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#and a little later i figured out it was 'somethin stupid' which used to be one of my fav old songs
typingatlightspeed · 11 months
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TFC Fanfic - Can't Let Go
Fred is concerned about the state of their boss' emotions since the death of their medic, and worries about his compentency to lead the team. Virgil agrees, but is able to empathize a little bit with how much losing someone important to you can mess you up. Either way, this isn't going to lead anywhere good.
Idk y'all this popped into my head at work and I had to get it out.
Warnings: Very mild gore, mild eye scream re: Virgil's mechanical eye, past character death (TFC Medic, or Gabe as I have named him).
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"He ain't right, is all I'm sayin'," Fred grumbled, a terribly thin and small screwdriver held between two thick fingers as he finished rebuilding the mechanical eyeball cradled in a shop towel on his worktable.
Virgil huffed, shaking his head. "When's he ever been right, Fred?"
The engineer shot a look to his friend, the one-eyed sniper currently hogging the only chair in the workshop. "You know what I mean. Moreso'n usual."
"You know how close he and Gabe were. They were as married as two men can get. A heavy and his medic; it's awfully romantic."
"Awful is right," Fred chuckled, joined in a laugh by Virgil. "That's the thing, though. Ever since that explosion, he ain't been the same. Gabe dead, me ripped in half, Bea's eye. That op couldn't've gone worse if we'd tried. An the bossman losin' his husband; I think that might'a finally pushed him over the edge."
"He'd been teeterin' as long as I've know him."
"Exactly. He's been awful cagey about jobs now. It's either sure things or the most outrageous shit, never nowhere between. The worst part is how spooked he's gotten."
"Spooked?"
Fred finished reassembling the eye and wiped it clean on the towel. "Here, should be good to go," he said, handing it to Virgil, who stretched open his eyelids and popped the thing back into his empty socket, letting the nerve linkup inside grab hold and reattach, restoring use of the thing. He almost wished he'd asked for an off switch for the damned thing this time. Seeing through everything, even his own eyelid, had been deleterious for his ability to get any rest. But having the ability to turn it off would mean he'd use it, and it would make him lazy, and an easy target. Best to just deal with it, he supposed.
"Back in working order. As you were saying?
"When I can get him talkin', it's... he can't let go of death. Ain't never bothered him none before; we're mercenaries, we know what we're gettin' into. What we're riskin'. But ever since Gabe died, he can't shake it. Keeps talkin' about how we're gettin' older. Gettin' slower. Gettin' weaker. We're some of the best damn mercenaries there are, but even we can't stop Death from comin' callin' sooner or later. I don't think he can figure out how to reconcile it."
"It is a lot to take in; losing someone that important to you," Virgil offered, thinking back to the year prior, when he'd seen the explosion from his perch, when he'd seen Fred get torn in half, his legs basically paste, his intestines strewn from his open, gaping torso, blood everywhere. It was a sight he'd never shake. He'd splattered more brains and pierced more hearts than he could remember, but it was different when that gore, those guts, were someone who mattered to you. "Changes your perspective in some fucked up ways."
He was just grateful they'd managed to save Fred, and that the canny engineer had been able to retrofit one of his father's old designs for prosthetics. Though it had required a bit more biological knowledge than he truly had the depth of understanding for, and without Gabe around to help anymore, it had been a long, taxing, infuriating process to get right. All the while their heavy was going mad in grief and couldn't be consoled by anyone.
Bea had just wrenched the shrapnel from her eye, bandaged her face, and gone about her day. Hard woman, she was. She terrified Virgil, which was no mean feat.
"I'm just concerned he's gonna do somethin' stupid. He's angry, and hurt, and it's gettin' him more 'n' more riled every day, and one of these days he's gonna snap, and it ain't gonna be good for any of us."
"That new medic isn't helping with it, either."
"That absolute fruit loop is gonna get us all killed even faster'n the boss if we ain't careful. I know a mad scientist when I see one."
"I'm thinking more the boss is gonna kill him first."
"Half thinkin' we should let 'im. Maybe it'll blow off some steam," Fred laughed.
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watchyourdigits · 6 months
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Falloutober Day One:
War Never Changes
I'm a little late to the party, but here's what I've got for day number one of Falloutober! The main fic for these two is Danse-centric, so I thought it'd be a fun challenge to rewrite the opening scene from Frankie's perspective this time. Enjoy~
Word count: 1.3k
Warnings: mild sexual language, canon typical violence
Ship: Paldadin Danse x male Sole Survivor
"What's the plan here?"
Frankie rolled his eyes behind his gas mask, barely suppressing a groan. His newly acquired commanding officer had been, up until that very moment, the one calling the shots.
Why would Danse, an otherwise by-the-book kind of man, hand him the reins without warning? The question served as an obvious test; it wasn't as if this so-called 'Paladin' had been anything but wary of him thus far.
Now, facing down an unknown number of super mutants, he was suddenly leaving Frankie to figure out the best course of action.
He wouldn't know subtlety if it smacked him clean across his stupid, perfect face.
Frankie peered above the bushes they were squatting behind to get a better look at the camp. He did a quick visual scan of the place before pulling his head back down behind cover.
"I see three, but there's definitely more."
He tried to explain that his preferred method of sneak-attack wouldn't be as effective with super mutants as it would with human enemies, but the Paladin cut him off.
Typical.
Frankie tapped his fingers against his thigh impatiently as he was, once again, chastised for his manner of dress.
"You'd see better if you weren't wearing that ridiculous thing."
That tone of his was enough to make Frankie grimace. Despite his disarming good looks, Danse was proving no different than the military officials he served before the whole world went to shit. Society was functionally nonexistent and all Danse could seem to think about was arbitrary uniform codes.
Maybe you should just, I dunno, show him your ugly fuckin' mug? Then he'd get it.
He knew that was never truly an option, but it was nonetheless entertaining to imagine Danse's reaction to the grand reveal that he'd been on the receiving end of an unsightly facial disfigurement.
Deathclaws and power armor... Bad combo. Should probably warn him about that...
Frankie opted to ignore him, a momentous exercise of restraint on his behalf, the likes of which the Paladin would probably never be able to appreciate.
"It's not my favorite idea, but how's about you provide covering fire and I'll go in guns blazing?" he said confidently.
"I suppose it's not the worst plan in the world," Danse replied, shrugging his hulking, metal-clad shoulders, drawing an unseen smirk from Frankie at the sight of it. "You point, I shoot."
It was all too obvious that Danse didn't think he'd succeed. Frankie wasn't one to take such a challenge lightly. Hell, if a deathclaw and the literal end of the world couldn't take him down, he was practically invincible, right?
Frankie gave a smug smile behind his mask, clapping Danse on the shoulder.
"Good man. I'll see you on the other side."
He gave a quick two-finger salute, knowing damn well it was sure to piss Danse off to no end since it wasn't the classic Brotherhood salute he'd been taught. Just before he slid down the side of the hill, he caught a glimpse of Danse's face as expression changed to that of a man questioning his life choices.
He sure is somethin'... Guess this shit ain't so different from how it used to be, though. Murderin' everythin' in sight, dealing with annoying military bullshit… Annoying commanding officers with big ole cow eyes. Tryin' not to think about how good said commanding officer would look on his knees…
Frankie shook his head, trying to reel himself back in. He could dwell on his perversions later. Right now, he had to prove he was all he claimed and then some.
God, if you can hear me, just know that I think you're a real sick sonuvabitch.
"Two-hundred years on ice and a fella still can't catch a fuckin' break," he mumbled to himself.
He loaded his shotgun as he approached the first mutie he saw guarding the entrance to the camp. He noticed Frankie far too late.
Before the lumbering abomination could open his mouth to alert the others in his company, a laser fired from the hillside hit him square in the chest. He stumbled a little and Frankie finished him off with two shots to the head, whistling low.
He's a phenomenal shot, I'll give him that. Good timing, too.
Frankie took great delight in the easy flow of the battle. The mutants were slow to react, giving him ample time to sort out his strategy as he went. He made his way through the camp, drawing out his enemies toward the chaos and systematically taking them down, ducking behind cover to reload as Danse provided covering fire from above.
When things finally settled and the last of the super mutants fell, he allowed himself a moment to relish in the silence that rang in his ears. Frankie pulled up his mask just enough to spit on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
The mask fell back into place as he reached the entrance of the camp, giving a thumbs up in Danse's general direction. The Paladin was down the hill and standing before him within seconds.
"Great work up there," Frankie commended. He understood better than most the value in having a trained set of eyes looking out. "Good to know you've got my back."
Danse began removing the helmet of his power armor. Frankie felt a tug in his gut, firmly aware of the way his jaw hung open like an idiot upon watching him run a hand through that thick, dark hair of his. His mind began to wander as Danse's mouth moved, Frankie only barely hearing the words he spoke.
"Same to you, soldier. It's been a while since I've seen potential like that."
Danse sounded genuine about it, too. For half a second, Frankie found himself delusional enough to believe that perhaps he was flirting. With a subordinate, no less.
Just keep it casual, for once in your goddamn life. No sudden advances.
"I told you I had military experience," Frankie replied jokingly, testing the waters. "Did you think I was lyin'?" he asked, leaning himself against one of the rotting wooden fences, paying no mind to the super mutant blood that now called it home.
"No. However, your secrecy leaves you with a lot to prove."
There it is. Damn… Audacious prick.
"Is that so?" Frankie drawled, huffing a little through his nose. "Remind me to tell Elder Maxson that he should give you a promotion."
Danse raised an eyebrow. Of course it was the one with the scar through it. Frankie felt heat traveling up his neck, choking him.
He wanted nothing more than to grab him by those stupid handles of his power armor, pull him down to his level, and-
"Why is that?" Danse asked curiously, cocking his head.
"Because I'll be the best damn thing that's happened to the Brotherhood yet," Frankie answered without missing a beat.
"That's a bold claim. I admire your ambition."
Danse sounded amused, much to Frankie's dismay.
He kept bringing the conversation to the brink of what could constitute flirting. It was maddening, especially as Frankie's body continued to relax, muscles melting under his skin as the adrenaline faded away.
"Bold? I've earned my ego, pal."
Frankie pushed off the fence and had to look away from Danse, growing increasingly concerned that his impulses might cause him to do something idiotic. Like give him a right hook. Or kiss him. Maybe both.
"Maybe one day you'll get it through that thick skull of yours..." Frankie continued bitterly, "I'm not your average wastelander."
He turned on his heel and stalked away into the camp to loot it for all it was worth. A good enough distraction as any, he figured.
The backhanded compliments, the unsolicited commentary on his attire, and the fact that Danse was the most delicious thing he'd laid his eyes on… Frankie knew he was in for a hell of a time working with the Brotherhood of Steel.
Despite all his tense irritation, there was the undeniable feeling of 'home' that came with working with Danse.
It was all so familiar, comforting in a sentimental way. And Frankie was a sentimental bastard, if there ever was one.
Yeah, nothin's changed a lick.
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hlvrfreakyfriday · 9 months
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HLVRFF: Chapter 6
"TOMMYYYYYY," Benry says, probably a little too loudly, into the receiver after snatching the phone from Gordon's hand. He pays no mind to the annoyed sound Gordon makes as he leaves for his bedroom.
"Hi, Benry! How- how're you holding up?" Tommy asks.
"BBBBBBBB, sucks, man. being human is like, so lame. no offense," Benry answers.
"None taken. I can only imagine how jarring it must be, losing- losing so many of your usual senses and- and powers."
"yeah, man! i can't even- can't even sweet voice while stuck in gordon's bod! i keep wanting to, but it doesn't feel right. like all the voice is just, fuckin', stuck. can't get it out." A pause. "uh. nothing bad's gonna happen to gordon's body if i can't get my feelings out, is it?" Benry asks, sounding more than a little concerned.
"Oh, no, don't worry! I mean, you'll feel bad, probably? From, uh, bottling up your emotions. But- but Mr. Freeman's body will- it'll be fine."
"oh, okay."
An awkward second of silence.
"You- you should probably try expressing yourself in more ways besides- besides the Sweet Voice, while you're stuck in a human body that can't use it."
"hmm."
"I'm serious, Benry. Keeping your feelings all locked up, it's not good for you. You're already in a- a stressful situation. Don- don't do anything to add to it, okay?" Tommy pleads.
"okay okay okay, i'll figure something out. get a lil' diary or somethin'. promise," Benry finally relents. Uhg, just the thought of trying to express himself using ONLY stupid people words gives Benry a migraine. But he'll do it for Tommy. Benry doesn't like it when Tommy worries. He doesn't like it when any of his friends worry, honestly. When his friends worry, it makes him worry, which just makes his friends worry even more. It's a vicious cycle.
…All this thinking about worrying suddenly reminds Benry of something.
"oh, hey, gordon talks to you about his nightmares sometimes, right?" Benry asks.
"Yeah."
"how, uh, like, in detail does he get?"
A pause on Tommy's end. "I-I'm not sure I should say. Mr. Freeman tells me about his- his dreams in confidence."
Benry makes a sound of understanding. "yeah, okay, i get that. private information n' shit."
"Why do you ask? Is it something to- to do with the nightmare Mr. Freeman was having when, uh, this happened?" Tommy asks.
Benry's borrowed hand grips the controller it clutches a little more tightly. "yeah... he was having a nightmare about me." There's an awful twisting feeling in Benry's unfamiliar chest as he speaks. "...he's never once told me about that. that he has nightmares about me still."
"Oh…" comes Tommy's soft, sad response. "I… he probably didn't wan- didn't wanna hurt your feelings," Tommy offers.
It's a nice thought, Benry supposes, but he can't deny how a big part of him seriously doubts that. He doesn't say anything about it, though, letting Tommy continue.
"Have you talked about it with Mr. Freeman?"
"...no," Benry answers simply. Would Gordon even want to talk about it? He hasn't mentioned it once since they woke up. Also, if there's one thing Benry's worse at than talking about his feelings, it's talking about his feelings with Gordon. And that seems to go both ways, too, considering how often they've had misunderstandings with each other in the past.
And, god, it's gonna be even harder to talk to him now, now that he knows that Gordon is apparently still afraid of him, at least on some subconscious level.
Benry was really hoping that him living all chill with the man for the past four months meant they were past that…
"Benry?" Tommy speaks up again, snapping Benry's attention back.
"yeah, man?"
"I think you should talk to him. Wh-when you're ready. Since you're not used to- to talking about your feelings with words yet, maybe practice first? But this is something you both gotta- have to confront sooner or later."
Tommy’s right, Benry knows this. Still doesn’t mean he’s gonna not like doing it any less. “yeah… yeah, i will, man. don't worry. we'll get a feelings jam goin'.”
Suddenly, there’s a crash on Tommy’s end of the line, followed by a muffled shout. “Oh. Uh-oh. Uhhh I gotta- gotta go now. I’ll talk to you later!”
“’kay. ttyl tommy bro,” Benry says before they both hang up.
In any other situation, Benry would feign forgetfulness to avoid having to talk to Gordon. But he promised Tommy, and Benry Benry Benry Lover has never broken a promise to Tommy Coolatta. Never before, and he’s not gonna start now.
…Of course, that doesn’t mean that he has to do the feelings jam RIGHT now. Besides, like Tommy said, Benry needs to practice talking his feelings out first. Which is also something he doesn’t have to do right this instant. He’s gotta get his Demon's Souls on, bro.
Benry games away for about an hour or two after his chat with Tommy. To his credit, he does idly wonder about alternative, non-Sweet Voice ways he could use to get his feelings out, during parts of gameplay where he doesn’t have to focus too much.
Not really having much in the ideas department, unfortunately. BBBBBBBBBBB…
Just then, he hears a shriek coming from Gordon’s room, and his borrowed heart stops. Oh shit oh shit oh shit, is he having another panic attack? Benry leaps up from the couch and bolts to the back of the house.
When he flings the door open, he’s greeted by the sight of Gordon clutching his blanket like a shield, whining out red to jade Sweet Voice, while a skeleton stares at him from his bedside.
“oh hey, you made a skeleton.”
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“oh hey, you made a skeleton,” Benry states simply after bursting into Gordon’s room.
“Yeah, I noticed! How do I make it leave?” Gordon asks, sounding a little frantic. The skeleton tilts its head at him and then looks to Benry, somehow looking confused.
Gordon likes to think he’s done pretty well with getting accustomed to a lot of Benry’s weird eldritch bullshit. Except for skeletons. They still freak him out.
The fact that this one popped up right after he had a really fucked up nightmare isn't helping matters.
Benry frowns. “why you freaking out? he's not gonna hurt you, man.”
Gordon bares his borrowed fangs in a snarl, but it’s fearful rather than intimidating. “I don’t ffffucking care, get it OUT of here!”
If the skeleton had any facial muscles, it'd probably look a little hurt at Gordon’s apparent disdain for it. Instead, Benry’s the one with the sad expression as he responds. “okay gordo, chill,” he says, and waves a beckoning hand at the skeleton. “c’mon, bro. feetman wants to be alone.” The skeleton looks at Gordon once more, before shrugging and following Benry out of the room, closing the door behind them.
Once he’s alone again, Gordon curls in on himself and attempts to calm himself down again. He tries his breathing exercises, but they alone aren't working, so he also attempts his other favorite anxiety soother: fidgeting with his hair. Unfortunately, while Benry’s hair is very soft (now that it’s clean), it’s really too short to properly fidget with. Not enough for Gordon to run his borrowed fingers through, which is just making him more agitated. Okay okay, abort mission. Think of something else, Gordon. His anti-anxiety meds aren’t an option right now- who knows if they would even work on Benry’s weird alien brain. But what else helps Gordon calm down during anxiety attacks? There’s the hair thing, weighted blanket which obviously isn’t working right now, Benry’s Sweet Voice, which… Gordon’s not even sure if the user can even use it on themself, not that he’s calm enough to try and spit out calming blue right now anyway. There’s his favorite hoodie- oh shit! Yeah! The hoodie! Not quite cool enough weather for that yet, but who cares.
Gordon hops up from his bed and goes to dig through his closet for his favorite old, soft, orange hoodie. As soon as he finds it, he quickly pulls it on…. And finds himself to be absolutely swimming in it. He kinda forgot for a moment just how much bigger he is than Benry. Gordon moves over to his mirror to get a look at himself and, yeah, the hoodie practically looks like a damn dress on Benry’s comparatively smaller form.
Seeing Benry’s form engulfed in the oversized hoodie is a sight funny enough to get a good chuckle out of Gordon, settling his anxiety down a little bit. It also reminds him of something he hasn't done in a long time… Gordon moves from the mirror and climbs back onto the bed, and adjusts the blankets into a kind of nest around himself. He then draws his knees in, folding them to his chest inside the spacious hoodie, and pulls his arms in out of the sleeves as well. Folded up inside the hoodie as he is, he has now effectively “cocooned” himself. It’s something he used to do a lot as a kid, with a dinosaur sleep shirt that was clearly adult sized. He remembers being so sad when that old shirt got too worn out to wear anymore.
Gordon lets himself sink into his hoodie cocoon as he reminisces about his childhood, anxiety slowly fading as he does.
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Benry makes his way back to the living room and plops back down on the couch, the skeleton following suit. He inhales deeply and lets out a heavy sigh before turning his face to his bony companion.
“sorry ‘bout that, man. gordo's still kinda freaked out by you, ‘cause of the uh, pranks and the boss fight n' shit,” Benry explains. The skeleton’s empty sockets just stare at him. “oh yeah, i also kinda fucked up last night aaaaaand we're in each other’s bodies now. very unepic situation.” The skeleton nods in understanding.
Benry slumps back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and grumbles. “i just… i thought we were doing good, man. i thought he was starting to like me again. that he wasn’t scared of me anymore.” Benry looks down at his borrowed hands. “…but he still is. he still dreams about me trying to… to kill him.”
A bony hand is placed on his arm, and Benry looks back over at the skeleton. It clacks its mandible and sings out a little purple. Benry responds with a rather half-hearted smile, but it falls from his face pretty quickly as he looks back away. “i dunno man, i just wish i knew how to fix this shit. wish i was better at the whole friend thing. i used to think i was soooo good at it, but… kinda- kinda realizing now that i'm… pretty fuckin' garbo at it, actually.” The skeleton tilts its head, and Benry shakes his. “good friends don’t get their friends maimed by boot boys. you don’t call people you have nightmares of good friends. those are shit-tier friend traits….”
An uncomfortable silence settles between the two- no singing or clacking from the skeleton, and no talking from Benry. Although, he kinda really WANTS to talk, his head is just so full of all these bad thoughts and feelings that he really wants to get out… but he just can’t find the words. Which is really, REALLY sucks. If he can’t even talk to his skeleton, how the fuck is he gonna talk to Gordon?
Benry leans forward and buries his borrowed face in his hands, groaning. His attention is brought back to the skeleton when it nudges his shoulder, however, and he sees it offering him the PS3 controller. Benry looks from the controller to the skeleton, and then sighs as he takes the controller. Yeah, it’s right- maybe some more game time is in order. Though, maybe instead of more Demon’s Souls… “yo, wanna build a castle in minecraft?”
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It’s sometime close to supper time when Gordon finally reemerges from his room, decidedly much calmer now. As such, he’s not quite as on edge when he sees the skeleton, still here, sitting on the couch with Benry.
And playing Minecraft???
“yeah! fuck ‘em up, fuck ‘em up! show that poser who the cooler skeleton is!” Benry cheers as the skeleton on the couch dukes it out with a skeleton in the game. He’s so distracted by the Epic Skeleton Duel that he doesn’t notice Gordon enter the room. Or that his own character is about to walk right into lava.
Hesitantly, Gordon walks over and takes a seat on the recliner by the couch. There’s still enough room on the couch for him, but, y'know. Skeleton. The leather cushion creaks under him, and the pair on the couch finally acknowledge his presence.
“yo, gordo. didn't know you had a dress hoodie,” Benry says, referring to hoodie still swallowing Gordon’s borrowed form.
Gordon snorts. “It’s not supposed to a dress. Your body’s just tiny compared to mine,” he corrects. The tell-tale sound of Benry’s Minecraft character sizzling in lava draws the entity's attention back to the TV, and he mumbles out something that Gordon doesn’t quite catch, but sounded an awful lot like ‘Gordon Hugeman.’ Gordon rolls his eyes at that.
And then his eyes settle on the skeleton.
That is staring right back at him.
A low whine rises from his borrowed throat, accompanied by some uncomfortable yellow and green. Benry notices this, and then nudges the skeleton, drawing its attention back to him.
“sorry bro, but i think it’s about time for you to bounce,” Benry says to his bony companion. The skeleton nods, throws up a peace sign, and then descends, clipping through the couch and into the ground.
Gordon just stares dumbly at the space the skeleton was once occupying for a moment before shaking his head. “Uh, thanks,” he mutters.
“no prob, bro,” Benry replies.
Silence falls on the room, the only sounds being the occasional ones of Benry’s game. It’s just shy of becoming an uncomfortable silence when Gordon finally speaks up again. “Y’know, I think that was the first skeleton I’ve seen since Black Mesa. I was almost starting to think you couldn’t make them anymore,” he says.
Benry shrugs, not looking away from his game. “haven’t made any ‘cause i didn’t wanna freak you out,” he says.
Gordon stares at him, more than a little surprised to hear that. Benry, being considerate? I mean yeah, he’s been doing that more lately, but Gordon’s shocked to hear he’s been doing it since he first showed back up, too. Especially since it involves the skeletons, which Benry seemed to take absolute glee in using to fuck with Gordon. Which reminds him…
“Why did that one even show up? I know you said I made it, but I have no idea how. I woke up and it was just there,” Gordon says.
Benry pauses his game and taps a finger on his borrowed chin, thinking. “hmmm… what were you dreaming about before you woke up?” he asks.
“Another fucked up nightmare,” Gordon answers. He doesn’t go into details about it because he’s honestly trying to purge it from his memory.
Benry thinks about that for a moment, and then seems to come to an answer. “ohhhhh, i get it. you were all scared in the dream, so your brain- or i guess my brain- made a skeleton to protect you,” Benry explains, and nods sagely to himself.
'Maybe he’s here to protect us,’ Gordon remembers Coomer once suggesting about one of Benry’s skeletons, the first one they ran into. Gordon has no idea if it actually was going to protect them while they slept if they hadn't shot it to death, but apparently that is indeed one of their functions. If Gordon subconsciously summoned one to protect himself, maybe that’s even what they’re mainly for? Of course, now Gordon’s wondering why Benry’s weird apparent defense mechanism is to manifest human skeletons of all things.
“What are the skeletons, anyway? Why are they human skeletons?” Gordon asks next.
“they’re like, uhhh,” Benry pauses, smacking his lips. “make ‘em up pals.”
Gordon blinks. “Make ‘em up- …you mean imaginary friends??”
“yeah! those things. when i was a lil' baby and didn’t have any friends yet, i just made up my own,” Benry explains. “they look like human skeletons ‘cause i saw one once and thought it was the coolest shit. which i still do. you got cool bones.”
Huh. Well. That’s… certainly not the explanation Gordon was expecting. Imaginary friends… Gordon would ask why they seem so tangible for being imaginary, but Benry’s a reality-bending cosmic horror. All the explanation he needs, really.
Gordon is also not gonna bother asking Benry how he found the skeleton he used for reference when making his imaginary friends. They look far too accurate to have been based on a Halloween prop…
Yeah, okay, no. Let’s break off from that train of thought.
“Y'know, that reminds me. I was reminiscing about my childhood earlier, and suddenly remembered my own imaginary friend I had as a kid,” Gordon says. “I don’t think I had them for very long, though. Just until my little brother John was old enough to do stuff with me, I guess.”
Benry gives Gordon a very inquisitive look at that. “what kinda friend was it? bet it was something lame. or nerdy. or lame AND nerdy.”
Gordon shoots Benry a small scowl, but answers anyway. “They were some kind of monster, I think. I don’t remember much at all about them, except that they had a lot of eyes, and were a kid like me. Can’t even remember their name, though I doubt it was anything too creative, considering how young I was back then.”
Gordon looks back at Benry when he finishes speaking, and there’s a look on the entity’s face that he’s having trouble placing. Kind of looks like surprise, but not quite… “What?”
Benry blinks, and then shakes his head, his expression falling back to a more neutral one. “nothin'. just uh, just surprised to hear you had a monster friend. is all.”
Gordon gives an amused huff. “I don’t see why that’s surprising. I’m friends with a monster right now, after all.”
Benry sticks his tongue out at Gordon in response to that, and Gordon chuckles. Just then, Benry’s borrowed stomach growls, reminding them both what time it is. “yo what you got planned for supper?” Benry asks.
“How about we order a pizza?” Gordon asks in turn. “Haven’t had that in a while.” Benry gives a thumbs up, and Gordon gets up and heads back to his room for his phone.
Being way out of earshot as he is, Gordon doesn’t hear Benry’s soft yet excited words. “he almost remembers me…”
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sad-scribble · 2 years
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AI generated Deltarune fic
I polished it a bit (like correcting Kris’s pronouns and adding a few scenes) but other than that its posted in all its raw glory.
After sudden fountains have started popping up in the dark world, the Lightners must destroy the fountains before the Roaring can happen. If the Roaring happens, the world will crumble and all Darkners and Lightners will die. The story starts in Castle Town.
Their first task is to discover what exactly the prophecy entails so they can fulfill their tasks. Once their task is completed, they’ll set sail across the land to where they believe the next fountain must be. The only problem is when said fountain was supposedly destroyed, there were several more ruins to explore. This is not an easy task for both the young heros to handle.
“Well I guess it can’t hurt to try.” Kris muttered to themselves, glancing over at their older friend. “Besides, what if the fountain really is here? It would make things easier if we found it… right?”
Susie smiled faintly.
“It could be nice having something to help us out. It’d probably give us some ideas how to look further into this whole mess.” She shrugged.
“I suppose…” Kris said, shrugging back and heading towards the castle with Susie following behind them.
Once they got inside and had settled in a bit, Kris began reading the prophecy aloud.
“Three saviors shall fight against the darkness. One who is not born of the earth, another who is neither human nor monster. The third will hold dominion in these lands, the last will bring balance to the land,” Kris read aloud, pausing. “That sounds familiar, don’t you think?”
“Hmm… yes it does kinda remind me of somethin’, actually.” Susie agreed, nodding her head thoughtfully.
“But I still think we should keep going until we come across the fountain and figure out just where in the world we need to go.”
“Yeah… You’re right. After all, why else would we even be here?” Kris replied, shrugging slightly.
“Exactly! We can’t waste any more time.” Susie declared, placing her hands on her hips. Kris rolled their eyes and giggled a little.
"Alright alright, let's take off then."
And with that, they made their way through the ruins towards the castle gates. As soon as the two heroes stepped foot in the new town and onto Main Street, the air felt tense, which caused Kris to instantly perk up. They knew something bad was coming. But they had no idea what. They glanced nervously behind them and saw Susie frowning.
“Did you sense anything wrong too, Kris?” She asked quietly, tilting her head slightly.
Nervously, Kris shook their head. “No, nothing. Just nerves. That’s all.”
Susie nodded and turned to face forwards again. They both kept walking until they reached the town gate. There, they stopped and surveyed the area, wondering what exactly they needed to do now.
“Maybe we’re supposed to follow that road down this way.” Susie said, pointing down a dirt path.
Nodding in agreement, Kris followed the path down, trying desperately to ignore the ominous feeling looming over them.
About 20 minutes later, however, Susie’s prediction came true. “Susie, wait up.” Kris called out as they caught up to their friend.
“What the hell are we doing?”
She glanced backwards, looking slightly panicked. “I dunno Kris! Whatever we do, we gotta hurry! Those creatures could attack us at any moment!”
“Calm down, I know, I know.” Kris sighed heavily, running a hand through their hair. “Just tell me what we’re doing again, cause I lost track after a while.”
“We’re searching for this stupid fountain! How could you forget that!?” Susie huffed, crossing her arms.
“Yeah… I know… just don't know why we gotta go out all the way out here without Ralsei." Kris wondered, furrowing their brow slightly.
Susie looked over to the end of the dirt path and saw a familiar blue figure.
"Hey, isn't that Rouxls? What's he doing here?" She grabbed ahold of Kris and ran over to the Duke.
"Uh, who are you two again?" Rouxls turned around and asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.
"It's Susie, remember? And this is Kris? We're trying to locate that fountain!" Susie explained.
Duke nodded and glanced behind him. "Oh well, uh, good luck with that. I'd better head on back now… See ya around!"
Before Kris could say anything, Rouxls turned and raced back down the hill.
"Huh, he's gone." Susie commented.
The duo walked down the hill after him and came to a halt once they reached the bottom.
“Wow… I guess he really wanted to run away.” Kris mumbled, rubbing the back of their neck.
“You’re telling me.” Susie groaned, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.
"Come on Kris, let’s just go look for this fountain. If we don't find it, we're gonna get yelled at by everyone.”
With that, the two took off down the dirt path, hoping that whatever was causing the odd feeling wasn't nearby. They didn't have to wonder very far before Kris spotted the fountain; or, what remained of it anyway. Its surface had been shattered to pieces, leaving a massive gaping hole in the ground. Large pieces of rubble floated in midair like islands in a deep sea. Even the water seemed to be gone, leaving only a murky, cloudy substance beneath the rubble.
"This looks familiar…" Kris breathed out slowly as they stared at the destruction.
"Well, it certainly looks like something happened here. Maybe the Fountain went rogue like the fountain that the old lady told us about?" Susie said, shivering slightly.
"Yeah… maybe." Kris replied softly.
"So what do we do now?" Susie asked.
"well I guess we have no choice but to go home, the fountain destroyed itself." Kris shrugged.
"maybe Rouxls destroyed it for us?" Susie laughed to herself.
"Maybe, though I doubt it. He seems a little scatterbrained to me." Kris admitted, scratching the back of their head.
After a moment, they suddenly remembered where they had seen the statue they had seen earlier, near the fountain. Looking around, they realized they were pretty much alone at the moment. Well, almost.
There, about 30 yards away, sat a tall stone pillar, the base of which had fallen into the ground, making it impossible to see beyond its base. At least, that was what Kris guessed.
"Guess we can go see if it'll work!" Kris grinned, grabbing Susie’s hand as they jogged towards the ruined pillar.
After reaching the pillar, Kris stood beside the fallen pillar, trying their hardest not to stare at the broken statue lying atop it. As the pair gazed upon the statue, they noticed a strange symbol carved on top of the pedestal.
“Hey look! A dragon!” Kris called, gesturing towards the carving. “Look at that! What a cool piece of artwork right? I wonder where it came from!”
“Yea… I wonder if anyone’s found it yet or what…” Susie murmured softly.
A few moments passed with Kris and Susie staring at the statue silently as a cold breeze blew past, sending tiny bits of debris floating around them. It appeared as if someone had placed a large rock upon the statue’s head.
At that moment though, the wind abruptly changed direction and the statue lifted itself off of the pillar with a loud cracking noise. The next thing Kris knew, there was a sharp crack as the stone statue crashed into the ground, revealing a staircase leading upwards that lead deeper into the ground below.
"Ahhh…" Kris breathed, letting out a shaky sigh.
"Looks like we found some stairs." Susie stated.
"Yup…" Kris replied.
Without saying another word, the pair headed up the stairs, trying their best to avoid looking downwards. Once they reached the top of the steps however, it became quite obvious that there was nothing up there. No sign of a door, no entrance to any other room aside from the one they currently stood in, which led into the main part of the tower.
"What do we do now? Are we just supposed to sit here? I'm starting to get a little impatient…" Kris muttered.
"Uhm, well, it's either that or go home and leave our things to fend for themselves. I think we should try our luck at least first. Besides, I kind of feel like something bad is waiting for us if we just turn tail and run." Susie said cautiously.
"…That makes some sense." Kris agreed, shoving their hands into their pockets. "Well I guess we'll never know if we don't try." They concluded.
"Yeah, you're right." Susie responded.
"Okay… let's get moving then."
"Good plan." Susie smirked, nodding as she kept ascending the stairs.
As soon as they hit the last step, Kris heard a low grumble below them; it sounded suspiciously like thunder. Both of them froze and peered over the edge of the staircase, trying to catch sight of whatever might have created such a sound. Unfortunately, it wasn't so easy and when they looked up again, nothing was visible except a couple of small rocks hovering above their heads.
“Did you hear that Kris?” Susie whispered, glancing over at them worriedly.
"I think so." Kris replied quietly, craning their neck back to try and peer downward.
"Wait, do you hear that too?" Susie whispered, tilting her head slightly to one side.
Kris narrowed their eyes, listening hard for the sound again. Sure enough, a faint whirring sound was getting louder and louder.
"It sounds like it's coming from below us." Susie said thoughtfully, looking around as a sudden realization hit her. "And unless I miss my guess, that doesn't sound good."
"Right… I think it's starting to get closer…"
Kris swallowed thickly, their body shaking ever so slightly.
"guess we have no choice but to fight it." Susie took out her axe and started descending the stairs as the noise got louder and louder.
"wait, what?!" Kris shouted, staring down at the axe in Susie’s hand.
"If it wants us dead, then that means we’ve got to face it ourselves." Susie stated firmly. "Cmon Kris. Let's not waste time."
Sheathing her axe, she started racing down the steps, leaving Kris scrambling to follow.
Susie ran down the stairs before seeing a small platform that hadn't been there before, and jumped down on it, before quickly disappearing from view, and reappearing on the other side. When Kris arrived on the platform, she was already standing, gripping her axe tightly in her right hand.
"Are you okay? Your hands are really shooky." She noted.
"Yea, just nerves I guess." Kris responded uneasily, shifting their gaze around nervously.
“Let’s do this…” Kris breathed quietly, stepping onto the small bridge that connected the platforms together, their grip on their sword tightening.
Looking ahead, Kris saw what they could only describe as the most terrifying creature they'd fought in a long time. The thing towered over the two heroes, towering at several stories tall. Its large, black wings extended out from both sides of its massive torso, while its clawed feet tapped the ground every few seconds. Its long, snake tail swung back and forth with each tap.
Even worse than the monster’s appearance though, were its huge jaws that were open wide. Its tongue stretched out from within the gaping maw, flicking against the rocky wall of the tower every so often. When the monsters eyes finally met the two, they instantly froze and stared back.
Slowly lowering her axe, Susie crept forward, staring intently at the monster before them.
"Is that it…?" Susie asked, glancing towards Kris.
"We won't know until we take it down." Kris replied in an equally soft voice, stepping further onto the bridge.
Taking a deep breath, both of them charged towards the monster, slashing their weapons through the air as fast as lightning, slicing through the creatures' large jaw. As it fell to the floor, all of the dust began to settle, revealing that the creature had stopped moving completely. At that point, the two decided to get the fuck out of there and jumped off the platform back onto the stairs and made their way down back to the ruined fountain.
Kris, tried to steady their breathing, still in shock from the sudden fight. They had fought so many battles before, why was this any different?
"Next time we find some weird staircase, we'll tell Ralsei." Susie chuckled, also very exhausted from the battle.
"Sounds good." Kris smiled weakly. "Do you think he'll be able to help?"
"I don't know." Susie shrugged. "But maybe he will, if we ask him." She smiled, causing Kris to smile back.
"You did great today, by the way." Kris mentioned. "Even if we didn't destroy the fountain, that is."
"Thanks. That means a lot." Susie got up and put her axe away.
"I think we should go back now, the fountains gone so we can't go that way. Gotta find a way out from the starting point. Maybe Ralsei knows how to get back?" Susie suggested.
"Sounds good to me. We can try asking him." Kris nodded.
The two walked along the dirt path back to the town, trying to forget the battle they had gone through just now.
Soon, they made it back. And in the distance they saw a familiar Prince.
"Kris! Susie! You're back, and you successfully destroyed the fountain!" Ralsei greeted them both.
"Hey Ralsei. About that.." Kris muttered. "It wasn't exactly us that destroyed the fountain."
"Huh? What do you mean?" Ralsei questioned.
"the fountain was destroyed before we got there." Susie replied, not really paying attention to the conversation.
"that's strange… well it's destroyed and that's all that matters!" Ralsei immediately brushed off the implications of all that.
"Yes but how are we supposed to get home then?" Kris asked.
"I'll just teleport you two back to Castle Town! Simple!" Ralsei smiled.
"You can teleport people?" Susie gasped.
"Of course I can! Don't worry, I won't drop you anywhere dangerous." Ralsei assured.
"I still don't think it's a good idea…" Kris muttered, turning to look at Susie apprehensively.
"Oh come on Kris. It'll be fine!"
Before Kris could respond, the 3 appeared in Castle Town instantly.
"huh." Kris looked around, seeing a small round figure in the distance. it was Lancer!!!! THE BOY!!!!
Susie looked over towards Lancer and smiled.
"well look who finally came back! It's been forever!" Lancer hopped over towards Susie.
"Lancer it wasn't that long! Only a day." Ralsei reassured him.
"It still felt like an eternity!" The small blue pumpkin pouted.
"Lancer, what's going on?" Susie interrupted, giving him a confused look.
"Oh yeah. I'm sorry, I got excited and forgot about the fact that you guys didn't come back yet. It's just that… well you've gotta see this!" Lancer grinned widely before grabbing Susie by the arm and leading her over to a dirt spot in the corner of Castle Town.
"what's that?" Susie asked, very puzzled about what she was looking at.
Lancer pointed down at the tiny thing wriggling around in the dirt.
"worm." He said, smiling.
"worm?" Susie repeated, blinking a couple of times before slowly kneeling down to check it out.
it was indeed a worm. Very wormy!
she looked back at Lancer, and chuckled.
"You really like worms huh?"
Lancer nodded.
"You dork." Susie stood back up and turned over towards Kris, who had also been looking at the worm.
"that's one lousy worm." They said.
"Shut up Kris, you eat nothing but moss."
">:("
"Anyways, now that we're back in Castle Town what do you wanna do Lancer?" Susie asked the small boy. "Well, I want to show you two something else! Something cool!!!" Lancer exclaimed excitedly, bouncing up and down on his feet.
"Like what?" Susie glanced over at Kris.
"Follow me!" With that, he ran off in the direction of the castle.
Kris and Susie followed, with Ralsei not long behind them. A short time later, the three found themselves inside the castle, walking past various rooms until they eventually reached Lancer's destination.
"here it is!" Lancer exclaimed when the three of them came to a stop in front of a door. He pulled a key out of the pocket of his pants, opened the door and stepped into the room.
there was nothing inside the room except for a black box thing. Kris inspected it closely. It was a PS5.
"Lancer how did you acquire a PS5!?" Susie questioned him.
"Lesser dad got me it!"
"how did Rouxls buy you a PS5? Nobody sells them here." Ralsei asked.
"oh no, he stole it." Lancer smiled. Kris and Susie shared a glance between each other.
"guess that explains it." Kris shrugged.
"How about we play video games?" Lancer asked, excitement vibrating off his body.
the four decided to spend the rest of the day playing PS5 games. the end.
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therealpontius · 1 year
Text
I cant remember the last time i stayed home
This came to me at 5am when i was drunk 😭
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It was an early Wednesday morning. You always made sure to get up before rhett so that you could make his lunch for work since he never really got a break.
This time you made him little nutella sandwiches with a tub of fruit to balance it out. For his breakfast you made him toast and beans with a big cup of coffee so he was ready for the stressful day.
“6am…” you mutter to yourself, knowing that in a matter of minutes your husband will come sleepily stumbling down the hall. And so he did.
“Morning babe!” You greeted him brightly. His tall figure slumped and his hand rubbed over his face, little strands of curly ginger hair catching inbetween his fingers as he done so. “Mornin’ love” he replied in a croaky voice.
As he got to you he held you tightly into his chest. The height difference between you two was unbelievable, he went all the way up to a staggering 6ft 7 inches and you just stayed down at 5ft 2 inches. Everything in your house had to be much bigger to make it accessible for him but that just ment you had to use stools more often.
“You really didnt need to make me all this darlin, your not even working today” he praised, sitting down at the table, already devouring his breakfast. “Its not that i need to, i want to. Looking after you is what keeps my gears working” you scratched his scald, rhett leaning into your hand as you done so. Not even seconds later he had finished his meal, grabbing for his huge coffee mug. “Ill get that” you said, whisking away his plate and cutlery “ah ah ah” rhett reached round you and grabbed the plate, standing up “ill get it, you have done enough round here” you laughed, swinging your arms for the plate to wash it for him “cmon let me do this and you can clean dinners dishes if your so keen” “okay okay okay”
You sat against the kitchen counter watching him wash the dishes “what? Think i cant wash dishes or somethin?” He asks, smiling over at you “no babe i just miss you alot” you say dampening the mood “well…” “well?”
“Link isnt feeling well so we both called off todays filming” “which means?” He laughed abit at your stupidity “that means im staying here with you today!” Before you could celebrate he picked you up in a cuddle, running upstairs “RHETT! STOP IM GOING TO FALL!” You yelp, grabbing onto his long arms.
He jumped onto the bed, making sure you werent hurt then curled up around you. “I cant remember the last time i stayed home” his voice was muffled from his head being held against yours…
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Note
For writing prompt - Lucian x Peter Vincent, spending Christmas together, Peter trying to make it a memorable occasion for Lucian, even though he normally spends it black out drunk…)
I don't know if either of these two would ever celebrate it, but the idea that Peter puts in an effort to try would be sweet, haha. He's just gonna do it his way, fitting his aesthetic and all that.
On with the fic!
--
"I'm surprised to find you up and about, Peter." Lucian spoke as he watched his lover walking past to go to the fire pit room, carrying a box in his hands. The human stopped, looking at him, then looked away.
"Just... workin' on a project, gotta be up early to give me time to work on it."
"Right. Well, I figured you'd be sleeping in today, considering that you loudly told everyone that you would not work December twenty-fourth and fifth, and that you also demanded holiday pay anyway."
Peter muttered something under his breath, and Lucian just raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"
"Just said I'll nap later, bit busy!" Peter started to head to the other room. "Don't follow! Just... stay in the kitchen and livin' room area or whatever! I'll tell you when to come in when I'm good and ready!"
Lucian watched as his lover made his way to the other room, the box in his arms clattering about. It was a moment later before he watched the actor run back through the room, bare feet slapping at the stone floors, before he came rushing out of another room, carrying a longer, narrower box with him, still running.
The lycan had no idea what Peter was up to, but then again, Lucian never understood anything Peter did. So, he decided to do as he was told, to stay in the more homier part of their large flat, while Peter busied himself on the other side of it.
Faintly, he could hear Peter playing a movie from the other room, something he had watched a few times during the month of October, the one with the skeleton who stole Christmas.
Curious...
--
"Alright," Peter's voice called from the other room, "you can come in, just don't laugh!"
Lucian set aside his laptop and the notepad he had been using to take notes over possible locations of vampire nests, and made his way to the fire pit. He was surprised by the sight inside.
That stupid man-sized dog bed was by the pit, covered in pillows and the like, which wasn't unusual. But next to it was something that was.
It was a fake, black pine tree, covered in an assortment of little items and baubles that seemed more fitting for a Halloween display than the holiday the tree was associated with. On top looked to be a plastic bat skull that Peter normally kept in the bedroom, and there was a string of blinking light on it. Under it were a few boxes, wrapped up in the gaudiest paper that Lucian had ever seen.
"It's a Christmas tree." Lucian said, staring at it, before noticing a few strings of faerie lights in different colors just lying about on the floor, all plugged in but clearly not hanging up.
Peter stood in the room, hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers, trying to make himself look like he wasn't embarrassed. "Look, I... I know you're not religious, got no reason to be, and neither do I outside of the fact that I know some holy and blessed items fuckin' dust vampires. And my typical Christmases are spent getting so drunk that I end up waking up on the twenty-eighth or somethin', or I'm out partying with other single, lonely people."
He shifted a bit, looking at the tree. "It's somethin' I ordered around Halloween, Americans really want Christmas to be every bloody holiday, so they had this black, cheapass tree and I figured it was way more fittin' for me than the traditional green. And I covered it in cool, spooky things, there's even a wolf charm on there. But... I dunno, I just thought it might be nice to actually celebrate the holiday again.
Ginger and I never bothered with it, she knew I wasn't a holly jolly fucker, and she just had be buy her a bunch of shit around the holidays and that was that. And I haven't had a decent Christmas since the one before my parents' murders, but, ya know... maybe you and I can have somethin' nice. Just the two of us."
"Peter..."
"I've got some peppermint schnapps, and I know the hotel has these packets of hot cocoa that have down at the continental breakfast buffet, so I snatched up some of those. And we can probably through on some stupid movie, watch some bullshit by the fire."
"Peter, this is-"
"But if you don't want, I totally understand, I'm not forcing you to do anything!"
Lucian had moved while Peter was rambling, and he reached out, putting a hand over Peter's mouth, silencing him. "I would love to do that."
Peter blinked. "Really?" He asked behind Lucian's hand, then removed it. "You're serious?"
"I do not understand the reason for the holiday, it seems to change often over the centuries, I remember when it was a time where people got very drunk all day and night and religion went out the window. But I would love to spend the night with you, doing as you suggested, it would be lovely."
"You really don't mind?"
"Not at all."
"That's... cool, very cool, uh, glad you're on board!" Peter nodded. "Oh! I also got you some stuff, but that's, for, like, the mornin'. Ya know, opening presents under the tree and all that."
Lucian frowned. "I don't have a present for you though, my love."
Peter turned to look at him. "It's gonna sound super cheesy to say this, but honestly? You being here, doing this corny as all hell stuff with me? That's a good enough present as any. Also, you made me that badass dagger last month, that totally counts!"
Lucian chuckled and kissed him on the lips. "Whatever you say. Now, shall we prepare these drinks? I'm sure you're looking forward to get drunk tonight anyway."
"Oh yeah, well, drunk enough that I won't forget it."
--
I legit do not understand why we have Halloween Christmas trees here. I really don't. But it seems very fitting for Peter to have one.
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wildcatofgreen · 1 year
Text
Corazon pinched the bridge of her nose, trying her hardest to keep her mouth shut while her younger sister talked--rambled, really--about everything that's happened.
As far as she could tell, her lil sis just never got over a crush she had. Ordinarily, Corazon wouldn't really care that much. Sure, she's got a crush on the dragon girl, whatever. She's been knew that since Carol implied as much over half a decade ago.
The problem is, that it didn't go away when she got with her fucking fiance. From what she's hearing, it's diminished, sure, but if it went away entirely her stupid little sister wouldn't be whining about how much she totally doesn't love her best friend. Well, actually, she never uses the word love. She'll replace it with things that might-as-well mean the same thing--''felt that way'', ''have strong feelings about'', ''care deeply'', yada yada yada.
She seems like she's in denial about the whole thing. ''no cory, i dont love her cory! i got over her, cory!!! cory please undrstand cory i dont love her cory''. Then two seconds later she'll go; ''i want to kiss her so bad cory. i want to hold her and kiss her so badly cory. gosh cory i wanna KISS HER SO BADLY CORY CORY GOSH CORY GOSH''.
Damn near infatuated. She was stupid for not realizing her own vice. That shit held onto her like a virus on a computer, and there's no one to debug her.
Well, actually, that's probably Corazon's job, huh? It's the reason she's listening to her go on and on and on. It pissed her off, annoyed her to no end, that Carol felt this way about anyone else at all, let alone the dragon girl. She's got everything figured out, everything can go in a nice straight line for her, yet she wants to fuck it all up because she's feeling a little gay this morning. Good job, Tea--sure hope Sonar never finds out about this because her man yelling at her is gonna hurt way more than her sister.
Actually, if Carol had one thing going for her, it was the intense amount of self-awareness. She knew she was doing something wrong, It cut out a lot of work Corazon already did not want to do, which in some respects was nice. Because she didn't like yelling at her sister--it was an exercise in depression for the both of them. Her sibling's worries mostly encompassed actually saying any of this to Sonar. If he already knew, it'd be mostly smooth sailings. Just apologize and move on, don't do it again. If he didn't know... well, Corazon didn't want to be there for that one, no matter what it entailed.
Stones, if she didn't stop her soon, she'd keep going until Brevon came back.
So, with a sigh, she put up a hand, ceasing her younger sibling's words almost immediately. She looked petrified. Like the wrath of a thousand suns was coming down upon her. It made the mercenary slightly uneasy, as if one wrong move would fuck everything over in an instant.
So, first, she would ask a question. "What are you trying to do, exactly? Can't get a good handle of that, 'cause you keep sayin' you wanna do one thing, but then you go on ramblin' about how much you super duper duper wanna do somethin' else."
Carol stayed silent for a moment, contemplative. Her eyes closed, her breath shakey. She spoke, in a light whisper, "I wanna... I wanna be with Sony. Iun't wanna feel this way about Lilac anymore."
Mhm, cool, that's the same thing she's said fifty billion other times before this. Please excuse the mercenary if she just straight up doesn't believe her.
She waved her hand in front of her sister, "Nah, nah, you told me that one already--"
"Well, wh-what else am I supposed to say???"
"What you actually want, for one." Her sibling's eyes widened, "We're not gonna get anywhere if you keep lying to me about what you really want out of this."
"I..." her expression softened, her head hanging low, "I'm not lyin'."
"If you're not lying, then what, exactly, are you doing? Because I can tell from here, that you are not telling the truth."
The younger sibling didn't say a word. She just seemed to close herself in even tighter.
"What's going through your head, Tea? That's all I wanna know." She pointed a limped finger at her sister, "I ain't gonna run off and tell Sonar or Lilac or whoever else, 'cause that ain't my style, okay? You are my first priority, everything else comes after." She scooched closer to the younger feline, putting her finger underneath Carol's chin, to keep her eyes level with her sister's. "So you can tell me what's up. Tell me what's troubling you, what's actually troubling you. You don't need to hide shit from me."
The younger wildcat's emerald eyes stared into her sister's--they became glossier by the second. She shook her head and closed them, raising her knees to her chest. Her arms hugged her knees close to her.
Corazon backed off.
. . .
"It's...," the kitten sighed, "It's not okay, to like two people the same way, right? You always gotta pick, right?"
The mercenary decided to stay silent.
"If," she paused, almost unsure of her words, "If I had to--if I have to, then," she gulped. Her eyes opened, darting around the mercenary's house, as if looking for an answer. As if one would fall right into her lap. Or maybe she was looking for an escape? Stalling, even?
The words out of her mouth, carefully picked. She shut her eyes tighter than before. Her claws almost dug into her skin. She didn't want to admit it, she really didn't... "I want to kiss her. Just one time. Just so I know how it feels from her. I want my Sony--I-I never want to give him up, I really don't, but," she grabs tighter, "I wish I could just have her, for that one kiss, for those couple seconds. I-... I think I'd be okay, after that."
Corazon just shook her head. "You want him, right?"
She nodded.
"You want to marry him?"
She nodded.
"Then you can't kiss her--"
"But why not???" She exclaimed, her eyes opening wide, tears welling, "Why can't I have my Lyli, just once, damn it??? Never again! Never ever again!!! Just..." She sniffled, biting her lip.
"I don't know if you've realized it yet, sis," she pointed at her junior, "But loyalty is a big part of having a relationship--"
"I know!!! I know I know I know!!!!! I know why I'm fucking wrong, I know why I'm terrible, I know why I don't even deserve either one of them, but stones damn it!!! "Everytime I held her, I felt those same butterflies I feel with Sony. Everytime I comforted her, cuddled her, loved her as much as I could, I felt," she trailed off.
The mercenary let her find her footing.
"I felt, happy? The same happy I have with Sony. I... I want to have that happy with her again. It's been so long since I've even heard her." She shook her head, "I thought she'd be back in a week, two, tops. She wouldn't spend that much time searching for Merga, right? She'd always come back, right? It could be me, Sony and her again. Like it used to be! In the tree house!!!"
She tilted her head, squinting at her sister. "Did you never tell her how you feel?"
"Would it matter?"
Fucking, yes??? Of course it would??? She smiled a sly smile at her, "Maybe just a little. Gettin' all of this off your chest with me is one thing, but tellin' her, face to face...?" She put a foot on the chair, resting her arm on her knee, "Tell her once, and maybe you can move on. And she'd say how she feels, too.
"Maybe that's all you actually need. To know how she feels, if there was even a chance."
Then she could probably tell her about the whole marriage thing, too. Kill two birds with one stone.
"I... thought I did know, though."
Hm? Full attention at her younger sis again.
"I always thought she ain't like me like that. That despite all of the things we did together, all of the presents we exchanged... "Just friends," she muttered, remorseful, "Y'know?"
"Assumin' makes an ass out of you," she points to her sister, "And me," and points back at herself. "You ain't gonna get nowhere just assumin' shit like that. Shit, what if you assumed that Brevon guy wasn't as bad as he was? What if you assumed that I was right about Merga?"
It felt like a wave of shock went through her sister, like something finally clicked in her peanut brain. It was amusing, but Corazon wouldn't laugh. Not now, anyway. "So," Carol started, her gaze at the coffee maker, a hand grasping at... something, under her scarf, "All I gotta do... is ask her?"
"I'd tell her, first. She'll probably say her peace right after your's." She nodded to herself.
The kitten hummed in thought. Her eyes closed again.
---
"Sure, fine, you can help again today," she spun her gun around her index finger, other hand at her hip, "But once you get a call, it's donezo. I ain't havin' you miss your job over your stupid shit, sis."
"Oh I'll be fine. Sony'll call me as soon as there's somethin' 'ta do! I'll probably be outta your fur in no time!" She had a proud smile on her face, as if she wasn't ready to cry just mere moments ago.
Stones, her sister was a fucking moron. Loved her to bits.
"Got it. Let's not waste anymore time--bet they're already looking for me."
---
Ring ring ring...
Ring ring ring...
Ring ring ring...
1 note · View note
drades-lair · 2 years
Text
One big happy family
Note: some potentially inaccurate medical practices included. 
Striker gave a jolt when the phone in his pocket went off while he was currently lining cross hairs up on a current job. Fishing around he pulled it out noticing the ID belonged to Stolas making Striker roll his eyes before answering.
“Whatchya want Bird man?” Striker asked trying to keep the irritability out of his voice.
“Striker, have you heard from Blitzy?” Stolas asked sounding his usual concerned way.
“Nope, how long it been this time?” Striker inquired matter a factually while lining his scope back up on his target, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder.
“Two weeks,” Stolas stated sounding more concerned then usual
“Ya sure bird man?” Striker had hesitated slightly upon hearing the amount of time Blitz had apparently been missing. Blitz would often “disappear” from time to time but much like Striker they were assassins which meant a little disappearing wasn’t that weird but two weeks? That seemed like an awful long time even for Blitz.
“Yes,” Stolas confirmed
“I’m sure he’s fine…one moment…” Striker fired his rifle hitting his target right between the eyes.
“Striker? Are you alright?” Stolas inquired upon hearing the shot
“Fine…I’ll be back in about a week then we can find out where his stupid ass is passed out,” Striker reassured Stolas already taking his rifle to its box that lay on a table behind him.
“Alright…thank you Striker,” Stolas endearingly stated as he inhaled deeply
“No problem,” Striker hung up, tossing the phone on the table near the case he was currently tucking his rifle into. A few moments later Striker was ready to make his get away when his phone rang again eliciting a curse from under his breath before he noticed the ID said Loona…Stolas was one thing as the lanky bird worried at the drop of a hat, but Loona was another story.
“What’s up little lady?” Striker inquired trying to sound as smooth as possible
“Drop the shit Striker, have you seen my…um…Blitz?” Loona asked while correcting herself before using the term “Dad”.
“Nope, why? Ya thinkin’ somethin’ wrong?” Striker knew how to hide his feelings well, came with the territory as did lying however hearing Loona’s slightly concerned tone caused a knot to form in his stomach.  
“N-no…I just…haven’t seen him for about 3 weeks and he’s not answering my texts or calls,” Loona explained clearly trying to hide just how concerned she was. Did she say 3 weeks? That’s even longer than what Stolas had said, Now Striker was concerned.  
“Look kid I’m sure Blitz is fine…I’ll look for him as soon as I’m back in the city, promise,” Striker assured the hellhound.
“Okay…thanks…I guess,” Loona stammered out awkwardly then hung up
“Hmm, where the fuck are Ya Blitz?” Striker mumbled under his breath as he made it to bombproof, throwing his rifle into one of the saddle bags then hopping on.
 …
 Blitz felt a throbbing in his head as the world slowly came back into focus then he noticed his hands were bound behind his back causing an immediate instinct to struggle only to be met by a searing hot pain radiating from his right leg. Glancing down Blitz saw his right leg had dried blood on his pant leg from a deep cut across his thigh, makeshift tourniquet wrapped above it to stem the flow of blood. Blitz tried to remember what the fuck happened…he’d been on a job after M&M had bailed for a preplanned marriage thing, he’d not paid attention too…he tracked the target to a motel in imp city…in the motel bar… then…nothing. Shit! He must have been caught by the target trailing them but…where was he now? Glancing around Blitz saw a small window way up on the tin covered walls, concrete floor lay beneath him, and barren shelves sat along some of the tin walls…a warehouse perhaps?
“Damn it! I have to get out of here!” Blitz cursed as he strained again against his bonds
A loud creaking noise caught the imp’s attention drawing his gaze towards a door in the far-left corner that opened, 3 large figures strolling in. Once the group got close enough Blitz could see they were a lizard demon, hellhound and a crow headed demon.
“Alright gentlemen~ I know I’m into some kinky shit, but I am still an advocate for consent which I have not…FUCK!” Blitz cried out as the crow headed demon clocked him right in the face.
“Shut your fucking mouth! You filthy imp,” The crow headed demon barked angrily
Blitz spat out a bit of blood, who were these fuckers? What was their beef with him? Another hit interrupted Blitz’s thoughts followed quickly by another. Adrenaline raced through Blitz as the lizard demon stepped forwards, cracking his knuckles before reeling back in an attempt at a hit, Blitz thought fast though and surged forwards head butting him with his horns. Blood spilled from the lizard demon as his nose broke crying out in agony. Blitz snarled at the two demons only to release a surprised yelp as the hellhound yank his head back by those same horns he’d just used as a weapon followed by a swift hard shot right to his gut from the crow headed demon causing the imp to choke and gasp.
“You’ll fucking pay for sullying the Goita name,” The crow demon snarled
Blitz’s eyes grew wide at the name drop; how did these fuckers know he was with Stolas? Did they also know he’d been using the grimoire? Was Stolas in danger too? Blitz was once again ripped from his thoughts as a few more punches were landed the last of which knocked him back out cold.  
 …
 Striker made it back to imp city in about 3 days instead of 5 not really giving a shit about how that looked or what it said about his level of concern regarding Blitz. Making his way into the IMP headquarters to find Loona sitting behind her desk irritably tapping her claws on its surface while staring at the wallpaper on her phone. Loona perked instantly when Striker walked in only to give a slightly disappointed look upon seeing it was only Striker, which considering the situation he didn’t take offense too.
“Nothin’ yet?” Striker casually asked
“No…” Loona trailed off with her ears drooping slightly
“Ya said he left on a job, Ya still have that info?” Striker wondered
“Uh…yeah…one sec.” Loona dug in the drawers of her desk eventually pulling out a set of stapled papers which she handed to Striker.
Carefully looking over the papers Striker immediately started noticing the inconsistencies along with clear fake names that in his vast experience screamed fake job. Nearing the end of the documents Striker did pick up on one of the fake names that was a real one rearranged, cursing slightly under his breath at the realization yet he didn’t say anything yet to Loona about it. Striker’s stomach was beginning to tighten as the pieces of this puzzle were starting to fall into place and it wasn’t making a very pretty picture.
“Have Ya tried trackin’ his scent?” Striker asked Loona, looking up from the papers
“Uh…yeah…I only got so far then it disappeared,” Loona explained a little embarrassed that she had lost Blitz’s trail after all she was a hellhound it should have been easy.
“Could Ya show me on a map where that was?” Striker inquired
“Yeah, no problem,” Loona stated swiftly heading to a map that was hung on the wall and when she pointed to the area that sealed it for Striker.
“Ah shit, I was afraid of that…” Striker scowled in a low drawl, turning on his heel to head for the door.  
“Wait, where are you going?” Loona frantically asked in confusion
“That area belongs to the Goitia clan; they have a few warehouses there to store goods. Blitz might be there and he’s probably in deep shit if he is,” Striker briefly explained continuing his motion for the door.
“Fuck! Should I call Stolas then?” Loona wondered following Striker
“Nope, but you should come with me,” Striker stated over his shoulder, it may have sounded strange plus he knew damn well Blitz was going to tare him a new one for bringing the young hellhound along, but Striker also knew that Loona wouldn’t just stay put with Blitz in trouble, better to bring her along now and keep her close to keep her safe.
“You want me to come with you?” Loona looked surprised as Blitz never let her go on any missions.
“I’m gonna need a little help, I know Ya can handle yourself,” Striker stated with a smirked over his shoulder and a wink.  
“Alright, let’s go kick some ass then!” Loona snarled before following behind Striker out of the office.
 …
Day 5…day 6? No…7? No… had to be longer, Blitz had long lost count of the days as he sat still tied to a chair, ropes biting horridly into his wrists, his blood littering the floor from the numerous beatings he’d taken. The boss imp wasn’t ashamed to wince when he heard that fucking door creak open again with those 3 walking back in probably ready to start another beat down session.
“Time to finish this…it’s been fun but unfortunately your people appear to have caught on,” The crow demon chided as he grabbed Blitz harshly by the chin.
“H-hells…yeah…n-now…your…F-fucked…!” Blitz stammered out with a small smirk on his face upon hearing perhaps Millie and Moxx were on the way.  
“Actually, you are,” The crow demon retorted with a chortle, massive smirk spreading across his features before releasing Blitz’s jaw.
Blitz was about to say something else instead though he yelped as the hellhound yanked his head backwards by his horns, moments later the crow demon had snatched his jaw again. Blitz could feel the demon’s fingers press against the corners of his mouth ultimately forcing him to open it… (funny usually Blitz couldn’t keep his mouth shut, in this case though) …6 or so pills were shoved down his throat leaving Blitz no choice but to swallow. The bird demon backed away for a moment as Blitz winced from a combination of pain and the uncomfortable feeling from dry swallowing the pills.
“Don’t worry, soon all your pain will fade…after all this whole bottle has your name on it,” The crow demon once again chortled while holding up a pill bottle.
Blitz’s brow furrowed as he could only hope his team got there in time.
 …
Striker slinked around the outside of the warehouse making sure Loona remained close, spotting a window he tied a dagger to a rope then whipped it up over the roof. Once certain the rope was secured, he climbed up to peer through the window and his heart skipped a few beats…tied up in a chair covered in blood was Blitz. Striker descended the rope then pulled his pistol from its holster before hurrying around to the only door, promptly kicking it open. A swift glance revealed no one insight except for Blitz who sat with his head bowed to his chest and blood spattered over the floor. Loona gave a gasp then ran for Blitz’s still form with Striker not too far behind and the closer they got the worse Blitz looked with bruises all over him, blood staining his ripped clothing as well as his skin…what was most worrying though was just how limp he was. Loona wasted no time in slapping Blitz in the face with frustrated grunts.
“Wake the fuck up! Blitz!” Loona growled
“Hey, hey…easy…” Striker stated grabbing Loona’s shoulder to stop her assault after it wasn’t working
Looking Blitz over real quick Striker’s blood ran cold at some of his symptoms and a quick glance on the floor revealed what he’d feared. Discarded on the floor off to the side was an empty pill bottle suddenly Striker started moving quickly, cutting away the ropes that held Blitz to the chair causing his limp form to fall forwards luckily Loona caught him. A moment later though Striker had gotten on one knee, grabbing Blitz from Loona ignoring her confused gaze, making sure to prop the other imp against his chest, tipping his chin up slightly then shoving 3 of his fingers as deep into Blitz’s throat as he could manage.
“Whoa! The fuck are you doing?” Loona snapped
“Saving his life…as long as we’re not too late,” Striker’s tone was frantic almost something Loona wasn’t used to hearing as he continued to thrust his fingers in to Blitz throat.
“I-I don’t understand…what’s going on?” Loona demanded, voice cracking as tears started to well up in her eyes.
“He’s been drugged,” Striker bluntly stated with a head nod towards the discarded bottle on the ground
“Oh shit! He…he’s going to be okay…right?” Loona asked sorrowfully
Striker didn’t respond this time because as much as he was always the optimist amongst their little motley crew…Blitz had no gag reflex right now and his body was limp and cold. Removing his fingers Striker pressed to the pulse point on Blitz neck revealing…nothing…there was nothing not even the slightest heartbeat. Nope! Not on Striker’s watch…shifting to lay Blitz on the ground he started pumping on the other imp’s chest in hopes of restarting his heart which by the blessing of Satan worked! Striker eventually got a very faint pulse at which point he wrapped a hand around the back of Blitz’s neck only to once again shove his fingers into Blitz’s throat, but this time he began gagging.
“Ha! That’s it!” Striker exclaimed, rolling Blitz immediately onto his side as he vomited
“Blitz! D-Dad…!” Loona exclaimed suddenly not caring what she called him
“’atta boy…get that shit out of yer system,” Striker encouraged with one hand on Blitz’s shoulder while the other rested on his back.
“F-fuck…S-Striker…” Blitz weakly stammered out once he’d managed to stop vomiting
“Yep…just relax…I’ll get you outta here,” Striker assured him
“What now?” Loona interjected with her voice still breaking slightly
“L-Looney?” Blitz wondered upon hearing her voice
“Yeah…I’m here too,” Loona assured him, brushing her hand against his right forearm.
“Take it easy Boss man,” Striker calmly stated as he scooped the other imp up bridal style, the shift in altitude making Blitz’s stomach lurch slightly.
“Do me a favor little missy, get my phone out of my pocket and call Stolas,” Striker instructed Loona, who immediately obeyed.
Stolas answered almost instantly at which point Striker briefly explained their situation and how he could use a portal to the palace not to mention some help with Blitz. Stolas didn’t even finish the conversation with Striker when a portal opened, upon taking Blitz through the portal Striker saw a side of Stolas that honestly sent a bit of a shrill chill up his spine. Although obviously showing great concern for Blitz and taking immediate control of the situation there was something…darker humming around the demonic prince. Directing Striker to take Blitz to their (yes, their) bedroom and place him on the bed Stolas went to gather somethings, the pale imp obeyed laying Blitz on the bed carefully. Stolas entered the bedroom a few moments later carrying a couple of jars and vials that he spread across his vanity before snatching up one vial in particular containing something black and viscus. Stolas’ movements were still elegant yet swift as he moved to Blitz’s side while instructing Striker to prop the other imp up. Sliding onto the bed Striker maneuvered Blitz so his body was resting against Striker’s own. Gently Stolas tipped Blitz’s chin up and poured the substance into his mouth with an encouraging “Drink” which Blitz in his half conscious state did instantly making a gagging noise at the taste. Stolas praised his partner then grabbed the garbage can handing it to Striker, who shot a confused look in the Gotia’s direction.
“Trust me, you’ll need it in a moment,” Stolas briefly stated before moving towards the vanity once more.
Sure, enough a moment later Blitz started gagging cueing Striker to give him the garbage just in time for the other imp to blow chunks hard. Rubbing gingerly on Blitz’s back Striker helped work him through it while Stolas grabbed a jar of something before retuning to Blitz’s side, setting it on the bed.
“I’m sorry my darling, but I had to make certain the drugs were out of your system. Striker, can you assist me in getting his clothing off,” Stolas asked calmly
“Sure,” Striker simply agreed, working the best he could from his current position.
As they worked Loona sat on the couch in the corner quietly whimpering as she watched Stolas and Striker work on Blitz. Loona never really understood this whole ‘relationship’ between the 3 but seeing them now, seeing just how much Stolas and Striker both cared for her…adoptive father…she felt it was finally starting to make sense. Stolas used his magic to heal Blitz’s injured leg along with a host of other severe injuries making Blitz groan in pain as he faded between consciousness and unconsciousness, Striker helped Stolas where asked but mostly he just sat with one leg dangling over the bed’s edge while Blitz’s head rested lightly in his lap, Striker’s fingers gingerly caressing light touches over Blitz’s horns or along his face. Once most of the wounds were tended Stolas went about smearing the contents of the jar he’d brought over earlier onto Blitz’s bruises instantly eliciting moans of relief from his throat, nuzzling into Striker when he had moments of lucidity.
“There…rest now darling,” Stolas whispered, putting the lid back on the jar
“Ya finished?” Striker inquired
“I’ve done all I can, he just needs to rest now,” Stolas confirmed with a very small smile
“Alright, I’ll stay here for a bit till he’s fully out,” Striker stated looking down at Blitz, whose head was now nuzzled against his abdomen.
“Probably a good idea, now…Loona, dear…are you alright?” Stolas’ voice finally returned to its usual gentle nature as he turned to face the young hellhound.
“Hmm…oh…um…yeah, fine,” Loona lied a little startled at being addressed by Stolas
“Are you certain? Do you need anything?” Stolas pressed while walking over to Loona and for whatever reason that broke Loona.
“Maybe…a hug…” Loona whimpered loudly as tears suddenly fell from her eyes
“Oh, oh…there, there. It’s all going to be okay,” Stolas whispered as he took the young hellhound into his arms, shifting to sit on the couch with Loona fully curling into his embrace while sobbing.
Striker briefly furrowed his brow at seeing Loona so upset but ultimately remained his usual stoic self, reaching down to pull a blanket up over Blitz’s slightly quivering form. Emotionally exhausted Loona passed out in Stolas’ arms, gently he maneuvered her to sleep on the couch eventually fetching a blanket to drape over her then moving to the bed as to check on Blitz.
“Do you know who did this?” Stolas asked Striker while looking over Blitz, voice carrying that same energy Striker had felt when he first passed through the portal with Blitz.
“Some…Blitz was given a fake job by someone, one of the fake names was your bitch of an ex’s rearranged,” Striker sighed heavily, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket followed by a lighter he used to light said cigarette.
“Stella? Are you certain?” Stolas’ energy immediately took on a sinister air as those crimson eyes of his narrowed with malice.
“Cool yer tail feathers, I don’t think she did it,” Striker calmly stated letting whiffs of smoke slide from his mouth.
“You don’t? How come? She’s more then capable I assure you,” Stolas growled
“Believe me, I know…but puttin’ her own name on the documents in any way is just stupid and if there is one thing, I can say about her it’s that she’s not stupid,” Striker explained trying to remain his usual calm self despite the ever-growing energy in the room.
“So, someone tried to frame her?” Stolas half inquired; half stated with an arched brow
“Not sure, look…as much as I would love to just pin this shit on her…I can’t, not when it looks like there’s more goin’ on here.” Striker continued with another long drag of his cigarette.
“Hmm, very well. Any ideas on who else could be responsible then?” Stolas wondered as his energy calmed ever so slightly.
“Not yet, but I sure as fuck intend to find out,” Striker assured the Goitia with a slight hiss and rattle of his tail.
“Good, let me know when you do,” Stolas glowered
 …  
 Loona awoke in a haze who knows how many hours later, giving a loud yawn she rubbed at her eyes managing to focus through the darkness on the bed where Blitz’s form was still resting along with Strikers. Striker had leaned back against the plush headboard, arms crossed behind his head while his hat was tipped over his eyes while Blitz was still laying on his lap. Loona walked over to the bed with a solemn look upon her features thinking to herself, how the fuck did this whole situation work between the three? Taking out the sexual part of it because frankly Loona knew how that probably worked and didn’t want to think about it…but…there personalities were so different especially Striker. Loona liked Striker from the moment she met him so that wasn’t the problem it was more he seemed like the odd one out of the trio. Glancing over Blitz’s unconscious body she couldn’t help ending up on Striker, staring for perhaps longer then intended.
“Can I help Ya?” Striker’s low southern drawl creeped out from beneath his hat.
“Shit! Y-Your awake? Ah…sorry,” Loona awkwardly stammered out instantly looking away from the outlaw.
“No need to apologize…Somethin’ on Yer mind?” Striker inquired, tipping the brim of his hat up so he could fully look Loona in the face.  
“Um…well…now that you mention it…This…this…whatever you want to call it with Blitz and Stolas…” Loona trailed off not really knowing how to ask what she wanted to know.
“Our ‘partnership’? what about it?” Striker offered as he patiently waited for the young hellhound to gather her thoughts.
“Sure, where do you fit in?” Loona finally just asked bluntly
“Ha-ha, I’m the level-headed son of a bitch that keeps the other two in line,” Striker chuckled
“So, you’re like…the mother hen of the group?” Loona asked in a sarcastic tone
“Oh no, that honor goes to Stolas. I just keep things in line and am there when needed,” Striker corrected with another scoffed laugh.
“Why? Do you like my D-uh…Blitz, that much?” Loona wondered still curious
“Look kid…ugh, sometimes shit happens you can’t put a reason too and if it’s bad you deal with it and move on…but, if it’s good…you just accept it and enjoy it,” Striker explained as he shifted slightly into a better position making it obvious Blitz was starting to make the pale imp’s legs fall asleep perhaps not for the first time.
“That’s deep and all but you didn’t answer my question, do you care for them?” Loona reiterated
“Of course, I wouldn’t have let Blitz claim me if I didn’t,” Striker informed Loona, who immediately got a confused look that was apparently obvious. Striker let out a slight sigh then reached to the bandana around his neck, pulling the fabric off to reveal a healed overbite wound. Loona wasn’t a child, so she wasn’t ignorant knowing that different species in hell had different mating rituals and of course she’d heard of imps biting to claim their mates but to see that Blitz had claimed Striker it was odd, she didn’t see either of them being the submissive type or at least that’s how she understood the dynamic.
“Oh…wow…um…awkward.” Loona stammered out suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable
“Why? It’s just a bite. Not like I’m sharin’ all the details of our bed downs wit Ya,” Striker chortled with that shit eating smirk on his lips.
“Ew, gross! Please don’t! And…I guess it’s just weird seeing you three like this,” Loona stated, scrunching up her face at the thoughts just put in her head.
“Look little missy, Blitz and I’s relationship was complicated from the start and that hasn’t changed,” Striker concluded still wearing that fucking smirk.
“I guess that’s cool…d-do you…ugh never mind!” Loona cut herself off with one of her hands coming up to wrap around the opposite forearm, gaze averting from Strikers.
“Do I what?” Striker pressed, hilariously enough despite Striker’s gruff exterior he was quite patient always willing to listen even if the other party was hesitant.
“Do you…like me…as Blitz’s adopted daughter…I mean…not like…” Loona ranted realizing how it first sounded.
“Huh…yeah, I do. I must admit when Blitz first told me about having a hellhound for a kid it was a little strange but knowing him now honestly, I shouldn’t have expected anythin’ less.” Striker stated as he gave a quick glance to Blitz currently sleeping soundly between his legs.
Loona smiled at hearing Striker accepted her despite all the shit she constantly gave to both him as well as Blitz. Loona was always a loner despite most hellhounds being pack creatures but for the first time she could honestly say she was part of one between how Stolas had comforted her last night and Striker’s gentle patients today…yeah, one big stupid family. A soft groan drew Loona from her thoughts straight to Blitz, who indeed was stirring from his slumber, Striker shifted to bring both hands to Blitz’s shoulders while one of his legs slipped off the bed.
“Blitz…Ya good?” Striker gently inquired
“Hmm, yeah…aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Blitz groggily smiled as he looked up at Striker
“Come on now, don’t go getting’ all sentimental,” Striker chuckled
“Never…Hmm? Loony?” Blitz questioned as he shifted his gaze from Striker to see the hellhound standing beside the bed.
“D-Dad! I’m so G-glad you’re alright,” Loona exclaimed with a sniff before lunging to wrap Blitz in a loving hug.
“Oh! Ah! Loony…easy, I’m happy to see you too sweety,” Blitz winced as his still bruised skin rejected the affectionate gesture, but he wrapped his arms around her regardless.
“Humph, think Ya could eat something Boss man?” Striker inquired while easing Blitz into a sitting position with Loona still attached.
“Yeah, I’m starving after puking my guts up,” Blitz confirmed excitedly making Striker chuckle as he slid off the bed.
“Alright, I’ll go tell Stolas,” Striker stated, giving a grunting stretch before swaggering his way out of the room.
 …
 A short time later Striker returned with Stolas in toe, but both paused for a moment upon entering the room. Loona had crawled onto the bed on the opposite side of Blitz, laid her head on his lap and was now curled up as he was gently carding his fingers through the thick fur on her head. Smiling lovingly Stolas moved closer once Blitz looked up to acknowledge both his mates.
“How are you feeling darling?” Stolas inquired in a soft whisper as to not disturb the resting hellhound on Blitz’s lap.
“I’m fine Stolas, takes more then that bird fucker to keep me down,” Blitz confidently stated although the statement caused everyone to go silent.
“Bird? It was a bird demon who did this to you?” Stolas’ demeanour seemed to shift immediately
“Yeah, some ugly piece of shit with a crow head along with a lizard demon and a hellhound,” Blitz stated so matter of factually it was comical.
“Crow? Perhaps it was Malphas! Why would he be involved?” Stolas concluded
“Whose that now?” Striker interjected suddenly highly intrigued
“Malphas, he’s part of the Goitia family. Honestly, I don’t know too much about him only that he is closely associated with Stella’s side although…not so much these days,” Stolas began to explain
“Why not?” Striker prompted raising an eyebrow
“Well…because of you actually,” Stolas continued with a matter-of-fact wave
“What? Me?” Striker was clearly caught off guard by this accusation
“Murder amongst the noble families isn’t exactly rare but it’s not accepted either, if you’re going to participate in such machinations you need to do it without being discovered. Stella was sloppy and everyone now knows what she hired you to do for her thus she’s been shunned for it,” Stolas fully explained
“Huh, serves the bitch right,” Striker scoffed not really wanting to remember how things used to be especially considering how much he’d grown to like Stolas since agreeing to this…whatever it was they had with Blitz.
“Sounds to me like this dude is diddling your ex,” Blitz interjected
“What? Malphas and Stella? I suppose it’s possible, they always had an affinity for one another at parties,” Stolas seemed genuinely surprised at Blitz’s suggestion
“Probably not,” Striker spoke up
“Why not?” Blitz retorted in confusion to how Striker could be so confident
“Because if they were why would he risk putting her name on the documents for the fake hit in any way, sounds more like he hates her,” Striker explained moving to lean against the large bedpost with one leg crooked and his arms crossing over his chest.
“Do you remember anything else Blitz?” Stolas asked
“Only that he said, ‘I would pay for sullying the Goitia name’ referring of course that I’ve been fucking you” Blitz told Stolas making air quotes around the sentence that Malphas had said
“Oh…shit…” Striker seemed to startle at that statement causing his mates to glance at him confused
“What is it, Striker?” Stolas wondered gently moving over to place a hand on his shoulder
“That…might be why he wants Stella gone too then…” Striker’s face flushed slightly as he looked down at the ground.
“What are you talking about?” Stolas wondered now showing the full extent of his confusion
“Wait, you fucked Stella! Seriously!” Blitz growled, spines bristling in the process
“Did you?” Stolas added at the accusation
“It was one fucking time so sue me! Look after Stolas cut the harpy off, she couldn’t pay me even though she still owed me for continuing the job so…” Striker trailed off, tail starting to rattle violently of its own accord mostly it seemed in response to Blitz’s reaction.
“Alright, alright…calm down both of you. Blitz! Smooth your spines love and Striker settle your agitation darling,” Stolas gently slid his hand along the nape of Striker’s neck where the mating bite rested from Blitz, sliding to the back of his neck where he caressed the base of Striker’s hair line. Striker let out a soft sigh and the rattling lessened while Blitz also breathed out a deep breath to quell his dominant instincts realizing he’d made Striker agitated with them unintentionally.
“Sorry,” Blitz apologized under his breath, eyes down cast to Loona sleeping happily still on his lap.
“It’s fine…I get it, but I swear it was just the once,” Striker reassured Blitz
“Well, the good news is now that I have a name…I will handle this,” Stolas’ tone dropped drastically with an undertone of malice, Striker thought about offering to take the bastard out himself but feeling that demonic aura from Stolas, he opted too not.
Just as the air was beginning to settle there was a knock on the open door drawing all three’s attention revealing several imp butlers carrying food trays. Blitz would have leapt out of bed that instant to get to the food if Loona hadn’t still been napping peacefully on his lap. Striker gave a chuckle at the other imp’s expression as Stolas warmly smiled at Striker, pecking him on the cheek before heading to take the food trays from the butlers and place them on the bed. Blitz gently woke Loona to join them in eating right there on the bed which amazingly they all managed to squeeze onto.
 In the coming weeks Blitz made a full recovery while Stolas successfully hunted down Malphas and…handled, the situation. Striker made a point of hanging out with Loona more often, teaching her some of his tricks of the trade.
Yep one big fucking happy family.
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asteralien · 3 years
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i'm not very knowledgeable about music subgenres so if this makes no sense, my bad, but like - we're all going wild over the cowboy vibes of long lost, and we should, but a couple songs - "long lost" and "at sea" most of all, imho - feel like they owe more to like... 60s lounge music, or something around there? the genre of music that stuff like "somethin stupid" by frank and nancy sinatra belongs to? that strings-heavy, kind of dreamy, romantic, bordering-on-sentimental kind of vibe? i LOVE it a lot and it's such an interesting feeling to combine with the cowboy-bar performance atmosphere of the rest of the album. i feel like "meet me in the city" is the perfect bridge from cowboy emotion to that vintage lounge vibe (actually "meet me in the city" feels very noir which DOES feel like the perfect marriage of cowboy and lounge, somehow). anyway long lost perfect album
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diavolosthots · 3 years
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Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!
You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things
Warning: uh.... Angst?
Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)
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“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess. 
And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help. 
Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed. 
However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!” 
Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”
Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this. 
“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.” 
Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”
“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.” 
You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.” 
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Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P
Hell yeah!
I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.
This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!
*****************
Scout’s Spectrum:
So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?
First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.
The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.
His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.
He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.
However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.
As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.
During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.
After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.
Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.
With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.
However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.
After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.
Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.
One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.
A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.
On The Team:
Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.
It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.
Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.
And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.
The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.
It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.
However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.
Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.
He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.
And, eventually, they did.
Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.
This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.
He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.
The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.
That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”
That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.
Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.
One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.
Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”
Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.
“Well I’ll be damned…”
At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:
“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”
“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.
Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.
“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”
Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”
What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.
“But…how didja…?”
Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.
“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”
Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.
The Breakdown:
But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.
There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.
Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.
Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.
“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”
Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.
He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.
Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.
And the team was starting to notice.
At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.
But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.
The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.
The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.
Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.
He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.
He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.
Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.
A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.
Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.
At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.
By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.
No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.
Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.
Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.
Medic’s Evaluation:
“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”
“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”
“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”
Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.
“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”
Medic flipped through his notes.
“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”
Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.
Medic sighed.
“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”
Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.
“…zhere is an alternative.”
Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.
“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”
Medic smiled.
“I know how much it grounds you.”
It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.
For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.
Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.
Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.
He deserved it.
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hangovercurse · 3 years
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The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About
Pete invites you to meet his friends from The Dirt and makes you promise not to flirt with any of them, which is a lot easier said than done, especially when Colson Baker acts like that.
Request: “Hey so I love all your writing and I just thought you should know that! But also I’d your requests are on still would you mind writing a youre Pete’s little sister but kells got a crush xx”
Colson x reader
Warnings: Drug use, Cursing
A/N: I know, Dom (Yungblud) wrote the song, but also I am the writer and I say that Y/N wrote it :) Anyways, enjoy. This is only part 1 of what is probably going to be a fun, cute lil series. Also thank you to the anon who sent this! You made my day(s)
Word Count: 2411
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New York was lonely without your brother. He had been filming in New Orleans for the past three months, leaving you alone. You had some friends, but Pete was your best friend. You were only eight months younger than him and practically attached at the hip. You supposed going through trauma together would do that to people.
He facetimed you all the time from set, updating you on things in his life, showing you cool stuff from the set, and introducing you to his castmates. You had kept him updated on your music, playing him demos of songs you were writing and getting his opinion on them.
Him being away wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it definitely sucked for you. So, when Pete texted you that he was having a few friends from the movie over the night he got back, you were ecstatic.
Before you left your apartment to walk to his, he texted you.
You’re not allowed to flirt with any of my friends
You rolled your eyes as you locked your door, preparing a response.
I’ll try my best
Your phone buzzed seconds later.
I’m serious. I don’t trust any of them with you.
And I don’t need that kind of awkwardness in my life
Like if you date one of my friends and it goes badly
I don’t wanna deal with that shit
You chuckled at his chain of texts.
Don’t flirt with your friends because they’re dicks, got it
Don’t worry bro, I know the sibling code
 You came to find out that that was a lot easier said than done. When you walked into his place, everyone in the room turned to look at you. You recognized most of them from your facetimes with Pete, but you doubted they remembered who you were. One who did remember you was Colson, Pete’s new best friend. He made eye contact with you from across the room, a sly grin on his lips. You sent him a small smile, Pete’s text running through your head briefly.
You found your brother lounging on the couch, a huge grin on his face. He was definitely tripping on mushrooms. “Y/N!” He yelled. “This is my baby sister, everyone.”
You rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, grabbing a drink from the cooler, and taking an empty seat on the opposite couch. “I’m less than a year younger than you, Pete.”
You heard a snicker from the one of the guys, looking over to see Colson covering up the smile on his face. “But you’re still younger than me so it counts.”
Everyone went back to their own conversations, which you were thankful for. “Y/N, you remember Colson, right?” Pete motioned to the blond guy.
“Yeah.” You nodded, looking him up and down. His muscle tank exposed the sleeves of tattoos, which seemed to cover every inch of his skin. “Your hair was different, but yeah I remember you.” You opened the beer on the coffee table, taking a swig.
“You’re the musician, right?” He asked you, leaning back onto the couch.
You nodded, “Aspiring musician but, yeah.”
“Oh, she’s great. You should hear her sometime.” Pete butted in, grinning like an idiot at you.
You rolled your eyes but had a smile on your face. “I work primarily as a songwriter and editor right now, but I’m trying to work on putting out some of my own stuff.”
You felt a little intimidated talking to Machine Gun Kelly about music, seeing as he was one of the best in the industry, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in your work. “Well, if you ever want some help or someone to listen to it, I’d be willing.” He flashed a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling.
“Thanks, that’s really cool of you.” You bit your lip slightly, trying to hide the fact that you were totally breaking Pete’s rule.
Pete sent a glare your way to which you raised your eyebrow. You weren’t really flirting; you were just… making connections. “Anyways,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve been working on this sketch idea, Y/N, and I need your opinion.”
You nodded, letting him talk. “So, I was thinking like, there’s this guy with posters all over his wall. Like life size posters of a bunch of different people. And he falls asleep while doing homework and he dreams about them coming to life. And it plays out like one of those really bad commercials that encourage kids to stay in school and shit. Like the posters are telling him to study for his test, but then there’s this one poster that’s like, very sexy. And she’s just like, talking about hot dogs and everyone else gets really sick of it and one of the other posters tries to like, tear down her poster or something.”
Throughout his description, you got more and more confused. “Pete, that’s not funny that’s just fuckin weird.” His mouth hung open in shock. “Dude, seriously? The big punchline is the playboy poster girl talking about hot dogs until the other poster people get tired of it?”
“Yes.” Pete said, as if it were obvious. “That’s hilarious.” You glanced at Colson with a questioning look on your face. He seemed as unsure of the joke as you were.
“Pete, man, that’s not your best work.” Colson clapped him on the shoulder and you giggled at Pete’s disappointed expression.
“You guys are mean.” He pouted and you two laughed. “Ok, well, how would you make it funny?”
“I don’t know if you can, bro.” Colson’s laugh was contagious. When he laughed his whole body shook, his feet stomping and everything.
“What are the other posters?” You asked, trying to be supportive but knowing this wouldn’t turn out very good.
“Well, I was thinking maybe one is like a video game character. Like that lady from Wreck-It-Ralph. The mean one. And then like a snowboarder who is definitely high, and someone else, I dunno.” He shrugged, taking a hit from the joint in his hand and passing it to you.
“Okay…” You trailed off, looking at Colson for support. You brought the blunt to your lips, inhaling the smoke and bringing it down, letting the smoke leave your mouth slowly. You passed the joint to Colson, who gladly took it, a smirk on his face.
Pete looked between you two at the small interaction, a frown. “So, the posters,” he brought your attention away from the man again, “they’re all really serious about teaching this dude math. But the hotdog girl just keeps talking about hot dogs in like this really high-pitched voice.”
You watched the smoke fall from Colson’s lips, not fully paying attention to your brother.
“Yeah man, I think that sounds funny.” Colson told Pete, his eyes lingering on you for a little longer than they should have. “It could use some work but if anyone can make it funny, it’s you.” Colson punched your brother on the shoulder, but the look he sent you said the exact opposite.
You held in your giggle, taking another sip of your beer.
The rest of the night followed a similar pattern, you and Colson flirting and Pete trying to get in between you two. At one point, after a few more hits of weed and a couple more drinks, Colson brought out a guitar, insisting you play something for him. Where he got the guitar from, you had no idea, but you didn’t ask questions. Instead, you rolled your eyes, insisting that “if I have to play something, so do you.”
Everyone was too caught up in their own conversations to care about the noise, or too drunk. You started strumming, trying to remember the chords to a song you had started writing a few days ago. “There’s no lyrics yet, just a melody I came up with.” You blushed, feeling very self-conscious suddenly.
“Guess I’ll just free style to it then.” He chuckled as you started to strum, your fingers working the strings like they had your whole life.
The blond man closed his eyes, head nodding as you played and thinking of what to rap.
“Watch me, take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night. Catch me, I’m the one on the run away from the headlights.
No sleep, up all week wastin time with people I don’t like. I think, somethin’s fuckin wrong with me.
You smiled as he sang, watching his expressions change as he tried to think up the next line.
Drown myself in alcohol, that shit never helps at all
I might say some stupid things tonight when you pick up this call
I be hearin silence on the other side for way to long, I can taste it on my tongue, I can tell that somethin’s wrong.”
He opened his eyes, looking rather proud of himself. “I had some of those lyrics already, but I just changed ‘em a little. I really liked that.”
You nodded, “That was impressive.” You smiled, looking back down to the guitar when something hit you.
You began to play the same melody but pitched higher to fit your voice.
“Roll me up, and smoke me love
And we could fly into the night
You take drugs, to let go, and figure it all out on your own
Take drugs, on gravestones, to figure it all out on your own.”
You looked up to Colson, watching his expression change, his eyes wide. Pete had a proud look on his face.
“Pete, you are a sucky hype man. You did her no justice.” Colson hit Pete on the arm.
“Whaddya mean, I told you she was great.”
Colson looked over to you, a stupid smile on his face. “Seriously, that was fucking amazing. Like, we gotta write that shit out some day.”
You bit your lip, trying to stop the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” You were trying your best to keep your cool as Colson kept his gaze on you, but you were completely freaking out on the inside.
A little while later, almost everyone was gone except you, Pete, Colson, and Douglas Booth, who joined your conversation not long after your jam session. Pete let out a yawn, directing your attention to the time.
“Jesus, it’s already 4am?” You asked, a frown on your face.
“Why, you got somewhere to be, darling?” Douglas asked you, your face scrunching up from the nickname.
“I have a writing session at 11 am tomorrow. Or, today, I guess.”
Pete reached out to hit you in the head, playfully, which you dodged. “Go to bed, dummy.”
You shrugged, “I’m gonna be dead at it anyways, might as well keep the party going a little longer.”
Douglas rolled his eyes, patting your shoulder. “Be that as it may, I am ending this party and going home. Goodnight, guys. It was nice meeting you again, Y/N. Good to see you guys.” Douglas and the guys did that little hand slap and hug thing before he left.
“I love you both, but I will also be going to sleep. And you should too.” Pete stood up, stretching his arms out before giving Colson a fist bump and leaving to his bedroom.
Once your older brother left, Colson moved to the couch you were on, his arm falling over your shoulders. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And how can I help you Mr. Kelly?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m assuming Pete gave us both very similar talking to’s, given the glares you’ve been receiving all night.”
“You mean the “don’t flirt with my friends” talking to or the other one?” You tilted your head, a sly look on your face.
“That’s the one.” Colson laughed through his nose, an adorable smile on his face. You were both considerably high, but you still knew exactly what you were doing.
You moved closer to Colson’s body, “Well then I guess we’d better not do this.” You said quietly, leaning into him. “Or this,” You grabbed his jaw, inches from his face.
“Or this?” He whispered, connecting your lips. You smiled into the kiss, tasting the weed on his tongue. You adjusted your body so you were facing him, his arm that was once around your shoulder now wrapped around your waist.
His other hand grabbed your leg, pulling you up so you were straddling his lap, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips seemed to fit perfectly around yours, and you did all you could to keep yourself from moaning into the kiss as his hand began to travel up your leg.
Realization hit you like a brick wall, and you pulled away, your breathing heavy. “Sorry,” you muttered after a few seconds. You climbed off his lap, smoothing out your shirt. “We shouldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have done that.” You smiled awkwardly down at him.
He nodded, the same realization hitting him. “Yeah, that’s not the best idea. Sorry I wasn’t really thinking.”
You shook your head, cheeks still very red. “No, no, no don’t apologize. It was fine, it’s all fine.”
He nodded, looking down awkwardly. “I should get going.” He stood up, landing a little too close to you.
“Why don’t you just sleep here? Pete won’t mind and it’s a lot easier than going home.” You bit your lip awkwardly, taking a few steps back.
Colson scratched the back of his neck. This was a very different demeanor than he had before, and you found it very cute. “Are you sure?”
You nod. “I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” You moved towards the guest bedroom, a guilty smile on your face. You moved your hand to your lips, feeling where Colson’s lips had graced you minutes before.
You came back to find Colson laying on the couch, one hand behind his head. “We don’t have to tell Pete about that, right?”
You shook your head, a small smile still playing on your lips. You put the pillow behind his head, watching his eyes as he watched your lips. “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll do something else we can’t tell Pete about.” You said quietly, watching him grin. You pulled the blanket over him, leaning down to be level with his face.
“I kind of like the things we can’t tell Pete about.” Colson chuckled, leaning forward to connect your lips again.
377 notes · View notes
thetriggeredhappy · 3 years
Note
in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all
ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development
(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)
-
“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.
Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”
“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”
“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”
“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.
“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”
Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”
“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”
“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”
“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”
“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.
“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”
The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—
“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”
A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”
“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.
Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.
“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.
“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.
“I’m still on board.”
“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”
“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”
“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.
“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.
“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.
-
“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”
“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.
“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.
“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”
“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.
“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.
“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”
“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.
“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.
“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.
There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”
“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.
“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.
“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”
And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).
Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).
He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.
The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.
“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.
A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”
“How often?”
“Weekly.”
“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”
There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”
Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.
-
He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.
His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.
Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.
It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently. 
And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.
But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.
And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.
But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.
And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.
In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.
And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.
And then he noticed a weird thing.
It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.
Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.
And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.
He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.
One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.
He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.
“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”
“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”
“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”
“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.
“So uhhh... not the best.”
“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.
Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”
“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”
“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”
“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”
“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.
“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.
“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.
“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.
“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”
“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.
“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.
“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.
-
“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.
“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.
“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”
“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.
“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.
“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.
“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.
“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.
“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”
Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.
“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”
Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”
“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”
“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.
“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”
Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”
“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”
“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”
“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.
-
Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.
He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.
Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.
The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.
Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.
He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.
Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.
Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.
It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.
Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.
Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.
Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.
Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.
He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.
Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.
This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.
There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.
If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.
He closed the panel again and moved to wait.
A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.
Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.
Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.
Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.
Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.
He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.
Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.
He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.
Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.
By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.
Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.
“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.
“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”
Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…
“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”
“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”
“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”
“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.
Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.
“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.
Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.
The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.
The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.
The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.
Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.
He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.
A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.
A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—
Oh, duh.
“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.
The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.
He exhaled.
It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.
“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.
“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”
“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”
Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.
“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”
“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.
“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.
“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”
“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”
“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”
A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.
“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.
“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”
“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.
“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.
Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.
“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”
“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”
Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”
“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”
“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.
“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.
“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”
Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.
“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.
“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”
“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”

“What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”
“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”
“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.
“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.
“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.
“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”
“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”
“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.
“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.
His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.
Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.
“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.
“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”
“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.
“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”
“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.
“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”
“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.
“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”
“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”
A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.
“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”
“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”
-
“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”
“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”
“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.
“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.
“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”
They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”
Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.
“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.
“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”
“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.
Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.
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fific7 · 3 years
Text
Evil Twins - Part 3
Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader
Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.
A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.
Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Slightly questionable consent to begin with. Some drinking & swearing.
*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.
(My photo edit)
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Your head bumped slightly against the corner of the kitchen cupboard and this brought you back to reality. What did you think you were doing? You pushed Billy away roughly and stepped quickly away from him. He looked bereft but you ignored that, saying, “Okay, Billy - enough. I don’t know what I was thinking!” You picked up some of the crockery and went to the dishwasher.
Billy lounged back against the sink, arms crossed, long legs spread, contemplating you.
“That you were enjoying it?”
You huffed, “So what if I was? But it really wasn’t a good idea.” He smirked, “You don’t really believe that.” He pushed himself off the sink unit and headed back to the living room, saying over his shoulder, “To be continued, sweetheart.”
You clattered the dishes around, loading the dishwasher and mentally beating yourself up for giving in to your baser instincts, when you heard Aleksander’s voice in the other room.
“What are you looking so pleased about?” You heard Billy make a relaxed stretching noise like a cat, and you could visualise him doing just that.
“Oh I dunno. What could I possibly be looking pleased about, huh?” “You…!” shouted Aleksander, and then you heard scuffling noises so you rushed through there. As you’d feared, Billy and Aleksander were rolling around on the floor, grunting and trying to punch each other’s lights out.
“Stop it!” you yelled at the top of your voice, but they ignored you. So you waded in, trying to separate them without success. Eventually you took to landing punches on them yourself. Both of them stopped wrestling and looked at you in surprise, and you took this opportunity to yell at them, “Get up! Stop this right now and get up!”
You all unentangled yourselves, standing up and rearranging clothes. They sat down on a sofa each, while you stood there glaring at them like a headmistress, arms crossed. “What is it with you two?! You’re like a couple of stags butting heads! And I’m not talking about your stupid amplifier!” you yelled at them and glaring at Aleksander. The two of them mumbled under their breaths and you said loudly, “What? What was that? It better have been ‘we’re sorry we make you act like our mum’ or something like that!”
They both laughed, exchanging glances, and you snapped, “This is no laughing matter! I’m sick of it. It’s like having two children around the place.” Billy composed his face into a serious expression, saying, “Sorry, sweetheart. But you must know that a mother’s the last thing we think of you as.” Aleksander nodded, “For once I agree with that idiot.” He looked intently at you, “We both want you, so that’s never going to end well.”
You felt your face pink up, “I’m not some snack to be fought over!” “Course you’re not, sweetheart,” soothed Billy, “but this idiot thought I’d slept with you so he lost his cool.” “Did not!” roared Aleksander, then his head swung to you, “You didn’t, did you?” “No I did NOT!” you insisted. “But she did kiss me,” smirked Billy. Outraged, you screeched, “You kissed me, if you recall!” Billy just kept on smirking and Aleksander launched himself across the coffee table, grabbing Billy by the throat and hissing, “Just as well for you I can’t use the Cut right now!”
“Oh for god’s sake,” you said, “just stop it, will you?” Aleksander stood up, huffing and smoothing down his t-shirt, sitting down on the other sofa again. “What’s the Cut?” queried Billy. “You don’t wanna know,” you said, “now I’m going to put the TV on for you children because I need to do some housework.” You heard a chuckle from Billy, “Yeah! You could put on a maid’s outfit if ya like?” You flipped him the middle finger, switched on the TV and went back into the kitchen.
You could hear a rumble of voices from the other room, and just hoped that war was not about to break out again. What the hell were you going to do about this situation? You had the feeling it was building to boiling point.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
When you emerged a little later having seen to your domestic tasks, you found the two of them sitting on the floor with your old Monopoly set open in front of them. Aleksander was poring over the instructions and they both turned towards you, “How d’ya play this?” asked Billy. You stared at him, “Now him I could understand but you? You’ve never played Monopoly?” His face fell and he shrugged, “No, they didn’t have it in the orphanage.” Immediately you felt terrible and you’d already said, “Oh I’m sorry, Billy,” before your brain caught up with your mouth and you added sarcastically, “I should’ve known you wouldn’t have had it in your fictional orphanage in your fictional childhood.”
His big dark eyes gazed up at you, “Might be fictional to you, sweetheart but it wasn’t to me.” Now you felt bad again, holding up your hands, “Okay, okay - I really am sorry, alright?” He nodded, looking back down and fidgeting with the little dog and top hat tokens. You joined them on the floor, “You two really want to play?” They solemnly nodded, so you whipped the instructions out of Aleksander’s hands, “Okay, I’ll explain it to you.”
Twenty minutes later, Aleksander huffed as he got sent to Jail again, reached over and grabbed a load of Billy’s houses and hotels and dumped them on his own squares. “That’s you all over, isn’t it?” sneered Billy, “you’re a loser but you can’t stand it so you just grab what you want, brother!” “Oh and you don’t, hmm brother?!” snarked Aleksander.
“Billy, Aleksander!” you yelled, then in your wisdom decided to add, “in fact I’m going to call you ‘Aleks’ as your full name’s too much of a mouthful for when I’m yelling at you!” Aleks grinned at you, “Or when you’ll be screaming it in bed.” Billy eye-rolled, “Like that’s ever goin’ to happen!” “Just watch!” “I don’t go in for watchin’!” “Well, that’s all you’re going to get a chance to do, little brother!” “Little brother!?? You were definitely second - after me!!”
By now, both of them had jumped to their feet and - surprise, surprise - were nose to nose.
You cradled your head in your hands. This was purgatory.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
She’d retreated back onto the kitchen to make another pot of tea, and peace had temporarily broken out between the two warring parties.
A discussion had begun, with Billy starting it off. “She’s gettin’ really pissed off with us.” Aleks nodded, “Yes, I know.” “So what’re we gonna do? She can’t exactly throw us out I know, but I’d like it better if she was lookin’ at us with somethin’ other than disgust.” Aleks nodded, then - quickly looking round to check she was still out of earshot, “Ah… I suppose we could share?” Billy’s head shot up, eyes staring into his twin’s, “Ya what?” “Share. We could share her. Separately… or together.”
Billy’s mouth dropped into an ‘O’. “Share,” he repeated, then again, “share? D’you think she’d go for that?” Aleks nodded. “She likes us, I can tell. We both like her, and that could be a problem - well it has been, hasn’t it? - but if we play it right, I’m pretty sure we can charm her into bed with both of us.”
Billy and Aleks sat looking at each other, satisfied little smiles on their faces.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Unaware that you were now the object of a peace treaty between the twins, you experienced some deja vu when carrying the tea tray into the living room. Both of them were sitting on the one sofa again, gazing up at you with unreadable expressions in their eyes.
You had the nastiest feeling that you’d missed something important while you’d been in the kitchen making tea. What had the two of them been cooking up between themselves? You plonked the tray down on the coffee table and looked at them suspiciously.
“What’re you two up to?” They shook their heads, innocence radiating off them, “ Nothing!” they chorused. Billy continued, “We just decided that we better stop pissin’ you off so much.”
You beamed at them, “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!” You missed the significant looks exchanged between the two men as you placed the cups of tea in front of them.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed relatively peacefully, with only a few minor skirmishes between the two of them about whatever film or programme you’d put on to watch. And much to your surprise, you realised that they’d actually stopped arguing themselves without you having to step in. Well, that was an improvement at any rate.
For the evening meal you’d rustled up a ragu sauce, and as you didn’t have any spaghetti left you had to use farfalla. So sue me, you thought. Along with some garlic bread you’d heated in the oven, you dished up three portions and then pulled down your space-saving kitchen table, which folded up into the corner of the room when not in use. You got three chairs out of your walk-in cupboard and set them up round the table. “Dinner!” you yelled, and two tall figures came piling into the kitchen. “Mmmm smells great, sweetheart,” schmoozed Billy, sitting down and looking over to where the plates were on the counter. “It does, moi krasivyy,” said Aleks, not to be outdone.
You brought out three bottles of beer from the fridge. You’d almost got over the way food and drinks just replenished themselves as soon as you used or consumed something. Setting them down on the table, you popped the tops off them with the bottle opener and slid one in front of each of them. You noticed they were both looking at you with what could only be described as ‘heart-eyes’, and you squirmed uncomfortably under their gaze. “What’re you both staring at?” you demanded. “Perfection,” said Aleks. “Gorgeousness,” smirked Billy.
After the food had been eaten and beer bottles drained, amidst more effusive compliments about the meal the twins jumped up from the table and said that you needed to go and relax while they washed up the plates. “Thanks for offering, guys, but that’s why I’ve got a dishwasher.” “Well, we’ll load the dishwasher then,” insisted Billy. He took your arm and led you into the living room, “Sit down sweetheart, and just chill while we do the work now.” He gazed at you, and you saw that look in his eyes again - as if you were some kind of earth-bound angel or something.
Right! you thought, just what are these two up to???
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
You sighed, leaning over and switching off your bedside lamp. The book you’d been reading wasn’t turning out to be quite what you’d expected. You’d hoped for a bit more… well, raunchier content, not to put too fine a point on it. In that respect, a nun could’ve read it and wouldn’t have blushed.
You’d wondered if you should read a fanfic or two instead - Billy Russo or The Darkling ha ha ha - but then you’d remembered that your wifi and mobile data weren’t working due to this ridiculous situation you found yourself in, so obviously whatever force controlled this… this portal?…didn’t want you contacting the outside world.
You’d fallen asleep quite quickly, laughing to yourself as you did that children were extremely tiring.
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The dreams began shortly afterwards, and they were much more vivid than usual.
Your quilt was folded slowly back off you - the rush of cold air was distinctly noticeable - and your top and sleep shorts were peeled off you. You heard deep sighs but you didn’t know who’d made them. Then you were gently rolled onto your back, and you were aware of your mattress dipping down on both sides.
You felt warm skin against your whole body - it almost felt like you were surrounded - and it felt so good that you smiled.
“See! She’s smiling, I told you she’d be fine with it.”
In your dream your brow wrinkled, she’d be fine with what? And who said that?
You felt a tongue lick one of your nipples and a hand squeezed your other breast and then switched - the other nipple was licked, the other breast was squeezed.
You sat bolt upright in bed, and that’s when you realised that you were in fact wide awake.
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In the dim light coming through your gauzy curtains, you could make out two pairs of dark chocolate eyes staring into yours.
“Darling,” said Aleks.
“Sweetheart,” said Billy.
“You fuckers!” you screeched, looking down at your nude body and trying to cover up the relevant bits with your hands and by crossing your legs.
“Too late,” said Billy, giving you a small smile and nodding at your hands which you were still moving around to try and give you maximum coverage.
“We’ve had our hands and mouths on you already,” agreed Aleks.
“Yes and without my permission!” you snapped.
Billy reached across and put on the light. You jumped, feeling like you were under a spotlight, moving your hands about even more frantically. Then Billy’s hands were pulling yours down and away from your breasts.
“Hey!” you yelled at him, and tried to pull your hands out of his but he wouldn’t let go and he was too strong for you.
Now Aleks did his bit, pulling your raised and crossed legs down onto the bed, parting your thighs in your sitting position against your pillows, and then held your legs tightly in position on the bed.
Both men totally consumed you with their eyes, and you were powerless to stop them.
“Oh, darling… you are so, so beautiful,” breathed Aleks.
Billy whispered, “You’re stunning, sweetheart. Absolutely stunning.”
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“I can’t believe you two!” you were yelling at them, ignoring their compliments and lustful gazes, “Let me go!”
“But you know how much we want you, darling,” Aleks said persuasively.
“Just let us get it out of our systems and things will quieten down,” pleaded Billy, “well, a little bit anyhow.”
“I cannot believe you sneaked into my room!” you hissed, trying to get free from their restraining hands. “Let go of me. Now!!!”
But instead they slid you down the bed until you were flat on your back and then both heads dipped down to your neck, their mouths were on your skin, beginning to kiss and lick and suck.
“Get off me!” you snarled, still trying to get free but you were too firmly held between them - as if you were in a vice. “But we can make you feel so good, darling,” whispered Aleks next to your ear, Billy purring “Soooo very good, sweetheart,” next to the other one.
Then their attention moved slightly southwards. Billy changed his grip on your hands, grasping both your wrists in one big hand instead and pulling your arms up above your head, pinning them down onto your pillows. Aleks moved one of his legs across yours to keep you pinned, and then you saw their hands stealing onto your breasts, squeezing and kneading them before their mouths came into play. Their hands remained on your breasts but each nipple now had one of their mouths fastened onto it, and they began licking, kissing, sucking and biting until you squealed, squirming under them.
Desperately fighting to ignore how good their attentions were beginning to make you feel, you burst out, “Stop it!” but neither of them did. In fact they both stepped up their attentions, biting and licking your nipples and the skin surrounding them until you could hear yourself beginning to gasp uncontrollably.
You caught a look and a nod being exchanged between them, and both of them sat up on their knees. Billy was still holding your wrists and Aleks used one of his knees to keep your leg pinned. Unable to avoid looking at the two lean bodies in front of you, you saw two rampant cocks lying up almost against their stomachs and much to your disgust, you felt a tumultuous wave of arousal wash over you.
They are two very well-endowed boys, your traitorous mind said into your ear. And exactly the same size! - truly twins, it giggled at you. Oh shut up, you silently answered it and get me out of this situation! Of course now it did shut up.
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“Sweetheart,” said Billy, cupping your cheek and suddenly kissing you, tongue thrusting into your mouth, breaking away for a second to say, “We’re gonna take real good care of you now.” He went back to kissing you, and you heard a whine from Aleks, “I want to kiss her!” Billy sighed into your mouth and lifted his lips from yours. “Okay, bro,” he said, “all yours. For now.”
Aleks crashed his lips onto yours, his teeth clashing with yours until he calmed down a bit and wasn’t quite so desperate. His tongue slid into your mouth, not quite as assertively as Billy’s but still pretty forceful. You could hear him making little “Mmmm” sounds as he kissed you then he sat back, stroking your lips. “Taste so sweet,” he smiled down at you, “your lips are so soft.”
Aleks sat up on his knees again and as he did so, you felt Billy’s body lay down fully on top of you and he rested his hard cock just for a moment between your legs. His hands took hold of your hips and angled you upwards ever so slightly, then you felt just the head of his cock rubbing against your core. Wetness began to gather and you tutted, trying to squirm away from the insistent teasing, but Billy just chuckled and moved his cock along with you when you managed to move slightly, still rubbing at you.
Aleks’ thumb went to your bottom lip and he gently pulled it down further, opening your mouth to him. He leant over and licked both your lips, sucking on them gently then pushing his tongue inside your mouth. Now he was hovering over you, his erection brushing your lips, the tip starting to edge inside.
Okay, okay, okay, your slightly panicking brain chanted. This was happening. Really going to happen. They were both going to take you right now.
You weren’t 100% sure how you felt about it.
Angry that they were just going to have you whatever you said about it. Excited because they were both very hot, very sexy guys.
But whatever your feelings on the matter, it was inevitable - that much was obvious.
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“I promise I’ll make you feel like you’re in heaven, darling,” you heard Aleks say and then Billy chipping in with, “An’ I promise I’ll make you scream my name, sweetheart.”
You closed your eyes, waiting.
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@aleksanderwh0r3 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @s1xthirty @tartiflvtte @slythvoid @edithsvoice @paracosmenthusiast @mizelophsun11 @eroda-harry @theshadowkingsqueen @kestrafagnor @thelightinmyshadows
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babbushka · 3 years
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Biting Dust - Ch. 5
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Life ain’t too easy for a woman, ‘specially not a woman on the run like you. With a bounty on your head and gunpowder in your nose, you’ve grown adjusted to a life of solitude away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. That is, until you meet one particular man who’s got a face you’d only ever seen in your dreams – or on wanted posters. And when he offers you a proposition that sounds too good to be true, well. You don’t think your life will ever be the same again…
Outlaw!Kylo Ren x Reader
Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3
6k; Warnings: Attempted assault, attempted murder
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Red clouds of earth kick up behind your horse’s hooves as they gallop far past the town line, hootin’ and hollerin’ all the while. The wind whips your hair around, your bonnet flung right off your head, held onto your person only by the wide ribbon that’s kept it tied ‘round your throat. Adrenaline pumps through your body, makes your vision spotty, makes your heart beat fast fast fast, ridin’ like lightning away from Ragrock.
Kylo’s right beside you, makin’ just as much damn noise as you, his crooked teeth gleamin’ gold in the blazin’ Arizona sun. You ain’t never see him grin this big, as he shouts and jeers too, challengin’ the canyons and the desert, darin’ them to take this moment away from the both of you.
“I can’t fuckin’ believe you!” You laugh, voice nearly gettin’ lost in the wind, cheeks hurtin’ from the way you’re smilin’ so much, “Goddamn you’re so -- so -- stupid!”
Kylo laughs at that too, a deep rumblin’ sound that feels so much like thunder that you’re sure it’s shakin’ the earth. Or maybe that’s Sam and Agnes, the way they’re throwin’ their heads back and whinnying and stampin’ their hooves into the caked dirt below. Either way, it’s a good sound, one of them sounds that makes you ache in your bones; you can’t remember the last time you heard someone else laugh so genuinely.
“Yeah?” He finally decides to slow Sam to a halt, and you do the same, tuggin’ on Aggie’s reigns to get her to calm just a little bit, the horses powerful legs comin’ to a gentle trot, both you and Kylo gulpin’ down air.
“Yeah. Why the hell did you bring us through there knowin’ there was bad blood?” You reach into the saddle bag and pull out a canteen, measurin’ a careful sip or two of the fresh river water, before decidin’ to pass the jug over to Kylo himself.
Gratefully, he takes the same size sip as you, and you think that’s mighty chivalrous of him once again, on account of he’s a much bigger person than you, and should clearly need more water. Still, you don’t protest when he hands the canteen back to you, the lid screwed on nice and tight to avoid spillin’.
“It was the only place I could think of that’s close enough.” He shrugs, and you frown ever so slightly at that, knowin’ that really, as long as you stay close to the Colorado River, you’ll have just about anything you need.
Well, almost, anyway.
“Close enough for what?” Your curiosity gets the better of you, especially when he starts rummagin’ around in his own saddle-bag for somethin’. You lean over, tryin’ to be nosy and get a peek inside, but he only clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and you duck your head, embarrassed at bein’ caught.
“For this,” Kylo doesn’t make you wait though, pullin’ out a couple boxes of bullets, but much more importantly, “And these.”
When Kylo pulls out the burlap sack filled with coins, your eyes widen. Right there in his fist has to be over five hundred dollars in gold and silver, more money than you’ve ever seen in one place save for the banks you burn. It makes your mouth go dry, and you wonder how he got a hold of it all, if he took it from the cash register by force, or if he stole it discreetly.
“Holy shit, no wonder you were takin’ so damn long.” You urge Aggie a little closer to get a better look, darin’ to stick your hand in the bag and scoop up a handful of the coins. They were heavy, heavy and real.
“I figured you wouldn’t be opposed.” Kylo speaks quietly as your hands let the coins fall between your fingers, clinking together back in the sack. He gives you the sack then, lets the weight of it rest in your hands, clearin’ his voice, “We’ll need it for Ruby City.”
Without a thought, you push it back into his hand. He was the one who had stolen it, it belonged to him. Yes you were out of money, your own coin purse completely empty, but...but you had more pride than that, to accept someone else’s hard earned coin. Even if he had earned it wrongly, it was still his.
Besides, you reckon as you shake your head when he tries to give it back once again, Kylo was right -- it’s less suspicious to travel with a man, and if you’re traveling together, he better be the one to handle the money.
Kylo seems to read your thoughts, and he just nods, before taking a couple coins out and handing them to you, fifty bucks weighin’ on your palm.
“Just take the fuckin’ money.” He says with a small smile. “I won’t hear any ‘no’, it’s yours too, for helpin’ me by distractin’ the townfolk.”
You sigh, and reluctantly put the coins in your own small purse. For the first time in a while, the fabric is bulged out and heavy. Kylo puts the burlap sack back in his saddle-bag, and you resolve to ignore its existence until you need him to pay for a room at an inn somewhere.
“Should’ve warned me that you knew the damn bartender.” You scold him then, a little disgruntled that he had kept that information from you. If you were going to be a distraction, you would’ve liked to know exactly who it was you’re distractin’. “Should’ve told me y’all hated each other.”
You don’t tell Kylo that you were flirtin’ with that Armitage, certain that he wouldn’t like it. He sure as hell didn’t like it when Amos was gettin’ a little too friendly with you, anyway, and he was just a stranger. To your surprise though, Kylo scoffs out a laugh, and fishes out his old cigarette from the inside of his boot, lightin’ it with a match and puffin’ smoke through his nose.
“Hate?” He’s got humor in his voice as he urges Sam forward, needin’ to get back towards the water’s edge before the sun sank too low in the sky, “Nah, Hux and I go way back. He’s a good friend.”
You level him a dirty glare at that, if only he had told you he coulda’ saved you a world of panic! You think about the way that Armitage shot out his own windows, the way that Kylo managed to murder Armitage’s brother without any guns of his own, and all the damn fallout that came from it.
“Didn’t seem to be actin’ like a good friend when he was aimin’ his shotgun at your face.” You point out, thinkin’ to yourself, men are so goddamn strange.
Kylo laughs again, and you find yourself growin’ dangerously used to the sound, so you just sigh and shake your head. He smokes and smokes, both of your horses leadin’ you closer to the water, havin’ galloped away from it ever so slightly.
“He likes when I come rollin’ through, trust me. He always complains about how quiet his lil’ town of Ragrock gets, likes to give the folks somethin’ to gossip about every now and again.” Kylo explains, patton’ Sam’s neck and flashin’ you a gold-tipped smile.
“So he really wasn’t going to kill us then?” You raise an eyebrow at him.
“Oh no he probably would’ve if I let him.” Kylo answers quickly, “‘Specially after what I did to Brian. But he’ll be fine with it in a couple weeks once folks tell him I wasn’t the one that started nothin’.”
You stare at him for a little while, and he can feel the weight of your gaze on him, but he only gives you a crooked smile and a wink. You weren’t so sure what that wink meant, but if you had to guess, it could really only mean trouble.
“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” You lick across your teeth to prevent yourself from smilin’ and givin’ him the satisfaction of knowing that he entertains you. The grin he gives you tells you he knows it anyway.
“Nothin’ that you can’t handle though, I reckon.” Counterin’ with a slight smile, Kylo ducks his head and blushes, and that alone is enough to make you tap your heels against Aggie’s hide, to get her to go gallopin’ down the canyons again.
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Some hours later, when the world around you starts to cool off from the settin’ of the sun, you and Kylo set up camp near the river. He had gone ahead and scouted the spot out, made sure there weren’t any folks who had already laid claim to that particular stretch of the bend, no one that could go cousin’ any trouble.
There was more than enough money now, to buy new stocks of food whenever y’all got to the next stop along the route, but that didn’t mean that you were about to let Kylo blow through the supply. So instead, you ask he hunt you down another rabbit for dinner, which he does in less than a half hour, impressin’ you once again.
It’s quiet, out there by the river. The sky has faded to a gentle purple, the silvery moon high in the sky. You’ve got a fire made, nothin’ too big or roarin’, just tall enough to heat up the cast-iron pot that you’ve got hangin’ over it by an iron stake. That rabbit is stewin’ in the pot, along with some water, beans, cut up carrots and a little bit of rice. You stir the pot, listenin’ to the sound of the river as it trickles past.
The sweet sound of a harmonica sounds then, and your gaze snaps up to see Kylo with the instrument against his lips. His eyes are closed, and he’s breathin’ nice and even, the high tune of a melody makin’ your throat choke up. It was a tune you knew all too well, once upon a time, a long time ago.
You stir the stew, chewin’ on the side of your cheek, until somethin’ in you compels you to sing. Your voice is a little rusty, but it doesn’t deter Kylo one bit, in fact, when he catches wind of you singin’ along to his tune, he plays a little louder, a little clearer, switchin’ to the harmony as you take over the melody to the sad cowboy song that you once used to teach yourself,
"O bury me not on the lone prairie."
These words came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of the youth who lay
On his dying bed at the close of day.
He had wasted and pined 'til o'er his brow
Death's shades were slowly gathering now
He thought of home and loved ones nigh,
As the cowboys gathered to see him die.
"O bury me not on the lone prairie
Where coyotes howl and the wind blows free
In a narrow grave just six by three—
O bury me not on the lone prairie"
"It matters not, I've been told,
Where the body lies when the heart grows cold
Yet grant, o grant, this wish to me
O bury me not on the lone prairie."
Kylo sets down his harmonica then, and you blink away a light mistiness in your eye. It ain’t good to dwell on the past, you know, but sometimes, times like these, you can’t help but think ‘bout it. Kylo’s blinkin’ away somethin’ too, you notice, so as you stir the stew and determine the rabbit and vegetable and rice are all as cooked as they need to be, you ladle a big bowl for you and for this man who has become the closest thing to a companion you’ve ever had in your life, and you take it over to him.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, not for a while. You simply sit down next to him, as close to him as you’ve gotten since that time in the river, and hand him the bowl and spoon. He accepts it gratefully, his own gaze cast into the fire, and not for the first time, you wonder what’s goin’ on in his head.
After a couple bites of the stew, you rest your head on his shoulder. It’s a tentative motion, a hesitant one. Kylo holds his breath, you can feel it in the way he tenses ever so slightly, but he doesn’t tell you to move, and that’s as good of an invitation to stay as any, you reckon.
“You can’t go lookin’ at me like that, by the by.” Breaking the silence, you slurp down a spoonful of stew yourself, lookin’ into the comforting vision of the flames which flicker and flare gently in front of you.
“Hm?”
“If we’re meant to be cousins,” You explain, voice soft and kind, knowin’ that you’ve been too hard on him these past couple days. “You can’t be givin’ me those eyes of yours. Folks might see through the ruse.”
Kylo surprises you by shruggin’ with his other shoulder, his cheeks crinklin’ into a smile. His dimples crease, and he chews on his lip a little, keepin’ his eyes down as he blushes.
“Folks marry their cousins all the time, it wouldn’t be so strange.” Kylo nearly whispers, almost like he’s afraid to speak the words, rushes quickly to try and change the subject as soon as he’s said it, “Hell, my mother almost married her own damn brother on accident -- but that’s a long and complicated story.”
“Oh so we’re married now.” You smile, feelin’ the heat rise to your own cheeks. It’s less of a question and more of a statement, the way you say it, and you find that against your own better judgement, you like the way it sounds. You like the idea of it, and that makes butterflies spark up in your stomach, a feelin’ you ain’t so used to.
“We could be.” Kylo doesn’t dare look at you, idly stirring his bowl, “We could pretend, anyway.”
You think for a second about what that might be like -- but then you shake your head a little and sigh, “I made a promise I’d never be a meek housewife.”
“Ain’t no one here callin’ you meek.” Kylo reassures you, and now it’s your turn to duck your head, to rest it against his shoulder a little more. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it out there in the quiet of night.
“Be my cousin, for just a little while longer.” You whisper, a silent plea to just give you some more time, “Until we make it to Ruby City.”
“I can’t get a good read on you.” Kylo hums, and you’re relieved to hear that he’s not got an angry or disappointed edge to his tone.
He really does respect you, you realize all of a sudden. Maybe it’s foolish to come to that conclusion so soon, so quickly after you’ve met him, but you can’t help but come to it nonetheless. He’s done nothin’ but respect you this whole time, and you don’t know what to do about that. It’s never happened before.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, a hint of a smile on your lips.
“It means that you’re the most mysterious damn woman I’ve ever met.” He replies easily, a smile on his own.
“I have to be.” Shrugging, you eat another bite of the stew, wishin’ you had some spices to throw in it. You hope Kylo doesn’t think it’s too bland -- before growin’ bashful again, at the thought that you want him to enjoy your cookin’.
“Why’s that?”
“Because the more people that know about me, the less safe I am.”
“I told you -- ”
“I know, you ain’t gonna hurt me, I know.” You interrupt him, before sighing, wondering if you were really going to do this, if you were really going to tell him. “That’s not what I meant.”
Kylo senses a shift in the air, a change in the atmosphere, and his teasing playful smile melts into something a little more somber, more serious. He watches you, and waits for what you have to say, and you decide that what the hell -- if you couldn’t tell Kylo, you couldn’t tell anyone at all.
“I didn’t always used to be an outlaw, you know.” Setting down your bowl of stew, you fidget with the hem of your blue dress’ skirt, and look into the fire, your memory transporting you to a place and time that felt like a million years ago. “There was a time, a long time ago, that I was a school teacher, in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere Utah...”
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You were young, when you started teachin’ at the school. It had always been your favorite place when you were growin’ up, and when the teacher herself got married and moved away, you jumped at the vacancy at once. This was the only way a young woman like yourself could earn a living with her clothes on, you knew that, and though you were barely older than the students that came to your classes, you took your job seriously.
It had been a bright sunny morning in Spring the day you turned sixteen, when the bells tolled for all the school children to come rushing to your door. Standing outside the single room schoolhouse, you had a cheerful smile on your face as you welcomed the students that you had come to love and care for, as they bounded up the few steps and into the wooden building. Ranging in age from as young as five, to as old as twelve, two dozen students took to their seats, fresh faced and recently washed, hair combed for their lessons.
“Good mornin’ class!” You walk to the front of the room once the bell finishes tolling, picking up a piece of chalk and writing out the first line to a popular sea shanty turned folk song, your delicate cursive spelling, ‘O Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie.’
“Good morning Miss (L/N)!” The class responds in happy unison. One of your students, a young girl named Wendy quickly gets out of her seat to place an apple on your desk before hurrying back.
You smile at her, at all of them, having grown so fond of this mis-matched group of kids that have been placed in your care for the weekdays.
“I trust y’all had a good weekend?” You ask them, met with a chorus of overlapping affirmations, and you chuckle at their response to immediately wantin’ to tell you all about everything they did on their days off. “Good, I’m glad. Now if you would buddy up and please take out your textbook, we’ll pick up where we left off on Friday.”
The McGuffey reader was your go-to book to teach the children with, it had everything you needed -- reading, writing, and arithmetic that was easy enough to understand by even the littlest of your students. It was broken down into repetition, phonetics, and even had lines to trace the letters and numbers, but more than that, it was the book you yourself had learned to read by, so you were familiar enough with it.
“Who would like to be the first to read what I’ve got written up on the board?” You ask, once they’ve all opened their books to the appropriate page, a handful of eager students at once clamoring to volunteer.
And so, like any other day, the morning turned to afternoon, and the afternoon turned to evening. When the bells rang to dismiss the class, the children groaned, knowing that meant they had to go home where their family would likely put them to work in the field or in the kitchen for an hour before supper.
“Thank you for another wonderful day children, y’all be good for your parents now, you hear?” You try to encourage them to cheer up, even if it did warm your heart that they liked learning from you so much. “Oh, Rickie? Could you come here for a minute? You’re not in trouble, I promise.”
Sitting at your desk for a moment, you saw the earring that you had stashed in your drawer from the evening prior, and you fish it out as the ten year old skips over to you, his mousy brown hair flopping around as he does. You smile, thinkin’ that he might do to ask for a trim when he gets home.
“Yes ma’am?” Rickie stands before the desk, and you hand him the earring, his eyes going wide as he recognizes it.
“Could you do me a big favor and deliver this to your Mama? She must’ve dropped it here last night and I’m sure she’s goin’ crazy lookin’ for it.” You smile, and he nods happily.
“She sure is! Earned myself a smack upside the head I did, when she thought I snatched it from her dresser!” Rickie laughs, clearly glad to have been vindicated.
“Well I’m sure she’ll be sorry when you bring it back to her, let her know I was the one who had it, not you.” You smile back warmly at him, but he’s already runnin’ out of the schoolhouse, callin’ another thanks and a goodbye behind him as he goes.
Only a moment or two before the last of your students are gone, is there a knock on the door.
He doesn’t wait for an answer before coming in anyway, and you look up with a frown to see who would be so rude as to invite themselves, until you recognize the sheriff and put a forced smile upon your face.
“Hello sheriff, how are you this fine evenin’?” You present yourself as politely as possible, as the man’s spurs clink while those heavy boots of his walk across your floors, trackin’ mud in from the outside with little care.
You didn’t like him, the sheriff. Didn’t like the way you caught him starin’ at you sometimes, didn’t like the way you caught him starin’ at the girls in your class. He was one of the oldest fellas in town, maybe three times your age. He’s starin’ at you now, eyein’ you up and down in a way that makes your skin crawl.
“I’m doin’ well honey, thank you.” The sheriff chews on some tobacco, a habit you can’t stand, before pointin’ out the door behind him and askin’ with a stern voice, “That boy wasn’t givin’ you any trouble, was he?”
“Rickie? No of course not, he’s a good kid.” You’re quick to reply, not wantin’ to cause any trouble for the young farmboy. You and the sheriff look at each other for a moment or two, before you grow more and more uncomfortable, busyin’ your hands with the worksheets that’ve been left on your desk to grade. You clear your throat, “Is -- has somethin’ happened?”
“Naw, I just wanted to come by and see ya before your night class starts.” The sheriff’s spurs clink clink clink over to the desk where he sits himself down, right on the wooden table-top.
“Well, here I am. Can I offer you somethin’ to drink? Coffee?” You try your best to be polite, hoping that one of your night students -- adults from the town who never got to go to school when they were young -- might show up and come to your rescue.
“Not tonight, thank you.” He replies, making you sigh out with relief against your better judgement. He doesn’t notice, instead you can feel his gaze on your chest, “But, if you’re free this friday evenin’, I’d love to take you up on that offer.”
“Oh...I see.” Bile rising up in the back of your throat, you shake your head and try to reject him as politely as possible, voice clipped yet firm as you move from around the desk to the chalk-board where you erase the children’s lesson and prepare for the adult’s. “Sheriff, I’m sorry but, I’m not quite interested in seein’ anyone at present.”
“And why’s that?” He doesn’t leave you alone, and you begin to panic with the way he’s steppin’ closer to you, knowin’ that if he traps you against the board, there won’t be a clear path to escape.
“Well it ain’t allowed for a woman to be datin’ while she’s a schoolteacher.” You explain, your voice starting to wobble.
Something about that makes him chuckle, somethin’ sinister, his blackened teeth from all that damn tobacco too close to your face when he grins.
“Must be awfully lonely,” Sheriff runs his hand up your arm, “Missin’ the comfort of a man at night.”
“It’s not.” Your body shudders in revolt, and you try to side step him, blood pounding in your ears, eyes wide in distress as you feel sweat bead up and trickle down the back of your thigh, “I appreciate your concern but -- ”
“Let me just get one kiss then.” He doesn’t let you go that easily, grabbing your arm harshly and dragging you over to one of the desks where he pushes you with a rough shove. His hand grips your cheek too hard, forcing your mouth to pucker as you fight him.
“Sheriff, I said no -- please get away from me -- I don’t -- don’t touch me!!” You knee him hard straight in the groin, your panicked scream alerting the adults who had thankfully, miraculously, decided to show up for evening class early.
“Miss (L/N)!” A couple of cattle ranchers kick the door open and run to your side, tugging you away from the sheriff who laughs loudly. You smell the stench of alcohol on him, realizing he’s drunk as all hell, and cling to the strong rancher, tears threatening to spill over your eyes.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch our teacher again!” One of the ranchers, a nice man named Francisco, holds you tightly, protectively. You always liked Francisco, he treated you like a daughter he never got to have. The other, Jedidiah, stands firmly next to you, so ready to lunge at the sheriff that you can’t help but feel immense gratitude towards them.
“Everythin’s just fine son, run along now.” The sheriff chuckles, but neither Francisco nor Jedidiah move a muscle.
“Sheriff I think you need to leave.” Mustering up as much of your courage as possible, you speak clearly, willing your voice not to shake as the safety of Francisco’s arms give you strength, “Class begins soon, I’m sorry.”
The ranchers stare the sheriff down, and he stares back, before noddin’ with a sick understandin’ that you reckon means this won’t be the last you see of him. Spittin’ his tobacco onto the floor, that same floor he sullied with the mud under his boots after the children had so lovingly cleaned it with you, the sheriff turned on his heel and left, pausin’ at the doorway for a moment to send you a dark, threatenin’ chuckle, “You will be.”
“Are you alright Miss (L/N)? Did he hurt you?” Jedidiah takes his cap off and kneels in front of you, tryin’ to appear as non-threatenin’ as possible. Francisco releases his hold on you, and checks you for any marks or signs of stress, but you just let out a shudderin’ breath and shake your head. You’re not sure which question that’s meant to answer, but they don’t press you.
“Who do we call when the sheriff’s the one acting out?” Francisco wonders aloud, and you feel like there’s lead in your belly, because he’s right.
The only way you’d likely be able to avoid the sheriff and his wrath would be to leave town altogether, and well, you couldn’t do that. Who would keep after the students then?
There wasn’t any trouble during the lesson that evening, much to your satisfaction. The later it got in the night, the more you felt relieved, surely if the sheriff was going to cause trouble, he would’ve done so by now. Your students can tell that there’s something off about you though, a few of them approachin’ you after the class was done, wonderin’ if there was anythin’ they could do.
In hindsight, you wonder how different your life would’ve been, had you asked to stay with one of them for the evening, or had you asked one of them to stay with you.
The chokin’ woke you up, before anythin’ else. Smoke, thick black plumes of it pouring out of the windows, the doors. Smoke in your lungs that had your body joltin’ up and out of the little bed up in the attic where you lived above the schoolhouse, had you rollin’ onto the floor in a panic.
“No!” You shout, as the heat of red orange yellow flames begins to lick up the walls, eatin’ away at the wood structure of the building, the whole thing two steps from bein’ a blazin’ bonfire out in the field, “Oh god, oh god no!”
Frantic, you run, mind going blank, trying to focus on grabbin’ the important things, only the important things; a photo of your family, the money out of the dresser, a copy of your favorite book. That was it, all you had that you could think to grab, before trying for the door.
The handle burns, and you scream, shaking the pain away from the blisteringly hot doorknob. You’re fucked, oh you’re so fucked, you think as you back up enough to barrel your way through the door, the wood shattering and splintering. The fire reached all the way up to the attic, there was nowhere you could escape. You could jump out the window, but you’d break your neck landin’ on the hard ground. Outside, someone yells, revelin’ in the way that you scream.
“If I can’t have you, ain’t nobody gets to have you, hear that? You hear that bitch?” The sheriff cackles tauntingly, and the fear of death drips icy cold down your back, compels you to run as fast as you can down the wooden rickety stairs, into the blaze.
If you can just get out, if only you can get out of this building, maybe you’ll survive, maybe you --“No!”
One of the stairs has shattered beneath your feet, your foot stomping straight through it, trapped. You cough and hack up the smoke, it’s stinging your eyes, it’s in your lungs, soot in your mouth, you can’t see, oh god it’s so hot, the flames are surrounding you, and your foot is stuck through the stairs.
“Please, please come on you’re strong enough for this, you have to be strong enough for this, come on.” You sob, willing yourself, yanking your foot out in harsh movements as the laughter screeches around you in a drunken stupor.
Eventually, in all your efforts, the structure of the stairs give away entirely, and you try to grab onto something as the floor falls beneath your feet, sending you crashing down into the classroom below. The fire’s taken everything here; the wallpaper, the tables and chairs, even the shiny apple that Wendy sat on your desk, all reduced to ash, cracking and spitting in the flames.
You’ve hit your head from the fall, you can’t move. Somethin’s pinned your legs, you can’t feel nothin’. At least there ain’t any smoke down here, all of it risin’ up up up through the building. The smoke pushes the bells, make them toll. You wonder if they’re callin’ the Reaper, tears slippin’ down your cheeks.
“All the books, oh the poor children.” You whisper, thinkin’ of them all, watchin’ as the textbooks singe to nothingness, knowin’ that soon your body will follow, “Who’s going to teach the children?”
-----------------------
Kylo’s arm is around you, you realize, out there in the present. He’s stock-still, face gone pale, somber. He’s crying, you realize, jaw clenched tight, the muscle in his cheek flexing from the force of it. You’re crying too, wetness on your face. You watch as a tear plips into the rabbit stew, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s one of yours, or Kylo’s.
“The rest of the town came to my rescue, once the flames got so bright you could see ‘em from across the fields. They thought I was dead, when they found me.” You clear your throat, rememberin’ the details of the story that you had only found out after the fact, “I was covered in soot, breathed too much of it in, I wasn’t wakin’ up. I later found out that the sheriff didn’t let them give me a funeral, just told them to stick me in a coffin and gave me a shallow grave.”
Kylo remains quiet, but the arm around you tightens. You’re reminded of Francisco then, how he had protected you. You wonder where he is, what he’s doing. If he ever got to have a daughter.
“I was glad for that part at least, it wasn’t too hard to dig my way back out when I woke up. I must’ve only been there for a couple hours, the dirt wasn’t packed tight or nothin’, thankfully.” You sigh, not knowing when to stop, now knowin’ how to do any of this, how to be vulnerable like this. You ain’t had to be vulnerable in a long, long time.
“Must’ve been out of my mind, I had never thought about killin’ anyone before, you know. I was more angry about the loss of the school than I was for my own life, if you can believe. I hunted him down, the sheriff. He thought I was a ghost, and he hid from me. I found him in the end, doused him in kerosene and lit the sonofabitch on fire right on his front porch.”
You lean your head on Kylo’s shoulder, and ever so gently, he rests his cheek against you back.
“I was sixteen then, and “I’ve been burnin’ shit down to the ground ever since.” You whisper, voice almost lost by the trickle of the river as it flows down to Colorado.
“I’m sorry.” Kylo says, snuffling into your hair a little bit, holdin’ you close, a silent promise.
“It ain’t your fault.” You reply, fightin’ that sour feelin’ in the back of your throat, nudging your face a little closer into his neck.
“If I had been there, I would’ve helped you.” He says, even though you both know that there ain’t no changin’ the past.
“You’re here now.” You pull back enough to look at him, really look at him right in the eyes.
“Yeah, I am.” He nods.
You wonder, sometimes how life might’ve been different, but after all is said and done, this is the life you’ve got.
Kylo lies down then, one arm extended out from his body, an offer.
You don’t think twice about it, when you lay down next to him, your head usin’ that arm as a pillow. It wraps around your shoulder, tuggin’ you to Kylo’s chest, and for the first time in a long time, when you sleep, you don’t dream.
"I've always wished to be laid when I died
In a little churchyard on the green hillside
By my father's grave, there let me be,
O bury me not on the lone prairie."
"I wish to lie where a mother's prayer
And a sister's tear will mingle there.
Where friends can come and weep o'er me.
O bury me not on the lone prairie."
"For there's another whose tears will shed.
For the one who lies in a prairie bed.
It breaks me heart to think of her now,
She has curled these locks, she has kissed this brow."
"O bury me not..." And his voice failed there.
But they took no heed to his dying prayer.
In a narrow grave, just six by three
They buried him there on the lone prairie.
And the cowboys now as they roam the plain,
For they marked the spot where his bones were lain,
Fling a handful o' roses o'er his grave
With a prayer to God his soul to save.
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Taggin' some Kylo lovin' friends!
@mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip @goddessofsprings @mrs-gucci @baubub @bucky-j-barnes @mindyoshiii @beachwoodmonet @darkhairedmenrule @eagerforhoney @nekonaomitard @einmal-im-traum @justlenastuff @0nihiime
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kenjikutie · 4 years
Text
so... you’re dating atsumu miya:
[so you’re dating masterlist]
authors note: oh my gosh, this got long✨ ratsumu has been growing on me, ill admit it! if you want one of these with another character, let me know!!
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- this is not gonna be an easy relationship, i can tell you that for free but, it is going to be 100% worth it
- atsumu is very headstrong and arrogant, so, it is going to take a long time for him to let go of his pride and admit his feelings
- he’s probably gonna see you as one of his annoying, squealing fangirls until you stand up to him
- the first meeting you two had definitely didn’t go so well
- you had been offered the inarizaki manager position by kita and accepted gleefully, excited to put this on your college applications
- and to make a good impression, you decided to show up early and help set up the net
- but, little did you know a stupid little rat yellow man was in there too
- im sorry i had to moving on
- “listen sweetheart, yer not supposed to be in here, no matter how hot ye think i am”
- excuse me????
- “just leave ya chocolate at the door and maybe ill eat it later”
- you blinked up at him then punched him square in the chest
- “holy crap, you suck! who do you think you are, sangwoo wannabe!!”
- “sang-wah?”
- yeah, you basically broke him. he was numb throughout the rest of practice, flinching when kita introduced you as the manager
- so this hot as hell chick in the gym was gonna be around him everyday???? sign him up
- from that moment on, atsumu was glued to you like a seven year old, whining for your attention constantly
- “yn-chan!!! did ye see my spike?”, his heart was racing at the thought of you complimenting him
- “nope.”, you didn’t even look up from your clipboard
- if atsumu has an emo mode, that would have done it
- weeks passed and atsumu could tell he was getting nowhere with you using his typical tactics so it was time for operation whoo yn
- it started off with genuine compliments, one that annoyingly made your heart flutter
- “yer hair looks cute today.”
- “did ya do somethin different with your makeup? looks nice.”
- the next step was small gifts
- “oh??? did someone leave a rose on your desk, yn chan??? wonder who~”
- cue eye roll
- eventually, you had had enough of torturing atsumu and decided to let him know you were interested
- by that, i mean you pulled him into an empty hallway and shoved your lips against his while gripping his collar then walking away
- now he’s turned on wait no come back
- you two are totally the hottest couple in the prefecture, i don’t make the rules, i just enforce them
- atsumu walks you to and from school, sometimes bringing you a bouquet of roses that he definelty did not steal from that neighbor’s yard, ignore the dirt
- he is a pretty jealous boyfriend
- if someone tries to flirt with you, he’s immediately around with his arm around your shoulder, trying to stick his tongue down your throat
- this is the main source of conflict between the two of you because you see it as a lack of trust and he is too prideful to admit that he’s insecure
- after fights, atsumu will storm out and take some time to himself, afraid of saying something that will make it all worse
- when he comes back to find you asleep on the couch with dried tears on your cheeks, he presses a kiss to your head and pulls you into his arms, carrying you to bed then taking your place on the sofa again
- he will truthfully apologize to you when he is in the wrong, which is 99% of the time and expects you to do the same
- hes also kind of a crack head tho
- “babe, do ya think stars have feelins?”, atsumu, one night at three am in your bedroom, upside down on a spinny chair
- nicknames include: babe, peaches, honeybun, honeysuckle, ducklin, babydoll
- will only let you cheer him on during serves and if you don’t, big pouty grumpy boy
- wants you to take him out to dinner when he wins important matches because it makes him feel special
- figures out that he wants to marry you when you’re doing something super mundane, like brushing your teeth or doing your hair
- when you two fall asleep, he always holds you to his chest and nuzzles his head in your hair, gently snoring
- “i love ya, babe.”
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