but you’d offered to talk to the unsub that night as if it was the most mundane thing. She wouldn’t even dare to look at Aaron afraid she’d crumble and say I’m sorry a thousand times.

Hotch blinked away his tears and clenched his jaw, staring at your picture. He wasn’t ready to keep living without you, yet he said, “We have to. She would want us to,” trying to convince himself in a way. He walked away to lock himself up in his office and stopped by your desk on his way there.

It was intact and your presence lingered as if you’d just gotten up to refill your mug with coffee. Your chair still had the wrinkled pillow you’d brought on your second day because you couldn’t handle sitting there with a numb butt, and the small heater you used to keep your feet warm was still plugged under the desk.

You always said it was important to decorate your workspace like it was a piece of your bedroom. It helped you perform better, you’d say, and had convinced everyone to follow that advice – even Hotch.

“Excuse me.” A janitor approached Hotch and placed an empty box on your desk.

“What are you doing?” Aaron used his arm as a barrier to stop the man from picking up your stuff.

“Clearing up this desk.”

“Hey!” The click-clack of Penelope’s high heels came running from behind. “Don’t touch her stuff!”

“We need the space,” the janitor said.

“No, we don’t.” Hotch returned the box to him. “As far as I know we haven’t hired any new agent.”

“Look, I’m just doing what I was told.”

“Leave it as it is.” Hotch glared at him. “I’m gonna talk to whoever told you we needed the space.”

“It must have been Strauss.” Derek’s jaw clenched.

“How can she be so cold,” Penelope stared at Hotch walking across to room.

It was known that Strauss didn’t like you, so Hotch hurried into his office to just toss his briefcase and go confront Erin, but the moment he stepped in, his body stiffened.

The room was cold, and the silhouette he caught from the corner of his eye, sitting on his couch, made his heart drop to his stomach.

“Hey, boss.”

That was your voice, and your scent was in the air all of a sudden.

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t happening. The lack of sleep was too much. It was definitely that.

But when he turned the lights on and you were still there, it didn’t seem like craziness.

“What? Did you see a ghost or something?”

That was definitely you.

“Shut the door,” you continued, “it’s getting cold in here.”

Still in disbelief, he obeyed but couldn’t dare to look straight at you. Your presence was strong and he was sure it was his brain playing tricks on him because it’d happened before. A long time ago when his father died. He’d see the man at school, though he was never brave enough to reach out and actually exchange words with him like you were doing right now. He wished it would’ve happened with Haley so he could have heard her voice and held her hand one last time, but she never showed up.

Part of him had hoped it’d happen with you too at some point. And there you were.

He made his way to his chair and just stood there for a second before sitting. Then he finally dared to look at you.

God, that was actually you.

You were wearing the exact same clothes you had on the day you died — a purple T-shirt and the cargo pants you borrowed from Emily once but never returned — just not stained with blood and not a single wrinkle in sight. You hated ironing your clothes.

“Have you missed me?” You folded your arms over your chest and walked across the room, sitting on the chair in front of him.

“Yes.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here. I know you’re not ready for me to leave you.”

The softness of your voice reached his soul, and a knot started to appear in his throat. “I didn’t get to tell you that I loved you.” His voice shook.

“Well, you weren’t very subtle about it.” You rose from the chair and walked to the other side of the desk, leaning on it right next to him, and reached for his hand.

You were warm. He looked up at you and caught the comfort of your eyes. If you weren’t real, why did looking into your eyes still give him butterflies?

“This isn’t real,” he whispered to himself, closing his eyes. “I’m going crazy.”

“Now that would be romantic.” There was a twitch of a smile on his lips at your playful tone. You always managed to make him smile in one way or another. “Would a kiss make you feel better?”

He’d kissed you only once – the night before you died – so he knew how soft and sweet your lips were. He looked up at you and right when he was going to say yes, you leaned down and kissed his lips.

This kiss was different, though. It was painful because he was sure you were part of his imagination. He tried to put those feelings aside – take his insanity as a blessing in disguise – and lifted his hand to cup your face, but a single knock on his door seemed to scare you, and before it swung open, you vanished into thin air.

“Aaron.” Strauss stormed in. “Is there a reason why you’re refusing to clear her desk?”

He rubbed his hand over his mouth and tried to compose himself. “I need to talk to her family first. See who will take care of her things. Out of respect.” He stressed the last word to show how out of line her behaviour was.

Erin widened her eye, as a threat, almost. “You have one day.” Erin glared at him and left the room.

Hotch sighed deeply.

It was the faintest kiss, but it was you.

Most nights at the BAU were lonely; since you were gone, that solitude pierced bones. It’d been four months already and it was still unreal to the team.

Especially to Spencer.

He used to pull all-nighters with you by his side, and while he played chess on his own, you finished the paperwork you left until the last minute. He still stayed until late these days, just not as often nor until the sun rose.

You missed him too, and now, all you could do was mess with him hoping he’d at least feel the ghost of you.

“Uh.” Spencer quickly snapped his hand off the chess board when a piece slowly moved on its own.

He rubbed his eyes and stared at the board again. And you moved a piece, again.

“What the– not again?”

“You okay?” Hotch’s voice came loud and out of nowhere, making Spencer jump on his seat. His heart almost leaped out of his chest; he had to make sure it was still there, placing his hand over it.

“Did– did you see that?” Reid’s voice got a bit higher than it normally was.

“See what?” Aaron walked up to him with a subtle smirk.

“Nothing.” Spencer frowned. “What are you doing here anyway? It’s almost four AM.” He glanced at his watch.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Spencer frowned his lips.

“We may have a case,” Hotch continued. “So don’t leave.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Spencer lowered his voice, looking around.

Hotch gave you a quick glance ordering you to follow him on his way to his office.

“Haunting Reid isn’t very nice,” he told you as soon as he shut the door behind you.

“I was bored.” You put on an innocent face and gave him a guilty smile. “Waiting for you. And he needs to stop staying here until so late, so I was doing him a favor.” You sat on his desk and swung your feet back and forth as he settled on his chair. “You’re here earlier than our usual time.”

“We may have a case.” He looked up at you.

“It’s Jack’s birthday next week.” You mentioned. “Are we gonna do something special for him?”

“Jessica and I are taking him to this star wars convention.”

“That sounds fun. Can I go?”

You went wherever he went, even flew with him for cases, but you still asked for his permission. You were a distraction, so you tried to stay on the margins when you knew he needed all of his focus.

That’s why you enjoyed plane rides the most.

Everyone still sat on their usual seat on the jet, and your spot next to Hotch remained empty so you still sat there, quiet.

“You’ve been seeing her,” Rossi said as he sat on the seat across from Aaron.

“Sorry?” Hotch lifted his eyes from his folder.

“It happened to me when Carolyn died. I’d see her around, even talk to her at times. I was worried it might have been an illness or something.” He waved his hand in the hair. “It wasn’t. I can give you the name of my doctor.”

He didn’t admit it but didn’t deny it either.

The jet took off and Rossi didn’t mention it again until they landed.

“Are you thinking about going to the doctor?” You asked him when no one was around.

“I love having you around.” He stared into the void. ”But this isn’t normal.”

That hurt a bit, but you still stayed by his side during the entire case and were there for his doctor’s appointment as soon as you made it back in Quantico, too.

“You’re grieving, agent,” the doctor started. “It is a rare way of grieving but it happens. I can medicate you to help get rid of it, but you also need to work on it.”

Whatever that meant, Aaron wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to get rid of you, but something scared you that day and you stopped being around as often. You weren’t at the BAU and the usual time to spend some time alone with him, and you weren’t there for Jack’s birthday as you’d said you wanted to.

Not as your usual self, anyway.

They’d just gotten back from the Star Wars convention and something was slightly off about his apartment.

“No way!” Jack screeched with excitement. There was a dog on the couch. “ You got me a puppy?!” He ran to the little dog who waved its tail with the same enthusiasm.

“You got him a puppy?” Jess subtly asked Hotch

“No? Did you?”

Neither said a thing and stared at the wholesome sight of happy Jack.

Hotch wasn’t sure to what extent the “anything is possible” was possible for those who belonged to the hereafter, but something told him the puppy was your magic work.

“My cheeks hurt from smiling so much!” Jack laughed as the puppy licked his face. “Can I name her?”

How could Aaron say no to that? He didn’t want to crush his son’s dream and tell him the dog wasn’t supposed to be there, so they did a quick run to the store to buy some dog food and helped Jack build a tiny bed for her in his bedroom instead.

“Can she stay forever?” Jack asked. He’d already mastered the puppy-dog eyes.

“We’ll see.” Hotch tucked him in and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, buddy.”

He gave the puppy one last scratch on its chin and went to bed too, though it already seemed like it was going to be one of those nights where the sleep never came.

The bed sank next to him at two AM, making him lose track of how many sheep he was counting. There you were with a sad look.

“Where have you been?” He asked you in a murmur.

“I don’t want you to think I’m here because there’s something wrong with you.” You whispered.

“I don’t.”

“Then why did you go to the doctor?”

“To rule it out.” He caressed your cheek. “But you’re clearly not part of my imagination. You’re here.”

“Something’s holding me back.” You gulped. “I need you to help me get to the other side. I need to know you’re going to be okay without me.”

Only then he noticed you didn’t want to be there, to begin with.

“I’m sorry we won’t be growing old together,” you continued. “That we won’t give Jack any siblings and Jess more nephews, but I will always be by your side, taking care of you three. Always. And I’ll be waiting for you, Aaron. You were my greatest love, even when I won’t be yours, and I’m sorry. ”

“I’ll be okay.” He tried to swallow the lump on his throat and brought you close into a tight hug. “You go. I’m gonna be alright.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“I love you,” you sobbed into his chest.

“God, I love you, too. I always will.”

It was like the old times when a nightmare woke him up, but this time he was so damn scared to fall asleep because he knew you weren’t going to be there when he woke up. So he cherished the moment and held you until you leaped into his dreams forever.

You stopped showing up, but you weren’t gone. He’d get a whiff of you while he made himself some coffee, and would stop for a moment to close his eyes and take you in. He’d still feel your presence around, at the BAU, at your favorite donut shop, and in his car when a song you liked came on the radio.

You were everywhere. He still didn’t know how to move on, but knew he had to let it happen naturally.

Time went by; he started to forget the sound of your voice, the trees lost their leaves and grew new ones through the seasons. His heart healed eventually, too, and the love he once had for life sparked again.

“I’m not sure if we can keep here any longer,” Hotch said, staring at Chewie who had grown into her ears and started to make the apartment look small.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, putting the harness on her and pulling her close to him.

“We may need a new house.” Aaron opened the front door for them, ready to take her on a walk. “But the park will have to do it for now. Let’s go.”

Those walks in the park became the best part of Aaron’s day. They kept his mind busy and they might have boosted a new chapter in his life…

“Ah! Look at them!” Haley clapped with excitement. Turns out you weren’t the only one looking after them. “Aren’t they cute.”

You stood next to her with your arms folded over your chest and admired how Chewie played cupid by stomping on this woman’s picnic.

“So sorry,” Aaron approached her while Jack tried to catch the leash.

“You are a beautiful girl,” the woman said, letting Chewie lick her face all over.

That was her, Aaron’s greatest love.

“Did you know I was gonna die?” you asked Haley.

“I did.” She turned to you. “But there was nothing I could’ve done. Life… it’s an odd thing. We don’t get to choose anything.” Haley stared at her husband and son again. “Everything is written already.”

“She won’t die tragically like we did, will she?” Haley twitched her mouth. “She will?!”

“I’m just kidding.” She dismissively waved a hand with a laugh and began to walk away. “You can stop worrying too much about him now! She’s got him!”

“Where are you going?!” You hurried behind her, throwing one last look over your shoulder. “Wait up!”

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kivino · 6 months

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OUT OF THE SHADOWS I || SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X SHADOW!GN!READER

Word counter – ~6.9k words

Tags/Warnings – Gn!Reader, Shadow!Reader (it’s not for long lol, don’t get your hopes up), murder of civilians/corpses/blood mentioned, physical fights, reader likes to throw fists, Reader’s callsign is Bug to pay tribute to my original idea.

Summary – After the betrayal of Task Force 141 and the slaughter of civilians in Las Almas you decide to leave Shadow Company on the spot, which works out sideways, leaving you with simmering hate towards the man whom you used to look up to and new interesting figures in your life.

also available on my ao3!

a/n after the fic because they’re too long. but just know that this is the first chapter of the series, feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part. enjoy!

Everything was calm. The sound of rain covering up the murmur of trucks helped you wind down after the adrenaline rush, and a sense of accomplishment for a job well done swelled in your chest. You already anticipated a long sleep and maybe a night out with your friends when you’re back home from the job. Maybe you’d even get a bonus from Graves and buy something nice for yourself.

In all honesty, you didn’t even mind being crammed into the backseat along with those 141 guys. Working with them was a pleasure and they seemed like an interesting sort of crowd. Especially that man with the skull mask. Ghost, was it? He certainly attracted your attention the most, with his huge size, booming voice, and undeniable skill in what he did. You were willing to admit that the way he took out the enemies with ease and swiftness was mesmerizing. And…your train of thought that consisted of pure fascination was interrupted by the abrupt stop of the convoy in front of the base gate.

Everything was calm until you were surrounded by shouting and then eventual gunshots, along with muffled screams of your brothers in arms. You didn’t understand how it all escalated so fast. One moment you were sure about Shadow Company and Task Force 141 being on the same side, but now you didn’t know what to think of it all. And from Graves' words, it was apparent that Shepherd was behind this too. So naturally you, and many other shadows, the lower ranks, had no fucking clue what all of this was about. One would care to tell a mindless weapon where to shoot, but not why. Blood rushed through your veins and pulsed in your ears, turning the pleasant buzz in your body into strained sharpness. You hurriedly pulled up the rear sight to your eye level. Two bodies dropped to the wet asphalt with soft thuds right in front of you. You felt your heart sink right down to your feet. Instead of firing your shots, you hesitated, backing out to hide behind the bumper of the truck, while hearing agitated, aggressive shouts. You weren’t able to tell who was shouting. So, you leaned out and felt yourself freeze in place.

And there he is. Ghost, eyes locked right on you. He sure has a…strong presence. And instead of shooting you he just…looks. You don’t like the stupid flowery language, but in this split second, it really feels like he is staring right into your soul. Or like someone is sticking metal rods right through your chest, with how hard breathing becomes in an instant.

You knew that if you were to shoot him right now, you’d never forgive yourself, all because you were kept in the dark about the whole thing Graves had planned. And you were not willing to get blood on your hands because of some “mistake”. If you pull the trigger, there will be one less person who’s able to make a change. One less person who’ll be willing to get their hands dirty and save people.

So, you lower the muzzle of your rifle and nod to the side, urging him to start his getaway, before other Shadows and Graves decide to check the perimeter. You see his dark eyes blink, or at least you think you do before he disappears into the darkness. Like he was never there in the first place.

In the end, you didn’t get even a single scratch. Three other Shadows were K.I.A.

Your head buzzed with so many different questions you wanted to ask Graves, and more importantly, the guilt you felt from whatever happened in front of the threshold. You had no idea what happened with that Los Vaquero base or what was up with your CO, while you were escorting him and those 141 guys along with several other Shadows for this mission. Why was he taking it? What was he even thinking? You wanted to pull out your hair and claw out your eyes just thinking about all of it. Which, you weren’t paid to do, but that didn’t mean you weren’t concerned with the moral side of things. Unlike the majority of the Shadows, as you came to find out.

Confusion bubbled up inside of your mind, eyes burned by the white synthetic light of the gate when you looked up at it just to feel something aside from sheer distress and bewilderment. You didn’t want to believe that your Commander was the type of person to sell himself out, and you didn’t expect him to be, from all the time spent working with him. The man was nothing short of likable and friendly, with his beaming smile, confident attitude, and outgoing way of communicating… a natural-born leader, that was the first thing that came to mind when you thought about your boss. And with how Graves treated you and all other Shadows like you were more than just his employees, the realization was even more painful. Of course, you didn’t want to think about how he could so easily turn his back on people who trusted him.

It raised many questions in your mind about the price of his word, as well as made your stomach churn with acidic, flesh-eating poison full of doubt and suspicion. If it was so easy for your CO to cut out the men someone he told you all to think of as your brothers, then how long will it be before he sells you and other shadows out for…whatever was offered to him?

“Find ‘em!” Graves barks and your chest swells with bitter disappointment. You thought you knew him before (as much as a subordinate can know their superior), but how can you even begin to understand him now?

You hear Shadows mutter a quiet “Yup-yup”, more to themselves than to your CO, and you could almost feel the doubt settle over them in a thick, transparent blanket. From the conversations you can pick up on while Graves is out of earshot, you guess that some of them don’t think betraying the 141 guys and trying to hunt the two of them down is the right thing to do. But it didn’t seem like they were going to do anything about it though. You, however, want to help. You know that it’s not right, so…screw it. You can always find another job, and if it comes down to it, 141 seem like an okay sort of people, the type that would have your back if you had theirs. At least, you have hope for it.

So maybe you could hold out until they come back for Los Vaqueros. And you were certain they’d do that, no way they’d abandon all these men. You haven’t seen how the things were on said base that was taken from them, but you were certain you could do more on the inside than if you were to leave right now. Maybe you could break Colonel out of there, or help the Task Force sneak in, you were sure they could use any help from you.

That was the plan before you saw what Shadow Company did to Las Almas.

The picture that Shadows were painting with innocent blood on the rainy landscape was horrifying, to say the least. The metallic smell hit your nose the moment you jumped out of the truck right onto the flooded pavement. That was the exact moment when you realized you couldn’t stay with Shadows any longer. You were supposed to help these people. It was your job. Instead, you felt filthier than the dirt on your boots. Traitor. Backstabber. You choked on your breath behind the mask each time you noticed the bodies of the victims in every dark corner of the city, nausea coming up your throat when you could see rivers of crimson streaming down the road and right into the sewers. Your Shadow Company patch felt like the mark of a killer, etched into your skin permanently, instead of just being part of your uniform.

Limp bodies that didn’t even have the time to grow cold yet, scattered around warm homes. Some of the killed were probably already in their beds sleeping, coming back from work, watching TV, or cooking dinner when they got dragged out under the rain and massacred…Everything felt like a blur, your thoughts were a jumbled mess of whys, while you were led further into the town, to continue the revolting, disgusting crimes of your brothers-in-arms. You couldn’t stand to spend another minute in here. You need to get out before you do something you’ll never be able to forgive yourself for. You were many things, but you were not willing to go that far. Not here, not anywhere.

“Hey. Where’s Graves?” You tap another Shadow, your “close colleague” with a callsign Kruk, on the shoulder. He turns to you, while you see several other soldiers passing by, yellow streetlights barely illuminating their swiftly moving figures. You knew why it was hard for you to even look in their direction. Kruk points towards the building to the left of you two and croaks something about “briefing the rookies”. You nod and thank him, stumbling in the general direction he pointed you to.

“Commander, with all due respect, I think it’s time for you to discharge me.” You only came to your senses when you stood in front of your CO in the cramped space of someone’s living room. Wallpaper, creamy in color, dulled lights, tons of decorative cushions on the couch… Your voice is quiet, but firm, not leaving any space for compromise when you speak up to the blond man, and your politeness is as fake as this copy of “Guernica” you could see hanging on the wall. Blood pulses in your ears. You want to leave, you want out. Out of here.

“Bug, now’s not the time for jokes, I need you on the field now. We’ve got our orders.” Graves barely raises his eyes from tapping something on the tablet, that usual scowl that you got used to present on his face. His actions are as ugly as he is. Him not taking you seriously sure does a number on your confidence. But that only reassures you in your decision. You need out.

“Do I look like I’m joking? I’m leaving, because I don’t think what we’re doing is right.” You try to stay calm, you really do. But how can you, when out of something so vile he makes a joke? Makes all these people a sick joke.

A crease lies between your brows, and shadows falling over your eyes make your face look similar to a carved statue. Before talking to Graves, you decided to take off the eyewear that obscures your face and pull down the thin mask, the signatures for Shadows who are lower in the chain of command. You’re the faceless sort, after all. “And I don’t think you know your place.” You’re instantly taken aback by his sudden outburst, but you don’t let it show. “I point and you shoot. I sign your paychecks, Bug, and you take them.” You feel something inside of you flinch at the way he mutters your callsign. “I’m in charge. You don’t have a say in what we do.” With each statement, his gloved finger points from him to you, making the rage and frustration boil inside of your chest. You trusted Graves and he led all of your colleagues, along with you to dragging out unarmed, innocent people in the dead of night out of their houses on their streets and executing them. Hell of a leader he is.

“Well, I’m stepping down. If that’s what we do, I don’t want to take part in it.” You wanted to tell him a lot more, give Graves a piece of your mind on war crimes and killing people in their own homes. On how drowning Las Almas in blood won’t fix whatever the fuck he was trying to fix right now. Instead, you kept it to yourself, tightening your fists just so you didn’t spit in his face or punch him.

“You’re putting a target on your back. Do you not understand how what you’re saying makes you look?” Graves leans in closer to you, the low volume of his voice making it even more threatening, similar to the hissing of a snake. Give him a minute and he will start spewing real venom right in your face.

“You know that whatever you’re thinking is not true.” To be completely honest, you didn’t care what he thought right now. Graves’ mind and morals were clearly in the wrong place if he considered all this bloodshed justified.

“Do I really? A moment ago I was sure that you were my subordinate, now I’m not even sure what to make of you.” You’re barely able to resist rolling your eyes at this. Your heart is picking up the pace with each minute. Getting more and more desperate to leave your body altogether, just so you don’t have to listen to his bullshit any longer. You wish it was that easy.

“I’m not taking orders from you. Not anymore.” Saying this took a lot more out of you than you expected, you felt your chest tremble when you met your CO’s eyes.

“Well, would you just look at that, you happen to be a fan of our local drug lord too?” If eyes could kill, Graves would’ve dropped dead right this moment. He smiles, his sharp canines peeking from under his top lip. He knows he’s making your skin crawl and your stomach flip from this interaction, which, if you’re lucky, would be the last for the two of you. “Helping the cartel and corrupt police won’t look too good on your resume”

“I see you’re just making it up as you go.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in your chest. Shaky. Uneven. Infuriated. Your eyes are drilling Graves’, a deep frown between them as proof of how much you despise him now, for the baseless assumption too. After a moment of silence, you add. “You know what my stance on this is. Whether I get your approval or not, I’m leaving.” Graves finally withdraws from your personal space, sliding the palm over his face with a heavy sigh, as his lips tighten into a thin line. You knew that this combination meant he was trying to calm down. After a moment of silence, he speaks up again.

“Look, Bug, you’re a smart kid and frankly, I like you.” he makes a short pause, sighing. “So, I’ll give you a fighting chance. Five minutes – if you’re not out of the city, then you’re a target.” He wasn’t that fucking courteous with the civilians that lay dead a few meters away. Shot on sight. Without any questions. You grit your teeth.

What are you supposed to do with that? Those five minutes didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, most likely, you’ll be rotting in the ditch somewhere shortly after your time runs out - too little to get out of the city or find the Task Force you so desperately wanted to help. Graves won’t leave any witnesses. And you are one. He knows it’s not going to be easy for you to just turn on the Shadows like that too, even though you despised what they were doing while following his orders. They still were your family. Dysfunctional and disproportionately big, but family, nonetheless. Even if they deserved it for their lack of action to prevent what was happening now, you don’t turn on your family like that. What he’s doing is forcing your hand.

Regardless, you have no choice but to take Graves up on his last “generous” offer.

“What are you waiting for, hm? Get out of here while you can.” You didn’t need to be told that twice. So, still balancing your rifle on your arm, your free hand reaches for that patch on your shoulder. Tearing it off in a quick motion makes the sound of Velcro strips snapping open almost echo from how quiet it is. It felt like a whole mountain dropped off of your shoulders when you threw the patch on the ground and stormed out of the building right into the pouring rain.

You felt goosebumps and tremors creeping up your spine as you ran through the dark streets, getting more and more soaked with each second. You didn’t feel much better though. The resentment for Graves grew each second, with all the steps that sent ripples on the surface of the deep puddles, and every raindrop that fell from the copper-colored clouds. But now wasn’t the time to wallow in your misery. Although you wanted to. It did feel like the loss of a person you used to know, of someone you looked up to. The only thing is, he was still living and breathing, and the only thing that died was that idealized image of him in your head.

There was a cold hollowness somewhere in your chest. Gaping with the darkness that, and you were sure of it, will eat you alive soon enough. Even though you backed out of the Shadow company, it won’t bring back all the people who are not here anymore. You won’t fix it, no matter how hard you try. That bitter guilt snaked its way into the back of your mind and it was there to help stay.

You managed to pull yourself out of this to make things right. But why do you feel so helpless still?

Your footsteps get faster and faster, as you maneuver through the narrow alleyways, staying out of the range your former colleagues were in. It was easy to hear them, gunshots and voices echoed throughout the city in a weird cacophony that your ears got used to after a long time working for the Shadow Company. They were not afraid, probably feeling like masters here. Somebody has to give them a scare, you thought. So they know better in the future. But it wasn’t your job at the moment. Right now, you needed to get out and do it as soon as possible.

Stopping and coming up with any sort of plan that would help you was not an option - hang in somewhere for too long and you’ll be found. And you were sure you wouldn’t be shown any mercy.

So instead of staying on the street, where you can be easily spotted with the help of the dim light of a flashlight, you decide to alternate between the corridors of empty homes, with doors wide open for anyone seeking shelter, and the maze of alleyways crawling with Shadows. It felt wrong, invading someone’s homes like this, but you knew if they were unlocked and lights beamed around them, giving out a warm glow the inhabitants were most likely not coming back.

You felt that tingle on the nape of your neck, ready to hide or flee in case you heard any sudden movement from any direction. It’s dead quiet, except for occasional radio talk from the shadows, which you tried to listen in on when you could. It didn’t give you much on where 141 could be. You would start losing hope if you had any left after Graves. But you continue your search nonetheless, reflexes instead of thinking, pure determination instead of hope, and fire in your veins, instead of blood.

That is until you quietly step inside another warm hallway, and you’re met with a wide-eyed stare from another Shadow that makes you freeze like a deer in the headlights. Something inside of you starts to churn with terror from the looming understanding – only one of you will walk out of here alive. Your eyes trail down to the raven patch on his tac vest. It’s Kruk. You want to ask what he is doing here, but you already feel his gaze studying you too. And as soon as he sees that the Shadow Company patch is missing from your uniform, the muzzle of his rifle points right at you. Fucking shit.

“Drop your gun, Kruk!” You warn the man, pointing the weapon in his direction too. He only shakes his head, refusing to stand down. With each second air is laced with tension more and more, you were sure that soon enough it’ll be so thick even a knife wouldn’t cut through it.

“You drop yours first.” His voice is shaky and unsure like he can’t believe what he’s doing right now either. “Commander gave us an order. You’re an enemy now too, Bug. Better get used to it.” Kruk started slowly approaching you, while pulling something out of the bag, strapped on his hip.

“Oh, fuck that!” You swing towards Kruk, trying to approach him in your momentary rage, but you’re immediately met with the warning “Don’t” from Kruk, who doesn’t stand down. “You know what they’re doing here. It doesn’t matter to you?” The man is silent. You don’t see his face behind his mask, so you’re left with even more questions instead of answers. Regardless of what he was thinking right now, you didn’t want to hurt him. So, you bend down and put your rifle on the ground with a quiet clack. If he needs a gesture of goodwill, he can have it. “Your turn.” Kruk only shakes his head.

“Turn around.” So, it was a mistake to trust him. Naturally. Your gullibility will be your downfall. You can almost feel the bitter taste spread inside of your mouth when you look at Kruk. Fucking asshole. But you comply, although reluctantly. He grabs you roughly by the wrists with one hand and by the neck with another, leading you toward what looks like a kitchen in the dim lights falling through the doorway. You get lowered on your knees and then pressed into the dirty floor. And it hits right then and there. He’s going to execute you. Oh, shit, shit, shit.

“You know that I don’t want to do this.” He says quietly so that any shadows passing by don’t hear him. You feel your heartbeat shake your whole body and nausea so intense like you are on the verge of throwing up all of your internal organs, but giving up is just not an option right now. So, you try to prevent him from tying your hands together with all the strength you have.

“Then don’t fucking do it!” He does not answer this as you continue squirming in his hold, trying to make it as hard as possible for him to restrain you. He only grunts but keeps a firm grip. Your head was a mess, you thought Shadows were a family. But all it took was one order from Graves, now they’re scouring the town like damn bloodhounds for you too.

“Get…off of me!” You grit through your teeth. You feel a zip tie slide over your hands and turn your head. The rifle he previously held in his hands was gone, probably so he could tie you up properly, so you take your chance and deliver a hard kick to Kruk’s stomach. He chokes out a pained gasp and finally lets go of your hands. You scurry to get up from the floor with wide smears of rainwater and dirt decorating it, but you get grabbed by the leg, which causes you to stumble and fall once again. You turn your head and kick Kruk with all your might, while attempting to take off the zip tie off your wrists, which, thankfully, he didn’t have the time to close.

You manage to shake the man off of you, as you scramble to your feet, knocking over a corner table with some decorations on it. Yet when you see Kruk fumbling with his hip holster you immediately tackle him to the ground, which causes him to drop the handgun. The whole fight is just a mess, nothing but blinding rage is pulsing in your temples, melting your bones and muscles into something no better than an animal. You get up again, while Kruk is on the floor, searching for the handgun in the darkness. You feel the heavy metal press against your boot and you kick it behind you. You hear it slide across the floor and here it is. Kruk’s eyes, are directed right at you. His hands claw at your leg, trying to drag you down to the floor. And then you black out completely. Kicking, punching, pained wheezes and screams are all you hear, a stuffy abyss with little to no specks of light surrounding you.

You come back to your senses when you don’t feel the familiar weight of your handgun pressing against your hip and then you see it again. Kruk managed to grab it while you were in your anger-induced frenzy. Everything around you slows down. His shaky fingers pull on the safety, but you reach out and grab his hands, pulling them up, not letting him aim at you. Kruk grunts and you see his eyes focused on you in fear, and desperation, as he tries to overpower you in the struggle. You see his weakened state, but the self-preservation is stronger than any compassion towards him at the moment. Kruk will take your life if you don’t take his. That’s just the gist of it. You can’t let him walk away.

Your hands tremble when he manages to overpower you momentarily, but it’s all in vain when you press the handgun harder and harder into his frame, feeling his hands start to yield more and more with each second, strength leaving him. The fear in his eyes is directed at you and only you, but you try not to look. The muzzle of your gun is pressed snugly under his chin. Your gaze trails to his eyes once again. They burn you with terror. Your fingers hook around the trigger guard. You hear a faint whisper.

“Please…”

Gunshot rings in your ears for another second, despite the earmuffs in your helmet.

“Fuck! Fuck…I’m so sorry…I’m sorry.” It all came crashing down on you in one moment. You wouldn’t feel guilty if it was the enemy, you wouldn’t care. He was an enemy now, so why do you feel so guilty, why is it starting to corrode and eat you alive even more? Your palms cover the profusely bleeding gunshot wound, going through his neck and cranium, hot blood pouring out with impossible speed, staining your hands, gear, and skin. Staining your whole being. How could you do something like this? Shadows are family. Killing an unarmed man who’s pleading for his life?

You’re no better than Graves.

The gunshot alerts the Shadows and they start scurrying around on the street. You have no time to mourn Kruk or search for your rifle in the dark, so you yank your handgun out of his hands which only started succumbing to rigor mortis, and sprint out the backdoor, desperately attempting to get away. You can feel your heartbeat booming in your ears, wet hair sticking to the nape of your neck, as you hear distant commotion and a chase stirring behind you, as you dart inside another building and run through the hallways, searching for a way out.

Back on the street, rain droplets are so cold that it feels like they’re splitting your skin open, you can barely feel the pain in your ankle from adrenaline pumping through your blood flow. You start slipping on the slick pavement, but you still refuse to stop, diving inside another doorway. Your head hurts, your lungs feel like they are about to explode, and you think you stepped into a puddle of someone’s blood. No time to ram through the locked door, so you jumped out of the second-story window and landed on your foot, twisting it in the process and swallowing the sob that welled up in your throat. You needed to move.

That bought you some time to get up and dip into the dark alleyway before you heard the loud footsteps approaching the window that you used to escape. You let out a heavy exhale, propping your back against the cold stone. You’re not completely safe, but…that’s better than nothing. The commotion of shadows quiets down and you hear it become more and more distant with each second.

After a moment of silence, you continue moving, albeit slowly, trying to get used to the hot pulsing in your leg, that shot up right through your nerves with each step you tried to take. You wince and whine in pain, dragging your leg behind, grabbing at the moist stone walls, clinging to them for any sort of support. However, it’s not much of a help.

Your escape is cut short when your legs finally give out, causing you to stumble and fall while crossing the church garden. Although it probably looked magical in the daylight, right now it was far from it, the smell of metal and smoke still lacing the darkness. You already feel your ankle swelling and some bruises forming under all your gear. You see the lights on the exterior of the church blend into the ribbon of lights and shadows and the thought crosses your mind. You can hide there.

You almost fly up the stairs despite the hurting leg, fumbling with the door for a second, before it creaks open. You shuffle inside with light steps and close the door behind you as quietly as you can. Your knees tremble as you slide down the cold wall and crawl further inside the building, barely feeling any strength left in you. God, you are so drained. Strained gasps are ripped out of your throat every second. You want nothing more than to lie down right there in this church and just let the darkness overtake you in a peaceful slumber. That would be so easy.

Your calm moment is interrupted by someone yanking you up on your feet, to which you let out a surprised yelp. You can’t see the person, but you can feel their hands tugging on your gear roughly and dragging you somewhere. It takes you a second to weigh your pretty limited options given the fact it’s so dark that you are barely able to make out your surroundings. So, you decide to take this fight head on and your heavy boot comes down right on their foot, which prompts the person to grunt, revealing a pretty low male voice, and let go of you.

You tear out from his grasp and almost tumble down to the church floor, bunching up dust with your loud, uneven footsteps. Your back is hunched as you look up at the dark figure from under your eyebrows, ready to deflect any blows if he decides to attack first. You stay silent, feeling like a cornered animal in his presence, small, feeble. Weak. Of course, you were at a disadvantage here, taking a beating, running from Shadows, twisting your ankle, and losing your rifle certainly didn’t help your chances to win, but you were ready to claw your way out of here with your bare hands, breaking your nails and skinning your hands if you had to.

But any punches or kicks you try to land the man easily deflects or blocks, not trying to attack or overpower you however, opting to just take up the defensive position in the fight. Which is, admittedly, a lot easier than taking the offensive one. Maybe he was aiming to exhaust you and then, when you are at your lowest point, he would attack. That seemed like a solid tactic, but you don’t want to let that happen. However, before you can think of anything you end up rolling with the man on the floor. You can hear him huff in frustration and exertion, the wood pressing harshly against your ribs and all the bruises on your lower body pulsing with pain.

After some struggle, however, you managed to tackle the man to the ground, pressing him down to the floor with your weight. Your hands snaked their way onto his neck as you glared at him, resisting the urge to bare your teeth akin to a stray, abused, and betrayed dog, crawling with fleas and parasites. Choking him out obviously wasn’t a nice thing to do, but you were trying to send a message here, that if you continue being followed, you will use your strength. If violence was the only language Shadows understood (and that’s who you believe the man was) then you were ready to become fluent.

“I swear, I’ll fucking kill you!” You press him into the floor harder, hands squeezing the man’s throat, your vision going blurry. You feel his hands grasp at your wrists, but he does not resist. Why is he not trying to shake you off? Why is he letting you choke him like this? Why is he not fighting back?

“Let go, Bug.” The man’s voice is strained, but familiar, he whispers through his closed jaw. You can hear the way his throat tenses up, or his Adam’s apple bobs under your thick gloves, the warmth of his skin, and the moisture that seeped into the mask. Mask. More light falls through the window thanks to the momentary flicker of the streetlight. Skull. Eight lines on his chin, two on the forehead. Dark brown eyes.

Your hands shoot up like his neck is on fire. Guilt settles in your gut and your throat, pulling you in like you’re some puppet with no free will. You try to get up from the man’s midsection but tumble down on your side from trying to do it too quickly. It’s Ghost. How the hell did you not recognize Ghost?

“I’m sorry. I’m not…myself right now.” You were now sitting on the floor, palms resting on your face, wet from the rain, skin burning up, either trying to regulate the temperature or from all the exertion. Either way, it didn’t matter right now.

“Yeah, you made it pretty obvious.” Ghost coughs, trying to shake off your attempt to cut off his air circulation just seconds ago, as he gets up from his lying position. “At least now I know you’ve got a good grip.” He lets out a deep chuckle which only earns him an eyebrow raise from you. He was joking at a time like this? Must’ve hit his head pretty hard too.

“I could’ve choked you. Why did you not fight back more?” You were royally confused about that. He could’ve stopped the fight before it even began and avoided some bruises along with the sore neck if he just told you who he was or fought back. But he didn’t.

Ghost wants to say something, but stops himself right after opening his mouth. You see it in the way he looks at you. The pause stretches for an endless amount of time and you feel your skin crawling with anxiety while his eyes study your face.

“I was going easy on ya.” Ghost says in a rather blunt manner, which didn’t answer that many of your questions. Well, if he was going easy, he should’ve been at least going at you, which wasn’t true – you saw him only defending himself and blocking some of your blows. Did he?.. Was he trying not to hurt you? Okay, the more you thought about it, the wilder it sounded. Maybe you should just drop it. “I don’t suppose you came here to wash your sins away.” You want to scoff from the bad taste. “Lil’ birdie told me you ditched the Shadows. Any particular reason why?” The man inquires, turning to you. Sitting like this on the floor with him felt unusual, like some sort of weird church sleepover. Give Ghost a minute and he’ll bring you some ice cream so you two can watch some wacky TV shows together.

“Did your little birdie also tell you that Graves is hunting me down too?” You ask while pulling your drenched mask over your face. It brought some comfort and familiarity that were gone the moment you spoke to your CO in that living room. And, well, it would be awkward if Ghost was the only one in the mask.

“I guessed by the gunshots, some racket, and a horde of Shadows taking a night run through the neighborhood close by.” The man chuckles and you feel your face burn up in embarrassment under your mask. You try not to let it show, however. You knew that it wasn’t a very sleek move that you pulled with Kruk, but you were desperate and you didn’t need motherfucking Ghost telling you it was stupid.

“You’re just hilarious. Is that how you became a lieutenant, by cracking jokes left and right?” You roll your eyes and hope he won’t notice it in the darkness. This banter was pointless, you knew it but…you needed it. It was not easy losing something familiar, so you desperately wanted to feel that camaraderie you experienced in the Shadows.

“You’ll find out once you’re a lieutenant yourself.” And Ghost indulges you. Which, you are thankful for. Isn’t such a scary guy after all, huh?

“Yeah, if I’m alive long enough.” You scoff at his concealed attempt to comfort and reassure you, but you can’t help that warm feeling in your chest. Weird.

“Well, you’ve already surpassed my expectations by staying alive until now.” The man stands up from the floor with a low grunt, pressing an arm around his midsection, right around where you might’ve pinned him to the floor with your body. “Let’s make sure it lasts, eh?” He extends a gloved hand toward you in an open, inviting gesture. Your eyes trail over his huge figure and land on specks of light in his eyes.

His eye black is all smudged and messy.

You have to shake off the sudden thought, observation too close and intimate for your liking, as you grab him by the forearm, trying to ignore the way your skin burns up when you feel his warmth through his gear. Ghost pulls you up to your feet, but doesn’t let go of your arm once you’re up. You don’t let go either. The silence rings in your ears. God, he’s so warm.

“Are you like a human furnace or something?” You joke to fill the excruciating silence. Which you immediately regret. You wish it wasn’t so dark so you could see just how his face stretched the fabric of a skull mask, which you clearly heard happen by a small shuffle very close to you. Who knows, maybe he cracked a smile?

“Why? Need someone to warm you up at night?” Okay, this is terrible and stupid, and so damn corny, and why do you feel your cheeks grow hot and breath get stuck in your chest? Maybe that’s just how awful his jokes are. Ghost clears his throat and reluctantly lets go of your forearm, fingers still clinging to your sleeve as he pulls himself away too quickly for it to be something nonchalant or casual.

“So, are you answering my question, or do I have to use torture?” Fucking hell, his jokes are morbid. You almost forgot in those several hours you haven’t interacted with him. Although that would be quite hard, he leaves quite an impression, after all.

“Well, I suppose you’ve seen the…the civilians?” You can’t call them anything besides that. To call them corpses is to take away from their whole being. To call them dead would just be a lie. They were still alive in the walls of their homes, in the memories of their breathing relatives and friends, and in the pictures, their traces are everywhere. Ghost silently nods to your question, prompting you to continue. “Then here’s your reason.” You didn’t want to explain your feelings in great detail. And you didn’t feel the need to; you saw the compassion in his eyes. “Plus, the whole thing with the Los Vaqueros base.” If you saw Ghost’s face now you’d note how the expression darkened in a single moment. However, you do feel the temperature in the room fall several degrees lower, so you decide to joke again. “Pay wasn’t that good anyway, so…”

“Fair enough.” The man chuckles while rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll keep an eye on you though. Don’t think you can just waltz in here like this and be completely trusted.” Well, that’s understandable. If you were him you wouldn’t trust yourself either. Although you did hope that the mercy you’ve shown him earlier would influence his decision making. At least a little bit. “And you better toss that thing. Or else.” He points to the radio, still strapped to your tactical vest. You unclasp the device, detaching the small microphone that was holding on by a thread, and hand it to Ghost.

“You’re welcome to get rid of it for me.” And he doesn’t waste any time, dropping the radio on the ground, stomping on it so hard that the sound of it breaking echoes through the church. You assess the scraps of wires and plastic on the floor with a pitiful gaze, coming to a conclusion that you wouldn’t want to end up under Ghost’s boot. Or maybe you would, but under different circumstances. “Well, that’s…effective.”

“You good with the sniper rifle?” The man ignores your previous remark, immediately firing back with the question.

“Decent.” You were a lot better in close quarters and preferred a more hands-on approach. But a sniper rifle wasn’t that bad. As long as he doesn’t ask you to use it without a scope.

“You’re on the lookout with me then. Don’t screw it up.”

Oh, you’re absolutely not going to.

check out my masterlist or send me a request!

a/n – first of all, thank you for reading this fic, and if you enjoyed it, consider dropping me a comment, i’ll really appreciate it! SECOND OF ALL. I’M NOT A GRAVES HATER, DON’T COME @ ME. segment with him also was written before the campaign release, so in case there are some inaccuracies with the plot/his character – let me know, so I can fix it. all of this is a huge rework of the series that I started but never posted. Originally, it was supposed to be Graves x Reader, but for multiple reasons, moral mostly, it didn’t quite sit right with me. So instead of letting 6k words first part that I’ve written and abandoned go to waste, I decided to remake it into something else here, based on the idea of @mockerycrow (ily you have such a big brain)! so yeah, that’s it for now!

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v3nusxsky · 1 month

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I gottttt a request! ❤️

Hope you like it. It’s about Reader and Larissa.

Reader and Larissa been together for 3 months now and Larissa has been feeling lusty and horny for Reader, but she feels that Reader is not ready because when Larissa always accidentally walked on reader changing she flinched and quickly covered herself up. In a act of vulnerability she began to talk to reader in their bedroom about how she’s feeling and what caused it, reader listened and felt remorseful because of her fear of Larissa seeing her back caused her to act that way. Then Reader began to undress and Larissa jaw dropped when reader turned around showing her this beautiful tattoo reader had, Larissa began to droll and began to feel horny. Basically Larissa pounds reader doggy style with her shapeshifter cock while she grips reader hips and praised reader beautiful tattoo and how sexy and beautiful she looks and how reader doesn’t need to hide her tattoo because Larissa loves it.

Can you do the smut- dom Larissa sub reader, daddy kink, praise kink, stigmatophilia, shapeshifted cock.

I’ll write what stigmatophilia means so you don’t have to look it up. stigmatophilia- People with stigmatophilia find piercings, tattoos very attractive. They love to look at, touch, and feel skin that's been decorated with ink and studs.

This is the tattoo I mean-

https://pin.it/5IDewTm

Inked Intimacy 18+

*authors note~ so excited to get the second instalment out and it’s a spicy one that let me dive into the character a little more*

Trigger warnings~ accidental flashing? Tattoos slight body shame stigmatophillia kink dom Larissa sub r shifted cock daddy kink praise kink begging worshiping breeding doggy missionary mating press pure smut tbh

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

Tag list

Time trickled on, Wednesday proving the existence of The Hyde and how Miss Thornhill was actually Laurel Gates. Even the arrest of Gomez Addams had somehow managed to squeeze itself into a month of life. Soon enough the students were leaving for their holidays which would leave you and your lover at Nevermore. Most staff also went to see family for the holidays, but Larissa and yourself decided that it was better you stayed. After all someone had to keep an eye on the school and start the process of finding a new bounty teacher for the start of the new semester.

To say over the last few weeks your blossoming relationship with the shifter improved would be an understatement. You saw one another every day and her new measures to help when your ability overwhelms you are working fantastically allowing you both to feel closer to each other. But with that closeness another problem rears its head.

Larissa wants you. Needs you. And well who wouldn’t desire you? Almost losing you, admitting and feeling the love you shared only lead to her wanting to show you. Truthfully, she’d wanted to have you since the first day you walked into her office. But timing would be they key to success here and she knew all good things come to those who wait. And waiting for you to be ready was of upmost importance to her.

Three knocks sounded from the thick mahogany door before Larissa let herself in, as agreed. Plans to spend the day relaxing in your quarters as you planned lessons and she worked on advertising the new position. What wasn’t planned was the way you flinched at the sounds of her heels on your floor and quickly moved to cover yourself with a thick hoodie that was covered the back of your chair. If Larissa didn’t know how to read your body as well as she did, she would’ve thought you were just cold. No. You were scared. Heavens know why you’d be scared in her presence but she hated that fact. “Sorry sweetheart” she cooed as you turned to face the woman, “I didn’t mean to startle you, I thought you’d heard the knocks.”

For days on end Larissa couldn’t get the way you flinched out of her mind, you were scared. Yet you still cuddle into the woman as you sit on the sofa, you still kiss her and tease her when she doesn’t quite get the jokes in the film that’s mindlessly playing in the background. You still stare up at her as if you’re enchanted by something out of this world. But you’d flinched. Why? Three months of being together and you’d never expressed any fear towards the woman, only once admitting to her after a few classes of wine that you thought she was stunning and that intimidated you. Even now, you wonder how someone so utterly gorgeous would want someone like you. The thoughts that you may have misinterpreted her desire to show you love due to how you viewed your own body caused the blondes heart to clench painfully. She’d spend forever, in this life and the next, showing you how absolutely precious you are. One of a kind. Hers.

You had caught the underlying fear and sadness radiating in the woman’s aura recently. It puzzled you in many ways, perhaps that’s why you invited her to join you this evening for some good wine and a conversation. You couldn’t help but want to easy the woman’s emotions and provide any help or reassurance she required. Little did you know, you were the cause of these emotions. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that she would’ve caught the way you flinched days ago. She hadn’t mentioned anything after the incident so you assumed you’d escaped that conversation. Three knocks and a quiet call of “darling” alerted you to her arrival.

“In here my love, I don’t have any of the fancy red you have but-“ you mumbled standing on your tip toes to reach the wine glasses at the back of the cupboard with a dissatisfied grunt. Only to feel a hand slip it’s way around your waist, pulling your body flush against her front as she effortlessly retrieved the glasses you were seeking. A kiss dropped to your forehead before she stepped back allowing you to move freely as if you hadn’t been pined between her and the kitchen counter seconds ago. “Red is fine my love” she murmured, eyes trained watching you with an amused smirk. “Flustered darling?” She teased with no bite as you stubbornly focused on pouring the wine ensuring you spilled none, instead of facing her, knowing if you did she would see just how the small act of kindness had affected you. “Busy love” you chuckled, “go sit” you rushed her into the living area in order to control yourself and bring her wine, happily serving the woman who simply held your heart.

Taking a seat to her right you passed her the glasses before sipping your own under her gaze as she mirrored your action. “Mm” she practically purred as the wine hit her taste buds, tongue coming to swipe her bottom lip in an attempt to taste the drop of wine resting there. In these situations you are glad you’re the empath. Only heaven knows if she had that ability you would’ve been called out ages ago for the growing need at such a simple action. But no matter how badly you want your girlfriend the idea of her wanting you is too far fetched so why would you face the rejection?

“Darling?” She hummed watching as your gaze seemed to harden, your mind wandering far away from anything in the room, thoughts running wild. “Mhmm?” Was all you offered the woman as you stole a glance at her. There she sat in all her six foot three glory, eyes trained on you. “Can we- uh talk?”

A talk. Could you have done something wrong? No. Was something wrong with your classes? No, you had high pass rates from recent testing. You offered a small nod as your mind ran a million and one different scenarios for the reasons of the talk. You must have accidentally pushed your worry onto the woman as she rushed to comfort you that the conversation wouldn’t be bad.

“I- heavens this is hard- I would like to ask if you fear me? I noticed the other day you flinched. I don’t want to scare you dear. I love you too much for that, I promised to protect you and that means anything you need love. I can’t stand the fact I may have made you uncomfortable or any kind darling? I hope you know nothing like that would happen till your ready” the blonde rushed out in a hopes that this would be fixable. But if it wasn’t? She couldn’t think of that right now. Knowing you are feeling all her anxiety and need only to be hit with a strong wave of remorse and guilt. “Darling?” She murmured as a stray tear slid down your cheek.

You scrambled to lift your shirt off your back, still covering your modesty but finally fully exposing your back to the Principal. There you had fine art work of a Mandela style lotus flower stemming from the centre of your spine what appeared to be black wings framing it with two smaller versions of the flowers appearing on your shoulders. Silence filled the room as the woman took in the pure beauty and detail on your back, fingers itching to trace the delicate lines but hesitating due to your emotions. “Beautiful” she breathed out shocking you. “How ever did you decided on such a beautiful design?”

The truth was the Mandela design was to represent the universe and your spiritual connection to it. The intricate design always called out to you, and the flower was your favourite so it made sense. The black wings that framed the flower were used to cover what you were told was scars from childhood. Unfortunately, you knew what that meant, the back colour signifies the end of that part of your life and the two Mandelas were added to show the weight that your ability adds to your life. Which you promptly explained to her after pulling you top down and facing the woman clutching your wine glass, occasionally swirling the liquid around.

A steady hand guided yours to rest the glass on the table before coming to cup your cheeks with a feather light touch as if she wasn’t there at all. Only when you let out a sigh of relief did the woman move slowly to press her stained lips to yours. Kissing Larissa is one of your favourite activities to do, so naturally you respond with the same energy as she puts in. It’s also not uncommon for the woman to pull you into her lap as her lips rub up and down the expanse of your neck. Hands firmly planted on your hips. “I’m ready Isa” you mumbled as your hands came to rest on her shoulders, “bedroom please.” Enough said.

It was no surprise to you that the shifter could easily scoop you up while her lips reminded attached to yours. After all this was Larissa Weems. The strongest shifter known. The poor woman was on a mission to get you out of that damn shirt so it’s also no surprise that she tossed you on the bed before crawling after you shredding your shirt and bra. “Turnover” she demanded and you did instantly, trusting the woman with your life. “Good girl” she murmured as her fingers delicately traced the tattoo only to be followed with her tongue. You’d be lying if you weren’t enjoying it but this was a first for you.

“M so gorgeous, so pretty darling” she purred practically worshiping the marked skin, “so sexy” she concluded her thoughts as she nipped the junction between your shoulder and neck. “Please” you whimpered trying to turn yourself around. “Oh no sweet thing, I want to take you while this beautiful display of art is on show. You’re such a pretty blank canvas baby. You should get more of these wonderfully creations” the attraction to your tattoo was definitely unsuspected to the principal but damn did it do things to her. So intense in fact she was acting like the needy fifteen year old losing control of her shifting abilities. Now standing proudly to attention she was sporting an eight inch throbbing cock. Something she knew you’d feel pressed against the back of your thigh.

“Daddy?” You whimpered feeling the extra warmth. “That’s right daring, I just can’t help myself. Please pretty girl can daddy fuck your sweet little cunt?” Her pleas sounding strangled as she glanced at the tattoo again, this time letting you feel how badly she needs you. Larissa wasted no time in shredding any of the barriers between her and your skin after you begged her to take you how she wanted, to love you.

Her thick swollen tip would tap your aching clit as she used your slick to coat her cock. You’d be lying if you said that she wasn’t an impressive size. “Please daddy” you whined as she teased your aching folds for what you consider ages only to be adjusted to now have your ass up and face smushed into the bedsheets. “Perfect, a pretty view for daddy” she murmured as she lined herself up with your soaked hole.

She was big, there’s a sting and burn in slight areas but much to her delight you took her full length with ease, tightly squeezing her sensitive shaft as her bulbous tip brushed against your cervix causing you to let out and unlawfully loud mewl of pleasure, “Daddy!” Her soothing hand rubbed small circles into your hip as she stilled herself, waiting for you to adjust, she murmured words of love and praise. Simply comforting you till you began to absentmindedly fuck yourself backwards onto her dick.

“Oh fuck pretty girl. So fucking good for daddy. Practically suffocating my big cock baby. So fucking good for daddy aren’t you sweet girl?” She praised while finding the perfect rhythm to throw you both closer to the edge with each thrust. “Oh fuck daddy please” your noises muffled by the bedsheets, “m so good.” Larissa couldn’t help but yank your back towards her front and kiss, lick, suck and bite any of your exposed skin which made your weeping cunt more slick than it already was. “Daddy! Gonna cum! Please fuck i can’t” you whimpered as you teetered on that maddening yet beautiful edge. “Perfect. Good girl for daddy. Cum for daddy darling! Fuck I’m gonna cum with my girl” she panted as you both tumbled over the edge and tumbled hard. Her rhythm faltering as spurts of her white sticky seed got fucked into your cervix and you smothered her cock in your glistening cum. “I’m not done with you sweetheart, wanna see your face as you scream for daddy” she whispered in your ear before slipping out of your core and flipping you over with ease.

What a vision you are, sprawled on your back, pupils blow wide, leg’s slightly shaking and cheeks covered in a slight flush. Your tits on perfect display now, so soft and round that Larissa just has to have a taste. And she does. Her mouth makes quick work of marking up your chest suggesting you get them tattooed to remind anyone and everyone that your her girl. Soon enough your hands are in her hair, ripping out any pins in your way as you tug the strands to communicate your need. “Daddy” you whimpered, “please, show me love now.”

And that she did, this time entering your fluttering tight little hole with no resistance, watching as your lips part in a slight O shape. Your inner walls gladly accepting the intrusion and hugging it tightly. “Feel so good sweet girl. So good for me. My good girl” she murmured as she bestowed sweet kisses all over your face once again settling into a rhythm quickly. Clearly, you are both sensitive as it doesn’t take long for the second peak to arrive. “Daddy!” You mewled with every thrust. “Daddy’s girl, gonna help my girl.” It was evident to the blonde with how you were milking her cock you were close so with an almost practiced ease your legs were manoeuvred up over the shifters shoulders providing a deeper more satisfying angle. One that made you see stars as you came screaming the only word in your fuzzy head. “Daddy!” As if it were possible Larissa seemed to continue filling you up for hours, each time you’d think she’d finished her shaft would twitch and more cum would spill out as she desperately tried to hump it back into your eager cunt.

You couldn’t help the wince as she pulled from your puffy over sensitive sex but she was quick to hush you and shift her anatomy back before holding you close. “Darling? Are you okay love?” It honestly broke your heart how unsure she was of herself, that everything that had happened was consensual but you knew her past. Wednesdays mother had really done a number on the younger principal. “Well fucked darling that’s all” you couldn’t help but snuggle closer to the woman, So full” you mumbled into her skin. “No more hiding. Your beautiful stunning self sweet girl” she almost seemed to question out loud before murmuring something about if her seed stuck she hopes the children would take after their mommy. More praises were shared, not only Larissa but you also before you both fell asleep in one another’s arms.

Word count 2924

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saturnville · 5 months

Text

yes, mr. snow.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x black fem oc (illia furdoix). warning: book accurate snow, arranged marriage, toxic!coriolanus. trigger warning: choking. content: coriolanus and illia are in an arranged marriage. coriolanus seems like a decent man to the public, but behind closed doors, she sees a different side to him. an: I saw someone say that wanted to see a more accurate description of coriolanus based on the books. and in the books, the man is an unhinged, classless, selfish human being. here we go.

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesimto keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact!

She cursed the day she was born. She'd spit on the birth certificate and burn it in the coal-infused fireplace if it meant her existence was a mere wrinkle in time. If the conception of her very being had been unsuccessful, she would have been saved. Saved from the monster that bore the name Coriolanus Snow.

He was just that indeed. A man with the nature of Zeus--arrogant and proud. Expectant of his subjects to adhere to his every command. To fall at his feet like peasants and utter his praises with each breath he took. Like Medusa, his eyes were cold and struck fear in the souls of those who were brave enough to look into them. She never looked in his eyes. They were a beautiful shade of blue, yes, but they were deadly. Stone-cold and deadly.

From their childhood, they were destined to marry. A North magnent and a South magnent forced to attract though they were born to repel.

Her husband was a mean man. How had she been stuck with him, she wondered. Why did the stars have to align the way they did. She carried the name of a monster and laid next to a man she feared. Surely, that was never how marriage was intended to be. It was to be loving, honorable. She was supposed to be adored by her husband as she supported him in his endeavors. What did she get though?

A man who trudged home during the early hours of the morning, clothed in anger and misery, an aroma of scotch and lingering cologne following him with every step he took.

Even still, as time went on, she found ways to love him. He had his moments where she had hope. When he made her soup when she fell ill, how he had a tulip garden put on the roof because he knew they were her favorite flowers. They were rare moments, but she found ways to cherish them.

Illia was afraid to speak as his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the bedroom. His features were frozen in place; furrowed eyesbrows, a deep frown, and a clenched jaw. A walking manifestation of bitterness.

Her eyes were stuck on his swift movements as he floateda around the like a moth. His chest was exposed, as he unfastened the buttons on his short journey up the stairs and to their bedroom. Lean and strong. He tossed his crimson coat on the ottoman on the farthest side of the room. She winced. That was a gift she had made for him.

The sigh he released was heavy. He uttered words beneath his breath as he continued to pace around the room, searching. For what? She did not know.

"You're staring." His voice was low. Icy. Illia jumped and dropped her eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

How you don't come home. Why don't you touch me like you care for me? Will you ever learn to love me? "Where were you, Coriolanus?" Hardly a second passed before flames rose in his eyes. Who knew a simple question could turn a cub into a preying lion an instant.

However, her husband had a keen sense of self control. So rather than yelling like she assumed he would, he instructed her to stand in front of him. "Come here." Her legs carried her to him. They were close in height so her eyes were almost adjacent to his. Their lips, so close, that she could feel the ghost of them.

Slowly, Coriolanus dragged a hand from her bare thigh, up her stomach that was covered by a lace slip, to her breasts which he gave a tight squeeze. It finally landed around her neck. Coriolanus hummed and cocked his head to the side. Illia's breathing was heavy, her lips were parted, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Until he tightened his grip. She gasped in horror. Coriolanus ignored her fingers scratching as his hand as he brought his lips to her hear. "You don't question me, do you understand? I come home when I come home. All that matters is that you are here when I arrive. Do I make myself clear?"

The fear in her eyes would make any man retract and beg for her forgiveness. He was not any man. Illia let out a strained yes, tears welling in her eyes.

It was not enough. "Yes, what?"

She coughed. "Yes, Mr. Snow." He released her from his grip and watched as she fell toward the floor in agony. She crawled away from him in fear. He stared at her with those icy eyes, emotionless and bare. Her husband, he was indeed. The monstor who bore the name Coriolanus Snow.

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #coriolanus snow x black reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x lucy gray #coriolanus snow x sejanus plinth #the hunger games #thg #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x black!reader #young!coriolanus snow #young!president snow #coriolanus snow x illia snow by saturnville

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

To a Tea 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character: Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

You don’t often miss work, but that week, a burst pipe throws everything off. A morning spent waiting on your landlord, then the next few hours for a plumber, has things a bit off kilter. Even the next day, you’re not quite back on point.

The patched wall next to fridge reminds you of the disaster and a dingy smell persists. You hope it doesn’t cling to you as you set off for your shift that day. If you can, you want to pick up some hours from others if their up for grabs. Harry doesn’t like Saturday’s, maybe he’ll hand over some.

You try to leave your problems behind as you catch a bus down to the city centre. You get to the tea shop five minutes before the hour. Jenna’s wrapping up the opening tasks as you go to leave your things in the back. You tie on your apron and unlock the front door for the first customers of the day.

At first, it’s a trickle. Never very much at all. The early risers who often come alone or if they aren’t, they don’t speak much or very loudly. The smell of fresh baking and the slow rising sun add to the lazy din.

“Thought the special was strawberry today,” you comment as you transfer macarons from a cooled tray to the display.

“Eh, it was but we didn’t have enough jam,” she shrugs. “Changed the sign, is all.”

“Ah, thought my mind was lagging again. Everything’s been off since yesterday.”

“Eh, how’s the apartment, anyhow? Marilyn said it was something about a leak?”

“Burst pipe,” you explain, “they took out the wall above the sink, buncha clanging all day. When I tell you this place is like heaven.”

She chuckles, “can be.”

“There’s a formal tea booked in the Marigold Room at noon,” she intones, “forgot to mention that. With Mother’s day coming up, suppose we’ll get more bookings.”

“Suppose,” you go to check the schedule hanging on the wall. “Party of twelve, wow.”

“I’ll man the till. Honest, since those ladies at New Years, I’ve hated doing them.”

“No problem, Harry should be here, shouldn’t he?”

“Well, he’s... called in.”

“Again?” You whine as you face her.

“Are you really surprised?” She scoffs.

“No one else to cover? Not even Louisa?”

“Nah, she’s on holiday still.”

You huff, “fine. Not much of a choose then, is it?”

🫖

The tea room is as close to raucous as you’ve ever heard it. You have your back to the rest of the shop as you balance the stacked serving trays with an array of sponge cake, fruit, and biscuits. It’s the typical assortment for a tea party booking.

You’ve already served the tea and the sandwiches, and dessert is the last bit, along with any further pots needed to be steeped throughout. With a partner, it isn’t hard to keep up, but alone, it’s rather overwhelming. Jenna does her best to assist but there aren’t many lulls around lunch time.

Beyond that, the tourists are chatty. You could hardly get away to fetch each course as they wanted to chat about the culture and your suggestions of what they should do next. It’s nice that they’re friendly but still stressful.

You put the trays on the cart and roll it around the counter. As you do, you nearly skid to a halt. In the rush, you hadn’t noticed him. Your eyes meet Raymond’s as he watches you. Intent, intense. You give an apologetic smile and nod in acknowledgement. Jenna wanted to deal with the main room, she’ll have to wipe down his table and do her best.

You roll behind the wall and into the Marigold room. You present the tray and grab it by the ring at the top, lifting it onto the centre of the table. You roll around to gather the empty plates and cups, taking two pots for refill.

You come back out and see Raymond standing, just as he was. He sees you too. Watching, hands folded, knuckles white, jaw set. He’s usually patient but you don’t know how long he’s been waiting.

You roll behind the counter and sigh, clearing off the cart as Jenna steams a tea latte.

“Can you wipe Raymond’s table?” You ask.

“Who?” She furrows her brow.

You glance over your shoulder toward the man in question and she follows. She rolls her eyes, “I tried, I wiped the the table. He didn’t sit.”

“Hm, well... did you wash your hands first?”

“Christ Almighty, what is he a child?”

“Jen, he’s just... you know, my mom’s the same. He can’t help it.”

“You can deal with him. I won’t be arsed,” she sniffs, “he was rude and you know I don’t got time for those ones.”

“Jenna, I’m kinda up to my eyes,” you dump the used bags from a pot. “I know he can be prickly but just wash your hands and redo the table.”

“Ugh, fine,” she sneers, “but you owe me.”

“Let’s call it even,” you retort as you pour boiling water into the pots mouth.

She shakes her head and huffs, “guess it is.”

🫖

It’s nearly three in the afternoon. It’s quiet. Harry’s on his phone instead of doing the cups and your wiping the empty tables to keep yourself moving. The door opens and you glance over to make sure Harry’s alert. He’s not.

Doesn’t matter. It’s him. Raymond. You stand and clutch the cloth tight in your hand as you greet him.

“Be right with you, Raymond,” you assure him.

He barely looks at you as he goes to wait next to his table. You go behind the counter and mutter under your breath in Harry’s direction, “...dirty cups.” You wash your hands and make sure to clink some of the empty porcelain in an effort to draw your coworker’s attention. He’s still entranced by his phone.

You take the disinfectant wipes and go back out. You approach Raymond as he checks his watch.

“How are you today?” You ask.

He grumbles and shrugs, “fine.”

“English Breakfast, black,” you declares as you finish wiping up, “usual.”

“So you remember,” he challenges as he steps close, closer than ever, before sidling around to sit.

“Of course, I always do,” you smile.

“And last time?”

“Last time...”

“Twice.”

You’re confused. What is he talking about?

“I came on Tuesday and you weren’t here. Then on Thursday, you didn’t even say hello.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Raymond, it was a busy day. Tuesday, I had a personal emergency so I didn’t even know you’d been in--”

“I’ll have my tea now,” he interjects tersely.

“Right, tea,” you confirm and spin around.

“Crooked strings,” he remarks dully, “again.”

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #dark!raymond smith #drabble #series #to a tea #sweet and spicy #the gentlemen #au

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 4,994

warnings: swearing, smoking, loneliness, anxiety, specific descriptions of billy’s abuse/fighting/trauma, (if this is triggering, please skip out <3), neil

a/n: hi my loves!! here we are. i really tried to put my back into this one. lots happens and i really hope you enjoy it. thank you for all the positive feedback you’ve given me with this series. i’ve enjoyed writing it. the next part, part five, may be the last one. we’ll see how it goes once i get to writing it, but that might be it. a part six is possible, but i’m not sure yet! i love you all. also, i’m tagging @writethrough because she’s given me a plethora of sweet ideas for this and done nothing but motivate me. i appreciate it more than anything. happy reading!! <333

before you read, listen to: eyes without a face by billy idol and/or love of my life by queen

————

“Billy.” He’s warm. He’s so warm. And his arm is heavy where he’s thrown it over your back, hooked his fingers under your side.

“No.”

“Billy, please.” You’re pleading with him. He’s practically on top of you, tucked into your side like this, the both on your stomachs.

“No,” he says into your shoulder.

“Billy, I have to pee.”

He groans. “Whatever.”

He rolls off of you onto his back, and watches as you pull yourself up and out of bed, leaving to use the bathroom.

While you’re gone, Billy thinks about how he’s never slept in someone else’s bed. Every girl he’s ever been with has been in his bed, when he knew no one else was home (for the most part). He never wanted to chance the interaction with someone else’s family.

But you feel safe. Your home feels safe. And you’re not just some chick he’s invited over for a little temporary stress relief.

Billy also thinks about how he’s never had a sleepover. He never had friends to do that with when he was younger—Neil would’ve thought it was inappropriate even if he had.

Billy stretches, sliding further into the bed and off the pillows, arms over his head. He then relaxes his arms, one flopping over the spot you’d been in. His hand bumps into something soft, and he runs his fingers over the sheets, searching for it. He knows what it is before he sees it.

It’s a teddy bear. His heart clenches. He hadn’t even realized you’d been cuddled up with that thing all night, and thinking about you like that makes him feel all soft and gooey.

For a second he feels a pang in his chest, like he shouldn’t be letting you turn him into a pussy. But those aren’t his words. He knows it.

Billy thinks about his mother for a moment. How she’d love you. He was so shy as a kid. She always had a soft spot for the shy ones.

He fidgets with one of your bear’s ears, remembering the one he’d had as a kid. His mom had given it to him. It was this pale blue color, and though small, but it always felt just right to hold. He’s pretty sure it’s in a box somewhere now.

Your footsteps snap him out of his reverie. You return with a little yellow paper between your fingers.

Billy Hargrove splayed out in your bed is something you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to. He looks like a dream. His curls are frizzy from sleep, the cutoff tank top he’s wearing twisted around his torso, one thigh sticking out from under the covers.

“Mom’s not here,” you start. “Left a note saying Wendy called and they’re having brunch. Apparently she didn’t want to wake us.”

You set the paper down on your nightstand and plop on the bed beside him, sitting up on your knees.

“You look so pretty,” you tell him.

Billy starts laughing. You swat at his side, but he grabs your hand and pulls it to his mouth, pressing a warm and slightly chapped kiss to your skin.

“So do you,” he says, squeezing at your hand. You almost argue with him, but the look in his eye tells you he really thinks so, and you decide against deprecating yourself.

You run your fingers over his hair. “You should let me braid it today.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Only if you tell me who this is.” He grabs for your bear, shaking it around before sitting it up on his stomach.

You gasp dramatically, bringing a hand to your chest. “That’s Teddy.”

“Teddy? How original.”

“Fuck you, Hargrove. Teddy is a gentleman.”

“A gentleman who sleeps in your bed every night,” he argues.

“He’s comforting. I’m lonely.” That hits a nerve, and you watch Billy’s expression change.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

You take your bear, standing him up on Billy’s stomach. He puts his arms under his head, watching you. “You can ask me anything, Billy.” He tugs on your bears arm absentmindedly, nodding.

“Are still lonely even with me around?”

You stop, put Teddy down. You think about what to say for a moment, and your silence freaks Billy out.

“Because if you are, tell me what to do.” He sits up, and you watch as he adjusts his shirt and shakes out his hair.

Your heart starts to pound and your mind is abuzz with emotion. All of it for him.

“Sometimes I am. When you’re not with me.”His shoulders relax a little, though he hates knowing you feel alone at all.

“But it doesn’t really ache anymore. I don’t really have this longing for someone to care about me. And I know I’ve had my mom, but that’s not enough, you know? Even if I feel selfish saying that.”

“But now I have you. And I’m pretty sure you care about me.”

I more than care about you, Billy thinks.

Billy puts a hand against your cheek, and you lean into his touch. His lips quirk up at the gesture.

“It’s not selfish to want to be cared for,” Billy tells you. “You’ve taught me that, you know.”

“Really?”

He nods. “And I know what you mean about the ache. Sometimes you just want someone in the room with you, and that’d be enough. But, Y/N, I really do care about you. Even if I don’t say it enough. You’re my best friend.”

Both of Billy’s hands are on your face now, and his tone is nothing but sincere.

“You’re my best friend too. I care about you loads, Billy.”

“Really?”

“Yes. More than anything.”

You lean up, and kiss him on the forehead. It’s lingering and soft. Billy feels like he could scream or maybe cry.

You’re letting him in. He wants to stay.

————

“You’re sure you’re not hungry?”

“I’m sure, babydoll.”

Your breath catches at that name.

Billy’s never been much of a breakfast person. He always preferred to wait until lunchtime. But nevertheless, he appreciates your offer to fix him something. He also knows he should probably leave soon. Max wants to go to the arcade today.

You grab hold of the edge of the kitchen counter, backing up a little ways and stretching yourself out, head bent to face the floor.

“Billy?”

“Hm?” He leans against the cabinets next to you. He’s gotten dressed, though you’re still in your pajamas. You hate that he’s going to go soon.

You straighten, looking at him. There’s been something on your mind. “Why don’t you ever change your ring or your necklace? I only ask because you change earrings, but those stay the same.”

Billy smiles at you. “You spend a lot of time looking at what I wear?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure.” He winks at you. You ignore it.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you say.

He pinches your side. “It’s fine. The ring is just my favorite. That’s all. And it gives me something to mess with when I’m anxious.”

“So all the time?”

“Shut up.”

You laugh.

“The necklace…it was my mom’s.”

Your breath catches a little, and you lead Billy back to your room where he can sit. He settles on the end of your bed. He hasn’t told you much about her, other than that she left. That his parent’s relationship wasn’t a good one.

But you can tell he loved her. That he misses her.

“She, um, she left my dad and me when I was a kid. She’d had enough of his shit, you know? He was a fucking horrific husband. Not that he’s any better now, by any means.”

“But there was one night a while before shit really hit the fan that he’d screamed at me. My baseball team lost and he said it was all my fault because I was too afraid of getting hurt. She sat me down and told me not to listen to him, that if I didn’t want to play anymore I didn’t have to.”

“And then she was taking her necklace off and putting it around my neck. She said it was so I’d always remember to be myself. To be a kid. Guess that didn’t really work out though.”

“So I wear it because even if I’m mad at her, I still miss her. She was the only one who ever treated me like I was perfect the way I was. Until you.” Billy looks down.

You’re quiet for a minute. He fusses with your bedding.

“Billy, you know I’m not going to leave you right?”

The words are out before you can stop them, but you feel like he needs to know. Billy has made it clear that he feels a lot for you, and it’s important you do the same.

His eyes meet yours.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you say again. “I just want to make sure you know that.”

Billy stands. “Hug?” he asks.

You nod and he’s wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck like he could stay there forever.

————

Billy picks Max up from the arcade later that day, fingers anxiously tapping the steering wheel.

Is he really about to talk to a fourteen-year-old about love? Yeah, he is.

“Maxine,” he says. She whips her head towards him, raises a brow.

“William.”

“Can we have a conversation? About serious shit?”

“I don’t know, can we?” She quips.

“Max—”

“Yes, we can, Billy. What’s so wrong that you need to talk to me?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “And I’m trying to be a better brother, okay? Let me have this.”

“Okay.”

“Do you love Lucas?” He asks.

Max contemplates the question. Lucas has understood her in ways no one else has. He puts up with her and wants her back each time she dumps him. He was welcoming from the moment she stepped into Hawkins.

“Yeah, I think so. I think I do.” She pauses for a moment before continuing. “Are you in love with Y/N? Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah. I am,” he tells her.

“Wow,” she says.

“What?”

“Nothing. Billy Hargrove wanting to be a better brother and he’s fallen in love? Crazy shit.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass, you know that?”

They’re both quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the roar of the engine and the wind.

“I’m sorry, you know,” Max says. “I know I’m not that great of a sister either. I don’t exactly do anything to make your life easier.”

“That’s not your job. I’m the one that’s supposed to look out for you, Max.”

“That’s the thing though, Billy. You’re really not. It’s supposed to be my mom. You’re a kid too. And I could be better. Maybe Neil wouldn’t get so mad at you if I didn’t do things to piss you off so often.”

“Max, that’s not your fault,” he tells her. “My dad is an asshole.”

“I know, I know. I’m just saying. I’ll try to be better.”

“Why don’t we both give that a shot, huh? Try not to treat each other like shit. And for the record, I’m sorry too. I’m a dick to you all the time.”

Max nods and smiles at him.

They’re both trying. And that’s a start.

————

“How do you feel about Billy?”

Your mother is making brownies, with you sat at the counter. She only makes them when she wants to talk or when she’s worried about you.

“He’s my best friend.”

Nicky smiles to herself over the bowl of batter. “That’s all?” she asks.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do know. I think you’re afraid to say it because of how all of your previous friendships have gone. You’re afraid,” she pauses, stirring aggressively for a moment, “that you’re going to lose your best friend again.”

Nicky looks up. “Aren’t you?”

You stare at her, and then relent, nodding.

“So how do you really feel about Billy, Y/N?”

You think for a second, tracing your index finger over the lines in the countertop.

It’s like Billy is learning you. He knows now what makes you anxious. What makes you uncomfortable. And he’s trying. Trying to be there for you and be available, which you know isn’t easy for him.

But you want to be there for him just as much as he is for you.

That’s the thing. You’re both trying.

You can tell when he’s had a bad night. He’s extra quiet before school starts, his hands never leave his pockets, or a cigarette never leaves his mouth. Sometimes it’s like he just needs you to sit there with him. Like he did with you at lunch that first day. He needs to know there’s someone on his side.

There are these times where he’s able to be himself. He calls you after you’ve leant him a book, and he’s pissed about something or other.

Why the fuck would you let me read this?

He head-bangs in the car with you, taps his hands in time with the song. Something he only ever did in the safety of his room. Maybe even sings a little before he catches himself and hope you didn’t hear. You always do.

And when he lets himself laugh it’s like you could fucking die. He’s so gorgeous it hurts.

You don’t know if you can tell her.

“Mom, I—” You cut yourself off and sink in on yourself.

She’s quiet.

“It’s okay to say it, honeybee. You’re safe to tell me, you know. And if it helps, I really don’t think he’s going to hurt you.”

You stand up, walk over to where she’s pouring the mix into a pan. She slides it into the oven, sets a timer.

Nicky waits. She knows you can do it.

“Mom.”

“Yeah?”

“Mom, I love him.”

She holds out her arms and you hug her. She smells like cinnamon and chocolate and this vanilla shampoo she’s used since forever because she swears nothing else is as good for her hair.

“I’m scared,” you tell her. “I’ve never felt like this before. But he makes me feel so safe.”

Nicky is so proud of you. Of your opening up to her and yourself. Letting yourself feel.

She pulls you back, places both of her hands on your cheeks. “It’s okay to be scared. All of these feelings can be scary. But I want you to know how important and wonderful it is that you’ve found someone who makes you feel safe and comfortable. He makes you feel that way, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s so good. You’re going to figure it out. I know you are. I’m so proud of you, honeybee.”

You nod again and again, your nose stinging with tears that you will away.

The timer goes off, its shrill ring ruining the heartfelt moment. Nicky’s laugh is sticky sweet. She lets you go, shutting the thing up with a turn of its dial.

“You gonna want frosting or no?”

“Maybe a little,” you say.

You walk to the living room, catching the start of Jeopardy! and leaving your mother in the kitchen, in her zone. It’ll take a while for the brownies to cool anyways.

You’re slumping against the couch when you hear tires screeching, the roar of an engine a little ways down the street. You know it’s Billy. The car door slams.

You think something might be wrong.

————

Billy’s hands are shaking. He watches Max go inside, but stays leaning against the Camaro, lighting a cigarette. She goes up the stairs, shoots him a look as she throws the back door open.

Max was late leaving Dustin’s place. They’ve been trying to teach her to play D&D, and she got lost in it today, the one time Will’s monsters hadn’t completely faked her out.

Billy lay on the horn three separate times before he finally went inside, telling her it was time to go. She really, really hadn’t meant to be late.

Billy didn’t say a word during the drive home. He knew it was going to be bad. He just knew it. They were forty five minutes late from the time Neil had said he wanted them back.

So now, Billy stood outside, trying to toughen up before facing what he knew was waiting for him.

He stomps his cigarette out, locks the car. He makes his way inside and gets through the dining room where he sees Neil sitting at the table, but he keeps walking. He makes it through the kitchen. He passes the living room, where Susan is reading a book, though she’s not really reading.

The electricity that runs through the house is tangible. Max sits on the edge of her bed, knee bouncing up a storm. She waits for it to start.

Billy doesn’t make it any further. Neil’s footsteps are heavy on the hardwoods as he walks down the hall.

“You’re late.”

Billy closes his eyes before turning around. He knows better than to not face his father when he’s speaking. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“What was that?” Neil’s hands are on his hips now.

Billy’s heart is pounding. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again. Max was just spending time with her friends.”

Neil ignores Billy’s explanation. “Responsibility. We’ve talked about this, again and again, isn’t that right, Billy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t care if your sister is having the best time of her life. I tell you to be home at a certain time, then that’s when you’re home. It is your responsibility to get her back here and to respect my rules, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

Billy thinks for a second that it’s over. In the other room, Max hopes it is too. She’s chewed off all her nails listening to them talk.

Neil drops his hands, drags one over his mustache and sighs. Billy starts to walk away.

“You know what, Billy? You’ve been late an awful lot lately. It’s because you’ve been hanging out with that slut from down the road isn’t it?”

Billy freezes. Usually, he just lets it go. Locks himself in his room, cries it out. Smokes it out.

But he just made this about you.

Billy turns around. “What did you just say?”

Neil stalks closer to his son, raises his voice.“You got your own whore now, huh? You’re just like your mother.”

Billy’s brow furrows, and feels like he’s burning. Max doesn’t know what to do. She’s never heard Neil say something like that before.

Billy gets just as close to Neil as he is to Billy. “Fuck you.”

Neil laughs. It’s heartless. He cocks his head. “I’m sorry?”

“I said. Fuck. You.”

Neil puffs out his chest and straightens his back. Billy knows he shouldn’t have said that. He doesn’t really care.

Neil is looking at Billy like he’s prey. And then Neil hits him. Max can hear the sound Neil’s fist makes as it cracks against her brother’s jaw. He’s got Billy by the collar and up on the wall before the boy can even struggle to move away.

“Get off me,” Billy yells.

“Who do you think you are, huh? Talking to me like that. I am your father, and you are to give me nothing but your respect.”

Billy shoves his father as hard as he can, hooks his hands under Neil’s elbows, pushing him off.

“I said, get off me.”

Billy turns and makes for the door. Max rushes to try and catch him. She knows it’s her fault. She wants to fix things.

“Billy—” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“Stay out of this. And stay here, Max.” He’s angry, but his tone softens just for a moment when he speaks to her.

Billy is outside before anyone can do anything about it. He’s got his keys, but he doesn’t trust himself to drive. He’s never fought back before. That was a completely different thing in there.

Billy walks to the other side of the road, starts on the shitty sidewalk. He feels like he can’t breathe. His entire body is shaking. He finds that stupid ass brick wall that you’d once visited him at, and he sits, holding onto it before he collapses.

His heart is beating so fast it hurts. He hasn’t had one of these in so long. He’s clutching the brick so hard he thinks he might have scrapes on his fingertips.

He starts to breathe in, and then he counts. He breathes out.

He keeps going until he doesn’t feel like he’s going to die anymore. When it’s over, he’s just as angry.

————

You’re standing in the kitchen, shoving your face with a brownie when you look up, and Billy is walking around outside. He looks upset. You don’t know if you should go out or not. You should, shouldn’t you?

Your mom left to pick up a couple movies for the both of you to watch tonight. Some of the few you didn’t have copies of.

You walk to the front door and pull it open.

“Billy?”

You’re stood on the stoop when he catches your eye. He’d been contemplating whether or not to go to you for the past ten minutes.

“Do you want to come in?”

He does. He doesn’t think he should, but he does. He walks toward you anyways.

You offer him half of your brownie. He takes it only so that he doesn’t have to talk yet.

You both stand in your entryway, silently eating your brownies before you look at him.

You swallow, wipe your hands on your pants. “Billy, your cheek is red.”

“No shit, really?” His tone that would usually be teasing isn’t. It’s just snarky. It’s almost mean.

And he regrets it immediately. You have no idea what just happened.

You raise your eyebrows at the way he just spoke to you.

He’s upset, clearly, and you think you know why, but you’re not going to push it out if he’s not ready. You’re not going to let him be a dick to you though either.

“Watch the attitude, Hargrove.”

“Or what, huh? You gonna tell me what a piece of shit I am too?”

“Billy, stop.”

He’s hurting. You can feel it.

“You gonna put everything on me? Treat me like I’m just this fucking burden? Huh, Y/N?”

“Billy, enough.” You’re dead serious. You mean it when you say that. You look him in the eye, and he stops.

“I can tell something’s wrong, but you don’t have to come over here and yell at me about it. If you want to talk, we can talk. That’s what I’m here for. Just stop, okay?”

“Fine.”

“What happened?” You ask.

Billy tells you everything. He lets it all out, and it’s like he’s showing you his hand. He’s being vulnerable and he hates it. But he knows you don’t care. You want him to be vulnerable with you.

“And you’ve never done that before?”

“No.”

“But you did tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Y/N, I just told you.”

“Say it again.”

“Because of you,” Billy starts. “Because he brought you into it and I wasn’t going to let him talk about you like that.”

“Billy. I’m not worth you getting hit over.”

“Baby, please don’t say that. Shit, why would you say that? You’re worth everything.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

You grin, and he smiles at you. He looks so pretty.

“You think it’ll bruise?”

“I hope not. Guess we’ll find out though,” he says.

You lean in, and kiss Billy’s cheek. It’s so soft that he might not even know you’d done it if he couldn’t see you.

“Come on, you’re not gonna hurt me. You can do better than that.”

“Greedy.”

“‘S your fault,” he argues.

You kiss him on the forehead a little more firmly. Then on his nose.

You pause, running a finger over said nose until he wrinkles it at you. “I love your nose.” He just watches you. You’ve practically got sparkles in your eyes. You graze your thumb over his freckles.

“Anything else you love?”

He’s giving you an opening. You decide to take it. What’s the point in keeping it from him?

“You.”

He wasn’t expecting you to have taken it.

“What?”

“You asked if there was anything else I loved. I said you.” Your voice is soft. Kind.

“Y/N.”

“Billy.”

“You love me?” he asks, unsure.

“I do. Told my mom about it and everything.”

His head falls against your shoulder.

“Wanna know something?” he mumbles against you before raising his head again.

“‘Course I do.”

“I love you too. Told Max about it and everything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, baby,” Billy says. “I love you.”

You take his face in your hands, looking at him, taking him in. Your eyes linger on his lips before moving up to lock with his, blue orbs burning into your soul.

“Yes or no?” you ask.

“Yes.”

You press your lips against his, softly at first, but then a little harder when you find your rhythm. Billy smiles into it, and when you pull away, he’s quick to kiss you again and again.

————

Nicky gets home and unlocks the door, pushing it open.

“Honeybee, I’m home. Wanna come look at these?”

You look at Billy where he lays on your chest. He groans. “Okay, let me get up, Billy. I’ll be right back.”

He sits up, but he’s not happy about it. He has quite literally never looked grumpier.

You make your way down the hall where you heard your mother wander off. “Mom?” you ask.

“In here.” She’s taking her shoes off.

“Billy’s here,” you blurt out. “He had a bad day and came over, and then we started talked and I told him.” You stop, realizing that was one long ramble and she’d just gotten home.

She kicks off her shoes and stands, smiling brilliantly at you.

“You told him what, exactly?” She wants to hear you say it.

You roll your eyes. “That I love him.”

She claps her hands, rings clinking together. She kisses your forehead, and it makes an audible mwah sound.

“I’m so happy for you, honeybee.” Her expression changes quickly, though, a look of concern crossing her face. “He said it back, right? He loves you too?”

You nod, and she visibly calms down. “Yeah. He loves me too.”

“Good. Shit, that’s so reassuring. I’m gonna change. Is he staying for movies?”

You grin, happy she’s happy. “I’ll go ask.”

You venture back to the living room, where Billy sits on the couch, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll be right back my ass,” he says, looking up at you with a pout on his face.

You sit down beside him, grab his arms and pull them apart. “Sorry, sorry.” You rub the callouses on the palms of his hands with your thumbs. “You wanna stay for movies?”

Billy thinks for a second. He doesn’t want to go home. “Is that okay?”

“Duh.”

“You’re such a little shit.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Case in point,” he says.

You go to roll your eyes and he stops you. “Don’t even think about it.” You roll them anyways.

He almost makes some other quip, but a thought crosses his mind. Max. He doesn’t want to leave her in that house all night with his father. He’s always scared maybe if he’s not there she’ll be next. It’s almost been Susan before.

“Do you think Max could join us?”

“Sure she could.” You don’t even think about it, and Billy’s insides turn to mush.

So he calls her, and when she picks up, the first thing she does is ask where Billy is. He tells her. Max says Neil left with Susan. Didn’t say where they were going.

“Would you want to come over to Y/N’s and watch a movie? Or I can just take you to El’s or Lucas’s,” he says to her.

Maybe it sounds stupid, Max thinks, but she wants to spend time with Billy. You’ve been good for him. And clearly he’s in love with you and shit.

So Billy ends up walking down the street to get Max, who he then walks right back down to your house.

“I told her,” he says.

“That you’re stupidly in love with her?” she inquires.

“Watch it.” Max raises her hands in mock surrender. “But yeah.”

Max smiles at him. “Stop that,” he says.

————

“You like brownies, Max?” Nicky asks her.

“I do.”

“Good thing I have some then, huh? Here.” She hands her an enormous chunk of brownie, frosting sloppily slathered over the top of it. Max looks giddy at the sight of it in her hands.

The four of you sit in the living room, and your mother turns on Footloose. Billy promises not to complain. Max doesn’t buy it.

Nicky sets up shop in her oversized chair, while you sit in between Max and Billy on the couch. You lean over, lowering your voice to speak to the redhead. She leans towards you in response.

“What are your thoughts on Kevin Bacon?”

“He’s cute. Looks good in those jeans.”

You hold up your hand for a high five, which she gives you. “I’m glad we agree.”

Billy looks over at you, feigning betrayal. You shrug your shoulders, and he snatches the rest of your brownie from you. You gasp and go to pinch his thigh, but he takes your hand, holding it to his chest. He settles further into the couch, throwing his leg over yours.

Max would probably fake gag or something, but Kevin Bacon is much too entertaining.

Nicky, on the other hand, looks at you and Billy fondly. You look content. That’s all she’s ever wanted for you. That and someone willing to watch Footloose with you.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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ladymarycrawley · 1 year

Text

A bit too real - Trent Alexander-Arnold

Request: Can you write a fic where the reader and taa are having sex and his BEREAL notification goes off? (as requested by @princessbetsy123-blog)

Warning: a bit smut at the beginning but just that

Tag list: @masonxomount @chelsealover

“Oh Trent” You moaned as he was busy kissing your thighs. While his eyes were fixed on you, his fingers moved your mint green slip to the side to savour your wetness.

His skilled lips against your most sensistive spot was what you needed to unwind, after a long and stressful week. To have him all for you, his body and mind. You tilted your head back in pleasure as he would use his hand to keep your thighs open for him to have a better angle to taste you.

An even louder moan filled the room.

Your heels pressing against his back, his tongue trying to reach for the spot that would make you see stars.

No one could spoil that perfect, blissful time...except for his phone that started buzzing with the notification tone, calling his attention.

“Oh my god Trent, really?” You asked quite annoyed with him leaving what he was doing to go and check his phone.

“Shit” He hissed looking at the screen.

“What’s wrong?”

Trent giggled and showed you the BeReal notification that was asking him to post a picture of what he was doing in that moment.

“You won’t” You sounded quite threatening in the attempt to warn him.

“Why not? It’s private after all…”

You widened your eyes in shock and blushed violently: was he really thinking about posting a picture of you two having sex?? Seriously??

“No Trent, you won’t post this”

He smirked, giving you a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. He loved seeing you getting all shy and flustered from embarrassment, that was you being your truest self and he loved it.

“I’m serious”

He ignored your protest and snapped a photo of you, in your knickers only, your hair covering your breast together with a selfie of him pulling a funny face.

“Look”

Your boyfriend couldn’t stop laughing while you weren’t amused by all of that in the slightest.

“Delete that thing now”

Of course Trent didn’t have the faintest idea of exposing you two like that, given also the fact that he had always been rather private about your relationship, so he just took it to tease you, he wanted to delete it and put the phone away but he didn’t realise he pressed the wrong button…

“Where were we?” He smirked, taking his position back between your thighs.

Damn, he was irresistible.

You smirked back at him and tried to relax under his touch, guiding his head back against your aching core.

Later that night, after having taken a hot shower, as Trent was busy cooking dinner for the two of you , you decided to relax a little scrolling through your phone but it turned out to be the least relaxing thing you could have done as an unknown number of notifications, alluding to an x-rated photo of you, appeared on your screen.

What were they referring to? Trent didn’t post that pic, he just took it and then deleted it…did some paparazzi hack your phone??

Trent seemed so calm at the stove, carelessly humming. You walked towards him as you needed to ask him what was happening.

“Trent…why are they all talking about some pictures of us?”

“It must be something caught by the paps” He answered absentmindedly while stirring what was boiling in the pot. “Where did you see it?”

“On my phone. I have like dozens of notifications asking or making jokes about this alleged photos but I don’t know what they’re talking about…it can’t be the BeReal one since you didn’t post it”

Those words triggered something in the Liverpool player’s head: he widened his eyes in shock and left what he was doing in a hurry to go and check his own phone. He was soon welcomed with the same unknown number of notifications, all about this supposed picture.

The only thing he could do was open the app, hoping his suspects were wrong but when he found that pic of the two of you in bed he snapped as a joke posted on his profile, he couldn’t do anything but curse himself.

Apart from all the comments, there were also some screenshots that had been taken…how could he be so clueless to have pressed the wrong button and posted it instead of deleting it?

“Erm…Y/N I -”

“TRENT ALEXANDER-ARNOLD YOU POSTED THAT PIC!!” You screamed, looking at his phone screen in disbelief.

“I’m so sorry!! I didn’t mean to, I just -” He was trying to delete it while you were reporting it as sensitive content. “Did you just report it??”

“Yes, what did you expect me to do?? Oh god” You facepalmed yourself as you were already pondering the idea of not leaving the house ever again.

“Calm down baby. I’m so sorry, I should have ignored that stupid notification"

Needless to say you were panicking, the images of people talking about you on the web and those hideous titles on the tabloids vivid in your mind…it was too much to take. You felt like throwing up.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

"Not really…"

Trent huffed, mentally cursing himself, as he sat next to you, his arm slung around your shoulders.

"Look, I'm so sorry, I've been an idiot, a complete idiot, but nothing bad will happen. I give you my word"

The unmistakable sincerity of his words made you raise your gaze to look him straight in the eyes.

You would've gone through fire for him as he always made sure to have your back so you should have trusted him that time too, he would have done everything in his power to protect you.

You nodded, laying your head on his shoulder.

"I love you"

"I love you too, drama queen" He giggled, pressing his lips against your forehead.

"I wouldn't have been a drama queen if you had paid attention to what you posted" You rolled your eyes, clearly annoyed.

"You're always a drama queen, don't blame it on me now"

Far be it from you to bring any more drama in that situation but your nose started smelling something burning.

"What's this burning smell?"

"What - OH FUCK" The meal Trent was preparing was long forgotten on the stove as the BeReal thing was your priority at the moment, so you had now another thing to worry about: your burnt dinner.

He jogged over to the kitchen as he was found with that unpleasant surprise.

You loved him so much you swore he looked like the most adorable puppy ever, with his big brown eyes now misty with disappointment and his lower lip stretched out in a pout. A smile spontaneously formed on your lips, as you hugged him from behind. Your head was resting against his back before you lifted it to place a loving kiss behind his neck.

"No dinner tonight I guess"

“Come on, I’m waiting for some joke about me being the worst boyfriend ever or something like that” He muttered, alluding to the snarky remarks you would usually make.

“You’re the worst boyfriend ever but at least you took a pic where I had my latest lingerie set on” Your joke made him giggle as he lovingly squeezed your hands wrapped around his middle.

Burnt food and a sexy scandal, what else could you have asked for for a perfect night in?

841 notes · View notes

neutron-stars-collision · 9 months

Text

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Epilogue - Always You

Chapter 20; Masterlist Summary: One December evening, Vengeance climbs into your apartment through the window. That's regular occurrence by now. What isn't regular, is the conversation you share. Warnings: 18+ (sorry, the gremlin in my brain insisted I describe some of that), swearing. Author's Notes: So, this is the official farewell. This epilogue turned out to be kind of an 'evening in the life of', but I think I needed that. Even if only just to say goodbye to those two. It's 6k of headcanons and fluff, so I hope you enjoy 💕 Once again, thanks for sticking around ✨ A playlist will follow bc of course I have that too. Feel free to let me know what you think? Tag list: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid, @siriuslydestiny, @ms-dont-care, @raphaelaisabella, @itsmytimetoodream, @brightjimini, @castellandiangelo, @grunge-n-roses5

(gif credit: @1038276637)

No amount of thinking and consideration could have ever prepared you for the reality of being Bruce Wayne’s partner. Or girlfriend, a term you had sometimes relished teasing him with. If only to get that same deadpan look, complemented by a pink blush on his cheeks and one sentence reply.

Always the same: “You’re much more than that to me”. Every time the answer made you blush too, overwhelmed with love and hopefulness like never before. Because, as it quickly turned out, Bruce treated this seriously, daily putting in work to make sure whatever you had would survive.

And it did, at least until the rain showers had been replaced by snowfall, and the white coat covering most of Gotham almost made up for the plummeting temperatures. Long enough for you to get used to the idea that a solo night at your place did not mean loneliness. It did not even mean that you would be alone for that much longer, for, as it happened, Bruce’s patrol now sometimes led to your apartment instead of the Terminus. It was a substitute for the nights when you opted to stay at your place instead of perusing the Tower. All the heads-up he would give would be a quick text sent between the hours when you were likely still awake. But it was all you needed, instantly perking up at the idea.

That night was like that, as you were informed by a message on the burner phone: “I’ll come by after 2”. Easy fate to achieve - waiting for Bruce until 2 am. Although, the slow passage of time made you groan for the umpteenth time as you found it still to be only 1 am. An hour. A whole bloody hour. Your head dropped onto the table with a dull thud. The waiting for him was the worst part of it all, perhaps only next to the constant anxiety that filled your veins whenever Bruce was playing the part of Batman. Mostly because you never knew whether waiting up on him in the cave would be to get that desired kiss and help him with the amour or whether it would entail cleaning the wounds and bandaging the cuts. You already had a fair share of both. And there was no point guessing which you preferred.

Your favourite nights, by a large margin, were those when Bruce stayed home. Or at least stayed long enough to go to bed with you. Those were the nights of discoveries and enlightenment, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Always wanting more. Luckily now, you did not have to deny yourself what you had become addicted to. And the list was growing exponentially. Like the fact that after that first night when you had confessed your feelings for Bruce, the three words had only gained power. Enough so that when you whispered them at just the right time, with Bruce still buried deep inside you and inching towards his release - they were all the trigger he needed. All sense of control seemed to disappear as soon as you reminded him you loved him. And for that, the affection only grew.

You knew that was very much mutual.

The other discovery, which had led to many sleepless lonely nights, spent squirming under the covers, was that once Bruce had understood that he truly was the best you ever had, a new level of confidence was unlocked. Some might even call it smugness. But you could not possibly mind a bit of cockiness when it got you a man who would tease you with his fingers and mouth till you were a whimpering mess. And then, only then, he would lean in close, let his mouth brush your heated cheek and the shell of your ear, and whisper: “Come for me”. A request. A command even. You had no choice but to obey. Not that you didn’t want to. By now, the exact way he had spoken had become a go-to soundtrack to all your daydreams. A weak substitute for when you were apart.

It was still better than nothing.

Glancing at the watch to check the time, you were easily brought back from the pleasant recollections. It was almost 2 am. Not long now. You did not need a mirror to confirm your mouth stretched into a dumb smile. The reaction was involuntary at this point, transforming you into that type of lovesick individual you always scoffed at. The irony was infuriating. Feeling the tell-tale shiver of anticipation, you made one final lap of the flat. Smoothing out the bedsheets (even though neither of you cared about it), taking out the short-rimmed tumbler (in case he did want that whiskey you offered before Halloween) and dragging a hand through your hair to detangle any knots (even though he had seen you with bed-hair and mascara stains on your cheeks). Only then you could say you were ready.

And right on time, too, for before long, you heard the familiar light knock upon the window frame. A smile broke out on your face as you crossed the room to unlatch the window and stepped back. This part always made you laugh. You knew why Bruce deemed the window a better way of entering your apartment, but it was still a strange spectacle to witness. Using the grappling hook, he would lift himself to the level of your building and gracefully slip in. The only downside? The melting snow created puddles on your floor. This time you were prepared, a sweeping mop in hand.

The first glimpse you caught was a smile under the cowl. A look so strange for Mr Vengeance himself, yet something you had grown accustomed to. You returned the expression with ease, watching as he jumped in feet first through the window frame and landed on your floor with a quiet groan. That, too, was a sign – this night had been rough. Before you could process the realization, Bruce strengthened up and took off the cowl. As always, that first shared glance made you shiver. The smudged black makeup was smeared around his eyes, hair messy and unkempt, begging you to arrange it. There was no reason to wait.

“Hello, you” you closed the remaining gap and placed your hand on his shoulder.

The material felt cold and made you shiver as you rose on your toes to level with him. Bruce’s eyes traced your every move as he wound his arm around your waist, keeping you close and secure.

“Hey,” the whisper you got in return was the last thing you let him say before you crashed your mouth into his with a satisfied hum.

The coldness of his lips did nothing to stifle the spark of fire slowly building in your veins. As always. Carefully you let your tongue trace his bottom lip, prodding at the seam till Bruce opened his mouth, inviting you in. The familiarity of the feeling was enough to let you drop the remaining weight from your shoulders and sink into him, tasting and consuming all you could. All that he was willing to give you.

Bruce responded in kind to the tempo you had set, caressing your tongue with his and lightly nipping at your bottom lip. He felt like home. Even with the melting snow dripping onto your clothes and the hard edges of the armour digging between your ribs. The need to continue was stronger than anything else. Until neither of you could get deep enough breaths to continue.

You drew back with a quiet whine, frustration adding spikes to the warmth in your chest. The blue of Bruce’s eyes staring back at you smoothed the feeling, instantly making you notice the glimmer in his gaze. The love that was no longer a secret between you. It was impossible to escape the blush blooming on your cheeks and the pick-up in your heart rate. Ignoring the urge to hide from his perceptive stare, you returned to the task at hand.

One assessing look was enough as you raised your hand to cup his cheek and then up to comb through the hair falling into his eyes. You carefully brushed it away from his forehead, barely managing not to drown in the grateful look you got awarded. The only way of avoiding the shame of losing your mind and doing something utterly stupid like falling to your knees before Bruce, you grabbed the mop and pushed it onto his chest with a simple instruction:

“Now mop the floor” you eyed the growing puddle at your feet with a critical eye, adding, “You’ve made a mess” without waiting for a reply, you turned away towards the kitchen.

Just in time to hear the answer.

“Yes, ma’am” you did not need to see him to know he was smiling.

Approaching the counter, you opened the cupboard and eyed the contents. It was too late for a meal, but when Bruce visited, you would always share a drink before retiring to your bedroom. It was only a question of choice. What suited him better on this particular December night?

“What’s your poison tonight?” you asked and turned to face Bruce, finding him leaning the mop on the wall and the floors shiny and swept (naturally), “Coffee? Tea? Whiskey?” the first two had been staples on the menu, the last one was an inside joke.

An option you always gave him for the sake of it. And also, because you were yet to see Bruce Wayne relax with an alcoholic drink in his hand. Early on, he had told you he did not indulge in that too often, seldom, in fact, because alcohol did not exactly help the difficult thoughts springing in his mind at every possible chance. You knew the feeling too well, so you never pushed. But maybe-

“You know what?” Bruce’s question interjected your internal monologue as he eyed the tumbler you had taken out earlier, “Maybe it’s time. At last,” raising his head to meet your searching gaze, Bruce grinned.

Even now, when smiles no longer were rare, you still treasured each one. Mostly because they lit up Bruce’s beautiful face like nothing else, throwing everything into perspective. It was a point of personal pride you made him smile like that.

Without waiting for Bruce to change his mind, you took the bottle off the shelf and grabbed a second glass to fill. Two ice cubs per drink clinked in the tumblers as you poured the rich brown liquid and turned to hand it to him.

“Cheers,” raising yours to toast, you sent him another pleased smile.

You did not need to discuss the arrangement, wordlessly taking a sip from the glass and placing it back on the counter to free your hands for the next step in the routine. Bruce mirrored your moves, patiently waiting for you to start taking off the armour pieces. By now, the process was almost second nature. You did not need his directions, easily following the straps and buckles to undo them. Each plating would end up on one of your chairs, a dark heap covered with the cloak. Only once Bruce was left with the black thermals, you drifted to the sofa and fell against each other on the cushions. Multiple points of contact at every spot. Calves, knees, thighs, hips, and shoulders. At the least.

At first, you did not talk, quietly soaking in the calm. It quickly became evident that Bruce valued his peace, and each nightly escapade was enough to drain his battery. Both physically and mentally. That is why when he returned home or to your place the priority was letting him rest. Usually, you would put the tv on as background noise, but tonight as soon as you turned your head to look at Bruce, the remote control was frozen in your hand.

Suddenly it struck you. The strangeness of the moment in its entirety. It was nothing you could have foreseen, not in a million years. And yet, it made perfect sense.

You must have stared for too long because the next thing you registered was Bruce looking back at you with an incredulous glim in his eyes. He arched an eyebrow, his hand landing on your knee to gently stroke the skin beneath your pyjama pants. A question followed:

“What’s that look for?” the curiosity in his tone made you smile, barely resisting the urge to hide your face in the crook of his neck to avoid being stared at.

Especially by someone who could see through each wall you ever tried to raise. By now, you never even tried anymore, aware that it was pointless. Bruce (somehow) wanted all of you, so that is what he got. You could only hope he would never change his mind.

“It’s a lot to take in,” shrugging with one shoulder, the one not tucked against his side, you chose the safest answer.

All the while knowing Bruce would not let that be the end of that conversation. You only had to wait approximately 10 seconds for the follow-up question.

“What is?” you had to admit he was good at this.

Interrogation techniques that somehow fit right in the dynamic between you. And made it impossible for you to hide from him. While the thought had been terrifying once, it was almost easy to get used to. Almost being the keyword there.

“Oh, you know” feigning nonchalance, you chose to pace your answer, taking your time with the reveal, while watching him closely, “Having Vengeance in my living room” was the most obvious of hang-ups, something you did not think you could get accustomed to. Each time you saw tv coverage of Batman or had your work colleagues develop a piece on the vigilante, the thrill of realization felt like something new, something you had never experienced before. Now, you let your gaze stray to the half-empty tumbler in his hand, adding another layer to the confession, “Serving whiskey to Bruce Wayne” lifting your eyes to catch the growing smile on his face, you allowed the fondness seep into your tone. The feeling was almost drowning out the disbelief that still tinted your vowels. You never expected to get rid of that either, “Having that same Bruce Wayne as my boyfriend…” it was strange to let the term roll off your tongue this freely, but the strangeness could not contend with the happiness you could see in his eyes. It was enough to make you grin, the conclusion to the speech coming up effortlessly, “Never once saw that coming” no lies were to be found there, “I need to stare a little longer to make sure you won’t disappear on me now” the excuse was flimsy, but it had the intended effect.

Bruce smiled and pulled you closer again, your body falling against his chest like always. The warmth of the embrace kept the chill from settling in your bones. His arms tightened around your waist as he rested his chin on your head and let out a content sigh.

“I won’t” there was no need to question him, all sense of doubt disappearing like melting snow when he added, “I like you too much,”

It was both what he said and how he said it. Like it was no big deal. Like the admission did not cost him anything. Like the character evolution you had witnessed in Bruce was something he was proud of. Something he took joy in if only because it mattered to you.

That was a little difficult to get used to.

So much so that instead of facing the affectionate admissions head-on, you chose to go for a joke, using it as a protective veil:

“Damn, never imagined Bruce Wayne would be such a softie” you lightly swatted him across the chest, not expecting the delighted giggle that would erupt from your throat when he caught your hand in his and squeezed it.

“I’m not” it took one look at Bruce, registering the slight pout and the petulance in his eyes, to make you abandon the pretence.

You dove in for a kiss, pressing your mouth against his in a quick, firm peck balancing just on the right sight of not being too greedy. Or distracting for the conversation you were still hoping to have with Bruce.

“Sure, babe” you placed another kiss on the apple of his cheek, slightly tinted pink, and changed the topic, “So, how’s Gotham? Any hot goss I should know about?” you bated your eyelashes as a complimentary show of begging.

Not that Bruce would otherwise deny you the answers. He never did that, which quickly made you the second most informed individual in the city. After the Batman, of course.

Bruce shifted slightly - a sign you had come to associate with the conversation taking a more serious turn. Placing a comforting hand on his knee, you waited as he gathered his thoughts and replied:

“There’s some talk of the Penguin putting most of his resources into bringing back the drops business” you frowned, already knowing what a mess would result from such a move. Although, unfortunately, it sounded plausible, “I’ve got addresses to scout that might be their new labs” Bruce glanced at you, awaiting a comment.

And potentially wordlessly asking whether you wanted to accompany him during the recon. It was something you did together, from time to time. An unusual way of spending time and a first-hand opportunity to gather information for work. And if the pleasant side-effect were the heated kisses shared in the shadowed alleys, then it was nobody’s business but yours.

You already knew it was a yes if he asked.

“That’s probably something you should share with Gordon” instead of voicing that, you chose to offer him reasoning.

The close cooperation between them was still a surprising development. But it was getting stronger and sometimes made you wonder whether the GCPD lieutenant would not be the very next person to learn Vengeance’s identity. So far, Bruce denied it, but you knew better than to take his word for granted. After all, decisions changed.

“And I will. But once I’m sure there’s truth in what I’ve been told,” Bruce shrugged, a brief hint of petulance in his tone making you grin.

Bruce Wayne also did not seem to change. Not completely.

You could never let a chance like that pass you by. Shifting yet again to sit up on your knees and face him, you dropped your voice a notch, giving it an appropriately seductive timbre:

“Good boy” before Bruce could react, you patted his head and dragged your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands.

That was another key phrase of your relationship. The magical two words, if used correctly, gave you complete control over Bruce. As it turned out, the Wayne heir was incredibly susceptible to praise. You could never have too much fun with that knowledge.

You watched with growing satisfaction at how he shuddered, the two words already having an impact. Bruce blushed, and his eyes darkened almost imperceptibly. To anyone else, the reactions would have been difficult to discern from the poker face he had slipped back on. But it was much harder to fool you.

Bruce knew as much. He shrugged off your hand with unnecessary care and turned to glare at you. The twitching corner of his mouth was an easy giveaway.

“Careful there,” the warning in his voice was another trick taken straight from the toolbox.

You already knew what this was. The rules of the game were familiar by now. You did not have to fake the heat blooming in your face at the tone Bruce had implemented. All you had to do was give him your brightest smile and amp the innocent flicker in your eyes to fit the intent. That was always fun.

“Or what?” enjoying the way his eyes followed your every move, you placed your hand on his chest, pressing it flat against the fabric to feel the heartbeat, “You’re going to jump me?” as the question left your lips, your fingers begun tracing their path up the length of his thigh.

More often than not, that was how those precious nights between you began. With a ridiculous conversation and increasingly risky touch, getting rid of the remaining inhibitions. Not that there were many left.

You could see Bruce ponder the assumption, using the ball you had placed in his court. The decision was strictly up to him. You liked to remind him from time to time that you both could share the control equally. And that whatever he chose did not change anything for you. You were there for the long run.

“I’d love to” he reached out to brush the stray hair from your forehead, eyes showing hints of remorse that spoiled the answer before he gave it, “Not tonight though, sorry” it was impossible to miss the subtle wince on his face as Bruce shifted on the sofa.

That told you all you needed to know. Your hand stopped all its wandering, resting atop his thigh and tracing lazy circles over the black fabric. You knew that before you both went to bed, you would need to take out the ointments bought specifically for evenings like that and ask Bruce to take off his shirt. And it was alright. Fine, even. Because seeing Bruce Wayne shirtless was a perk of every kind of evening. Full stop.

Hoping the convey the feelings through the softness of your gaze, you allowed yourself one last joke. One final tease to satisfy the need and drag that shy smile out of its confines.

“You’ll pay for your crimes soon enough” Bruce let out a breathless laugh, and you felt like the luckiest being on the planet.

Yeah, you never saw this coming.

***

It was well past 4 am when you finally turned off the ceiling lights in your bedroom and joined Bruce on the bed. Sometimes that part, the brief conversations whispered with your heads resting against the headboard, felt almost like the domestic future you never expected to have. Like the word, which began with an m and ended with an e. You were still too scared to say it out loud or even in the quiet of your mind.

Ignoring the thought now, you quietly settled against the pillows and turned to stare at Bruce. He looked as if he belonged there, nestled underneath your woollen quilt with his damp, dark hair falling in strands over his forehead. Your heart throbbed in your chest. It was almost too good to be true. Fearing another wave of feelings you could not control, you broke the silence with whatever sentence you could think of:

“You know there’s this gala Réal is hosting before Christmas…” admittedly, it was something you had wanted to bring up to Bruce.

It has been on your mind since the mayor’s announcement via press release weeks back. After the election and everything else that followed, she had taken decisive steps to fix the city. One of them was inviting the elites and the journalists to the charity gala this December. Although you were sceptical about the effects, the intents alone were admirable.

You knew Bruce had received an invite. But if that were not common knowledge, the myriad of emotions passing through his face at the reminder would have been the giveaway. You could easily discern discomfort, uncertainty, and fear among them. Without thinking about it, you took hold of his hand resting on the covers and squeezed it. That was a common way of assuring Bruce that you were there, of offering him comfort when he would not ask for it first. After what felt like hours of silence, Bruce let out a tortured sigh and replied:

“Yes, of course. It’s only every other day that Alfred reminds me I should show up” from that dejected tone alone, you could recognize that it was a touchy subject.

And that Bruce had already made up his mind about doing everything he could not to go. Unfortunately for him, with this case and with many others you were on Alfred’s side. You made a quick mental note to mention it to the butler the next time you saw him.

“Well, you should” as soon as you spoke, Bruce sent you a glare and let out another pained groan. His penchant for dramatics was something you never expected but was incredibly happy to discover, always making you laugh, “I know, I know, but… I mean, I’ll be there” once the bit of information was out, you winced. It was a stupid thing to add. While it was true, the fact was entirely unnecessary. For obvious reasons, “Obviously we can’t go together… which I don’t mind, by the way,” nervous laughter broke through the surface as you unconsciously moved away from Bruce and fixed your gaze on the swirling patterns of the duvet “I knew what I was getting myself into with you, so…”

And you did know. You never expected to ramble around Gotham’s public events holding onto Bruce’s arm. It was not even something you actively yearned for, finding the desired happiness and peace in those quiet private moments instead. It was another case of your mouth having a mind of its own and an incontrollable want to fill the gaps between reasonable sentences with bullshit. It was far from the first time that had happened.

Maybe that was why what Bruce said next did not surprise you but only made the pricks of conscience worse.

“I’m sorry” the apology was filled with enough sincerity to make your heart ache.

You knew that he meant it. In his eyes, something as silly as keeping your relationship secret was another way of letting you down. Of not being enough for you. It was another thing to nag him in the quiet of his mind when there were no distractions. You knew what that was like all too well. Before Bruce could drown in the spiral of his own making, you leaned in to cup his face and spoke:

“No, Bruce, I… I love you” the admission was an easy thing to say these days, falling from your lips like the tears you had once shed over it, “Nothing changes that. Plus, there’s an exciting potential in taking some time away from the other guests by perusing the bathroom” you wiggled your eyebrows comically, delighted to see him smile “It’s just a suggestion,”

It felt like a relief when Bruce grinned and gave you a forehead kiss.

“I’ll think about it. I promise” giving his hand another squeeze, you accepted the truce and made sure to meet his gaze. The tone Bruce used told you that was only just the beginning, “You’re not the only one who didn’t see this coming” slightly changing the grip on your hand, Bruce caressed your knuckles in broad, repetitive strokes.

The shyness in his eyes was familiar by now. Although, still, his openness could surprise you. Like just now. With an admission that he had no obligation to make yet seemed eager to anyway. You tightened the hold on his hand and asked:

“Yeah?” wincing at the wavering voice, you could hardly conceal the surprise in your gaze.

Because that was a line of conversation, you never expected him to follow. At least not tonight. But it did not make you any less curious, always happy to get another glimpse into the workings of Bruce’s mind and heart. Those were utterly precious. It was pointless to even think about getting rid of the gaping mouth and the dazed eyes.

Judging by Bruce’s smile, there was no need to try either.

“Yep,” he nodded and raised his arm in an invitation, soon followed by words, “Come here” you did not hesitate in scooting closer and letting Bruce pull you to rest with your back against his chest. You could feel him nosing along the tendons in your neck, voice slightly muffled yet still audible “You’re absolutely terrifying” you could picture his gleeful smile with your eyes closed.

The joy in his tone felt infectious. It was easy to say he meant it. That being called terrifying was one of the highest honours Bruce could bestow on you. You leant into the lingering kiss he pressed to the nape of your neck and breathed out the reply:

“That’s a new one, but I’ll take it” stringing together the words and ignoring the fire torched in your lower stomach from something as simple as his lips on your neck were too difficult a feat to achieve.

It became apparent as soon as you became aware of your breathless voice and heard Bruce’s low chuckle resonating through your body. It was a sound you came to like, very much. It meant he was finding you amusing and decidedly good enough. It was something to shove in the face of struggling self-confidence that could always try a little more.

“You’re terrifying because, with you, I can’t hide behind the cowl and pretend I don’t exist” the sincerity of the statement was enough to make your heart trip over itself in your chest.

Without thinking, you raised your clasped hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckles. A few days old scrapes scratched the skin of your lips. It felt real.

“Is that a good thing?” you had to ask, even if only to prolong the fragile moment.

Because no matter how much you enjoyed the loudest of nights and the blatant confessions, poignancy was something else entirely. Something you would always chase after if it stepped into your sights. Like just now.

“Yes, because you make me braver” Bruce did not hesitate, his grip around your waist tightening just a little bit as he continued, “I’m pretty sure you know this, but you’re the only person that gets to see me. The real Bruce Wayne as he’s supposed to be” you did know that which did not make the knowledge feel any less groundbreaking “It’s just that I know I’m not enough. For you-” it was once he started saying utter bullshit, that you had to interject.

That was not acceptable. Not on your watch. Gently peeling Bruce’s arms from your waist, you turned in his lap to straddle his hips and placed your hands on his shoulders. He did not expect that. You could tell as much from the hitch in his breathing and the widening eyes. Bruce still took it in his stride, steadying you with his arm around your shoulders, the other hand tracing invisible pathways along your thigh. You knew he was struck into silence, unable to do anything but wait on your next call. Something about the power you possessed over him was intoxicating if you did as much as stop and think about it.

Most days, you simply did not.

“You’re really dumb, but that’s okay” without hesitation, you cupped his cheek and carded your fingers through his unruly hair, smiling like an idiot. Because in the end, it was quite simple, you were astonished Bruce did not know it just yet. You waited for his blue eyes to meet yours and whispered, “You’re everything to me,”

It was an easy synonym to the familiar I love you, and to the less apparent I don’t want to imagine my life without you. It was the only way you could tell him the extent of his importance. The only way you could try to without dissolving into tears or doing something stupid like asking him to marry you. You did not think that would be quite the right time for it.

Bruce’s answering smile, softened by the persisting edges of disbelief, told you that you made the right call. He understood. As always. Unlike your very first kiss, you moved simultaneously, colliding somewhere in between with strangled gasps. Your tongues met in an electrizing touch, igniting the fire in your veins and making you fall against him with a whimper. Bruce swallowed the sound, his fingers buried into your hair as his tongue traced the sharper edges of your canines. As if he did not have the inside of your mouth memorized by now.

You could only step into the dance, letting him set the pace. His warmth overwhelmed your body as you kissed his lips with the hunger and thirst of a dying woman. Because that was the next best thing you could think of to show him you meant it. Because the pressure of his mouth against yours and the taste of his tongue sometimes were the only things that felt real. Real enough to make you believe hope could persist. That it had a place within your reality. With each kiss, each confession, and each day that passed with Bruce, hope slowly replaced the longing that used to fill your heart. You could only trust that one day it would be eradicated.

Your kiss stretched until it was nearly impossible to breathe. Then, and only then, you nipped at Bruce’s lower lip and softened the bite with the swipe of your tongue before parting. His eyes looked beautiful when nearly swallowed by the gaping black of his blown-out pupils. And it was all your doing. You always took pleasure in the seconds just after the kiss, the few ticks of the clock when Bruce had to forcibly shake himself awake from the spell you had put him under. You could see it in the slight shake of his head, clearing the daze in his eyes and the deep breath he took before even trying to speak.

You rested your forehead against his, the pounding heart slowing down. Until everything that was left was a pleasant hum of the passion coursing in your veins. There was no need to act on it, so you let yourself exist and bask in the warmth of Bruce’s body against yours. When he finally spoke, you were almost composed:

“See? Terrifying” happiness shone in his blue eyes as Bruce raised his hand to let his fingers trace the edges of your features.

It was impossible not to lean into his touch, greedily taking every ounce of tenderness Bruce would offer. He always took that additional second to brush the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, soothing the kiss-bruised skin. You could hardly stop the satisfied purr that rose in your throat.

Instead, you tried to focus on the sentiment. On how much it must have meant for Bruce to admit. Without needing to think about it too hard, you knew you understood the feeling. That the myriad of emotions swirling in your chest could be summarized with one response. One that Bruce would see through easily. One that would show him that you have this in common, too.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek and whispered the reply:

“Quite right, too,” the unspoken meaning shone through the gaps between the vowels, highlighted by the slight waver of your voice.

When Bruce tipped your chin and met your gaze, you knew you made the right choice. Another ounce of hope replaced the longing. Another heavy sigh became unanchored and took flight within the safety of his eyes.

As the snow covered the city outside, you became aware of two things. 1) It was good to be seen if the gaze that pierced through your soul was kind. 2) Bruce Wayne could be many things, but above all that, he was yours. And that was enough.

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sailor-aviator · 6 months

Text

Til the Summer Comes Again: Prologue

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.'" — Lewis Carrol

Summary: Bob was a winter spirit who loved what he did. He loved making individual snowflakes. He loved the way the snow sparkled in the winter sun. He loved the laughter his creations brought to people around the world. What he didn't expect, was to fall in love with a human girl from a small town. He has until the summer comes again for her to reciprocate his feelings if he wants to remain on earth, but will the shadows that haunt her get in the way of happily ever after? (JackFrost! AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Talk of the supernatural, Winter spirits, Winter themes, Bob watches reader from afar, Demon-like entities, Fluff, Pining, Yearning, Father Winter, Talks of death. I think that about covers it.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: And here it is! The prologue that I've been so excited to write for weeks now! I really hope you all enjoy this one because I already know it's going to be a personal favorite of mine. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where all of my works will also be published! If you enjoy my work, please consider sending me a tip!

Series Masterlist || Robert "Bob" Floyd Tag List

Bob didn’t know why more humans didn’t like the wintertime. It was his personal favorite, and he wasn’t just saying that because he was a literal embodiment of winter. Bob loved everything about this time of year. He liked the untouched snow as it rested softly against the ground, and he loved the children who would clamber out of their warm houses to play in it. He liked how soft and fuzzy everything felt as the snow fell from the sky, and he liked watching people stick their tongues out to catch the flakes. He liked watching people dance across the ice of the ponds, sliding unseen alongside them. He liked the laughter of the children as they got the day off from school. He liked winter.

But he always wondered what warmth felt like.

He wondered what it would feel like to be snuggled under a blanket with a loved one. What it would feel like to wear a cozy sweater. What it would feel like to sip on a cup of hot chocolate. What it would feel like to embrace a lover by the fireplace.

“It’ll do you no good to dwell on it,” Tom had told him one day, eyeing him knowingly as Bob sat perched on a branch by the pond. He had been watching the children play a game they called hockey for quite some time now, his mood growing more sour as the want to join became stronger. But he couldn’t. Because they couldn’t see him.

“I know,” he grumbled, his knees pressed close to his chest, the lower half of his head buried in his arms, muffling his words. “But I still want to join them. Why can’t they see us?”

“Because humans lost their ability to see and use magic a long time ago,” Tom explained patiently, resting a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “And it would do you no good to grow attached. You’ll live as long as there’s winter. They’ll live as long as they can. Count your blessings, Bob, for there is no joy in losing that which we love.”

It was moments like those that Bob remembered why Tom had been deemed “Father Winter,” having been nicknamed “the iceman” by the sprites his own age. The younger sprites, however, viewed him as a father figure.

“But how can I know what love is if I never get to hold it?” He mumbled. Tom let out a long sigh.

“Love is not something you can hold, Bob. It’s something you feel. It’s the feeling of never wanting to part from someone, of wanting them to be happy.”

“I feel love for you,” Bob mused, thinking about the man he would call father if he had one. He thought of his fellow winter sprites, running around the woods and through the streets. “I feel love for the other winter sprites too.”

“That’s because we’re your family,” the older sprite smiled. “We love and care for each other. Now, come on, Bob. There’s still work to be done.”

Bob thought about Tom’s words often, wondering if the feeling of something missing inside of him would ever go away. Was there something wrong with him? The other sprites didn’t know what he was talking about when he mentioned it.

“I feel just fine,” Ellie would say, looking down at herself.

“No missing parts from me,” Ivan confirmed.

So Bob stopped talking about it, and years passed. It wasn’t until one winter day years later that he realized what it was that he had been missing.

You were a tiny thing, old enough to walk and talk, but still young enough to discover the world. Your eyes were wide as they watched the flake fall from the sky, breath coming out in small clouds as you gasped.

“It’s snow, Mommy!” You grinned, tugging on the older woman’s hand. She chuckled, crouching down to meet your eyes.

“That’s right, baby. The winter sprites are working extra hard this year!”

“Winter sprites?” You asked her, head cocking to the side in curiosity. Bob leaned in to hear better. It wasn’t every day that the humans talked about his kind.

“Yes, honey,” your mother smiled. “The winter sprites work hard every year to make sure that we have snow. Without them, we wouldn’t have winter at all.”

And then she had stood, walking off to talk to a neighbor. Bob floated down from his perch on the tree branch, eager to see your wonder at his work. You dug your tiny feet into the snow, kicking up experimentally. You paused as you watched the snow settle, a grin breaking out onto your face. You leaned down, scooping as much snow as you could in your tiny arms. You sprung upwards, jumping as you scattered the snow about you, giggling with so much glee that it pulled a laugh from Bob himself. You stopped, eyes wide as they zeroed in on him, an act that took Bob completely by surprise.

“Who are you?” You called out to him, eyes wide as they took him in.

“I’m,” he started, glancing around. “I’m Bob.”

“Bob?” You hummed. “Why are you dressed like that? It’s cold out. Mommy says we have to dress warm or we’ll get sick.”

A smile tugged on the corner of Bob’s lips. “I don’t get cold. And I don’t get sick.”

“You don’t?” You gasped, taking several steps towards him. He crouched down so that he was eye level with you.

“That’s right,” he smiled. “I’m a winter sprite.”

Your eyes grew so big, Bob worried that they would fall right out of your head.

“You are?” You exclaimed, smiling excitedly. “You made the snow?”

“Some of it,” he nodded. You grabbed his hand with both of yours, and Bob gasped at the feeling. Was this warmth? How could a creature so tiny create such a wondrous sensation?

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes wide as they stared up at him, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Y/n! It’s time to get going!” Your mother hollered from over by her car. “We’re going to be late for your dance lesson!”

You glanced back at Bob, smiling softly as you let go of his hand, dashing off towards where your mother stood.

That wasn’t the last time Bob saw you, but it was the last time you saw him. He wasn’t sure why you had been able to see him that day and no other after that. But, he had sat back and watched you. He had watched you grow as a dancer. Had watched you go to school. Had watched you blossom into a beautiful, young woman. Every time winter would come, he’d be right where you were, clinging onto you until Spring forced him to let go.

The colors of the leaves had just turned when Bob appeared again, waiting for the time when he could stick around longer than a couple of hours as the autumn sprites finished their work. His visits this time of year were limited to the bitter cold nights and the frosty days that were becoming more frequent as the months went on.

“Son, it’s time to let go.”

Bob jumped, turning to see Tom standing behind him not too far away, a gentle smile on his face. He felt his cheeks turn red as he turned back to watch you through the window. You were curled up on your couch underneath a blanket, a mug of what he assumed was tea sitting on your coffee table as the fire crackled in the hearth. You looked content as your cat, Harlow he had heard you call it, dozed away on your lap. He imagined that was what cozy looked like, and he wished with everything he had that he could be curled up next to you, holding you in his arms.

“I don’t want to,” he murmured, eyes shining as he fought back tears. He heard Tom sigh, drifting up and sitting down next to him with nary a sound. “I want to be with her.”

Tom said nothing as Bob thought back to what the older sprite had told him almost twenty years before. He certainly didn’t want to part from you, and he certainly wanted you to be happy. If that was what Tom had called love, then Bob wanted to know what he felt for you because there was so much more to it. He wanted to hold you, to celebrate with you when something good happened, to dry your eyes when you cried. He wanted to press his lips to yours, spending a life together with you. For the first time in his existence, he felt envious of the men who grew up and grew old. He wanted that with you.

“Is there no way that I can stay with her?”

A beat passed before Tom sighed, sitting back on the branch.

“There’s one way,” he admitted reluctantly. Bob perked up, eyes widening with hope as he looked at the old sprite. “But I can’t guarantee that it’ll work.”

“I’ll do anything, Ice,” he pleaded.

“I can use my magic to cast a spell,” Tom started, staring at Bob thoughtfully. “It’ll turn you into a human temporarily, but it’s up to you to make it permanent. I have a friend who lives in town. He can see us, and he’ll be able to get you settled while you work on making the spell permanent.”

“And how do I do that?”

Tom turned to face him fully now, blue eyes serious.

“She has to return your love by the first sign of spring. If she doesn’t, then you’ll turn back into a winter sprite for good.”

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#ttsca #til the summer comes again #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert floyd x you #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fanfiction #top gun bob #bob top gun

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gatitties · 11 months

Note

I can ask for two scenarios? one is when YN, who loves cats, suddenly appears with one or more cats on the ship, sometimes hidden, the other is a little sad, where YN is rescued after one of Whitebeard's (young) visits, who even trying to defend the island, a good part of it is decimated by the navy (whitebeard liked to visit the island several times because of YN, who loved Whitebeard and his crew)

─Whitebeard Pirates x reader

─Summary: your home island seems to be in complete chaos, you can see no hope in the end of this war but at least they manage to rescue you at the last moment

─Warnings: none

For the first scenario I will make a separate post bc I have some related to that idea, I'll tag you when I write it soon!!

The fire spread through some of the houses in the central square of the small town, what used to be a peaceful village with a few visitors, turned into a field of war between villagers and marines for control of the area.

A pang of guilt tightened in your chest because you thought that all this disturbance was your fault, a couple of years ago Whitebeard's crew embarked, the thing is that you established a good relationship with them, just as they loved the tranquility of the place, it was relaxing to spend a few days hanging out with you without them having to worry about a thing. All the villagers also enjoyed their presence since it meant party, as well as indirect protection against other thugs or pirates.

The problem was when the marines found out that that island was under the protection of Whitebeard, it was the trigger for the attacks to begin, unfortunately your village did not have enough military power to withstand so many consecutive attacks, you managed to maintain a low profile for a few months to be able to contact the crew and luckily you made it, although help didn't come fast enough as you hoped.

You hid behind some ruins, holding back the urge to run and hit one of the marines who was arresting a family, you weren't strong enough to face all those soldiers on your own, so you chose to stay hidden until, one, help arrives or two, they hold you and probably send you to jail for being 'accomplice' with pirates.

Your breathing became increasingly heavy, your chest began to rise and fall rapidly, the sound of footsteps approaching your position made you hold your breath, covering your mouth with both hands, you saw the shadow of a man holding a shotgun at your side.

"General, it doesn't seem that there are more people in the area, let's move towards the east of the village."

Maybe you let out your sigh of relief before you should or that soldier turned to double check that there were no people there, but the fact is that you met eyes in an awkward second of silence, immediately started a small fight, you had a chance to win against a couple of soldiers on your own, but more started arriving.

The ashes and smoke made it difficult for you to get oxygen, at this point you could barely hit properly, you just dodged, hoping that your effort and fighting would buy enough time for some of the villagers to escape.

A bad move caused you to receive a blow to the chest, adding more problems to your breathing, you coughed wildly, you didn't even try to resist, not even their victorious smiles bothered you, you decided to close your eyes and accept your destiny, hoping to have could help someone.

You expected to feel the handcuffs on your wrists, however some claws caught your arms before anyone could touch you, when you opened your eyes you found a plumage in the form of a vibrant blue flame, you opened your eyes to see Marco take you to the whale-shaped ship that was laid on the north shore.

"Are you alright? wounds? Pain?"

You nodded slowly once you landed, being bombarded by a concerned medic, you didn't have any injuries that you knew of, but knowing Marco he'll give you a checkup later just in case.

You immediately went to the seat where Whitebeard rested, he received you with a smile, although it quickly disappeared.

"We're sorry for being so late, I've sent Izo and Thatch to reconnoiter the area but… it's too late to save the village."

"But what will happen to-!"

"We freed the largest number of people and helped them escape in small ships, they will be fine, it was thanks to your distraction while you were fighting."

Your discomfort slightly decreased when you heard him, however that did not take away the feeling of sadness when you saw how the smoke from the fire receded into the distance once you left there, all the memories of that place… would stay there forever.

Izo comforted you after that, Ace thought of celebrate a party in your name because you were part of the crew permanently, although they had to delay the celebration because you just weren't in the mood, luckily Thatch made you a bit happier by making your favorite dish that night.

You wouldn't be in the same place where you grew up and lived all these years, but at least now you had a great family by your side that you could count on.

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bwabys-scenarios · 9 months

Text

Fixer Upper

Part 11

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 10

part 12

warning: reader is kinda in a bad place 😭 so if that seems like it could be triggering for you, you may not want to stick around for future chapters. because there are some sad reveals later on :(

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na

If you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

If you like my writing, come join my discord!! we watch HXH, play games, and spend all night writing sometimes!! there’s also lots of content there that I may never post here!!

BEFORE THE HUNTER EXAM

(Name) pulled her cover off and placed her sock covered feet on the cold floor. It was another sleepy Tuesday morning, the sun shining onto her messy bed.

Her legs were still tired from her long walk from her campus yesterday. She yawned into her hand as she poured her coffee into the cat paw patterned cup her little brothers gave her for her birthday.

(Name) sipped slowly. The cheap store brand coffee wasn’t amazing, but it was better than nothing. She glanced at her phone to see a missed call from her mother.

‘She never calls. Must of heard of the news from school…’

She pressed call, waiting a few seconds before her mother picked up.

“You idiot, I can’t believe you dropped out! After all the money your dad and I-“

“I’ve already sent a check reimbursing you for the classes you paid for.”

Her mother gasped. “You disrespectful little… I hope you know we’ll be cutting you off for this. We already had low expectations for you, and you couldn’t even meet those. What a useless girl you are.”

(Name) sighed. ‘Cut me off? Not like you were supporting me much anyways.’

She looked around her crappy apartment with a sigh.

“And you’re taking the Hunter Exam. Well good for you. You gave up being a nurse to take the most dangerous test in the world. How smart of you.”

Sarcasm and hate dripped off of her voice like venom. (Name) didn’t respond. She was used to this by now, only sighing.

“Is that all you wanted to say?”

Her mother was quiet for a moment.

“No. In fact, I wanted to let you know that any further contact from you will be considered harassment. You will not be contacting any members of our family after this call.”

(Name)’s eyes widened, her cup slipping to the floor. “Wait, you don’t mean-“

“Yes. You will not be able to see your brothers. Ever again.”

She hung up the phone. (Name) stared down at the shattered cup before quickly trying to call her mother back.

“Please, pick up mom… not my brothers. You can’t take them from me!!”

But she didn’t answer, and soon she wasn’t able to call her at all.

‘Must of blocked me…’

She sat down, not caring about the coffee that had splashed on her legs and began to burn her skin. (Name) could only stare down at the shards of the only gift she had from her brothers.

(Name) glanced at the Hunter Exam application, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

‘Why not, not like I have anything to lose.’

The next few months (Name) went about life in a blur. She trained for the exam, slowly distancing herself from the small acquaintances she had from college, and breaking her lease.

She packed her backpack the night before the exam, placing several pairs of outfits, some canteens of water, food, other various items, and a dagger.

It was enough to be a good weight against her back, but not too heavy to make running or climbing difficult.

The last thing she packed into her bag was an envelope, carrying a letter.

“…”

She stared at the letter for a moment before stuffing it into the bottom of her bag, where it would be safe. It was the most important item in there, after all.

And she didn’t want anyone to read it until the time came.

———————

The first few trials of the exam had been hard, but she’d managed to scrape through and finally arrive where the First Phase would be held.

(Name) held onto one strap of her backpack quietly. Her navigator had been a bit worried for her, asking if she was okay.

“Yes, I’m alright. Just nervous I guess.”

The navigator nodded slowly. “I see. I think you’ll do well, dear, and if you don’t there’s always next year! I’ll see you then, yeah?”

(Name) looked down at her feet, not answering the woman. The navigator sighed before smiling.

“Good luck, I hope you pass!”

(Name) gave her a small smile back, waving as the doors closed and she began to descend. Her heart began to race. So far, she’d only met a few other Hunter applicants, all of them unkind. She was beginning to lose hope that she’d be able to make any type of alliances.

Not that she cared all that much. She didn’t think she’d be passing anyways.

Or surviving.

She looked down at the badge the navigator had given her.

‘#406. That must mean there are over 400 other applicants. Great.’

The doors opened up and (Name) walked out. Heads turned to stare at her, a few whistles and nods of approval could he heard and seen.

It wasn’t unexpected to (Name). After all, she was wearing a short white tennis skirt, and a pink cardigan over a white undershirt. Out of everyone else in sight, she seemed to be the only one dressed in such a way.

(Name) sighed as she joined the crowd. She looked around, her eyes glancing between each applicant before she spotted someone.

‘Oh thank god.’

She ran forward and grabbed onto a blonde woman’s sleeve, tugging it lightly.

“Hey there! I’m so glad I’m not the only woman here. Would you like to team up? Girls supporting girls and all?”

The blonde turned to her and blinked, tilting her head.

“Oh, um… you can join us, but…”

She blushed lightly, obviously embarrassed.

“I’m not a girl.”

(Name) tilted her head as the person next to the blonde bursted into laughter.

The blonde scowled and turned to the man. “And what is so funny, Leorio?”

The man, supposedly named Leorio, continued laughing. “Th-the first girl we meet and she thinks you’re a girl too! This is priceless!”

(Name) tightened her grip on the straps of her backpack. “I apologize. You’re just so pretty, I thought you were a girl.”

Yet again, the blonde blushed. “It’s alright, I promise. You said you were looking for someone to team up with, correct?”

She nodded as Leorio’s laughter died down. “Well you can stay with us. I’m not sure if we’ll be together the entire exam, but you’re welcome to tag along.”

“I sure wouldn’t mind a pretty little lady like you being on my t-“

The blonde hit him over the head with some sheathed weapon. “Ouch, Kurapika what was that for?”

The boy called Kurapika huffed. “I won’t have you being a creep to our new comrade. It’s disgraceful.”

“New comrade?”

A boy, who looked no older than twelve approached the group. “Oh, Gon! This girl asked to join up with us.”

(Name) waved at him. “Hello, I’m (Name).”

“That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

Leorio grabbed her hand with both of his and shook it. “Welcome to the team!”

She shook hands with the others as well, looking away shyly when her hand touched Kurapika’s.

‘He really is pretty…’

Kurapika smiled. “I bet the exam has been full of trials, did you come here alone?”

“Yes, the only other applicants I’ve met have tried tricking or hurting me into failing. I’m glad I’ve finally met some nice people.”

Kurapika’s face shifted into a grimace. “That’s deplorable. But I guess it’s to be expected. The applicants could be anyone, meaning there’s bound to be bad people.”

(Name) sighed, pulling out a water canteen from her bag and sipping on it. “Any idea on what the first phase will be?”

When she caught Gon staring at the canteen, she offered it to him. He took it with a smile. Everyone took a sip before handing it back to (Name).

“I see you’ve come prepared. If you don’t mind me asking, what else do you have in your backpack?”

She frowned slightly but pulled it over her shoulder and into her hands. “Not a ton of things, but I have some snacks and water, along with a few different outfits.”

Kurapika blinked. ‘Oh, I guess different outfits would be important to a woman.’

She offered the three some hard candy, which Gon and Kurapika took. As they waited for the phase to begin, they chatted amongst themselves to get to know each other.

“You dropped out of medical school!?”

Leorio seemed almost angry, but was calmed down when he saw the sad look on her face.

“Yes, I did. It’s not that I don’t want to go, I just… I didn’t really have a choice in what I was studying. I decided to take the Hunter Exam on a whim, really. I…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, quickly smiling to hide that she almost let her secret spill.

“I’m excited to succeed!”

Leorio’s eyes softened. She was hiding something, but he could tell it wasn’t sinister. It was more for their sake then her’s.

“I hope you do.”

———————

A sharp ringing sounded throughout the large room. A man named Tonpa had walked over and talked to the group a bit, (Name) not paying him much attention. She was much too busy chatting with Kurapika, who seemed happy to share his experience with the exam with her.

The group looked up to see a man with short purple hair and a curly mustache standing before them, holding the ringing alarm. He stopped it before speaking.

“As of this moment the exam is closed to any further applicants. I would like to officially welcome everyone here to the Hunter Exam.”

Gon grinned. “Alright, finally, it’s gonna get started!”

“Aw man, I can’t believe I’m getting nervous.” Leorio said, loosening his tie.

“Come with me. Let me take a moment to remind you all that the Hunter Exam is extremely demanding. If you’re unprepared or unlucky, you may well be injured or killed. If you are alright with accepting those risks, then you may continue following me.”

The group followed after him, (Name) sticking by Kurapika. He may not be a girl, but out of all of them he seemed the most trustworthy and reliable.

“Very well then. The number of applicants is 405. At least for now.”

(Name) thought back to when Hisoka had taken one of the applicants out, holding the straps to her backpack a little tighter as she walked.

Leorio glanced around the crowd. “I guess I should have expected it, but no one’s backed out yet. I hoped there might be a few.”

(Name) hummed. “If they’ve made it this far, I doubt they’ll be backing out anytime soon.”

Kurapika nodded. “Yes, I agree. Just the path to the Hunter exam is full of trials and tribulations that would make ordinary men- oh and women, give up.”

(Name) suppressed a giggle. “Mhm.”

The people in the front began to speed up. “Hey, he’s picking up the pace!” Kurapika said with a frown.

“Sorry for the delay, but allow me to introduce myself. I’m Satotz, the examiner for the First Phase. I’m also the one that’s leading you to the sight for the Second Phase. Some of you may have already realized that keeping up with me until we reach the Second Phase is in fact, the First Phase.”

Their light jog turned into a run, and thirty minutes passed with no change in pace.

(Name) sighed lightly as she kept pace with the group, having to hold a hand over her chest to keep it from bouncing too much. ‘Went through the trouble of wearing two sports bras for no change in the outcome. Annoying.’

(Name) paid no attention to Tonpa explaining that this phase was not only a physical test, but a psychological one. She didn’t really care, (Name) was too busy focusing on her breathing and heavy backpack.

A boy came racing in between them riding a skateboard. (Name) glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

“Wow, that’s cool!” Gon called with a smile.

“Hey, kid on the skateboard, that’s not fair! You’re cheating!”

(Name) hummed and ran a bit ahead. She didn’t really feel like hearing Leorio harass a random kid. Kurapika watched her for a moment before following behind her.

“Sorry, he can be a bit annoying sometimes.”

Kurapika gave her a small smile, running beside her. (Name) shook her head. “No reason to be sorry. I’m just… not in the mood to hear someone yelling right now.”

“Hmm, that’s fair. Leorio can be pretty loud and obnoxious.”

(Name) hummed. “I happen to usually like loud and obnoxious people I’ll have you know. It’s just hard to to tolerate when I’m already tired from running.”

They both laughed. (Name) reached into her backpack and pulled out her canteen. “You thirsty? It’s been thirty minutes.”

He nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Kurapika took a drink before he handed it back. The girl immediately shoved it back into her bag, Kurapika raising an eyebrow.

‘Why did she take it out if not to take a sip for herself?’

He didn’t voice this question, instead focusing on his legs, willing them forward.

“So, Kurapika, how old are you?”

The blonde tilted his head. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, shouldering her backpack again. “Just curious. If you want to know, I’m 18 myself.”

“17, 18 in April.”

(Name) nodded. ‘So we’re about the same age. Interesting…’

“And apparently Leorio is 19.”

“19!? He certainly doesn’t look the part.”

The two laughed again, (Name) nearly tripping, but quickly being steadied by Kurapika.

“Woah there, watch where you step. It is dark in here.”

(Name) nodded, lightly flustered from his grasp on her wrist. He let go quickly, seemingly unfazed by the physical contact.

3 hours pass by, and (Name) was beginning to get tired. The group stopped when Leorio collapsed, (Name) immediately rushing to his side. She dropped next to him, patting his back and offering him some water.

“Leorio!” Gon began running to join Leorio when the white haired boy, Killua called out to him.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? He’s finished, so just leave him behind.”

Gon frowned. “Come on, you don’t know that! Besides I can’t just leave him here, he’s my friend!”

“Friend?”

“Uh huh. That’s what I said.”

After chugging the rest of the water from one of her canteens, Leorio began to stand. “I’m not giving up… I came here to become a Hunter and that’s what I’m gonna do!”

(Name) watched as he rushed forward, Tonpa sighing.

“Hey take it easy, you need a break.”

“Shut up! If you’re just gonna stand around here, I’ll leave you… in my dust… hah hah… aww great, my legs won’t move.”

(Name) walked forward and handed him a handkerchief to wipe his sweat away with. Kurapika watched this interaction, his eyes watching her face twist into concern for a man she’d just met.

“So you’re not just in it for the money.”

Leorio huffed. “No, it’s all about money. There’s no other reason…”

“We don’t have time to argue about this. What do you think we should do now, Tonpa?”

(Name) stood up straight again, stretching lightly.

“Hmmm, wait a sec, that smell! Do ya remember? There was a sweet smell from that tunnel. Hey, I think it might help you recuperate!”

“What?”

“I thought I recognize that smell, I think it’s the sap of the healing cedar tree!” Tonpa exclaimed.

“Healing cedar?”

“Yeah! The sap is used by Hunters who often become exhausted in the forest. All you have to do is smell the aroma for a while and you can recover and keep on going.”

Kurapika stopped Tonpa from carrying Leorio away. “Wait a minute, it could be a trap.”

“Maybe, but we can’t just leave him behind now, can we? It’s a chance we’re gonna have to take.”

The blonde frowned. “Yes, but…”

“I’m king of the flunkies. You wanna know why I failed the exam 34 times? I’m a sucker for anyone that needs my help.”

(Name) raised an eyebrow at this. She glanced between Leorio and Tonpa.

“It’s okay. As soon as Leorio recovers, we’ll catch up to you, I promise.”

“I’m sorry, Tonpa… Gon, Kurapika, (Name), don’t worry about me. Go for it!”

(Name) crouched down and rearranged her backpack as the others spoke, then stood as they began to leave, watching Leorio carry him away with a suspicious look.

‘Don’t trust him one bit.’ She thought.

“What are you doing, are you coming or not?”

“Oh yeah, sorry to keep you waiting. You can go on ahead.”

Killua tilted his head. “You mean you’re not going to keep going?”

“Yeah, not unless it’s with Leorio.”

(Name) nodded. “Me either. I’m still worried for him, he wasn’t doing too hot…”

Both Gon and Kurapika noticed her staring into the distance, clutching her cardigan tightly.

“Kurapika, I’m going to see how they’re doing. Tonpa said they’d be okay, but I’m still worried.”

“I’ll come with you. We can always catch up to the group later on.”

Gon nodded towards Killua. “Alright, we’ll be back. Then, if you want, you can tell me your name. Because I still don’t know what it is.”

Kurapika glanced at (Name). “Will you be coming as well?”

She gave him a quick nod. “Of course. I can’t just abandon someone in need.”

He didn’t respond, racing after Gon towards where they had last seen Leorio and Tonpa heading.

But he did feel something stir in his chest when his eyes met hers.

‘She’s kind. It’s… nice to see that in such a place.’

The three stopped when they spotted Tonpa lying on the ground.

“Tonpa! What’s wrong?”

He groaned and lifted himself up slowly. “Oh, it’s you. Hurry, they need your help!”

“What happened back there?” Kurapika asked, glancing between Tonpa and the hallway he pointed to.

“It was a trap. Worst I’ve seen. Hurry!”

(Name) turned and ran towards where Tonpa had been pointing, the two following behind her.

The three continued to run until they came across Nicholas, one of the applicants.

“Nicholas! What’s wrong?”

The boy slowly moved so he was on his hands and knees, looking back at them with a delirious expression. Kurapika subconsciously pushed (Name) behind him.

The man began to walk away while laughing to himself. Kurapika watched him for a minute before speaking.

“Let’s go, we have to find Leorio.”

Gon and (Name) nodded. “Yeah.”

——————

“Leorio, can you hear me? Leorio!!!”

Gon continued to call out Leorio’s name as they ran, (Name) noticing Kurapika beginning to slow down.

“Kurapika?”

She stopped next to him, Gon circling back when he noticed they were no longer running. “What’s wrong?”

Kurapika eyes became hazy, the blonde holding up his weapons to defend himself. “The Phantom Troupe…”

His breath came out in short pants as his eyes began to turn a deep shade of scarlet.

“Oh no…please, don’t do it…”

He collapsed onto the ground, (Name) quick to kneel by his side. “Kurapika, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Can you hear me?” Gon asked, concern lacing his voice.

Kurapika stared at the ground as sweat beaded down his forehead.

He fell, lying against the ground. “Make… them stop… please…”

He stared off into the distance, unable to move. (Name) wasn’t sure what to do, so she rubbed soothing circles into his back. “Kurapika, no one’s here. It’s just us.”

He didn’t relax though. His eyes remained that same scarlet color. “We have to get going. I’ll carry him.”

(Name) hoisted Kurapika up and over her shoulder. Gon blinked. “Wow, you’re strong.”

She nodded, a small smile on her lips. “I grew up with two younger brothers who looooved piggy back rides.”

“Can I get one too? Later, I mean.”

(Name) laughed. “Sure, after we find Leorio.”

They continued, now slowed down because of Kurapika’s weight. She didn’t seem to have much trouble carrying him, only occasionally grunting and rearranging him on her shoulder.

“So, Gon, why do you want to be a Hunter?”

The young boy hummed, adjusting the line on his fishing pole. “Mmm, I’m not sure yet, but I want to find my dad. He’s a Hunter too.”

‘Find? Did his dad abandon him?’

(Name) nodded slowly. “I see.”

“What about you?”

The girl paused, her grip on Kurapika’s thigh tightening ever so slightly. “Well… I didn’t have many options.”

Gon tilted his head. “Really?”

“Yeah. I… just thought it would be fun to try out.”

She sighed. (Name) didn’t enjoy lying, especially to an honest boy like him, but the truth about the situation wasn’t something a child should know. Gon didn’t respond.

The hallway was quiet for a bit, until Kurapika grunted loudly. (Name) turned her head a bit to see if he’d woken up, only for him to begin struggling against her and cry out.

“Kurapika! Are you alright?”

He wiggled out of her grasp, and just as she was about to lean over and help him back up, the white haired boy from before appeared, kicking the blonde in the face.

“Kurapika!”

She rushed over to his side, crouching down as he lifted his upper half onto his forearms to look up.

She helped him into a sitting position, the blonde leaning against her for support.

“Kurapika?”

Gon ran over, Killua standing in front of (Name) and Kurapika. The red had left his eyes, leaving them the pretty brown color she had noticed when she first met him.

“Oh good, you’re finally back to normal!” Gon said, smiling.

“But, uh…”

Killua watched Kurapika and (Name) with his blue eyes. “There is no healing cedar tree.”

“Huh!?”

“The sap comes from the tree of hallucination, it’s been used by assassins for a long time. It’s victims re-experience the worst events of their lives, and it eventually drives them insane.”

Kurapika blinked slowly, realizing he’d been leaning against (Name). He pulled back, the girl reaching out to make sure he didn’t fall.

“How do you know that?” Gon asked.

“So that means Tonpa must of…”

Killua nodded at the blonde. “Yeah, that’s right, he set you guys up.”

Kurapika growled in anger, gripping onto (Name)’s sleeve.

“We should go.”

“Sure, I think I know a way we can save the old guy you were with, and catch up with the group again with a single move.”

(Name) helped Kurapika stand, the blonde grateful for her help. She’d only known him for an hour but was risking failing the exam to make sure him and Leorio were okay.

“A games no fun unless there’s some risks.”

“I’m glad we met up again! Are you going to tell me your name?”

The boy smiled at Gon. “It’s Killua.”

———————

“Okay Killua, tell us your idea.”

He pulled out a small object from his pocket. “It’s a bomb, small but effective.”

(Name) pulled Gon back by his shoulders a bit by instinct. He didn’t react, only glancing at her hands before responding.

“That’s a bomb?”

“Let’s blow up this wall and all the disgusting sap covering it.”

He placed the bombs all over the wall, (Name) stepping a few feet back. Kurapika watched as she carefully maneuvered Gon to a safe distance, the dark haired boy not seeming to mind at all.

The explosion began, the four leaping through the opening created by the bomb to grab Leorio.

They all fell onto the ground, (Name) being caught before she face planted by Kurapika. He pulled her up slightly before letting go.

“It worked! Not the easiest way to travel but it is fast! I guess there’s no turning back now.”

Kurapika blinked as (Name) knelt next to Leorio. “You alright?”

“Gon? (Name)? Kurapika? … Pietro?”

She patted his back gently. “It’s just us, Leorio.”

“You were hallucinating as a result of inhaling the sap. Tonpa fooled us all.”

Leorio gave (Name) a smile, accepting her hand when she offered to pull him to her feet.

“So that’s what that was. Guess I owe you guys one for saving my butt. But how did you manage to avoid it?”

Kurapika shook his head. “It was a close call for me.”

“(Name) and I were fine!”

“I guess it wouldn’t work on Gon cuz he’s still a kid, so he doesn’t have any problems yet.”

‘But why wouldn’t it work for (Name)?’

Leorio and Kurapika glanced at the girl, who was pulling out a bandaid to place on Gon’s knee. The two seemed to already be friendly with each other, laughing when Gon nearly tripped again.

“Hey old man, we don’t have time to sit around chatting.”

“OLD MAN!? What are you-“

“His names Killua!”

“Ready for the next round?”

Killua threw more bombs past Leorio’s head. “What was that, I heard a click.”

(Name) covered Gon and Killua with her cardigan, then shielded her ears.

“THEY’RE BOMBS!?”

The group of five jumped through the hole the bombs left, Gon handing (Name) her cardigan after they landed. “Thanks (Name)!”

Killua watched her with narrow eyes. ‘What does she get out of protecting us with that flimsy cardigan? What is she after..?’

A plume of smoke dispersed through the hallway, the sound of the other applicants coughing echoing on the walls.

“What exactly is going on here?” Satotz asked.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, but we had to break through the walls.” Gon said apologetically.

“I never said you couldn’t destroy the walls, but tell me, how is it that you survived after wondering through the tunnels of hallucinations? I’m quite impressed.”

(Name) pulled some debris from her hair, sighing. Leorio spotted Tonpa and rushed forward, grabbing him by the collar. “How dare you! I have a score to settle with you!”

“Stop, Leorio!”

(Name) pulled out a piece of hard candy and began to suck on it as her new comrades argued. Killua watched her do this and crouched down next to her.

“You got candy?”

She tilted her head then smiled. “Yes, would you like a piece?”

She offered him a piece of butterscotch candy, which he took. ‘… maybe she’s not so bad after all. I’ll still keep my distance but…’

He didn’t sense any malicious intent from her, just… something. Something that honestly unnerved him a little.

——————

(Name) and Kurapika kept pace with each other, eventually reaching Leorio who had taken off his shirt.

“I see, so you were lying to us before.”

“Didn’t lie! My objective has always been to make a lot of money! And whatever happened in the past, happened in the past! I have no interest in doing anything that won’t make me any money!”

Kurapika sighed. “I wish you luck.”

“I don’t need luck, I’m going to become a hunter or die trying!”

“No, a doctor.”

(Name) giggled next to them.

“Could you please not look at me like that, Kurapika? It makes me a little nervous. Now come on, let’s go!”

The blonde smiled. “You alright now, Leorio?”

“Yeah I’m fine, check it out! I don’t care how stupid I look! I’d keep running even if I was naked! Pretend you don’t know me if you want!”

(Name) gasped when Kurapika threw off his tabard and stuffed it into his bag. Kurapika glanced at her. “Maybe we should follow his example.”

She pulled off her cardigan and stuffed it into her backpack.

It didn’t take long for her to catch up to Leorio, who instantly noticed she was no longer covered by her thick cardigan.

“WOAH! You’ve got a nice figure. Plump and soft, just how I like th-“

Kurapika kicked the back of his legs, causing him to crumple before getting back up and running behind them.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?”

The blonde shrugged. “Sorry, pervert senses were tingling.”

———————

They reached the outside, (Name) instantly unbuttoning her undershirt so she could fan herself. It was hot, and even with just her skirt and top she was sweating. “Yeesh, I’m burning up.”

She crouched down and fanned herself with her hand, ignoring what was going on. They seemed to be distracted by some kind of “impersonator”, but she didn’t care all that much.

The magician disposed of the impersonator and they began to run again.

‘Ah, maybe I should have listened a little…’ she thought, watching as the people around her began to be attacked by mysterious beasts.

She glanced around to see she’d already lost her group, sighing to herself.

“You lost, little girl?”

(Name) blinked before turning her head to the left to see Hisoka leaning against a tree. He smiled at her, holding a card in his hand.

“Dunno, maybe.”

She shrugged nonchalantly, giving Hisoka a bored look. “Hmm…”

Hisoka stepped forward, looking her over. “Not bad… you certainly have some potential.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Potential? What do you mean by that?”

The magician tossed a card in her direction, the girl not even flinching when it sliced her cheek. She continued to stare at him, the look in her eyes making him shiver.

It was the look of someone prepared to die.

“I see… so that’s why you’ve peaked my interest…”

He pointed behind him. “You pass. If you continue that way, you’ll catch up to the group in no time.”

He began to walk in the opposite direction, quickly passing her by.

“Wait, if that way is the right direction, then why are you going that way?”

He only chuckled. “I have some… business to take care of.”

She sighed and took out her dagger. “Whatever.”

She continued running in the direction he pointed to, the man barely restraining himself from letting out a moan.

“God, I can’t wait until she’s ready to fight.”

He chuckled to himself before continuing on his run.

“(Name)!”

Gon yelled out, nearly crashing into the girl. She paused, catching him in her arms. “Gon, you’re okay!”

She squeezed him lightly before noticing Kurapika as well. “(Name)…”

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. “Your cheek…”

She blinked before swiping at her cheek with her sleeve. “Oh, this? You can thank Hisoka for it. He attacked me, then said I passed and pointed to where I could find the group. Still haven’t found them, though.”

Kurapika gripped his weapons tightly. “He’d even hurt a woman? That sick bastard…”

(Name) sighed. “It doesn’t hurt that much, and once we get to the sight of the second phase I’ll put a bandaid on it. I guess I’m just lucky to have survived this long, considering I’ve been alone these past thirty minutes.”

She offered the two a drink from her canteen, which they took. After that they continued, Kurapika keeping a close eye on the girl.

Killua was waiting near the edge of the crowd, and was the first one to see the three arrive.

“Gon, (Name)!”

He smiled, putting his hands in his pockets.

(Name) bent over to catch her breath before rushing over to the still unconscious Leorio.

Hisoka had pointed him out seconds before, winking at the girl. Kurapika scowled when he noticed Hisoka watching her every movement.

‘That creep. I’ll need to stick by her so he doesn’t get any weird ideas.’

Leorio didn’t remember anything, but seemed happy to have (Name) taking care of his injuries. Kurapika pulled her back to gently wipe her cheek.

“Leorio can wait a second, you need to tend to yourself first.”

She looked to the ground, nodding. ‘But I don’t really care about my own injuries…’

Nonetheless, she cleaned the cut and applied a hello kitty bandaid before going back to Leorio.

Satotz left shortly after wishing them all luck. Killua watched her tend to Leorio before walking off and chatting with Gon.

“Alright, you should be okay. It’s going to take a while for the swelling in your cheek to go down, though.”

She helped pull him to his feet before pulling her backpack over her shoulders. “Thank you, beautiful. If I had you to tend to me, I’d get hurt all the time.”

Kurapika narrowed his eyes. “I think I’ll be taking care of your injuries after this.”

(Name) chuckled, poking Leorio’s good cheek. “Don’t get hurt on purpose, big guy.”

———————

“It’s almost time!” Gon said.

“I’m getting a little nervous.” Kurapika replied, holding onto his satchel tightly.

“I think you’ll do fine.” she patted his shoulder gently, a smile on her lips.

“Just about anything could be waiting for us behind those doors…”

The clock rang soon after Leorio finished his sentence. The doors to the building opened, a loud growling sound making (Name) jump and hide behind Kurapika and Leorio.

“Thanks for waiting. Buhara, how are you feeling now, hungry?”

A woman with greenish blue hair sat in front of a giant of a man, who’s stomach had been causing the loud noise.

“Yeah Menchi, I think anyone who has ears can hear that I’m starving!”

She smiled shyly at the group in front of her. “As you might have guessed, us two Gourmet Hunters are in charge of judging the Second Phase.”

“Gourmet Hunters?”

“What’s that?”

“Gourmet Hunters travel around the world collecting all sorts of exotic ingredients. They then use them to create new innovative dishes that have never been tasted. Before becoming Hunters, most of them were gourmet chefs.” Kurapika answered

‘Hmm, he’s smart.’ (Name) thought, watching the blonde.

“Hmm, so then this phase…”

“Right! So the subject for this phase, is cooking!”

“COOKING!?”

(Name) smiled. ‘This is actually something I can do!’

She listened to the two examiners, nodding along.

“Man, I’ve never cooked anything before in my life!” Leorio said with a sigh. (Name) was taken aback by this.

“Never? How are you still alive?”

Kurapika looked away from the girl. ‘I’ve never cooked either, but I’ll keep that to myself,’ he thought, not wanting to embarrass himself.

Gon smiled. “I know how to cook!”

The three turned towards the boy. “You serious? What can you make?” Leorio asked.

“I can make a lot of different stuff, but my specialty is macaroni and cheese!”

“Macaroni… and cheese?”

(Name) giggled. “Oh, Gon, that’s great for your age.”

“Well, I guess you could call that cooking.”

Kurapika gave the boy a smile as Leorio laughed. “Come on, it doesn’t take much of a chef to make a simple dish like macaroni and cheese.”

“Hey, that’s not true! Aunt Mito always said no one makes it like me!”

(Name) nodded along, patting his head.

“I’m sure she’s right. Maybe you can make it for me sometime.” Leorio said, snickering.

“Met too.” Kurapika agreed, seemingly amused by the innocent boy.

(Name) gave him a piece of candy, quickly grabbing a piece for Killua as well. “Here, I’ll want some of that macaroni and cheese as well. Is this payment good enough?”

She winked, the boy laughing. “Yes, this will do!”

“Listen up! My order is…”

(Name) quieted down, glancing back to the large man known as Buhara.

“A whole roasted pig! It’s my absolute favorite, and living in the forest is the great stamp! The most ferocious and delicious pig of them all!”

“The great stamp?” The entire group asked in unison.

The ground began to shake underneath them, a herd of pigs barreling towards them. Kurapika pulled (Name) out of the way just in time, the girl letting out a gasp as her skirt flew up from the gust of wind accompanying the stampede.

She was thankful she had worn a pair of shorts underneath, but other people weren’t.

“Aww, there’s shorts.”

(Name) and Kurapika turned to look at Leorio at the same time.

“Why do you sound so disappointed?”

Kurapika shook his head at (Name). “You don’t want to know what goes through that pervert’s mind.”

He ushered her away, glaring back at Leorio as he did.

They continued running away from the giant pigs, (Name) and Kurapika teaming up.

“It’s snout is tough, did you see how it launched all those grown men?”

Kurapika nodded. “Yes, but it should have some sort of weakness. Perhaps…”

From the corner of his eye, Kurapika watched Gon hit the stamp over the head, causing it to fall over dead.

“(Name), I have a plan, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

They hid behind a tree so he could explain. “You’re going to grab a thick tree branch, and I’m going to throw you onto the pigs back. Then, you’ll hit it over the head. We’ll repeat this twice.”

She seemed a bit uncomfortable with this plan, glancing to the pig sniffing around for them. “Oh um… are you sure you can pick me up?”

He tilted his head, looking her up and down. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be able to?”

Too embarrassed to answer that, she agreed to the plan.

“Okay, on the count of three, we’ll rush out to attack.” Kurapika said, grabbing her hand. (Name) looked down, her face heating up ever so slightly.

“One!”

“Two!”

“THREE!”

They rushed out, causing the pig to run towards them. Kurapika grabbed (Name) by the waist and threw her into the air. “AHHH!”

She landed with a huff onto the pig’s back, groaning.

“You’ve got it, (Name)! Hit it now!”

She recovered quickly, bringing the stick down with as much force as she could manage. The pig collapsed, (Name) barely moving out of the way before she was crushed.

“You did it!”

Kurapika rushed over to help her up, smiling. The girl rubbed her bottom. “That landing hurt, I’m not excited to do that again.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, it’s just the safest way to do it.”

The two repeated the action, Kurapika helping her off the second time.

“Owie…”

Kurapika could only gently pat her shoulder. “You alright?”

She nodded slowly. “As alright as I can be, after being thrown in the air and landing on a pig.”

Kurapika laughed at this, the girl joining him.

————————

Buhara ended up passing everyone that entered a roasted pig.

Menchi scolded him for passing everyone, but (Name) wasn’t listening. She was busy staring at Kurapika’s hand, that was placed on her shoulder.

“I’m not an armrest, ya know.”

Kurapika pulled his hand back, cheeks going pink. “Oh, sorry! I meant to say thank you for your help, but I got distracted by Buhara and Menchi.”

She giggled. “Well thank you for coming up with the plan. Now we’ve both passed half of the second phase!”

He relaxed, returning her smile.

“For the next part of this phase you’ll be filling my order, which is… sushi.”

Leorio tilted his head. “Sushi?”

“Sushi? Wonder what that is…” killua thought aloud.

“Any ideas?” Kurapika asked (Name), turning to her. She shook her head.

“No, unfortunately I’ve never heard of that dish before.” The two sighed.

“You guys look pretty stressed out! But I don’t blame you for not knowing what it is. Sushi is an ethnic dish from a small island country. I’ll give you a little hint. Inside you’ll find your work stations!”

(Name) tilted her head. “Work station?”

The applicants walked inside, seeing various kitchen work stations.

“Here’s where you’ll prepare the dish. Each station has all the essential tools and ingredients. I’ve even prepared the rice for you, which is necessary to make sushi. And now for one final hint! I’m particularly fond of hand molded nigiri sushi!”

(Name) stood at her station, between Kurapika and Leorio.

“Alright then, you guys can get started! This test will conclude as soon as I’m full. Until then you can serve me as many pieces as you want.”

(Name) watched Leorio stare at the barrel of rice. “Hmm… hand molded? That should give me some sort of indication of what it’s supposed to look like. But that still doesn’t tell me what other things I need to use.”

Kurapika hummed. “Nigiri sushi… I’m not sure exactly how this food is supposed to be made, but I think I’ve read about it somewhere.”

“Really?”

“Let’s see, if I recall, it’s made mostly of rice, mixed with vinegar and some type of raw fish.”

“RAW FISH!?”

(Name) jumped at the sound of his voice, Kurapika’s eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

“We’re stuck out here in the middle of a forest!”

Kurapika threw his spoon at Leorio, hitting his forehead.

“Would you be quiet? There are rivers in forests you know and we could fish in them!”

“Hmph.”

The two looked around, seeing all the other applicants staring at them. Menacingly.

They raced out of the building, leaving the three alone. (Name) set her bag down and began running after them, Kurapika and Leorio following her lead.

“It’s no fair! They were eavesdropping!”

Kurapika sighed. “It’s not their fault, I was the one who shot my mouth off.”

“This sucks! Now everyone knows what’s in it!”

(Name) patted Kurapika on the shoulder. “I’m sure they would have figured it out anyways. Considering we were about to leave and return with fish.”

He gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”

———————

The three returned with fish of varying types. (Name) traded Gon a few pieces of candy in exchange for a few fish.

“Well, all that’s left is to cook. Good luck boys!”

She gave them both a reassuring pat on the back before beginning her cooking process.

(Name) thought back to what Menchi had said, along with Kurapika’s limited information.

‘Does that mean the fish is supposed to be molded into the rice? Or the rice covers it?’

She tilted her head as she began to clean the fish. ‘Well, I assume I’ll at least need to cut it into fillets. After all, no one is dumb enough to serve her a whole, raw fish, right?”

Wrong.

(Name) watched with an incredulous expression as Leorio served Menchi an entire fish, still flipping around, halfway covered in rice.

Of course, Menchi rightly knocked the plate away. Leorio sulked back to his station.

“She didn’t like it…”

(Name) raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet. ‘So he wasn’t kidding when he said he’s never cooked before…’

“What are you making?”

(Name) looked up to see Kurapika peeking over her shoulder. “Hey, no peeking!”

She bumped him with her hip, scolding him. “No cheating off of me!”

He pouted. “I wasn’t trying to… I was just curious.”

“Well be curious in that direction.”

“No, because you’re pointing at Leorio.”

“HEY!”

(Name) giggled to herself as she finished her dish, beaming. “I’m done!”

She carried her plate to Menchi, setting it down in front of her. “Here’s my entry!”

Menchi hummed, seemingly interested from the smell alone.

“It’s sushi! I um… think!”

Menchi looked down at the dish. It definitely wasn’t sushi, but the girl had obviously tried, and if Menchi appreciated anything, it was effort.

The blue haired woman took a bite. “Hmm… too salty, but good try. It’s not quite sushi, but it tastes good. Go back and try again.”

(Name) blinked, then nodded. She felt dejected, she’d tried her hardest!

She walked back to her station, grabbing her bag. “(Name), what are you doing?”

“I give up.”

The two stared at her. “You give up? Why??”

“I’m a failure, I couldn’t make sushi.”

“(Name).”

Kurapika patted her head. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Your dish is the only one Menchi has even taken a bite of so far. Why don’t you try again?”

(Name) pouted. “… I’m going to go sit by the river.”

The two watched her walk away, her head hung low.

“Drama queen.” Leorio said, before getting back to his work.

“Well…” Kurapika stared in her direction for a moment. “She’s certainly… dramatic.”

But the blonde couldn’t help following her with his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Hey Kurapika, come try this! (Name) had some leftovers!”

Kurapika sighed. “You shouldn’t just eat the food she prepared…”

But he did join Leorio, taking a bite. “Oh wow, it is really good.”

The two snacked on her leftover food before getting back to work.

(Name)’s eyebrow twitched when she noticed Hisoka already sitting by the river. ‘Fuck it. Yolo.’

(Name) sat down a few feet away from him, tossing rocks into the water. She wasn’t even attempting to skip them, just throwing them into the river.

“… (Name).”

She hesitantly looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“What are you doing here?”

She huffed. “Sulking.”

“Hmm.”

(Name) went back to her rock throwing, Hisoka now watching her. “Gave up that easily, huh?”

She paused. “As if you didn’t as well?”

He smirked. “Touché.”

The two sat in silence for a bit, before (Name) heard someone running up behind her. “(Name)- oh.”

The person paused a good distance away from her. “Can you come here? Away from…”

Hisoka raised his hand. “I’m not going to hurt her. We were just… talking.”

‘Oh now people are going to think I’m friendly with the murder clown.’

(Name) stood up, and stuck out her tongue at Hisoka for good measure. ‘There, now people will think I hate him! Orrr that I have a death wish. Which isn’t exactly wrong but-‘

“(Name), we know what sushi is now!”

It was Kurapika, and he was smiling at her. “Come on, now we’ve got a real chance to pass!”

Her pulled her back to the building by her hand, smiling widely. She couldn’t help but smile too.

‘He thought of me.’

———————

Though they all tried their hardest, even after figuring out how to make sushi, none of them could satisfy Menchi.

She poured herself a cup of green tea, sipping slowly. “Ah..”

(Name) had just given her the last piece of sushi, and had been rejected yet again.

“Sorry, but I’m completely stuffed!”

Hanzo blinked. “So then, what happens now?”

“Like I said, the test is over and this time no one passed. Thank you, come again.”

The air grew tense, (Name) too busy pouting to really care. ‘But I tried so hard…’

She only looked up when Gon stole Menchi’s phone.

“Oh dear.”

She turned her head when she heard someone destroy one of the cooking stations. ‘Sore loser.’ (Name) thought, munching on piece of candy.

“Alright, I’ll show you what it means to be a Gourmet Hunter.”

Menchi left, saying she’d be back in about an hour. (Name) took this as an opportunity to chat with Buhara.

“Sorry that people are being disrespectful. I’m actually a chef myself, but not on any level close to you two.”

Buhara seemed a bit surprised by her comment. “Ah, that makes sense. Menchi seemed to enjoy your dishes the best. If she hadn’t been so picky today, I’m sure she would have passed you.”

(Name) nodded. “Yeah, but that’s not how things went.”

She sat down next to him, taking out a piece of candy and handing it to the man. “Here, I know after I’ve eaten a savory meal I like to have something a little sweet to balance it out.”

‘This girl…’

He took the candy. ‘I’m starting to understand Menchi’s interest in her.’

(Name) and Buhara chatted, exchanging recipes and laughing over stories about cooking gone wrong.

“Is she becoming friends with the examiner?”

Kurapika watched her, eyes wide. Leorio cheered. “Yeah, butter him up (Name)! Use your womanly charm and get us a passing grade!”

Kurapika smacked him over the head. “First of all, she’s not doing that. Secondly, if she was, you screaming out her plans would foil them.”

“Oh.”

Menchi returned, momentarily glancing at (Name) and Buhara with a raised eyebrow before showing off her finds.

(Name) watched as the brute from before kicked the table Menchi had served the plate on over, nearly hitting (Name) in the face.

To her surprise, Buhara extended a hand to shield her. “Oh, thank you!”

He gave her a nod. “No problem.”

A few applicants attempted to get near Machi, but Buhara hit them with surprising strength. “Ooo get ‘em!!” (Name) called, cheering him on.

The wrestler Todo ended up pushing Buhara over, but the man seemed unfazed. “Ooo, you’re pretty strong. Guess it’s time to get serious. Think you can handle it?”

Menchi stepped in. “I can take care of him by myself.”

(Name) stared wide eyed as Menchi beat the absolute SHIT out of Todo, only using her legs.

‘That’s kind of hot.’ (Name) thought.

Kurapika pulled (Name) to safety. “Come here, it’s not safe over there.”

“Oh.”

She hadn’t realized, but it had become kind of a fighting zone. Kurapika noticed she kept staring at Menchi, but didn’t think much. Her and Satotz were arguing, (Name) only catching the end of it.

“I was trying to see how resourceful these guys were. Could they face a challenge for which they had little or no experience?”

“That may be true, Menchi, but since no one passed that test, don’t you think it may have been a bit too difficult?”

‘Oh god the sky is talking.’

“It’s an airship with the Hunter Association’s logo!”

‘Oh. That makes more sense.’ (Name) thought, being pulled outside by Kurapika.

“Oh shit an old guy!” (Name) gasped, pointing at an old man falling from the sky. “I was not expecting to see an old man die today.”

The man landed, seemingly unfazed. ‘Oh so he’s some sort of wizard. Wait did she say chairman?’

Killua and Gon seemed surprised he hadn’t broken his legs. “I’m surprised he isn’t a chairman pancake.” (Name) said, patting Gon on the head.

Apparently, he was the highest authority in the Hunter Association.

(Name) stood near Menchi, glancing at her at her as Netero talked. ‘She’s cute.’

“I have an idea. We’re going to give them all a second chance at the test, and I would like for you to continue being the examiner for this. But this time around I want you to demonstrate how it’s done before the applicants make an attempt. Does that sound reasonable? I think this will go a long way for everyone to accept your ruling.”

The group of five were relieved that they would be getting a second chance.

“The test is, a boiled egg.”

———————

The group rode on the airship to a large mountain.

“So, this is the spot.” Menchi said, standing before a cliff.

“What is this place?”

“How deep is it, I can’t see the bottom?”

Menchi smiled. “Not to worry, at the bottom is a deep river. Now, watch and learn boys.”

She fell backwards down the cliff.

“This deep ravine happens to be home of the spider eagle. And she’s gone down to retrieve one of its eggs.” Netero informed the group. (Name) peeked over the cliff.

“Wow!”

Menchi climbed back up with ease, pulling the egg from her bra. “You might want to be a little careful, the river runs very fast so if you fall you’ll be whisked out to sea before you know what hit ya!”

(Name) handed her bag to Buhara. “Could you watch this for me, please?”

He nodded, the group gasping when she rushed forward and jumped. “(Name)!”

They all followed after her, (Name) holding onto one of the strings and swinging up to stand on one. “Whew, I’m awful at the balancing act!”

Kurapika stared at her, blinking. “(Name), please be careful.”

She blinked. “Oh, sorry. I’ll try.”

Killua glanced at her from his spot, already finding an egg. ‘She should be alright…’ he thought, before going back to his task.

The boy furrowed his eyebrows. ‘Why am I concerned for her safety? She’s just some woman…’

Eagles began attacking the contestants, (Name) managing to climb up to Kurapika. The boy held onto her, keeping her steady. “Did you get an egg?”

(Name) nodded, pointing to her chest. “I’m following Menchi’s example!”

The blonde blushed, quickly changing the subject. “… let’s climb up before the eagles come back.

———————

Menchi had them drop all of their eggs into a large pot. “Don’t think the test is over yet! You still have to boil them. Over cooking or under cooking will fail you!”

Buhara began to sweat, staring at the pot. (Name) placed a hand on his arm. “You alright, Buhara?”

“I think he knows something we don’t!”

The group began pulling their eggs out, (Name) patting his arm after. Menchi seemed pissed. “You couldn’t have made it anymore obvious!”

Menchi glanced at (Name) yet again, calming slightly. “This is an ordinary chicken egg, and this is a spider eagle egg. Now go ahead and compare how they taste!”

(Name) glanced at Menchi, before halving her egg and handing it to her. “Here!”

The woman blushed, taking it. “Oh, um… thank you, applicant 406.”

“My name is (Name).” She said with a sweet smile.

“Thank you, (Name).”

The women smiled, eating together. “Menchi, this is delicious! Wow, gourmet hunters sure know their stuff!”

The woman seemed to become flustered from (Name)’s praise. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with us. Buhara told me how kind you were to him earlier. I…”

She shook her head, turning her attention to the group. “Listen up, for the second phase, 43 pass! Menchi’s Menu is over!”

The all cheered, (Name) pulling in her four friends in for a hug. “Hehe!”

The group boarded the airship, on their way to the next phase.

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every-character-ever-poll · 2 months

Note

The entries themselves cause harm on sight. By being publicly visible, they can therefore suddenly and unexpectedly cause harm to people who are susceptible without giving those people advance warning and the choice not to see them. Blocking tags is inneffective because Tumblr does not have enforcement of tags being standardized, or even present, meaning people who are susceptible cannot block everything that is dangerous to them.

That's a fair point, but I don't really see a way to warn for every potential trigger. I was under the assumption that someone opening the form was agreeing to potentially see a character they do not want to see. I am the 'Every Character Ever' poll blog, there is an understanding that there will be a wide range of characters from a wide range of medias.

On tumblr, you're also right that the tag system is not the best. I too have tags I block and still end up seeing things I'd rather not, but that has more to do with the fact that many people tag with several varieties of the same tag, making it difficult to cover everything. I use a very specific system of '"#character" "#media"', with no censoring the name of either thing. If someone wants me to tag something a particular way, I'm more than happy to oblige.

I understand that you're concerned about seeing something you don't want to, but respectfully, I don't really see what else I can do, apart from removing arbitrary characters, which I am not going to do. I've done my part to make this blog as accessible and easy to navigate as possible, but if you don't like it, you can block this blog and move on. I apologize that I'm not able to help curate your tumblr experience, but at a certain point, you need to understand that is just not how I do things here.

I hope you have a good day, and I wish you all the best in the future. I'm sorry that this blog isn't what you wanted it to be.

#not a poll #asks #I hope this doesn't come across as angry‚ I am writing this with a polite tone. I'm not upset‚ but I am trying to be firm in how this blog #runs #I hope this makes sense!#EDIT: I forgot to say this - how do I define what characters can and cannot be allowed in? I can't base this off the whims of one person #That's just unfair

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paddockbunny · 1 year

Text

One

Summary: Aria Armund is hired by Alpine as an "image guardian" for a reluctant Pierre Gasly - AKA she is hired to be his "babysitter". What happens as the season progresses and both of them have their buttons pressed by the other? And what happens when one of them suggests making a rather interesting bet? Rating: 18+. Pairing : Pierre Gasly x Aria Armund (OC) Word Count : 4,418 Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, misogynistic Pierre, language, mention of sex & blowjobs, descriptions of women's bodies etc. 💞Authors Note : This is going to be written from a first person narrative and will switch from Aria's POV and Pierre's POV. No idea how long this will be but I'm considering posting every race day (not sure yet due to work commitments, as usual). OH, and if you want to be added to a tag list then please comment on the newest chapter's before I make a dedicated page for it!!

Pierre

I let out a long, laboured sigh as I slide into the car. I really didn’t want to be doing this. I would much rather have been still in bed with Jessica - or was it Jenna or maybe Jennie, fuck maybe it was Julie? It began with a J in any case. And anyway, who fucking cares?! All that mattered was I had to peel myself away from her this morning to get to the factory on time for this dumb as fuck meeting. A groan escaped me as I suddenly remembered how fucking phenomenal Jessica (Jenna, Jennie or Julie) was at giving head and how I would much rather be getting sucked off right now rather than go to this boring meeting where some big wigs will talk AT me not TO me for a few hours and waste my day.

Ben opens the door on the other side of the car and gets in. He slides into the back next to me and I can’t help but glance over at him as as he checks his watch and tuts about the fact we’re going to be late. I let him stew instead of answering him. There’s no point. Last year I realised pretty quickly he was one of those types of guys. The ones that were so regimented and anal about doing things right and on time that even a minute behind schedule and he would be having an internal meltdown. I just let him do what he wants without input from me. So I pull my phone from my jeans pocket and smirk to myself when I see a DM from a Jocelyn Silva pop up - JOCELYN! Her name was Jocelyn! - so I click on it and it’s a photo. She’s lying in the bed I had just left her in throwing the camera some “come hither eyes” with a tiny little pout dancing across her full (filler injected) lips. But I only fleetingly glance at her face, it’s lower that I pay more attention too and the fact the bedsheet barely covered her exquisite boobs and the deep sun kissed glow from her tanned skin. I’m sure she said she was a model or trying to be a model and really, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine her in a bikini or lingerie in front of a camera. I swallow instinctively upon remembering what she tasted like last night before actually reading the text that went along with her provocative pic.

Jocelyn_S_Silva: 💋 last night was fun Papi, let’s do it again sometime?xxx

Was it too soon to ask if she would be down for tonight? That picture she sent was enough to give me blue balls for the rest of the day. I clear my throat so I don’t laugh aloud at how ridiculous I sounded. No pussy was that good to go chasing after so quickly. So I sent a stock response back;

PierreGasly: until we do…give me something to remember you by?🍑

And click off my phone to stare out of the window hoping I could stay in control of the blood rushing down toward my dick. It was raining (again) in England. The country looked so dull and grey in comparison to some of the other places we visited with the travelling circus that was F1 but they wanted me here, in Enstone for a meeting ahead of flying out for testing next week. Ben’s ear had already been significantly chewed off about that. I was supposed to be at the PSG match tonight, had a date lined up and everything - Aletta Dekker, sister of Lars Dekker the Dutch tennis player. We’d gone out a few times, fucked a lot, but I actually got on well with her. We could chat without feeling the need for it to go anywhere. It was just some fun with no strings attached. I didn’t have the balls to let her down over the phone so chickened out and text her saying I needed a rain check. The irony now as the rain hammered down on the car as we drove down a monotonous English motorway was not lost on me.

It took close to two hours to get to the factory. I never stayed near it simply because there was fucking nothing there so we’d come up from London to the factory and go back when the day was over. It wasn’t like all those years at AT where you could at least be in the beautiful Italian countryside and take in the stunning landscapes out the window, not fields and copious amounts of cows and sheep. When we finally pulled in front of the building where all the offices and important rooms with important people in them were, Ben finally asked if I knew what this was all about. Seriously, he didn’t even question this random meeting until the moment he stepped out of the car and I couldn’t help but shake my head at him. I liked Ben, he had become a good friend over the course of last year. It’s hard not to grow close to someone you see pretty much every day and does everything with you.

“No idea.” I told him as he rounded the back of the car as I shut the car door. “Hope I’m getting a raise for dealing with all that shit last year though.” Ben laughed at my words, which weren’t intended as a joke but must have sounded like one. As two of the guys from Alpine came out from the building to greet us, apologise for the bad weather and issue us inside my phone buzzed in my pocket and I wondered if that was the photo I had asked that Jocelyn girl for earlier. Took her time didn’t she? I made sure I didn’t scoff and tried to stay professional as we walked through the building while the guys I had met a million times before talked about the weather and asked me if it was better in Paris - clearly not clocking the tan I was sporting to realise I had certainly not spent my winter break in Paris.

“We’re just in here, Pierre.” The shorter, more rotund one of the two opened the door and held it open for me. I’d been in here before. It was where I had that big meeting with the big bosses after the incident in Singapore but the less said about that the better. I recognised everyone in the room. Otmar and the like were all sitting around the oval table and got up immediately to welcome me. But my eyes were firmly trained on the mass of long brown curls and feminine shoulders that were still sat at the table facing away from me. This was a new addition. There hadn’t usually been a woman at these meetings before. I glance around and confirmed no one had been fired and I hadn’t found out. So maybe she was just a new PR girl or one of the girls that worked in the offices at the factory. Otmar suggested I take a seat and so I did. The mystery girls head turned slightly, enough that I could make out some of her features. Cute straight nose, naturally full lips and high as hell cheekbones. She had to have only been around 23 or 24 perhaps? But maybe I was wrong and she only just looked younger - I wasn’t the best at women’s ages and my I knew better than to presume I knew anything about the feminine being anyway - anyway, as Otmar started speaking I would be sure to find out exactly who this new addition was.

“As you know, at the end of last season I told you I would be discussing things with some of our bosses and whatnots at the end of year review we have. The big debrief meeting where all the heads of department get together and talk about the good things and the not so good things that happened and how we could look to improve in the future. Y’know, like our race debriefs at the end of a race day….” Yeah Otmar, I know, I’m not fucking stupid get to to point. I pull my leg up and rest my ankle upon my opposite knee while I sit back in the chair and nod in the right places. “Well, one of the things that kept coming up was the tension between yourself and Esteban and the incidents that arose last year.” He means him running me off the track at two separate races, trying to break test me anytime I was behind him, me bashing him in front of the cameras any chance I got but it was probably, the public near fight caught by cameras in Singapore when I tried to get my own back by flirting with his girlfriend that was what he was really referring too.

“Pierre with your results last year there’s no doubt of your future within the team but the negative attention the pair of you have garnered has raised a lot of concern.” “Otmar I…” I was going to tell him it takes two to tango and if this conversation was happening with me it better be happening with Ocon too. He was as much to blame for last year as I was. But a hand made me pause while he continued. “However, after some deliberation on how to resolve the conflict and how we can possibly move in a more positive direction for all of us involved. We have decided to bring in an image guardian.” I look at him like he’s grown another head. What the fuck was an image guardian? And that was when I saw his hand flick over toward the girl that had momentarily occupied my mind before Otmar started talking.

This time, when I looked over at her, she was looking straight back at me with quite possibly a pair of the most striking blue eyes I had ever seen before. A soft, sincere smile spread across her lips as her hand rose from her lap in a “that’s me” gesture. Fuck, I couldn’t help but imaging those eyes staring up at me while she had her lips wrapped around my cock. Which involuntarily twitched in my jeans while I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t daydreaming. The words “image guardian” were still ringing in my ears so I most certainly in reality and not a twisted dreamland. “Sorry, what exactly is an image guardian?” I had truthfully never heard of the term and was one hundred percent certain they were making this up. “Well, we felt that the added pressure that the press and marketing teams had to face last year was rather, unfair to them. Their jobs turned into looking after or, perhaps that’s not the right words, making sure the both of you were looked after which meant some of those PR people weren’t as focused on their jobs as maybe they should have been.” I knew he was indirectly referring to Claudia without actually wanting to say her name but the less said about her the better. “So we created the role of an image guardian specifically to make sure your own PR game is onboard with ours. Someone who can liaise from your side with regards to meeting the needs of the team.”

Things took a minute to click in. He was bullshitting. This was a totally made up job so they could make someone my fucking nanny. “A babysitter?” I exclaimed loudly, my anger clearly evident in my voice and body language mimicking it. My foot fell back to the floor and I leaned in. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” I glance back over toward this girl whose name I didn’t even know (but who moments ago I had envisioned fucking) that was now labelled as my fucking au pair. “Pierre, it’s image guardian and we feel that you do.” Otmars voice changed tone. He was now not as breezy has he had been. He turned direct and much more commanding. “This is bullshit.” “Esteban has also been given an image guardian who will consult regularly with Miss Armund to ensure a more harmonious season this year. I can’t stress enough how this needs to work, Pierre. You know what can happen if it doesn’t.” I fucking knew. I had seen how people like Ricciardo and Mick Schumacher had been treated. Fuck! How I myself had been treated a few years ago at Red Bull. But a minder? Really? “And what is it she’ll do?” “I think Miss Armund is best to talk to you about that.”

“Hi…” She was nervous. She took a pause after simply saying hello. I was probably glaring at her like I wanted to set her on fire which might not have helped, but rage ran through my veins like boiling hot lava. “Firstly, I just want to introduce myself. I’m Aria Armund. I was born and raised in France till I was 10 and then moved here to England so if you want to talk to me in French you can, I’m bilingual.” There was a pause when she looked at me and I could tell she was waiting for me to say something polite (probably in French) but absolutely nothing came to mind that I wanted to say to her. She took a little breath in and it was usually while I was giving girls the come on when they got this nervous around me. I rolled my eyes and pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth as the pause seemed to get longer. I observed her straightening up and let out a quick exhale. She seemed to be gathering herself and I clocked her little touch of the bracelet on her wrist as if it was somehow giving her the strength to keep going.

“So basically, what I’m here to do is to look after you. You’re not particularly incorrect in thinking I’m a “babysitter” as you called it. My sole purpose is to keep you out of trouble. To minimise any issues you may have with your team mate and prevent them from leaking into the media. I’ll also help make sure your image doesn’t suffer from all of your liaisons with various….friends, and you don’t end up on the gossip pages as you have done in previous years. I’ll make sure your reputation and that of Alpine isn’t damaged in any way, shape or form.” Where did her sudden directness come from? Her nerves seemed to evaporate immediately. It was confusing it happened at such breakneck speed. But how she managed to take control of herself and take charge was nothing shorter than a major turn on. She could take control of me anytime she wanted. “Ok?” She smiled and it was now on me.

I had nothing to say or at least nothing came to mind as those swimming pool blue eyes stared into mines like they were trying to read my mind. As she turned her head away and Otmar went to speak suddenly a question did pop into my head. “Who does Ocon have?” I asked the question in the direction of her turned head. When she looked away some of her glossy curled locks fell across her shoulder and drew my attention directly to her ample chest. She was a woman - very much a woman - and I had a horrible feeling that Alpine might have been trying to set me up for failure. What with everything that happened with Claudia. “Excuse me?” Otmar seemed confused. “Who is looking after Ocon? You said he had a babysitter too.” In those minutes my question went unanswered, I hoped it would click on someone’s brain about why I was asking and I wouldn’t actually have to fucking say it. “Uh….” Otmar sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at me in a fashion that told me he twigged and he realised the intonation behind my questioning. He didn’t expect me to react like this, did he? During the increasingly awkward pause I fully believed that he was imposing this girl on me as a way to trip me up so he could get rid of me at the end of the year. If Esteban got a guy babbysitter then there was my answer. He would be getting off with his dickhead behaviour last year. “Mr Ocon’s guardian is Kyle Gilby.” Aria spoke up and I let out a quick exhale of air. Why the fuck did this not surprise me? I knew it. I could sense it from the way Otmar was staring at me. Ocon gets someone he can talk to, level with and I get stuck with her? Typical. “Is there a problem Mr Gasly?” Fuck her calling me Mr Gasly. Girls only usually called me that in the bedroom, not a boardroom.

I pretend there isn’t but there is. The whole thing is totally fucked but what can I do? I don’t want thrown out my seat so I have to play ball. And if that means I have to have a babysitter then fine, I’ll do it. This whole thing was feeling like a massive, risky, fucked up game of temptation? I made an audible scoff because I know where this is going and I know she won’t last long meaning they’ll probably get their way. I can’t help the fact I was born a flirt and women always fell for it. I’d give it two or three months before they’ll be having conduct meetings with me after she breaks her fraternisation contract clause after firing her for sleeping with the person she’s there to manage. It’s happened before and it will happen again. After all, it’s their own fault for hiring someone that would look more at home in Playboy or Sports Illustrated than working in an F1 team. They seriously couldn’t have hired someone less, tempting? They couldn’t have given her to Ocon and at least pretend they weren’t setting me up for failure?

Thankfully the meeting was over rather quickly. There were orders to go with her somewhere so she could do something or other and go over stuff but by that point I was zoned out. I cancelled my plans for this? They could have just told me over the phone. I didn’t need to be here in person when it would have been a quick email. I try not to sigh when I lean forward in my chair to get up but notice her move first. When she rises from her seat I can’t help but cast my eyes over her body. A perfect rack was hidden behind a satin-y type blouse and her smart, tight trousers did little to stem my attention away from her perky, peachy rear practically begging to be spanked. I was right. Playboy or Sports Illustrated. She would look so pretty on her knees. Give it a few weeks, I tell myself. By Miami she’ll be begging for me. I can tell.

Fifteen minutes later we were sat in a smaller, more bland impersonal office while she tried to convince me to hand over my social media passwords. “Mr Gasly, I assure you that your accounts and information will be safe with me. I simply need access in order to keep on top of any potential Alpine related business.” She was getting me riled up at this point. “Last year I believe there were, incidents, over social media with some questionable comments?” She was referring to the emoji’s wasn’t she? The PR girls laughed about them last year but she said it with a straight face. “I simply need to be able to delete anything that would be unsavoury toward your own reputation and the team.” “Telling people my favourite sex position through an emoji is not damaging to my reputation or the team.” I retort back with a smooth laugh. I thought it would throw her but the silence and stoney face I was met with made me push it even further. I smirked before adding; “it’s the dog by the way.” Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I couldn’t recall the last time I wasn’t able to flirt and smooth talk a girl into at least raising a smile. But there was nothing from her. “It’s the dog because my favourite position is doggy…” “Yes, I gathered that Mr Gasly.” She hastily shut me up and I noticed her roll her eyes. Was she not into men? Maybe that’s why my forwardness wasn’t doing it for her.

“Please, your passwords.” I watched as slowly she placed her pen on top of a notepad and pushed it across the glass topped table toward me. Her eyes didn’t leave mine. They stayed trained on me as if she had gone through military training. Unflinching. I would have been complaining if they weren’t so fucking captivating. You could get lost in these eyes.

“Earn them.” I glanced over toward Ben and smirked again. It was a game at this point. I couldn’t help myself. “Excuse me?” “I said, earn them.” I didn’t even know where this was going or why it was coming out of my mouth. I just went with it. I liked how women would squirm a little when I turned it on and I desperately wanted to know she was eating out of the palm of my hand, so sue me. But if I expected her to crumble like all of the others she surprised me. She sat back in her chair and took a deep breath before exhaling. For a brief second I thought I won and I managed to rattle her but unfortunately for me, apparently not.

“Listen, looking after a twenty-seven year old self confessed playboy is not something I thought I would be doing when I got this job so if you think your flirting will have an effect on me and I will pull a Claudia, was it? Then you are very much mistaken.” It was I that was rumbled. And she had to mention last years indiscretion by name so she had clearly been told all about it - or had she read about it online and didn’t need anyone else’s judgment about it to pass her own judgment on to me? “Now…Mr Gasly, your passwords.” Touché. Fucking Touché.

I reached for the pen and notepad and noted how much I felt like a child. It was as if I had been sent to the Alpine School’s principle’s office for being naughty in class. As I wrote down the passwords for her highness, my phone buzzed again in my jeans pocket and it suddenly l dawned on me that she would see everything I received. She would see all of the DMs I was sent along with the mountains of nudes (such as those waiting on me from last nights hook-up) that various girls sent me, mostly without a single shred of prompting. I should probably have felt a little embarrassed or ashamed by them in all fairness but for some reason - probably because she was acting like a fake ball buster she actually was one - I wasn’t. Let her look. There’s probably a fair few suggestive ones of myself on there she could find too if she really wanted too. I cursed the route of thought my own mind suddenly drove me down as now I was imagining her sliding her hand down past the waistband of her tight trousers to get off on the risqué pics I had floating around in some conversations. But she didn’t seem like the type. Fortunately for me the passwords were enough to appease her, for now. She smiled - a fake one of course - and said that was all, I could leave before adding she would would see me at testing. She would be at testing? This girl was really going to be sticking to me like glue, wasn’t she?

Thankfully, this whole fiasco was clearly coming to an end and I glanced toward the door and was desperately trying to think of something smart to say and a way to get out of here. I didn’t want to hang around for any longer than I needed to and certainly not long enough for her to continue getting one over on me or getting a metaphorical upper hand again, but it looked like she had and there was nothing I could do. When I happened to look toward Ben I realised he was smirking and clearly holding back a laugh. He was married and so never really joined in (nor understood) with the flirting and flustering behaviour I was king at. Now, after I had lost the opening match against her, it was as if he could read my startled little mind and I certainly didn’t like that. I arose out if my seat opposite my new babysitter and stared at her for a moment. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had ever worked in F1 - or even just a sport - before because she didn’t act like how all the girls usually acted around guys in sport. She simply seemed unimpressed. Stoic almost. “Goodbye, Mr Gasly.” A normal girl would be turned on by saying that over and over again. By now imagining how it would feel to be bent over the glass desk and having me rail them into next week. But she used it formally, professionally and without a single shred of sarcasm. I just about managed to get to the door to the office when my phone buzzed loudly one more time and I paused to remove it from my pocket.

“I hope that isn’t something I am going to have to get involved in?” Her sweet, soft voice echoed from behind and my sudden laughter filled the room as my brain had come up with the most perfect of perfect responses. “Not unless you want to make it a threesome?” I didn’t hang around long enough for her to respond and mentally high fives myself for my quick retort. She lead herself into it and my brain couldn’t catch up to my mouth. She may have been hired to be my babysitter, but that didn’t mean I had to make it easy for her.

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfiction #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly series #pierre gasly x oc #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly imagines #pierre gasly multi chapter #f1 smut #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 series #f1 x oc #bet trope #grumpy sunshine trope

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boots-with-the-fur-club · 2 months

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So, I may not have won the poll, but I’ve decided to continue on the hand lore anyway! I’m going to tag some people but I want to warn you all this contains heavy angst. Make sure to check the tags for trigger warnings!

Start

@daboyau

@phoebepheebsphibs

@littlemissartemisia

@foxolotlfreak

He had been patting himself down basically every second to make sure those things hadn’t left his fanny pack and then suddenly they just weren’t there anymore.

The heavy feeling in his chest started at that point.

He barely started forgiving himself for causing the first apocalypse, his brothers telling him he had no way of knowing what would happen.

Others were to blame, like Warren or Hypno for taking the key in the first place. The Foot Clan, for asking for them to take it.

Sure Leo’s showboating and carelessness were bad but it wasn’t out of malice. He didn’t want to destroy the world. He didn’t know.

But this time he did know.

He saw the worst things imaginable and knew how it effected the people he loves. All he had to do was to stop those stupid mushrooms from hurting anyone else.

Leo saw the look in Raph’s eyes when he admitted what happened. Raph insists that it was just a mistake, that con artist was grabbing at his fanny pack. They probably fell out afterwards or he took it and dumped it when it couldn’t be sold.

What Leo saw in his eyes made him feel differently.

It was similar to how he always looked at him during their missions after Leo became leader.

Judgment.

He can’t be completely sure that Leo wasn’t just being careless. That one distraction caused chaos and havoc throughout an entire multi universe competition.

Leo feels like Raph feels the worst about the little girl he was protecting at first. He was so sure he stopped them from getting her. How they got past him to the nurse’s office, he doesn’t know.

That hand is a big part of it at least though, that’s clear.

Leo feels more tears starting to come.

He’s lost all credibility now, hasn’t he?

Not just to his brothers, but probably everyone there. There’s nobody else to blame for what’s happening. There’s no way anyone else has screwed things up like he has.

His fingers twitch, rubbing his arms painfully.

He needs to calm down before he starts becoming too rough with himself.

Leo reaches into his fanny pack in order to grab one of the many fidget toys. His mouth forms a deep frown at not feeling a favorite of his in there.

So he lost it too?

Pathetic.

Movement in the side of his vision has him glance towards it.

The hand.

That freaking hand!

It has his fidget toy!

Did…..did it take the container too!?

Maybe he didn’t lose it!

It was stolen!

Hope starts replacing that burden in his heart and he stands up.

The hand starts skittering away, so he quickly starts following after it. He’s too distracted to realize that his brothers are also distracted. They don’t notice him as he leaves.

The hand gets into a room and Leo backs it into a corner.

“Finally! You’re not getting away this time. Maybe if I get rid of you the spores will go away again too!” Leo summons and raises his weapon, smiling out of pure relief.

His expression drops when the hand spreads its fingers, revealing some type of canisters between them.

They fall, quickly releasing “gas” that is all too familiar.

He tries to hold his breath and rushes towards the door he came in through. Leo is only quick enough to see the hand escape and the door close behind it.

Leo bangs on the door as hard as he can. Even if no one hears him, maybe his hands will break through instead.

Luck fails him.

He runs out of time.

The room is filled to the brim with spore smoke as, eventually, even his turtle DNA fails him. He finally has to breath.

Contaminated air fills his lungs with a large gasp.

He shuts his eyes tight and covers the sides of his head where ears might be if he had any.

As long as he doesn’t see or hear anything he should be safe until he gets found, right?

Wrong.

Horrific images flash around in his mind until he’s forced to open his eyes to stop them.

What he sees is absolute devastation.

It’s a war zone all around him. Everything is in pieces. Buildings, roads…..people. Shots are ringing back and forth, some of it looking like it’s from alien tech.

He knows exactly what the spores are showing him and it feels his body with a dread that should have been prevented.

Leo can’t move an inch.

It’s obvious to him that the spores are just showing him what he thinks the bad future looked like. The only information he has about it is what he got out of Casey JR. Admittedly, it’s not that much because his brothers made him promise to stop telling Leo about it.

It was impeding his recovery, Donnie said.

He wishes he knew more so that he could tell the loud, nagging voice in his brain that maybe this isn’t just what he made up to fill in what he didn’t know. That this has the possibility of being connected ninpo memories. That this is exactly what happened and is even more awful than he ever could have imagined.

Kraang appear in front of him.

Fear shoots through his veins. They’re not real. He knows this isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

“What’s this? The leader of the resistance without his guard dogs? They must have finally abandoned their weakest link after you led that last squadron to their deaths. Culling them was highly enjoyable.” The kraang taunts.

Leo grits his teeth.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone!? Why is it always me!?”

The kraang laughs like he’s just been told the funniest thing in this war torn world.

“Because you deserve it. Every second of all of it! And even more than this!”

He can’t think of anything to retort. He’s so tired of everything.

“No last words? Good. We’ve all long since grown tired of your voice.” The kraang aims his hand at Leo, a light beginning to power up inside.

Fine, it’s all fake anyways. This might as well happen. Nothing he can do about it even if he wanted to. Nobody is coming to help him either.

The kraang keeps laughing the more his laser powers up.

No wonder Lou Jitsu always escapes in his more spy themed movies. Death rays take way too long to work.

He tears up.

Leo wishes his dad was here.

The laser finally powers up. The kraang smiles widely. Something red goes up in front of him.

Wait, what?

NO!

The laser fires.

Leo is suddenly grabbed and tossed away into safety.

He tries to quickly stand up, but something stops him.

Raph’s future clone is on keeping him to the ground, hidden behind a broken building where he can still partially see the kraang from before.

The original Raph had bought time for the clone to get Leo to safety.

Both of them were being erased, disintegrated.

Tears stream down Leo’s face as he stares up at the clone who stares back with a smile.

Leo knows fully well that anything he says right now won’t actually be said to anyone.

He says something anyways.

“I love you Raph. Thank you. For everything. I never told you.”

The clone smiles more.

“Big bros always know. Love ya too, Leo. Tell everyone else for me.”

Leo watches as the last parts of his brother’s clone floats away as ninpo into the air.

He’s suddenly somewhere else, but still in this future hell scape.

Donnie’s arm is around his own and Leo sees blooding pouring from a head wound. Usually it makes them look worse than they are and it’s not actually a concern but this definitely looks like it is.

“Leo…..put me down….”

Leo can’t stop crying.

“I told you I’m not leaving you here!”

That’s not his voice.

Well, it is and it isn’t.

Deeper, rougher, far more strained.

“Put me down!” Donnie shoves himself away from him.

Leo falls over trying to catch him but they both end up on the ground.

Oh, he’s supposed to be hurt too.

He sits up and tries to get Donnie up as well.

“I thought this apocalypse made you smarter. I guess you could never be as smart as me, even when they hit me like this….” Donnie says, staying put.

“Shut up! You’re coming with me! Mikey is just a little further!” Leo screams.

Donnie chuckles.

“You won’t even give me a pity laugh? I’m the funny one, papa used to say so.”

Leo desperately tries to stand.

Donnie yanks him back to the ground.

“Leo. Listen. I need a flavor. F-Favor, I mean. Favor….”

Oh.

Donnie’s not making it either.

“Anything, Donnie.”

“Stay here for a minute. It shouldn’t take longer than that.”

Leo chokes back his sobs as he begins clinging to him.

“Okay. I’ll do that.”

“This might be the brain damage, but I want you to keep talking. Don’t stop until….you know. Tell your dumb jokes, even.” Donnie clings to him as well.

Leo takes a shaky, deep breath, then starts talking about anything and everything.

The night sky is clear above them both.

It reminds him of when they shared a room and their ceiling had those glow in the dark starts.

They used to lay together like this and talk all night because of their shared insomnia.

Leo talks and talks and talks, getting some quiet responses from Donnie until eventually he doesn’t.

He doesn’t stop talking or holding until he’s being physically separated by Mikey and some other resistance members.

Leo doesn’t stop talking still. He wants Donnie to respond even thought he knows he never will again.

Mikey hugs Leo tightly and he finally starts crying so hard he can’t talk anymore.

It’s all over as Leo is placed somewhere else again. He knows this part very well. Mikey is shattering into golden pieces in front of him with a big smile.

Leo doesn’t care anymore that he shouldn’t be able to do anything.

He rushes forward and holds onto Mikey’s arm to try to help like his brothers told him they did before.

A chain wraps around Leo, moving him back to Casey just before Mikey fully disintegrates.

He was stupid to try in the first place.

A dumb decision.

Again.

And again and again and again and again and-

It never stops.

His brothers won’t let him die.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t want to be the last one left.

It hurts.

He’s tossing Casey into the portal and Leo is gone right after, right in front of him.

Leo is drifting now.

A black, empty void.

He’s even more tired than he was before.

There’s no one else with him. He can’t even be reunited with everyone he lost, or could have lost.

It’s so confusing.

The prison dimension was pretty similar to this place. It’s even more even empty than that somehow though. Probably because kraang prime isn’t here with him.

Leo is completely detached from reality.

His eyes have dimmed as he sits on the floor, against the wall. He’s running out of time for anyone to be able to do anything.

He can’t hear the shouting coming from somewhere outside, not close by but shouting nonetheless.

Mikey noticed first that he was missing and now the others are in a complete panic. They lost him once and now they’re losing him again.

They don’t know how right that is.

As the situation only gets worse, a hand watches, perched up high on the ceiling like some kind of spider who’s carefully watching the webs its made.

There’s already one prey caught.

Three more to go.

#tw sibling death #tw hallucinations #tw head injury #tw head trauma #tw injury #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #2018 tmnt #no fun in fungus #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rise fanfiction #rottmnt fanfiction #rise leo #rottmnt michelangelo #i’m getting spored now i guess

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xxavengingangelxx · 8 months

Text

Long Way from Home 1/?

Ok, so here is chapter one of I don't know how many. I have 25 pages of this. My goal is to immerse the reader in this world and put them into the OC's shoes as she questions her sanity and breaks down. I don't know how it's going to end yet.

Same intro: 141's translator isn't able to escape after Graves's betrayal. He takes her, thinking she has information. Things go horribly. Stockholm Syndrome eventually sets in and our OC feels her 141 identity being ripped to shreds while a new one, possibly loyal to Shadow Company takes hold.

Idk how this is going to do because it's a darker fic. War Criminal Graves for sure. Really insecure about this one :/

READ: Trigger warnings (for the whole fic): Kidnapping, eventual dub-con, threatened rape, torture, mind fucking games, implied/referenced suicide, self-harm.

TAGS: Dub-con, violence, torture, implied/referenced suicide, self-harm.

Graves.

You looked up at him as your vision became clearer. Your head was pounding. You realized you were lying in the street. Did someone hit you over the head? You couldn’t recall. Graves started shooting and everyone ran for cover or tried shooting back. You shot back maybe once or twice. Truth was you were terrified of Graves’s Shadows and wanted to get the hell away from them.

You were able to camouflage into the woods and managed to make it to the streets on your way to the agreed upon rendezvous point, which was planned in case just an event happened.

The coldness, hardness, and wetness of that same street took your attention away from the sharp pains seemingly crushing your skull. Raindrops made your vision blurry every now and then as they landed in your eyes.

But that didn’t stop you from glaring at Graves. If looks could kill the man would’ve dropped dead on the spot. After all the missions, all the teamwork, and especially all the nights spent with him…you felt disgusted.

But you still felt small, vulnerable, like prey, even with all your gear on. You were flat on your back surrounded by Shadows (demons)…and Graves. You were beginning to worry. Sure, you’d received the training required to tag along with the 141 but definitely not quite all of it. How the hell were you going to put up with being tortured for information or being held captive if it came to that?

“141’s translator.” Graves smirked. “Good to see ya again, Valdez. Been better though, yeah?”

You said nothing. The firefight had stopped although you didn’t know how much time had passed between the end of the fight and now. You only hoped Soap, Ghost, and Alejandro were okay. You didn’t know what all had happened. All you remembered is that gunshots rang out and everyone ran.

You apparently didn’t run fast enough.

“Where are your friends?” Graves commanded, looking down on you with his hands clutching his vest.

Arrogant bastard.

“141?”

“Duh.”

“I dunno,” you answered simply. “You kinda fucked everything up when you started shooting.”

He laughed. He sounded cruel.

“Where are they?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Don’t act. You had to have a rendezvous point.”

You remained silent.

Graves paused before saying, “Actually you know what? Let’s get outta this rain.”

Rough and careless hands grabbed your arms and pulled you into a sitting position, soaking the rest of your clothes.

“Watch it,” you snapped. “Cabron. No me vuelvas a tocar,” you added in your native tongue, demanding he not touch you again.

You heard Graves scoff from the inside of a dilapidated building. He then said, “Cuff ‘er and bring ‘er to me.”

You felt those same rough hands placed thick plastic zip ties around your wrists after pulling your arms behind your back and he pull them tight, almost painfully so. You were then pulled to stand in the same coarse manner before being led into a building that looked like it was barely standing. It had been gutted inside and out. The same Shadow shoved you and you fell onto your knees and shin hard in front of Graves. You felt your knees scrape and bleed.

“Forgot how good you look on your knees,” he smirked. He reached towards you and you almost bit him. He ripped your radio off, also taking your earpiece with it and cutting your ear. He gave it to one of his men, telling them to get rid of it.

You ignored what Graves had said because how could he fucking forget when you’d just seen him last night? You instead decided to temporarily focus your anger on the Shadow that had roughed you up earlier. “Fuckin’ asshole,” you snapped at the faceless man. “Tu mama no te enseño que los hombres no les pegan a las mujeres?” You then shot back, asking him if his mother never taught him that men don’t hit women.

“Now you need to knock that Spanish shit off,” Graves mentioned. “You’re in the presence of Americans so speak English.”

You said nothing, only scowled at him even though he was currently towering over you.

He laughed. “Still got that mouth on you I see. Good for telling others off, translating, and…other things, too, huh?”

You felt your cheeks blush but out of anger. Your ears felt hot despite the cool rainy night. Apparently Graves liked to kiss and tell. The fact that the last time you’d slept with him was right before this mission left you feeling absolutely disgusted. You felt like he’d raped you in a way as he didn’t tell you who he really was.

“Where’s 141?” He asked again, standing before you and again reaching up to grasp his vest. You saw that lines or scratches and scars lined his forearms.

“I told you I don’t know.” You paused before adding, “Si te lo digo en español lo entenderás mejor? No se.” You asked if you telling him in Spanish might help him understand better.

“You really need to start cooperating here,” He walked about you in a circle and you felt like he was a wolf circling injured prey.

“I don’t know, man!” You snapped. “We all had to run for cover when you and your goons started shooting.” You paused before adding, “Heard they knocked a few of your Shadows off.”

One of the Shadows from behind you kicked you and your vest roughly, almost making you fall sideways. You gave a scowl in that general direction before focusing back on Graves. “You’ve been planning this shit for awhile haven’t you?”

“Look at you, so perceptive,” Graves cooed. It was creepy. “All I did was told them I was in charge and they didn’t like it.”

“So you betrayed them?”

“No, no,” he stopped dead in front of you again and knelt so you were both at eye level. His eyes were cold, icy, like the arctic. You smelled blood and gunpowder and you wondered if it was his blood or some of your teammates’. You silently prayed they were okay. His eyes had never looked like that before. “They betrayed me.”

You laughed callously. “Bullshit,” You tried to stop yourself from saying the next thing but it was said before you even knew it. “You’re a traitor, Graves. And a fucking war criminal.”

With that he smacked you across the face. Hard. You cried out, tasting blood. You shook your hair from your face and turned back in his direction.

“So you hit women, too now?” You gasped, spitting blood in between his boots as he kneeled in front of you. “At the very least you have treason and usurpation.”

“It doesn’t need to be this way. I need to know where they are.”

“Why, to kill them?”

“Nah, I wanna keep ‘em,” he added threateningly. “Some brainwashing and they’d make a good team for me.”

“Go to hell, fuckin’ traitor.”

He reached out, grasping your hair so tightly you yelped. He tilted your head up to make sure you made eye contact with him.

“If you use that word again I will kill your friends when I find them. Not before I kill you in front of them first, though.” He didn’t break eye contact, almost expecting a reply from you. “Are we really gonna have to do this the hard way?”

You didn’t speak.

“Fine,” he responded. He stood up, his height allowing him to tower over you again. He drew his sidearm and pulled the hammer back, placing a bullet in the chamber.

So this is how you were going to die. On bloodied knees in front of what you now considered an enemy combatant. He placed the gun to your head and you felt the cold barrel through your thin, wet hair.

“Call them,” Graves demanded.

“No,”

You weren’t expecting it when he hit you with his sidearm across the side of your face. You screamed in pain, falling flat on the floor. You vision was blurry and the sounds around you were going in and out. You saw him step closer is you flinched, mumbling, “Don’t!” When you thought he was about to kick you. Graves grabbed your vest and hauled you back to your knees.

“Call them,” Graves commanded again, his voice louder in volume and deeper in tone.

“I can’t,” you gasped, your head throbbing. You shut your eyes, wanting to be anywhere else but here. You opened them and you were still there, effectively being tortured.

Graves stepped out in front of you. It was dead silent, the only sounds being the crickets and the rain. You met his eyes trying to muster any sympathy. You were likely concussed at least two times over and you were in pain. His eyes didn’t soften and his men didn’t even flinch. Were they seriously okay with this?!

He raised the gun at your chest.

And he fired.

The force of the bullet forced you onto your back and you felt ribs possibly break underneath your vest. You yelled in pain as you found yourself glancing up at the ceiling of the gutted building you were in. Your vest had stopped the bullet from penetrating but it still hurt like a motherfucker.

“Get ‘er back up and take her vest off,” you heard Graves tell one of his men.

Your body protested as you were again hauled up on your knees. The Velcro of your vest easily gave way to the strong arms ripping it open. It was tossed aside. You wanted to ask them to at least have some respect for the American flag on your vest but your energy was sapped. It was focused on staying quiet and surviving.

He was kneeling in front of you again and you wondered if he was going to shoot you point blank because he wanted to look in your eyes as you died. Pulling at your zip ties was useless.

Graves reached into his vest and pulled a large, black knife.

“You’re torturing a captive!”

“There’s the military and me,” Graves stated simply. “I’m not as bound by the rules.” He then leaned forward and sliced through your uniform shirt. Underneath all you had on was a pink tank top. He signaled to one of his men who then knelt directly behind you and pulled you up off your shins and onto solely your knees. He grasped your chin from behind and pulled up, forcing your line of sight up and away from Graves. Graves was completely out of view and you had no fucking idea what he was going to do.

“What’re you doing?!” you voice broke as you began panicking.

“I’m about to scar that pretty body if you don’t talk or call your friends.”

“I don’t know! I don’t!” you yelled out desperately. “You know I can’t do that to them,” you sniffled.

The first cut was deep but not deep enough to cause vital injuries. It went from your collarbone to just over your heart. At this point you just sputtered and cried.

“Either tell me where they are or call them.”

“I can’t!”

“No, you’re choosing not to.”

“I don’t know, I don’t fucking know!” Your breath came out in hurried, panicked gasps.

“Sounds like a rehearsed response to me,” The second cut Graves inflicted mirrored your first except it was on the opposite side of your chest. You couldn’t help it. You screamed.

“Graves what the fuck!” Your words echoed Soap’s from not too long ago. You believed you heard him sheathe his knife, presumably without cleaning it, almost as if he wanted your blood to adorn his vest.

“Let her go,”

The Shadow behind you released his grasp and you immediately fell onto your knees and shins, Doubling over in pain. Your once-pink tank top was covered in blood and the cuts on your chest would need stitches at the minimum.

“Hmm, they must not care about ya anymore,” Graves taunted. “Maybe you should come work for me.”

“Never, fuck you,”

“There’s that attitude again,” he laughed callously. “But you have to admit that would be a neat trick.” His voice was sickly sweet as he added, “Imagine that. You at my beck and call before I sicced you on 141.”

“Never,” you repeated.

“We could really, really use you,” Graves stood back up. “You speak Spanish, have experience with surveillance, countersurveillance, know the culture…”

“You wish,” you sighed.

“Well if this isn’t working and asking nicely isn’t working, we can try something else.”

You were past trying to hold back tears. Luckily your dark hair hid your face. You started at the ground, not daring to meet his gaze. With what he had said earlier you were scared another look at him would brainwash you. We circled you again and you couldn’t help but flinch when he got close.

“You and I had a pretty good working relationship, didn’t we?”

You didn’t answer.

“Answer me, soldier,” he demanded.

“Yes,” you snapped. “Not anymore.”

“You’re right not anymore. Maybe soon though.” He paused, scoffing before adding, “Didn’t we also agree to have certain friends with benefits activities?”

“Fuck you,” you half sobbed.

“Yeah you actually did,” there was that cold laugh again. He continued walking around you in a circle as you watched blood drip onto your dark pants.

This was humiliating.

“Man you worked wonders with that little mouth of yours,”

“Argh!” the yell came from your lips loudly. You were frustrated, concussed, in pain, had been betrayed, and now you were finding out that man you were starting to have feelings for was betraying not only but everyone. “You’re so fucking disgusting!” You shouted, raising your gaze to glare at him.

“How ‘bout a repeat?”

Your glare lost its edge for one of surprise and fear. Was he talking about…

“I’ll go first and they,” he signaled around to his men, adding, “Then they’ll go next. And if you keep pretending not to know we can make things…invasive. How’s that sound?”

“Jesus Christ, Graves,” you whispered, “you’re talking about torturing and raping a captive.” Your voice sounded weak, fearful.

“It’s up to you,” Graves shrugged. “You can stop this anytime you want. Or if you really wanna get laid without admitting it you can keep not talking.”

You whimpered.

“I mean, think about it,” Graves knelt in front of you again, keeping that sadistic blue gaze locked onto your darker one. “It’d happen right here when anyone can see what a fuckin’ slut you are. No one would help, either. They’d just watch it happen.”

You cried because what the hell else could you do? You weren’t used to this. You translated for fuck’s sake. You wouldn’t have ever imagined you’d be captured. Not in your worst nightmares. That was something for the movies, for fiction books.

“Keep up the charade and you’re going to suffer. I promise.” He glared at you with those blue-grey emotionless eyes. “I mean hell when I get sick of ya they’ll pass you around however the fuck they want to. I’m sure they’d love to have a shot at a 141 bitch.”

“Fuck yeah,” a Shadow said from behind you. “She’s a cute little thing. Love to see her cry some more.”

You were floored. How was this happening?

“Graves—” you started.

“Commander Graves to you from now on.”

“Commander Graves. I don’t know. Even if I did, they’ve moved on. They’re mobile,” you tried to reason. “I’m of no use to you.”

You saw his jaw muscle clench. “No, you’re gonna be useful, trust me.”

Your hopes that he would just untie you and send you back to 141 bloodied, beaten, and tortured to send a message fell to zero.

“Pick her up and bring her with us,”

“Fuck no, man,” you shook your head. You knew that you under no circumstances could you allow them to take you to a second location. It dropped your chances of survival to almost zero.

You were pulled to your feet roughly and you suddenly felt a wave of nausea. You were definitely concussed.

“Take her vest. Leave her name tag.” Graves wanted to send a message: she’s alive…come get her before I rip her to shreds.

The Shadow who pulled you up whispered hot and heavy in your ear through his mask. He had to lower himself to your level he was so tall. “Cry some more for me.”

He was so close to you, so close to your face you tried to bite him. “Try me, asshole.”

Graves, further again, laughed. A few other Shadows chuckled. Not because it was funny but because they were probably thinking: awe, how cute…she thinks she can take us.

You pulled and struggled and screamed and cursed. They easily kept control of you. They were too tall and too strong. They tossed you in the backseat of a black Tahoe and your cursed inwardly when you failed to get the plate.

Graves got in on the other side of the backseat. He easily reached over you, grabbing your seatbelt.

“Don’t! Don’t you fucking touch me!” you yelled.

The doors slammed shut and two more of his team got up front.

The van took off and you heard your seatbelt click into place.

You glanced in his direction. Your glare was gone. You were about to resort to pleading when you thought of one more idea. The windows were so dark you couldn’t see anything but you had to try.

You quickly leaned sideways towards Graves. The quick movement threw him off and he didn’t react immediately. It put you in a position to where you could kick the window. One, two, three kicks before Graves grabbed your hair, pulling you upright.

“You need to stop,” he warned darkly. “You almost broke my window.”

The cracked glass might be of some use and so you screamed. Screamed for help. You didn’t mention names but you just screamed for anyone to help.

“If she doesn’t shut up we’re gonna get pulled over,” someone said from the front. “There’s a few non-corrupt cops out here ya know.”

You felt a gloved hand tangle itself further in your hair and the other gloved hand place itself over your mouth.

“Hand me that,” you heard Graves say.

You tried biting but the gloves were too thick.

Graves untangled his hand from your hair and produced a roll of duct tape. “You need to stop biting,” he said darkly. You decided you would keep biting and scratching and kicking.

Using no gentleness at all, he wrapped the thick, suffocating tape over your mouth and around your head, effectively silencing you completely.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

And with that you gave up. You were going to die. You only hoped the US would at least get your body. Things quieted down. Graves worked on a laptop while the other two Shadows up front chatted about nothing in particular. It seemed like hours passed and your head injury wasn’t letting you keep track of the twists and turns.

Exhaustion and your concussion got the best of you and you surrendered to the darkness.

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