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reds-skull · 5 months

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Not Alive, Nor Dead

[NEXT PART]

Okay I'm trying to be brave and post this before I chicken out, first time writing a fic, and I'm not sure if this is any good.

So, since I don't have time to draw out all of the revenant au story, but I still want to share it, I'm writing it instead.

Will continue this if people are interested!

[this isn't requiered but reading the comic might help you understand this better]

[also there's a Soap pov version of this by Badolmen, it doesn't line up 100% because we didn't work together but it's very very good and you should read it regardless]

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking, Ghost.”

He shifted in his place. Can never get used to Price’s voice in his head.

“You know I work best alone. All he’s gonna do is get in the way.”

Price’s mustache twitched, as if he’s fighting a smile. Bastard is about to drop something to win the entire argument, Ghost already knows.

“He’s a revenant. Strong one too.”

Fucking figures. Still, he could argue he doesn’t need any support-

“Intel is rigged with explosives. And the Sergeant just so happens to be explosion-proof.”

…Fuck.

Ghost sighs heavily like he was presented with an unreasonable amount of shit to deal with. He watches as Price sits there, shit eating grin spitting at him. He looks back to the folder, at the details of this already annoying mission, “you said there are 2 buildings?”

Price snaps from his self boasting to confirm “one suspected barracks and the other an abandoned warehouse. Warehouse contains the majority of explosives.”

Finally finding something to work with, Ghost straightens his back to his usual self-assured posture, “the Sergeant can deal with the warehouse, I’ll clear the barracks. No need to work together.”

Price seems less happy about that. Serves him right. He sighs and drags a hand over his face, and Ghost almost feels bad for ruining his plan to get him to play with a team. Almost.

“Will it kill you to try and work with the lad?” Price asks offhandedly, while organising the folder back to the never-ending pile of documents on his desk.

“You mean again?” Ghost would wear his own shit eating grin if his face wasn’t permanently covered.

Price still seems equally pissed. Probably saw it in his literal mind’s eye. “Get out of my office Lieutenant, wheels up at 0500.” He gets up and walks around his desk to face Ghost, “don’t scare the kid off alright? I have a feeling you two could mash well together.”

Ghost tilts his head and projects the most doubt he could muster at Price. “Yes sir.”

This is going to be a bloody long day.

It’s not that Ghost hates people per se, it’s just that most of them seem hell-bent on being annoying, disruptive, or boring. Useless on the field for someone of his caliber, and even more useless off-field.

He knows he’s not exactly easy to relate to, but he couldn’t care less about trying to be. He’s here for one purpose. And it’s not “making friends” or whatever Price and Gaz has been trying to push him towards.

He wonders which category the Sergeant currently standing in front of him will fall into. By his fidgeting nature and easy smile, Ghost would put his money on “annoying”.

The Sergeant, “Soap” apparently (Ghost wonders if that callsign was given to him before or after he died a probably painful death), now directs that smile at him, seemingly undeterred by the giant man wearing a skull like a stereotypical grim reaper. He has to give it to the lad, at least he hides his discomfort well.

“You must be Ghost, eh? Let’s get ourselves a win LT” The Sergeant says with an obvious Scottish accent, fist-bumps his shoulder and walks off towards transport.

Oh, annoying is definitely winning.

Despite that, Ghost can’t feel like Soap really fits it. He’s unlike the other muppets in the category, He’s not poking him like the rookies do, trying to make him reveal his powers.

No, the Sergeant is annoying like an overly friendly dog is to someone that doesn’t want to be licked. He’s acting like they’re just two normal soldiers on their way to a normal mission, not the unnatural, unexplainable phenomena they actually are.

Ghost will have to keep watching. Certainly on field he will be able to find out his true colors.

On the helo, Ghost picks his usual spot near the ramp, where the lights don’t reach as much and most prefer not to sit, and observes Soap. His fidgety nature stayed the same, but the carefree expression he wore on ground morphed into a determined one, face stern and serious. He seemed lost in thought, eyebrows twitching here and there. He sees how his fingertips flicker, watching flames dance between them before the rapid movements put them out.

Well, at the very least Soap doesn’t fall into “boring”.

Clearing the barracks is a laughably easy job, even without using his powers. Although, it would’ve been so much faster with them… too bad he doesn’t hate the Sergeant enough to send him to Limbo.

They practically run through both buildings, untouchable storms. Ghost has to admit, Soap is clearly competent, disarming bombs and taking down hostiles at an impressive rate.

God, he hates when Price is right.

“Ground floor clear, heading to the basement” Soap relays on comms.

“Copy, clearing third floor, keep an eye out for Intel.”

“I have to say LT, you’re not quite like I expected.”

Feeling’s mutual, Ghost thinks to himself. “That so?”

“Aye, you’re not a major cunt for starters.”

That startled a small huff out of him. What the hell do the rumors say about him? He would have to ask Gaz about that, “Could still change that Sergeant.” he mock-lectures him.

A small laugh is what he gets in return, “I doubt that. I’ve worked with some bastards before, you barely make top 50.”

“Only 50? I hoped for at least 20”

“Got work cut out for you then, sir”

“That I do.”

Ghost continues clearing the floor methodically before faltering for a moment. Why was he entertaining the Sergeant like that? Since when does he joke with people?

Though, he would’ve done it more if he had someone so ready to joke back…

Useless thoughts.

Cursing Price, Soap, and all other stupid distracting things swirling in his head, Ghost takes down another hostile.

The mission is going without a hitch. Which is usually when something “hitches”.

A couple of minutes after Soap’s last words, Ghost sees a bright light flash from the warehouse, before a soundwave shakes the windows of the now barren barracks.

One of the explosives went off… “Soap, what the hell happened there?”

No answer.

Ghost knows he’s fine. Price wouldn’t brag about how “explosion-proof” he is otherwise. But he’s not answering…

“Sergeant, give me sitrep, now.”

Ghost stands still for another minute, listening to static. He checked the last room right before the explosion went off, so he just has to go to exfil and wait for the Sergeant at this point. His part of the work is done.

He should just go to exfil.

Ghost climbs down the stairs and heads for the warehouse, a foreboding plume of dark smoke billowing from its roof.

If asked why he didn’t ignore his gut feeling and use his brain like always, he wouldn’t have an answer.

Maybe he just wanted to exchange one more joke with the Sergeant before they finish the mission and never see each other again.

Arriving at the doors, he sees how the ground floor caved in, creating a ramp down to the basement. He starts making his way down, when he sees bodies littering the debris. Was Soap ambushed?

“Soap? Where the fuck are you Sergeant!” Ghost shouts. He has half a mind to be quiet, not wanting to attract enemies to their location, before realizing no one would’ve survived this. No one but-

“LT…?”

“Soap, why weren’t you answering comms- what…”

He stumbles upon Soap. Soap, who's laying on the grey concrete floor, wheezing and shaking, a metal rebar in his hands. Ghost walks closer and realizes the rebar is going through his stomach and pinning him to the floor.

The Sergeant’s eyes blearily look at the metal “I need, I n-need to get this out…”

He lifts himself half an inch and Ghost sees how the blood rushes out of the wound, how Soap pales.

Ghost rushes to his side. “Stop fucking moving”, he slides his hands under his torso, feels his gloves getting soaked in blood, “let me help you”.

Soap’s breathing becomes less harsh, and he looks up at him, “you… you don’t have to-”

He slowly lifts Soap before he can say another useless remark. The muscles under his fingertips clench and the Sergeant chokes out a scream.

“Fuck” Soap mutters between pants.

“We’re halfway there, you’re doing good.” Ghost lets him rest before continuing to lift his body up. The blood keeps rushing out of the wound, enough that he doesn’t understand how Soap is still conscious. The sergeant let go of the rebar, and is now gripping Ghost’s forearms like he’s about to fall to his death.

After a few seconds, which Ghost is sure felt like hours for Soap, he eases him off the metal and onto the ground. Soap immediately collapses, shuddering and holding his hands around the wound.

Ghost then realizes he’s not sure how the Sergeant’s powers work. Is this supposed to even happen? Is he actually dying?

Soap looks up at that moment, giving him a small smile that looks more like a grimace, “I just… give me a minute to heal, I’ll be ready to go soon.” he uncurls and drags himself to sit against a piece of wall.

Ghost frowns and slowly steps towards Soap and slides to sit next to him, “take however long you need.”

He doesn’t look, but from his peripheral, he sees Soap’s head whipping around and staring at Ghost like he told him he’s giving him a million pounds.

He seemed to find something in his expression (however much he could even see of it), and looked down at his bloodied hands, “thank ye…”

Ghost blinks down, “I hope this doesn’t lower my cunt rank.”

Soap lets out a small laugh that turns into a fit of coughs. More blood rushes out of his wounds, and Ghost internally winces.

“Ha… I think it takes ye off the list, mate.”

Ghost heaves an over-the-top sigh, “shame”.

Soap smiles at him, and Ghost notices it’s different from the one he gave him before the helo. This one is… warmer. Or at least it makes him feel so.

Soap lifts his shirt to inspect the wound, and Ghost can’t help by take a look. The wound stopped bleeding, and when Soap wipes some of it away, he can see how it’s already closing.

So he does get hurt… it just heals. Ghost still wonders how it all works, but he knows their powers work with bizarre rules, weird exceptions and what not. He can almost hear his Reaper laughing. Or whatever you would call that chilling noise it lets out when it finds something funny.

It doesn’t matter either way. Not like he’ll get to work with Soap again.

The Sergeant exhales and lets his shirt drop, “a’right, let’s fuckin’ finish this.” he slowly starts lifting himself up before Ghost wordlessly grabs his arms and helps him.

Soap mumbles a thanks, “did you find any intel?”

Ghost looks ahead. The climb out of the basement won’t be easy on his wound… “Negative. We’ll keep looking.”

Eventually they reach a door labelled “storage”, that is blocked by several tonnes of concrete and metal. Ghost internally curses.

Soap, who’s been trailing behind Ghost, reaches the door and looks around. Ghost is about to ask him if he’s got a few C4’s hidden somewhere when the Sergeant asks him, “permission to use my powers, sir?”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, “what are you planning?”

“Gonna blow it up sir” Soap says like it was obvious.

“...go ahead.” Ghost replies, half baffled Price forgot to mention the Sergeant, besides being unkillable by explosions, can also create them.

Was probably in the folder he didn’t bother reading.

He takes a step back to let Soap Have a go. The Sergeant rests his palms on the debris, inhales, and…

A loud boom makes Ghost’s ears ring. He’s momentarily blinded by the bright explosion before he regains his vision, and sees Soap stepping around the remains of the door into the small room.

Ghost shakes away his slight shock and joins him. Soap’s powers intrigue him… he wonders what else he could do.

Somehow, the intel survived the explosions. Ghost could barely care. At least they won’t have Price on their case later on.

As they walk towards the exfil point, a heavy feeling sinks within Ghost. He’s not sure what to call it, but if he had to it would be “regret”.

Regretting what, he’s not sure. Maybe he should’ve prolonged their walk.

And from a glance at his face, Soap might understand this feeling as well.

“You did well Sergeant.” He has the sudden urge to say. Maybe it will make him regret less.

Soap casts a smile at him. It doesn’t warm him in the slightest.

The chopper blades slashing through air never made him feel worse.

“I guess this is it then.” Soap says when they land.

Ghost turned to face him. That heavy feeling in him just kept getting heavier throughout the flight. Why?

“So it seems.”

Soap stares for a moment longer before sighing. Ghost wants to do something about the annoyingly heavy air of despair around them.

“Soap” the Sergeant hums, “Why did the Scotsman’s prank fail?”.

Confusion takes over his features, “what?”

Ghost inhales, “because no one let him get away scot-free.”

Soap stares at him like he brought shame to his entire bloodline. Ghost grins like he did.

“Steamin’ Jesus LT, that was horrendous.”

“Ah Sergeant, just admit my jokes are better, no need to be a sore loser.”

“My gran got better jokes than this, fuckin’ hell” Soap laughs.

“I’d like to meet her.”

“So you two could battle? I rather not see you die of embarrassment sir.”

Soap’s transport decides to arrive at this moment, chasing away the small joy they both found.

Soap looks back at it and turns to Ghost.

“It’s been great working with you sir.” if Ghost was feeling bold, he would say Soap almost looks sad, “I hope we’ll get to go another round later.”

Ghost hates the hopeful tone in his voice. Hope is uncertain, leaves everything up to chance.

Useless.

“Likewise, Sergeant.”

He stays standing there for a few minutes, staring at the truck vanishing towards the horizon. As if it will lighten the boulder in his chest.

“So, Simon, what’s your verdict?” Price finishes after debrief.

Ghost thinks about the entire endeavour. Not annoying, not disruptive, or boring.

Soap is…

“He’s something else…”

Critiques are welcome! Nobody beta'd this so I'm sure there are mistakes lol (that and this isn't my first language...)

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w4yf1nder · 3 months

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very late secret santa present for @oshitgirlie !! (you better like dan heng) disclaimer: can be read as platonic, some xreader implied. gender neutral reader 💪

family is a touchy subject for dan heng.

as someone who has been alone for as long as he was, he felt like he was better off without a family. better off alone, even if it was so terribly lonely.

sure, the astral express took him in and he’s grateful for them but even so, he couldn’t help but be a little…withdrawn.

although, things have changed a little bit since you came around. for better or for worse, he couldn’t be so sure.

welt and himeko were content with staying out of whatever the rest of you were up to, much to dan heng’s chagrin because you and march 7th would always find a way to include him somehow.

and he wasn’t too far off the mark this time.

“what do you want?” he asks, expression almost bored as he stares you and march 7th down.

“we were planning on stopping by jarilo vi to pick up a christmas tree! do you want to come with?” march asks, eyes almost glittering with excitement.

he turns to you next and you seem to be wearing much the same expression as her.

he exhales loudly, the combined pressure of both of your expectant gazes breaking his resolve.

“just this one time.”

of course, that was a lie.

a few days later you’re knocking at his door.

“could you help us decorate the christmas tree? please, please, please?” and well, you said please three times so how could he say no?

and then there was, “we’re making wreaths for our doors! would you like to join us?” and alright, that one sounded a little bit intriguing so he did.

“we’re making a gingerbread house! wanna join?”,“christmas song karaoke!” and “we’re getting drunk and watching the worst hallmark movies ever made, you need to join.”

by the end of the hallmark movie marathon, dan heng’s mind was made. the next time you ask him to join you for a christmas-themed activity, he will say no.

another knock at his door, dan heng’s will is iron clad.

“come on loser, put on your best clothes, we’re having christmas dinner!” march 7th says.

dan heng sighs loudly, “for the love of– how many more christmas-themed activities do you guys have planned?”

“uh…just this one. we’re moving on to new year themed activities next week, of course.” she explains.

“that’s not what i–"

“there will be mashed potatoes, if that’s what you’re worried about.” you poke your head into the room.

“again, that’s not what i–“

“anyway, we’ll be heading out now. still need to check on mr. yang and himeko. you should put on that one suit you never wear.” march says while dragging you with her.

and…they’re gone.

dan heng sighs, if he isn’t ready by the time they’re back again he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

so he reluctantly, puts on a dress shirt. no blazer because that would be overkill.

true to their words, you knock on dan heng’s door again.

“you done? we’re all waiting for you.” he hears your voice on the other end, and he’s thanking his lucky stars that it’s just you and not march.

he opens the door, a brief pause ensues.

“so…new outfit, huh.” you comment awkwardly. of course you noticed.

“you too. march make you dress up?”

“yeah.”

“figures.” he says while walking with you towards the parlor room. it did seem like something she would pick out. it was a little…out there.

“you look good.” he says, off handedly as he holds the door open for you (you had a hard time explaining to march why you were looking like a tomato afterwards).

and so it goes.

march 7th started an intriguing discussion about which of the three had “eldest sibling energy” (as she put it), over dinner. (everyone one unanimously agreed that it was dan heng).

pompom was wounded by your assumption that they would be the family pet, mr. yang turned out to be a lightweight, you and march 7th were incredibly engrossed in your debate about whether or not mariah carey really was the queen of christmas…and overall, it was terrible.

dan heng wasn’t supposed to find this entire situation amusing. and, he would’ve probably gotten up and left already on any other day.

“dan heng! back me up here, there’s no way you’d let them slander the queen, would you?” a question from march 7th breaks him out of his reverie.

“if anyone deserves the title of christmas royalty, it’s bing crosby and we all know that. i’m sorry you’re delusional.” you shoot back, looking at him for support.

and dan heng can’t help the small smile on his face when he realizes that you’re both trying to include him, yet again.

how many times has this happened now?

“oi, anyone in there?” an intrusive tap on his head and it all comes crashing down. perhaps, he gives you guys more credit than it’s due.

his stern glare is back on his face again, “what?”

“now that’s more like it! anyway, we were saying–“

and as christmas dinner comes to a close, he really isn’t so mad anymore. perhaps he will be, when you’re both knocking on his door for the nth time tomorrow, “transitioning to new year themed activities” (as march put it).

but for tonight? he’s content with watching the chaos go down.

#dan heng x reader #hsr drabbles #hsr x reader #dan heng #honkai dan heng #honkai star rail

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cerise-on-top · 2 months

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Hi, it's me again.

Valeria, Laswell, Price and Farah.

Thank you very much! I'll wait anxiously, and I'm sorry for getting so excited. <3

Hey! It's alright, but please remember my rules for the future! Also, I've never watched Arcane, I don't know Jinx in the slightest, I only really had your explanation to go off of, so sorry if it's not very good ^^;

Price, Valeria, Farah and Laswell with a Reader like Jinx (Arcane)

Price: He can read people fairly well, so you trying to hide something from him, regardless of what it could be, doesn’t evade him. He won’t force you to tell him whatever it is you’re hiding from him, but he likes to think of himself as a trustworthy person, telling you that you can just say whatever it is you wanna say. Even so, if you end up not telling him anything, then that’s alright as well, he won’t pry. As long as it doesn’t include anything that could change the course of a mission, of an important one, he’ll leave you be, for the most part. However, you liking to blow things up would concern him. Although you may not be the first person he’s met like this, with Soap being another person with an affinity for explosives, he would have his concerns. However, as long as you only hurt the enemy, he’s quite alright with you blowing things up, sometimes. There’s a fine line between an enemy KIA, and unnecessarily destroying your surroundings. Will give you an earful if you burn too many buildings, blow too many of them up. While he may be able to appreciate your abilities with technology, knowing fully well that some ingenuity is needed in that field, he hopes you won’t use your intelligence against him and his men. You’re more than welcome to use your contraptions against enemies, as long as they don’t harm your allies. You may be a very pretty person with your long, blue hair, but that doesn’t mean Price won’t be concerned with it. After all, it could get stuck somewhere and would need to be cut off. Don’t get me wrong, you’re gorgeous, but there’s a reason why people in the military tend to have shorter hair.

Valeria: She takes a liking to you immediately. You’re a threat, that much is obvious, with your interesting personality. It doesn’t particularly matter to her what you did in the past, as long as you take back your future and make the present count. Won’t bother you too much with questions regarding where you’ve been and what happened to you, she has other things to worry about. Your contraptions are of interest to her: Small things that can either walk to where they’re needed or stick to something. As long as you get out of their range of effectiveness soon enough, she’s willing to give you more materials to work with, as long as you work for her. Funds your shenanigans in general, as long as it benefits her and her cartel you’ll never run out of anything to work with. She’s not exactly a morally correct person, so you could commit literal war crimes under her watch and she wouldn’t mind. You wanna use dangerous gas to kill the enemy? Sure, go right ahead, it doesn’t matter to her since she doesn’t plan on being caught. You’ll likely get some special privileges over time as well. More quickly than other people, at the very least. While you may not look like how one would imagine someone working for the cartel would look, she certainly doesn’t mind, thinking you to be fairly pretty as well. If you need some nail polish, she can give you the best ones out there, no hesitation. Again, she’s taken a real liking to you and wants this work relationship to go well. However, you’re just about the only exception with that, Valeria doesn’t care too much about everyone else. But you stand out, so there’s that.

Farah: Although she may know that everything is fair in war, she will actively discourage you from using some of your contraptions. If it’s illegal, if it will make you and her look like war criminals, then she will not let you use it. Her country may be at war, but she’s got principles and still needs to show the world that Urzikstan is not a dangerous place. So yeah, you might not wanna use the worst of the worst when it comes to fighting around her. Other than that, she can appreciate your work, though, and what you have been doing for her. A well placed bomb can make all the difference, after all, especially when someone, who knows what they’re doing, is using it. As long as it isn’t too bad, you have her support. Don’t make yourself known, though, the wrong people might find out who you are and might have a field day with that. However, she might scold you for using unethical means of killing someone. Farah is very connected with her people, and thus knows a lot about each and every single one of them. She won’t pry either when it comes to your past, but she will gently ask about it occasionally when something seems to be bothering you. Again, she won’t force anything out of you, but will show that she does care a great deal about you. In her eyes, too, you are absolutely gorgeous. She’s not as strict with long hair as Price, for example. There are no regulations for that sort of thing in her liberation force. If you let her, and if you’re especially close, she might braid your hair as well. As mentioned previously, she does care about her people, and it’s with those small things that she shows she’s there for them.

Laswell: Oh, she would not like you very much at first. Her work is usually comprised of not being found out, you do the opposite with your trademark bombs. You’ll butt heads a lot at first, especially since Laswell tries to keep it quiet whenever she can. It would take a while for you to get along, largely since you both know what you want. However, you’re good with technology, she gives you that much. You can be used for all sorts of things regarding that. Make a small contraption that allows you to get inside a room without the need for a keycard, she can appreciate that and will congratulate you on making something useful that is quiet. It would take something like that for the both of you to slowly be getting along. Laswell doesn’t mind you having a sad past too much. If you really feel like it, and once you’ve grown close, you can talk about it. Get it off your chest if you really need it. Might either listen to you or give you some advice, it entirely depends on what you ask of her, or what it seems like you might need at the moment. Though, another reason why you might clash at first would be your appearance. You’re pretty, don’t get me wrong, but long blue hair isn’t exactly subtle, you’ll be found out fairly quickly, you’ll be recognised wherever you go. She won’t force you to dye your hair, but you likely won’t be going out in the field too much when a disguise is needed, something like that will be left to Laswell. You, however, can plant whatever it is that is needed nearby, make a distraction by blowing something up, for example.

#cod #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #farah karim #farah karim x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #you people send in fascinating requests at times #Again I've never watched Arcane before and what little I did see couldn't help me in the slightest #I'm genuinely sorry if this is bad but I really couldn't think of anything even with that description of yours in the other ask #I tried but I've never been interested in Arcane or League of Legends #my friend once showed me an image of a character and asked me my opinion on her. naturally she was super hot #I don't remember her name though? Maybe Renata Glasc? yeah maybe #she's super hot and I would let her step on me anytime #that's about the only thing I know about lol though and it didn't help me in the slightest even

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storiesforallfandoms · 27 days

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change in a heartbeat ~ billy butcher;the boys

word count: 2523

request?: no

description: billy butcher is many things, namely an idiot, and he showcases that best after he finds out his girlfriend is pregnant

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angsty angst, mentions of abortions, use of y/n, pregnancy stuff, butcher being an idiot which like what else is new y’know?

masterlist (one, two, three)

I knew I was pregnant before the test came back positive. I never believed when women said that because it just seemed improbable, but I definitely knew. Besides noticing I had missed my period, I just felt off in a way I couldn’t describe. I guess I had to know, otherwise I wouldn’t have taken the test. And there it was, the two lines confirming my suspicions.

I always thought I’d be scared to get a positive result on a pregnancy test. I never thought I was ready to have a kid. But in that moment, I was overcome with joy. Sure, the thought of pregnancy and childbirth was still terrifying, but I was actually excited about having a baby; I was happy to be carrying Billy’s baby.

I knew he was coming over the day I took the pregnancy test. I had timed it so I could tell him the second he walked through the door. There was no way I would’ve been able to keep this to myself for long, and I knew it was something I had to tell him in person. The second I heard him opening the front door to my place, I was throwing myself into his arms, nearly knocking him over.

“Alright, what’s this then?” Billy chuckled.

“I have some news,” I told him. “Very good news, I think.”

“What is it then, love?”

I pulled the pregnancy test from my back pocket and presented it to Billy. I watched as his eyes looked over the plastic stick. My excitement started to turn to dread as I watched the amused look on Billy’s face disappear.

“Is this a bloody joke?” he asked.

I flinched at his harsh tone. That definitely was not the reaction I was expecting. “No, it’s real. I have another one in the bathroom if you want to watch me use it as proof.”

I was trying to make a joke to lighten the mood, but Billy’s face didn’t change.

“This is good news?” he asked, holding up the pregnancy test.

“It...is?” I definitely didn’t sound as certain as I had felt moments ago. “I thought so anyways. I thought...I thought you’d be happy, too.”

“Why the fuck would I be happy about a baby I don’t fucking want?”

His words cut through my chest like a knife. I took a step away from Billy. I felt tears welling in my eyes, but I tried to hold them back.

“Maybe I thought you loved me enough to want to have a child with me,” I countered.

Billy scoffed. “Oh, come off it (Y/N). This isn’t about how much I love ya. It’s about the fact that I don’t want kids, no matter who they’re with.”

“Well, I’m pregnant and it’s yours. So what are we going to do about this?”

I was hoping he’d say that I was right and he wanted our baby. I wanted him to apologize, and maybe even drop to his knees and kiss my belly to be a bit cliche. I wanted him to just accept this baby, that was it.

Instead, he asked, “Would you get an abortion?”

The dam finally broke and tears started to run down my cheeks. I snatched the pregnancy test back from Billy and held it so tightly that my nails and the plastic were digging into the palm of my hand.

“I think you should leave,” I told him, trying hard to keep my voice even.

“(Y/N) - ”

“No,” I cut him off. “You’ve made your decision and I’ve made mine. I want you out of my fucking house, now.”

“If you are going to get an abortion, I want to come with you.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather you not. In fact, I’d rather not see you at all.”

Billy nodded. I saw some hurt on his face, and I was glad I did. I hoped my words hurt him just as bad as his hurt me. Without another word, Billy went back out the door. Once it closed behind him, I sunk to the floor and let myself sob. I realized I was still holding the pregnancy test, so I tossed it as far away from me as I could.

Stupid fucking piece of plastic.

~~~~~~

Butcher’s POV

I looked down at my phone for the fifth time in about 20 minutes. I don’t know why I was still hoping to hear from (Y/N) after our last encounter. It had been days, nearly a week, and neither of us had spoken to the other. Not that I expected (Y/N) to be the one to break the silence.

“You still with us, Butcher?” MM asked. To say he sounded frustrated would be an understatement. I couldn’t blame him since this was the third or fourth time I had completely zoned out while he was explaining our plan.

“Yeah,” I lied.

They all knew it was a lie, but they weren’t going to call me out on it at this point.

MM started talking again, but it immediately became background noise to me. My hand inched closer to my phone again. I couldn’t stop myself. Even knowing it had been mere seconds since I checked last, I had to see if there was any messages.

There wasn’t.

“Butcher!”

“Fuck off, mate!” I snapped back. “Jesus Christ, can’t a man just check his phone?!”

They were all looking at me and it pissed me off. I wanted to punch all of them in their stupid fucking faces - except maybe Kimiko. She’d probably rip my arm off before I even touched her.

“What’s going on, man?” Hughie asked. “You’ve been irritable for days now.”

Damn that kid for being so perceptive, and for caring enough to ask.

“It’s nothing.”

“Is it about (Y/N)?” Hughie asked. “You haven’t mentioned her or brought her around in days.”

“I said it’s fuckin’ nothing!”

They all shared a look. MM asked, “What happened, man? Is she okay?”

My hands curled into fists. I took a deep breath in to try and calm myself. I may as well be honest with them if I was going to be snapping at them. “She’s pregnant.”

They were silent. Unsure looks crossed their faces, but once again, Hughie was the first to speak, “That’s...great. Isn’t it?”

“It would’ve been if I hadn’t told her to get rid of the baby.”

A chorus of “what?!”s rang out through the room.

“I thought you loved (Y/N), no?” Frenchie asked. “Would that not mean you should be happy that she is having your baby?”

“It is your baby...right?” Hughie added.

I restrained myself from snapping at him. Given Becca’s circumstances, it wasn’t a bad question. “Yes, it is, but this life I lead is not one for a baby. You should know that best, MM.”

“It’s hard to do what we do and have a kid, sure,” MM agreed. “I worry about Janine every second I’m not with her, but that’s how I was before we started chasing Supes. That’s called parenting, Butcher.”

“This is different, and you know it.”

MM raised an eyebrow at me. Christ, I hated that fucking face; like he could see right through into my head and read my every thought. I hated the lot of them for knowing so much. For caring. Everything was easier when I didn’t have so many people who were actually level headed and caring.

“Butcher, I say this with the utmost respect: you are a stupid motherfucker,” MM said. “I know what your concerns are, and I’m not saying that they’re not valid, but if you are going to let a woman like (Y/N) get away over your own worries without talking to her - and I know you haven’t told her the truth because I know you - then you are the dumbest motherfucker that I know.”

He was right and I knew that. It may be too late, but I had to talk to (Y/N) and tell her the truth. If she still decided we were over and she didn’t want to keep the baby, then I’d respect her decision. I just needed to talk to her at least.

I was moving towards the door before I really realized it. Frenchie called after me, “Where are you going?”

“To talk to (Y/N),” I responded.

“But the plan!”

I was out the door before Frenchie finished his sentence.

~~~~~~

(Y/N)’s POV

I wasn’t expecting anyone when a knock came at my door. Most people wouldn’t get overly paranoid about a random knock, but most people didn’t deal with psychopathic Supes. I didn’t make a move at first. Realistically, it it were Homelander, he wouldn’t knock. He’d break into my house and laser me dead before I even knew what was happening. That didn’t stop me from sitting completely still, trying to calm my pounding heart.

Another knock came and I reluctantly stood. I had a bat next to my door in case of intruders. My hand closed around the bad as I looked through the peep hole to see who it was.

To my surprise, Billy Butcher was stood at the other side of my door.

I debated on not opening it and letting him stand there until he gave up and left. But then he said, “I know you’re there, (Y/N). Just open the door.”

Reluctantly, I did as he said, but I didn’t take my hand off of the bat.

“I’m an idiot,” he said before I could speak. “I should’ve talked about my concerns when you told me you were pregnant, but instead I let myself get freaked out and say shit I didn’t mean. I know an apology isn’t enough, but I am so, so sorry, (Y/N).”

“What are you so concerned about?” I asked. I wanted to know his true feelings before I slammed the door in his face. It might be the closure I needed before I finally let go of this relationship.

“Can I come in so we can talk?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re lucky I’m letting you talk period. Don’t push your luck, Butcher.”

He nodded. “Alright, fair enough. I’m terrified of turning out like my old man.”

And just like that, nine words caused me to let down every guard I had put up the second I saw him through the peep hole. He didn’t have to say anything else, because that was enough to make me understand. But he went on anyways, “My father was a terrible fucking man, and my mum let him be terrible to me and to Lenny. I had no other older man to help me, to look up to. Lenny had me, and what did I do but go and leave him alone with that monster. And if I had no one else to take after but my dad, then how can I not turn out like him with my own kid? It’s never something I had to worry about when I was married to Becca, because I didn’t have that same level of anger and hatred as I do now after everything that’s happened to me because of those fucking Supes.”

Of course he was worried because of his dad. I should’ve realized that the second he started freaking out after seeing the pregnancy test. It didn’t make his reaction or his suggestion right by any means, but maybe if I had realized before then I could’ve gotten him to actually talk to me instead of kicking him out of my house.

But he wasn’t done. “And what’s to say that Homelander doesn’t do something to you and the kid once he realizes you’re pregnant? I took his son from him once, what’s to stop him from taking mine? I can’t guarantee you or the baby would be protected all the time, and I can’t lose someone else that I love to that fuckin’ cunt.”

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about that for a split second when I took the pregnancy test at first. Homelander had no morals. He wasn’t above hurting a child, or a pregnant woman, just to hurt Billy. But Billy and I had been together for over a year now and nothing had happened to me yet. I trusted him to protect me, and I trusted everything he had taught me to protect myself.

“I was a fucking idiot for everything I said before,” Billy said. “I wouldn’t want you to get rid of our baby, (Y/N). I don’t have a lot of good things in my life lately, but you are one of the best things. This baby would be one of the best things.”

I could feel myself getting choked up again. I cleared my throat and asked, “And what if I already got rid of it?”

“Then I’ll put another one in ya.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my lips. It was the most Billy response he could’ve given.

I finally let go of the back and stepped aside. I motioned for him to come inside and he did without hesitation. I led him to the living room where I had just been sat before he showed up. I picked up my phone from the couch and opened it to play him the recording I had been listening to on repeat for days.

His brows furrowed together. “What is that?”

“It’s our baby’s heartbeat,” I explained. “When you go for an abortion, if you’re far enough along they’ll sometimes have you listen to the heartbeat before you make your decision. At first it just sounded like a bunch of noises to me, but when it kicked in that it was the heartbeat of my...our baby...I just couldn’t do it.”

When his eyes met mine, I saw that they were shiny with tears forming. I couldn’t remember ever seeing Billy Butcher cry in all the time I had known him.

“So...you’re still...?”

I nodded. “There’s still a bun in this oven.”

He had his hands on his face and was pulling me to him before the words were fully out of my mouth. His pressed his lips against mine. I balled his Hawaiian shirt in my fists and held him close to me. Everything felt right again. I finally felt whole for the first time in nearly a week.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he said when he pulled away. “I promise you, I will be here for you and for our baby. Every step of the way, I promise.”

“I believe you,” I said. “And I promise you that you will not be like your dad. I know you won’t. I trust you and I believe in you.”

He kissed me again before dropping to his knees in front of me. He pulled my shirt up enough to show my belly and pressed a kiss against the sensitive skin, tickling it a little bit with his beard.

“I’m going to protect you, kid,” he said. “I won’t let a soul hurt you. That’s a promise.”

#billy butcher #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher angst #karl urban imagine #karl urban x reader #karl urban #karl urban angst #the boys #the boys imagine #one shot #imagine #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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hearts-hunger · 3 months

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Summary: Back at the haunted house in the off-season, Danny and the boys are working on repairs to the set. You're still a scaredy-cat, and Danny's still your biggest fan. || Sequel to Kitkat

Pairings: Danny x Reader | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 6k | Warnings: anxiety, general Halloween spookiness

A/N: Danny and Kitkat are back!! When I first introduced them, I was so humbled and delighted by how much you guys loved them. I hope this sequel does justice to how much love you've lavished on them, and I hope you love it too! ♡

Can you make it through the woods of horror? Enter if you dare!

You smiled to yourself as you passed the signs along the winding country road, watching each slogan become more and more threatening the closer you came to the most highly rated haunted house in your state. They didn’t seem very ominous in the golden light of late afternoon; despite their menacing promises of terror and danger, you found yourself looking forward to reaching the place they advertised.

Of course, that hadn't been true the first time you came down this road nearly two months ago; that night, you’d already worked yourself into an anxious spin just reading the signs before you’d even stepped foot on the property. Still, it had worked out alright in the end; so well, in fact, that you had willingly made many trips back despite being the biggest scaredy-cat in the world.

Finding a parking spot in the near vacant, grassy lot was easy enough, and you carefully juggled the drink carrier out of the passenger seat and started the walk into the woods. The trees were a wash of vibrant color, fiery reds and oranges and yellows; the sunshine came dappled through the leaves, rays of honey-golden warmth on the path. You took a deep breath of the crisp air as you held the armful of coffees close, thankful for their cosy warmth against your chest as you walked.

After a few minutes of leisurely walking, using the shortcuts that Danny and the guys had shown you, you reached the gate that led to the set and couldn’t manage to open it just by pushing your hip against it. You knew the boys couldn’t be far; you heard strains of their conversation mixed in with the sounds of repair work being done. You got a better grip on the drink carrier, careful of the precarious ones on top, and called to them.

“Honey, I’m home!” you said, making your voice carry. “I have your presents!”

You heard jogging footsteps come up the path, and a second later, Sam rounded the corner. He opened the gate for you and gave you a sweet smile.

“Hey, kitkat,” he said. “Glad you could make it.”

You smiled. “Thanks,” you said. You nodded to the topmost coffee. “Yours is the one on top. Oatmilk, right?” You had the sudden thought that you might have gotten it wrong and felt terrible. “Unless it’s almond milk you usually get and I totally messed it up.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said quickly, taking it from you. “Oatmilk’s perfect, thank you. It’s really nice of you to bring us coffee, kitkat.”

“I figured you could use a little treat after working so hard all day,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure. Jake and Josh have spent more time writing music than repairing the set, but yeah, we’re working hard all right.”

You laughed as you started to walk with him towards the set the guys were working on. “You don’t think they can multitask?”

Sam grinned. “Have you met them?” He shook his head. “I mean, they’re writing some good stuff, so I guess I can't complain. But we’re also trying to get these sets repaired before Christmas.”

“What does Danny think?”

“Oh, you know Dan. He’s totally in the zone. He’ll have the whole place looking like Buckingham Palace by the end of the day.”

You smiled. “If Buckingham Palace was haunted.”

He laughed. “You’re getting the idea.”

The set was only a short walk from the gate, and when you reached it, you took a moment to look over the swampy pirate shack that looked much less threatening in the daylight than it had every other time you’d seen it. The boys had asked for overtime after the season was officially finished, getting a list of sets and props from the owners that needed repairs or new paint or just a little bit of cleaning. They'd been working their way through the woods for a few days, and when they were finished with the outdoor sets, they’d tackle the crown jewel of the haunted house up on the hill.

You noticed with amusement that Sam had been right about his brothers; they were working, putting a new coat of paint on the “beware of alligators” sign and the accompanying reptilian skull, but they were rather passionately working on the lyrics for a new song while they did. It was probably a good thing that the paint job could be passed off as “artistically sloppy” to fit with the ramshackle aesthetic.

“Here, glimmer twins,” you said, handing them each a cup of coffee. They gave you a pair of matching smiles.

“Aw, thanks, kitkat,” Jake said. He touched up a drip of red paint to make it a little more grisly. “How’s it looking?”

“Scary,” you said cheerfully. “How’s the songwriting?”

Jake laughed. “Good, actually. Too bad Josh isn’t as good at painting as he is at coming up with lyrics.”

Josh pointed an accusing paintbrush at his twin. “I’m terrific at painting, Jacob.”

Jake gave him a dry smile. “Start doing some, and then we can talk.”

“I’ve been painting all morning!” Josh said, gesticulating with the paintbrush again and sending drops of paint flying.

“Hey!” Sam protested. “You’re getting paint everywhere.”

“You could use a little paint on you, Sammy,” Josh teased. “The only reason you’re all pristine is because you’ve been too busy not painting to actually get anything on you.”

“Now, Josh, them’s fightin’ words,” Sam said in an exaggerated Texas twang. He took another paintbrush from the bucket and twirled it like a cowboy would spin his pistol. “This shack ain’t big enough fer the two of us.”

Smiling to yourself, you left the brothers to their playing and painting and bickering, walking around to the other side of the pirate shack to find your boyfriend. You followed the sound of a hammer and found Danny working on the porch, straddling the railing as he reached to put nails in a beam along the underside of the tin roof.

“Hey, Dan,” you called up to him. He didn’t answer, and you noticed he had earbuds in. You came closer and put your hand on his thigh.

He stopped hammering and looked down at you, his face breaking into a handsome smile when he saw you.

“Hi, honey,” he said, surprised and happy. He paused his music and put his earbuds in his pocket. “I didn’t know you were here yet.”

You felt yourself blush a little under the affection in his gaze, the warmth of his smile as he looked at you. Nearly a month after you’d made it official, you still got butterflies from how clearly he loved you and enjoyed your company.

“Here I am,” you said, almost shy. “What were you listening to?”

“Palomino,” he said. “First Aid Kit.” He kept one hand on the railing as he leaned close to kiss your nose. “I’m glad you’re here, kitkat.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, endeared to how sweet he always was to you. You presented him with your gift. “I brought you some coffee.”

“Aw, thanks honey,” he said. “Can you hold onto it for me until I’m done? I just have a couple more things to hang, and then I can take a break.”

“Can I stay with you while you do?” you asked, not wanting to be a bother while he worked. “I promise I won’t get in your way.”

He chuckled. “Of course you can stay.” He left his work for a moment to brush off the porch’s top step for you. “I’ll only be a few more minutes.”

You sat on the step and sipped your coffee, thankful for the warmth of your sweater as a chilly breeze fanned through the woods. Danny wore a long sleeved black shirt and jeans; you allowed yourself a long, pleasant moment of admiring how he looked in them, big and strong and limber, particularly enjoying the way the hem of his shirt rode up as he reached to hang decorations on the nails. His backwards baseball cap was the finishing touch on his mop of curls, and you liked to watch him focus on his work and look very handsome doing it.

“How’s it been going so far?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away, and you thought maybe you should save conversation for when he was done.

“Is it distracting if I talk?”

“No,” he said, making sure the bear trap prop he was hanging was secure before looking over at you. “Sorry, I'm listening. We’ve made good progress today. I think we’ll be able to start on the house when we’re finished here.”

“Really?” you said, a little surprised. “I thought you still had the spider tunnel thing to work on.”

“That’s actually being completely torn down,” he said. He drove a nail in with a few hard whacks of the hammer and looked around for the decoration he was supposed to hang. “Can you hand me that shrunken head?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You grimaced a little as you picked it out of the prop box. “If they’re tearing it down, what are they putting there instead?”

He took the head from you. “Thanks.” He tied a piece of fishing line to it, pulling it tight with his teeth. “I don't think they know what they’re changing it to yet, so there’s no work to do on it right now. They’re keeping the spider web tunnel, just making it shorter, and putting it between the house and the woods. So I guess we’ll have to do it when we do the house.”

You leaned against his thigh. “What do you think they should put in the spot it used to be? Or are you going to miss it being there?”

He smiled, and there was a little wryness to it that intrigued you.

“No, I don’t think I’ll miss it,” he said.

“You don’t like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s not my favorite scene. I think they should do an alien abduction thing in that spot.”

“Ooh, like a crop circle or something?” you asked. Though you didn’t like haunted houses, this one was a big part of your life since your boyfriend and three best friends spent a lot of their time there, and you'd kind of gotten into the idea side of things. “It could be like a corn maze with aliens in it.”

“Yeah, and when they snatch you, they take you to their ship to do experiments on you.” Danny wiggled his fingers at you. “Spooky.”

You laughed and took his hands in yours. “That’d probably get you lots and lots of kitkats, what do you think?” If any guest used the safeword, “kitkat”, the actors would stop scaring them and escort them out safely. That was how you’d met Danny, and the nickname had stuck.

He chuckled and gave you a kiss. “You’re the only kitkat I want. You know that.”

You gave a pleased hum and kissed him back. “Yeah, I do.”

After one more kiss, you let him get back to work, and when he was finished hanging the decorations he came to sit on the porch steps with you. You drank your coffee and talked for a while as the sun sank lower behind the trees; the air grew colder, and you snuggled close to Danny when he put an arm around you and tucked you close to his side.

“We should get dinner later,” he said. “I feel like I haven't seen you a lot this week.”

“Me too,” you said, playing absently with the macrame bracelet on his wrist. “What about pizza and a movie?”

“Sure.” He nuzzled against your cheek. “In my bedroom, not in the living room. I'm not in a sharing mood tonight.”

You smiled. “And what might you be asked to share, exactly?” Danny and the Kiszkas split rent on a big, beautiful old house, and you’d spent a lot of time over there since you all became friends.

“The pizza,” he said, matter-of-fact. “They’re not getting any.”

You laughed and turned your head to let him kiss you properly, and it took about two seconds of that for you to decide you weren’t in a sharing mood either. Jake, Josh, and Sam could fend for themselves as far as dinner was concerned.

Danny reluctantly pulled away after a few more deep kisses, and you protested by closing the distance again.

“Don’t go back to work,” you said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He gave you a wry smile. “Got to, honey. I want to at least get started on the house before it gets too dark.”

“How much longer?”

He gave you a goofy smooch. “Not long. You’re so sweet to be so patient, kitkat.”

“Fine,” you agreed, mollified by his affectionate tone and touch. “But all these kisses you could be giving me instead of working — I want double when we get back home.”

He smiled, showing crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. “Yes ma'am.”

You put your hands against his cheeks. “Wait one more second, okay?”

He did as you said. You cradled his beloved face, studying the gold the sunshine brought out in his hazel irises.

“You want to know something?” you asked softly.

“Yeah,” he whispered back. “Tell me.”

You smiled. “You give me the honeyglow something awful, Danny.”

He gave a sweet laugh, and you loved the sound of it.

“What does that mean?” he asked. “I make you feel all melty and sweet and golden?”

“Something like that,” you agreed.

He kissed you tenderly. “Well, kitkat, you give me to the honeyglow too. I love you.”

Your sigh was dreamy and happy. “I love you too.”

Content with the promise of many more kisses later, you let him get back to work and helped the guys carry their tools up to the house. They wanted to get in as much work as they could before the sun set, and you didn’t mind, not really; you enjoyed keeping them company, despite the eerie atmosphere of the inside of the haunted house as it got darker outside.

“It’s missing something,” Danny said, standing back to survey the grisly surgery scene he’d just cleaned top to bottom. “What do you think, kitkat?”

Your expression scrunched in distaste, remembering the times you'd been jumpscared from a creepy doctor from behind the table. “It looks plenty scary to me.”

He gave you a fond smile. “Look at it from an artist's perspective,” he said. He pointed to a bare spot on the rack of rusty surgical instruments. “That space needs to be filled in.”

You tried to look at it as he'd said, ignoring the impulse to look away, and you had to admit he was right. “What are you going to put there?”

He shook his head. “I dunno. You want to come to the storage shed with me?”

“It’s my one and only dream,” you said dryly.

He grinned. “Attagirl. Let’s go find a bloody saw or something.”

You told the boys you were leaving for a minute, but you weren't sure they heard you as they tried to get a huge skeleton to stand up without toppling over every two seconds. Danny led you out of the house and towards the big storage shed full of props, pushing his shoulder against the door to get it to open.

He coughed a little as sawdust rained down from the ceiling. “Add this door to the list of ones that need fixing,” he said. “Good night!”

You followed him inside, feeling a little better when he pulled the chain on the overhead lightbulb. The props stacked high on shelves and hung on the walls were cast in a shadowed light, and you skirted them expertly as you helped Danny look for what he wanted.

“What about this?” he said, holding up a fake blood bag.

“Too small,” you said. “It's a pretty big spot to fill in.”

He tossed the bag back with the rest. “You’re right.”

You ventured towards the far end of the shed, looking with a critical eye through the props, and found that there was another doorway in the back wall.

“What’s in here?” you asked.

“More stuff,” he said, sifting through a box of sawed-off arms and ice picks. “This shed is actually two units stuck end to end.”

You looked through the doorway and saw something catching the light, shining faintly in the gloom — a gigantic pair of pliers painted to look recently used on some unfortunate soul.

“Hey, I think I might have found something,” you said. “In the other shed.”

He looked up from his searching. “You want me to go get it?”

“Nope,” you said stoutly. “I’m brave enough.”

He smiled. “Okay, honey. Don’t make yourself uncomfortable. If you get two steps in and ask for me, I won't even make fun of you.”

You snorted a laugh. “My hero.” You knew Danny would be nothing but kind, but surely you could handle a little walk into a dark shed full of creepy props. Right?

Getting inside the other shed turned out to be the least of your problems, since the pliers you wanted were sitting in a box on the top shelf of a very tall storage rack. You thought about asking Danny for help, since he would be able to reach them with ease, but you also wanted to get them yourself and have the bragging rights of retrieving the perfect prop. You stepped up on the bottom shelf and reached up, your fingers just grazing the handle.

“Come on,” you muttered. You stood on tiptoes and stretched out your hand — there! You grabbed the handle and pulled.

Your sense of triumph lasted half a second, because as you pulled the pliers down, the whole box came with it. You stumbled backwards to avoid the falling box, forgetting you were on the shelf and not on the floor, and careened backwards into something solid.

You whirled to see that you’d knocked into a giant Dracula, which was propped against the door you hadn’t noticed coming in. Like the world’s worst domino effect, the Dracula dummy listed to the side and swung against the door as it fell to the ground, bending the doorknob until it hung off-kilter. The door slammed closed with the momentum; the light from the other room was cut off, leaving you in complete darkness.

The effect was immediate. The prop room that had seemed harmlessly unsettling now became truly frightening, and you raced to the door to try and open it.

“Danny!” you called, starting to feel frantic. You tripped over something — Dracula, you guessed, or maybe the box — and searched feverishly for the doorknob.

It turned under your grip, and even though you knew it was Danny, the feeling of something moving without the ability to see it was nauseating.

“Kitkat?” came his voice, muffled through the door. “I’m right here, honey. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your eyes welled with tears. “No, but I — I’m scared, Danny. Please get me out.”

“I’m trying, baby. Hold on.”

You heard him turn the doorknob this way and that, but the door still didn't open. Rationally, you knew that the doorknob was probably so bent that it was unusable, but the rational part of your brain wasn’t exactly in charge at the moment. You put your hand on the door and pleaded with him as if he wasn’t doing everything he could to get you out.

“Please hurry, Danny,” you all but sobbed. “Please get me out.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t — ” He swore. “I gotta get this doorknob off, honey. I’m going to get a screwdriver.”

“No! Don’t go.”

“I have to, sweetheart.” You heard his palm thump against the door. “Hey. You’re okay, kitkat. Take a few deep breaths for me, okay?”

You tried to do as he said, but they were choppy and uneven. “Danny,” you said pitifully.

“I know,” he said, and you knew his voice well enough to know he was upset. “Listen to me. I’m going to get you out just as quick as I can. Do you trust me?”

You nodded miserably, then remembered he couldn't see you. “Y-yes, Danny, I trust you.”

“There’s my brave girl. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” you managed. “Please hurry.”

He didn't answer, and you hoped it was because he’d gone to get the screwdriver and not because he was questioning if he could leave you without sacrificing your sanity. It seemed a near thing at the moment — you wanted to stay put, but something brushed your face in the darkness, and you gave a shrill yelp and fell back against some other prop behind you.

The prop must have been set up with a motion sensor, and a gruesome clown face lit up and cackled at you. Your breath caught on a sob as you pulled back from it, stumbling over the box and the props on the floor. When you finally got your balance, you stood stock still and pressed your hands to your ears to try and block out the shrieking laugh of the clown face that seemed like it would never turn off.

“Kitkat!”

You heaved a sigh of intense relief when you heard his voice. “Danny!”

“Two seconds,” he said, already working on getting the doorknob off. It hit the floor with a metallic clang, but when he tried to open the door, the stupid Dracula mannequin blocked his way.

“There’s something in front of the door,” you said weakly. “Dracula.”

“What is it?” he asked. “Nevermind. Step back from the door, honey.”

You did, careful of the things on the floor you couldn’t see, and listened as Danny put his weight into muscling open the door. Finally, it opened with a wrenching sound that made you jump; you blinked in the light, dazed, still rooted to the spot as tears tracked down your face.

“Kitkat,” Danny said, stepping over Dracula and turning the clown head off, bringing its cackling to an abrupt end. He hovered near you, his hands extended cautiously as if he was afraid to touch you and make it worse. “Are you okay, honey? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m not hurt,” you said in a small voice. Your expression crumpled. “Th-thank you for coming to get me, Danny.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He gathered you in his arms then, holding you close as you grabbed a fistful of his shirt like a lifeline and gave into another round of crying. He ran his hands over your back, slow and gentle.

“I’m sorry you got stuck, baby,” he said, keeping his voice low and soothing. “That scared you pretty bad, huh?”

You nodded and pressed closer to him. He hugged you tight.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t completely dark,” you said, your voice muffled against him. You shuddered at the memory of being locked in total darkness.

“Why didn't you turn on your flashlight?” he asked.

You looked up at him. “What?”

His smile was sympathetic and a little bemused. “The flashlight on your phone. You didn’t turn it on?”

“N-no,” you said, realizing you’d never even thought of it. You’d been so panicky that you hadn’t even used the light you carried with you all the time, and it made you feel stupid on top of everything else.

You hid behind your hands. “Great. I'm an idiot and a total wimp.”

Danny chuckled, and the sound was warm and colored with sympathy.

“My poor baby,” he said. “You just got scared, kitkat. It’s okay.”

“You wouldn't have gotten scared,” you said.

“Aw, well, I don't know. Getting locked in anywhere is kinda scary.” He gently tugged your hands away from your face and kissed the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sorry you got scared, honey.”

You put your arms around his neck. “Thanks for getting me. I’m sorry I’m such a scaredy-cat.”

“You don’t have to apologize, kitkat,” he said, gentle and amused. “I knew you were a scaredy-cat when I met you, and I still liked you just fine. I just wish I could have hulk-smashed the door open for you and rescued you like that.”

You gave a watery laugh, and he smiled and gave you a bear hug.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” he said. “Can I take you out of this creepy shed now?”

“Into the creepy house?” you asked. The sun had almost set, casting long shadows into the shed, and it wouldn’t be long before the house and the woods were completely dark too.

“No,” he said. “I figure you’ve been traumatized enough for one day. I’ll take you home.”

“To your home, right?”

He smiled. “Yeah, to my home. If that’s what you want.”

After another big squeeze, you unwound yourself from him so you could put the props to rights. He found the light, and in the amber glow of the bare bulb, you put the scattered props back in the box as he hefted Dracula into an upright position.

“No wonder this guy is in the very back,” he said, panting a little. “He weighs a freakin’ ton.”

You found the pair of pliers you'd been after and held them behind your back.

“You want to see what all this fuss was about anyway?” you asked.

He raised a brow. “Sure.”

You showed him the pliers, and his mouth tipped up in a crooked smile.

“Those are perfect, kitkat. Too bad you had to go through all that just to get them, though.”

You have a theatrical sigh. “The sacrifices I make for art.”

He laughed and took your hand as he closed up the shed, leading you back out to the dusky woods alive with birdsong and the drifting sound of your friends’ laughter. You followed their voices up to the house, thankful Danny was still holding your hand.

“Hey Dan?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He held the gate open for you. “Sure. Shoot.”

“If you’re not afraid of the dark or clowns or axe murderers or any of this stuff... what are you afraid of?”

He gave you a wry smile. “Not telling.”

You laughed. “But there is something, right? Not something fancy like the inevitability of failure or existential dread, but something normal, right?”

“There is something,” he admitted. “Something you’d probably never think of, because it's kind of stupid.”

“Oh, Danny, no,” you said kindly. “I wouldn't think it’s stupid. I'm scared of everything, so I’m probably scared of whatever it is too.”

He smiled. “Maybe. Tell you what — if you guess it correctly, I’ll tell you.”

“You promise?”

He gave a soft laugh. “Yes, kitkat, I promise.”

You found Sam and the twins working just outside the house, putting up the structure of the spider-web tunnel. They waved you over, telling Danny to get a move on to help them.

“We’re actually gonna head home,” Danny said. He held up the pliers. “I just have to put these in the surgery scene, and then we’re out of here.”

You reluctantly withdrew your hand from his. “I don't think I'll go with you to put those up.”

He smiled and kissed your cheek. “Okay, honey. I’ll be right back.”

You ventured over to where Jake, Josh, and Sam were working, watching as they fit PVC pipes together to make a few feet of tunnel. The trash bags nearby held swaths of cotton webs that went with the dozens of boxes of fake spiders.

You pulled one of the spiders out, studying the painted red eyes and big fangs.

“These aren’t so bad,” you said, kind of proud that you could hold it without flinching.

Josh grinned. “Hey, good for you, kitkat. You’re getting the hang of this haunted house thing.”

“I don't know,” you said with a laugh. You told them what had happened at the shed, and all three of them winced.

“Well, that’s not even the fun kind of scary,” Jake said. “I’m sorry, kitkat.”

“But you found ten-ton Dracula?” Sam asked, skating over the “locked in a dark storage shed” part of the story. “I’ve been wondering where he went.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a fond smile. “Glad I could help.”

The first half of the tunnel’s structure was already finished, and you volunteered to string webbing over it until it looked like a gigantic spider’s nest. When Danny came back from his errand, you told him you wanted to stay for a little while and set it up.

“You sure?” he asked. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you assured him. “Besides, you said you wanted to get a little more work done, and I think we found something I can do without losing my ever-loving mind.”

He smiled. “Okay. If you’re sure.” He glanced at the sinking sun. “I think we have maybe half an hour of light left.”

You all agreed to work for thirty more minutes, and there was a festive and companionable atmosphere as you put up the webs and made it look as spooky as you could. You quizzed Danny on what he was afraid of, guessing everything you were afraid of; the boys joined in the game with silly guesses like “tomato soup” and “a waterslide but instead of water it’s maple syrup”. Danny just laughed and said he wasn’t afraid of any of those things, though a few of them sounded downright unpleasant.

“I give up,” you said dramatically, sitting on an empty plastic tub. “You’re just not afraid of anything.”

“There’s something,” he assured you. “But I’m telling you, you’ll never guess. Especially considering what I do for a living.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ve got it. You’re afraid of drumsticks, aren’t you?”

He laughed, big and bright and joyful. “No, it’s not that. It doesn’t have to do with music.”

You kept thinking of things to guess as you worked, but you were distracted from your game when Jake started pulling out the spiders to put on the webs. He unearthed a huge fake spider from the box and made it sing “Boris the Spider” in his British accent, earning a round of laughter and cheers for such a good impression of The Who.

You looked over at Danny, intending to ask him what he thought of a slightly drunk-sounding British spider, but you were surprised to see a little uneasiness in his expression. You followed his gaze, trying to see what was making him nervous; the only thing in your vicinity was the spider in Jake’s hand.

“Danny?”

He looked from the spider to you. “Yeah, honey.”

“Are you... afraid of the fake spiders?”

He didn’t answer right away, and you knew you had him. He hadn’t hesitated answering any of the other guesses.

You gave a triumphant laugh. “Ha! I guessed it, didn’t I?”

You could have sworn you saw him blush. You pulled another spider out of the box and carried it over to him, watching his expression become more and more apprehensive the closer it got.

“You promised you would tell me if I got it right,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice. You held the spider up, just inches from him. “Does this little guy freak you out, Daniel?”

He endured it for a few seconds before he batted it away. “Yes, fine, it freaks me out. You win.”

You laughed, not unkindly, and tossed the spider back in the box before you draped your arms over his shoulders.

“My poor baby,” you said, mimicking with affection the way he’d soothed you earlier. “I’m sorry I teased you with it. It’s okay if you’re scared of it.”

“I’m not scared, exactly,” he said, looking with distaste at the box overflowing with the plastic critters. “They’re just... creepy. They give me the heebie-jeebies.”

You smiled and gave him a consoling kiss. “My big guy’s one weakness,” you said, entirely amused. “Fake spiders. What about real spiders?”

He shrugged. “They’re fine.”

You laughed. “Of course they are.”

He watched your face, studying the lines and colors of joy he always brought out in it without even trying. His expression warmed, and you loved when you coaxed out a grudging smile.

“It’s dumb, right?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No way. I’m just surprised we found something you’re afraid of that I’m not afraid of.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty remarkable.” He kissed your cheek. “Now that you’ve uncovered my deepest, darkest secret, can we go home and order the deepest, dishiest pizza?”

You laughed. “Sure thing, honey.”

At home, you and Danny didn’t actually have the heart not to share your pizza with the boys; you got enough for everyone and watched a true crime documentary that had you hiding behind your hands during the more grisly parts.

“Okay, now I have to have a cleanse,” you said afterwards, rinsing off the plates to put them in the dishwasher. “I’m watching New Girl or something.”

Danny came up behind you and snuck a kiss under your jaw. “In my room,” he said, his voice low and meant only for you.

You gave a fluttery little laugh and pulled way when his kisses started to tickle. “Can I watch whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” he agreed. He bracketed you in with his arms, kissing along the column of your neck.

You considered that. “Can it be an old movie?”

“You could pick the most awful black and white silent film ever made and I absolutely would not care,” he promised. His hands snuck under the hem of your sweater and skated over your tummy, and despite how quickly you were warming to his touch, you couldn’t give up teasing him just yet.

“Okay, I know what I want to watch,” you said primly.

“Finally,” he said with a contented sigh, pulling you close to him. “What is it?”

You grinned. “The Giant Spider Invasion.”

He hummed in agreement. “Sure, honey, that sounds — ” He pulled back. “Wait, what?”

You couldn’t help but dissolve in giggles, and when his warm laugh joined in with yours, you felt the honeyglow something awful.

“Alright, trouble,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“But I’m your handful.”

“Yes, kitkat. You’re my handful. You know what else?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

You smiled, feeling all melty and sweet and golden inside. “I love you too.”

gvf taglist:@malany-gvf@spark-my-nature@eearevee@madneedshelp@demonrat444@josh-iamyour-mama@honeyandsweettae@mydarlingdanny@gretavandann@sacredjake@myleftsock@joshskittytickler21@hellowgoodbye@watchingovergvf2@fearfulspirit@mywaysoon@carbondancingthroughtime@caprisunsister@eraofstardustchords@sacredthefran@shesawomaninadream@serendipiti@demonrat444@wildflowerxx-x@tearsofdanny@iluvjoshkiszka@jordie-gvf-admin@demolitionndann@hi-hi-hello11@wildbluesorbit@nessie-glorpa@laneygvf @jazzyfigz@musicspeaks @amythestars @missharvestmoon@readyforthegarden

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081314 · 1 year

Text

Silver (Vignette) - Bloom Broom Birthday

Following is my translation of the vignette for Silver's Bloom Broom Birthday card.

Spoilers after the cut!

Part 1

Silver: Sebek told me to go do something about my bedhead, and all that time I spent fixing my hair made me late. I don’t see why there’s any reason to fuss over it, since I’m going to be wearing this hat and all. But I’m glad I didn’t leave my interviewer waiting.

???: *Siiiiigh* This sucks…. I wanna go hooome…!

Idia: H…. H-Hello there…. I’m your p-presenter….. Happy… B-Birthday…..

Silver: So you’re my presenter, Idia Senpai. Thank you for the well wishes.

Idia: Eep! .....I-I wanna get this over with ASAP, so could we jump right into the interview?

Silver: I apologize for doing this while you’re so busy. Then let’s go ahead and get started.

Idia: A-Alright, here’s the first question: “Are you good or bad at flying?”

Silver: I’m relatively skilled at flying. Compared to other subjects, at least. But there’s still a lot of things I’m not very good at, like flying for long distances and turning my broom whatever way I want. I still have a long way to go, and I’ll be making use of everything I’ve learned at this school as I continue to be diligent in my studies.

Idia: Dude, you’re making me friggin’ jealous…! You legit believe you got potential! Only people who are born with physical ability and good sense get to enjoy that privilege.

Silver: I don’t know about being born with those kinds of things, but… I certainly wasn’t very good at flying right from the outset. The first time I tried to fly with a broom, I struggled even just getting it to levitate off the ground. Perhaps it was because I kept thinking about how they look when cleaning, but the broom would just stand upright...

Idia: I-I mean, brooms were originally made for cleaning, not for flying, so…

Silver: Indeed. It’s difficult to forget how they look when they’re going around the house together with the buckets and mops as they clean. They'll split their broom heads in half and use them like legs, and walk around just like humans.

Idia: What the- Sounds like that was a really freaky dream. You been stressed out lately or something?

Silver: It wasn’t a dream, it’s something I witnessed firsthand when I was little. It was a spectacle that both surprised me and broke my heart. I thought it was just horrible treating the mops and buckets and brooms like they were mere objects, seeing as they were alive and all. …So I was very much relieved to find out my father had just been using his magic to make them move around.

Idia: And there’s the punch line…. But I see what you were saying now. I mean, your father sounds like a pretty reasonable guy. Since he was using magic to clean up the place and all.

Silver: Reasonable…. I do wonder. It’s common for people in my hometown to use magic to clean with.

Idia: Wait, what? T-Then how come you d-didn’t notice the brooms were just being moved around with magic?

Silver: At that time, I was very young and hadn’t developed my own magic yet. My father and I also lived in the woods away from town, and we didn’t have much contact at all with the townspeople... So I wasn’t really aware how they went about their lives and whatnot.

Idia: So basically, you didn’t really interact with people much besides your family? I guess that’s one thing I can kinda relate to you on.

Part 2

Idia: O-Okay, t-time for the next question: “What class are you good at?”

Silver: Physical training.

Idia: Aah, yup… I was an idiot for thinking I could relate to you even a little… I suck at anything involving exercise, and my credits for those classes are always hanging by a thread… …J-Just for reference’s sake, what can someone do to get better at that kinda stuff?

Silver: What can someone do, huh… That’s hard to say, as I’ve never had much trouble with tasks that call for physical ability. I feel like, to an extent, I’d already trained up the physical strength and stamina those types of classes require before I’d enrolled here. Back home, my daily life involved all sorts of training - from chopping firewood, to fetching water from the river. Thinking back on it now, playing tag with the animals that lived near my home also helped temper my agility, in a way.

Idia (whispering): Fetching water, chopping firewood, and chasing after animals….? Dude might as well be speaking gibberish rn…

Silver: However, I’m confident that my father played the largest role in that matter. As soon as I was conscious of my surroundings, he started training me on a regular basis.

Idia: W-What!? Since you were that young!?? If I were you I woulda run away from home, dude! That’s way too harsh...!

Silver: I certainly did have to go through a lot of rigorous assignments. And there were times I’d give up and start whining that I couldn’t do it. Whenever that happened, my father would come over and encourage me – sometimes strictly, sometimes gently – to keep trying…. There was this one time I was getting really frustrated halfway up this steep cliff I was climbing, and he came over to my side and showed me how to do it. But he’s so nimble footed that he just scaled up the cliff wall in the blink of an eye and ended up leaving me behind.

Idia: He scaled up a steep cliff just like that…!? Uh, your dad sounds kinda badass, Silver-shi!?

Silver: Yeah, he’s really amazing. I think I’ve been able to come so far thanks to my father always believing in me. And also…. It was very fortuitous for me when my father took on Sebek as a disciple. Sebek’s a really hard worker, and he hates losing. Even while we were training, he’d take every opportunity to compete with me.

Idia: Sounds like a pain in the neck.

Silver: After we started training together, I was confused for a while since he kept lashing out at me over this and that… But before I knew it, I started thinking to myself, “I don’t want to lose.” I never felt that way when I was just focused on improving myself with my father as my goal. But we weren’t only competing with one another, as there were times when we’d team up and overcome our various trials. I’m sure that sense of accomplishment is something I never could’ve experienced just all on my own. It’s really wonderful having someone you can work hard together with.

Idia: T-To make a long story short… What’s important isn’t the type of exercises you do, but that you go at them together with somebody? I don’t even play video games together with people, I highly doubt I could find somebody who’d wanna, like, work out with me IRL….

Silver: Oh, are you searching for a training partner? You should come train with me and Sebek when your schedule allows.

Idia: What!?? Ahh, erm, no, I…. I don’t even like having to get up outta bed, so… I’m good. Yeah.

Part 3

Idia: Phew…. I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Time for the long-awaited final question! “Please let us know how you spend your days off.”

Silver: My days off, huh…. When I have something going on with the equestrian club, then I’ll go down to the stable. Other than that, I’ll often just keep up with my daily training. Ah, but I did go into town on our last break. I don’t usually do that.

Idia (whispering): Ugh, I can already tell I’m gonna have to do some prodding here….

Idia: ….Okay, so what did you go to town for?

Silver: To eat out. I was on my way back to the dorm after finishing up with my club activities when Ruggie suddenly called out to me. He said he needed my help with something, so I went with him. I remember being anxious to find out what was going on.

Idia: What, so you went along just ‘cause he asked you? Dude, that shoulda had alarm bells going off for you….

Silver: Ruggie said we needed to hurry, so we hopped on some brooms and went into town. And our destination was this restaurant. It was pretty crowded, and there were a bunch of students from our school sitting at the largest table in the back. I didn’t know their names, but Ruggie went and joined them, so I also took a seat.

Idia: So wait, you A: Got dragged away with no explanation, and B: Got stuck talking with a bunch of randos you don’t know…??! That sounds like a total nightmare!!

Silver: You think so? I don’t particularly mind.

Idia: You’re totally cool with strangers, huh. So are you one of those extroverted types….? Ah, I mean, please continue.

Silver: On that day, the restaurant was holding this event where your meal would be free if you beat the store owner in an arm-wrestling match. A bunch of Ruggie’s friends took on the challenge, but even though they were all pretty confident in their abilities, they each lost within a matter of seconds. So Ruggie went looking for someone who could help with their predicament, and he raced back to school in a tizzy… Was how they explained it to me.

Idia: Gotcha. So when Ruggie came back to school, you were the first guy he came across that looked like he’d fit the bill.

Silver: The storekeeper said he was worried he’d injure me and he wasn’t putting much effort into it at first…. But I guess he realized how earnestly I was taking on the challenge, as he finally started taking the match seriously after a little while.

Idia (whispering): I bet he took one look at those princely visuals you got going on and was like, “Yeah, this guy’s a total scrub.”

Silver: As our bout neared its end, Ruggie and his friends - as well as everyone else in the restaurant - had their eyes on us. I could hear people cheering me on, saying things like “You can do it!” and “You gotta beat ‘im, big bro!” It was a difficult fight, but thanks to everyone’s support, I somehow pulled off a win in the end. And so there I sat in the middle of a noisy restaurant, surrounded by friends my own age, with the crowd pressing in around us… All those different experiences were things I’d never had growing up. I was able to enjoy a very memorable, very precious day off.

Idia: This interview is donezo!! Okay, Silver-shi. Please take this broom.

Silver: Ah, the broom head’s been turned into a bouquet. Doesn’t look like you could use it to clean with, let alone fly with.

Idia: Silver-shi multiplied by white flowers equals… Aaugh, it’s too bright! My eyes are gonna fall out. Could you please go get ready to fly, like, now.

Silver: That’s right, I’d forgotten you were busy. Let’s hurry and make our way over there.

Silver: …The birds are gathering around me. Come, let's go soar through the skies to our hearts' content.

*edited 5/15 - fixed line about the brooms, buckets, and mops

#twst silver #idia shroud #twst #twisted wonderland #twst spoilers

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annalu86 · 9 months

Text

Third date.

The door, quietly, clicked shut behind Lucy as she finally made it home.

It must be at least 1am, she hadn’t been keeping track, the apartment was dark and still. Tamara hopefully tucked up peacefully in bed, none the wiser and Lucy’s secret in tact.

A shiver of excitement ran down her spine as she thought back over the last few hours, without thinking her fingers traces over her lips. Feeling the, still slightly swollen, skin all traces of lipstick long since gone.

Her night had started hours before.

She had changed out after her shift was done, she had brought a simple T-shirt and a well worn pair of jeans. Showered, put them on and pulled a drag of lipstick across her lips.

“Any plans tonight, Lucy?” Angela had asked as Lucy had walked out of the locker room, casually swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Probably just laundry and an early night” she had effortlessly lied and her friend had no reason not to believe her. She had smiled and told Angela to kiss Jack goodnight for her and carried on her way. Out the door and to the parking garage.

She wound her way through the structure, nodding greetings to familiar faces as she made her way to a dark corner. Her heart rate soared as she spotted the truck she was looking for and as she locked eyes with the driver a grin split across her face, she stopped in her tracks before taking a deep breath and carrying on.

Lucy opened the passenger side door and climbed in, immediately turning to face the driver.

“Hi” he reached over and took the bag from her arm. His fingers burned as they trailed down her skin, he leant over and carefully put it on a back seat.

“Hi” she breathed.

Tim was still for a moment as they just smiled at each other “Good day at work?” He asked and she laughed.

“Hmmm I guess, this guy I work with can be a bit of a jerk sometimes though”

“Oh really? How so?”

“He has all these tests for me, he’s not even my training officer any more”

“Well he sound great” Tim puffs out his chest “and very handsome”

Lucy makes an unconvinced sound and Tim pretends to be offended

“He’s alright, I guess” the truck is so large that when she reaches across to kiss him quickly she needs to place her hand on his thigh for balance and it’s not lost on her when a murmur escapes his lips before she closes the gap and lays her gently on his.

But the parking garage at their shared place of work is not the place for this, so she pulls back, sits down and puts her seat belt on.

“So, what are you making me for dinner?”

The journey to Tim’s house isn’t long and they chat easily about their day, funny things Angela has said about her mother in law and how Nolan’s rookie is doing. Being driven around by Tim feels so comfortable and familiar that she forgets that they are actually on their way to their third date until he is pulling up outside his house.

She has been to his house before, of course. As a colleague, as a friend even but never as… as…

Could she think of herself as his girlfriend? He hadn’t called her that yet so maybe she shouldn’t either.

They weren’t friends with benefits, they hadn’t slept together yet.

But you don’t make out with friends for hours and talk about having grandkids together.

Tim opening the car door for her brought her back to the present

“Everything ok?” Tim’s piercing eyes locked with hers as she lowered herself out of the truck

“Yep” she smiled brightly “just thinking about something, ill get your thoughts after dinner though. I’m starving”

Tim led the way into the house and through to the kitchen, stopping to make a quick fuss of the dog before getting two wine glasses out of the cupboard and placing them on the counter.

“Reds in the rack” he says gesturing to his left “whites in the fridge, you choose” as he gets to work readying their meal.

Lucy pours them both a large glass of red wine, she doesn’t ask what they’re eating and instead goes with Tim’s favourite as he is driving her home later and will only get the one glass.

She sits on the sofa, Kojo’s head on her lap, she could fall asleep listening to Tim’s busy sounds from the kitchen and for a moment she lets her eyes close. She lets her imagination wonder, picturing this very scene. Picturing it as her reality everyday, coming home together, taking it in turns to cook. But in her imagination Tim can have a second glass of wine, there’s no need to drive her home, she is home.

She’s lost in her thoughts until Tim plants a gentle kiss on her forehead

“Are you that tired? I can just take you home if you need to get to sleep” she opens her eyes into his concerned face.

“Not at all!” She insists, then blushes slightly “I was actually just imagining what it would be like to do this more often”

“Sleep on the sofa?” He teases

“No” she rolls her eyes “come home with you, cook together, curl up on the sofa and watch a film with a bottle of wine”

“That does sound nice” he comes round to sit next to her, gently pulling her up against him “maybe staying the night”

“Definitely staying the night”

All thoughts of dinner are forgotten until Lucy finally notices a timer going off in the kitchen. She slides both her hands up to his shoulders and pushes as firmly as she can, from underneath him. She may have suggested they wait a while for ‘naked time’ but in the meantime they are finding plenty of ways to occupy their time. And their hands.

Tim groans as he peals himself off of Lucy and sits back up, her t shirt is rucked up and his large hands had covered the warm skin. Lucy pulls it back down as she sits up.

“Dinner ready?” She asks, a blush spreads rapidly over her face as she realises Tim is still sitting, near motionless, on the sofa. He’s clearly taking a moment to compose himself before going to deal with the timer and she relishes the effect she has had on him.

Dinner is delicious. The meal Tim has produced is quite simple but it’s just what she needs. They talk about their plans for the week, a case that has Tim stumped and a new sushi restaurant that Lucy is dying to try. She finishes off a second glass of wine and watches as Tim pours her another. She thinks about teasing him that he’s trying to get her drunk but he’s so respectful of her choice to wait that she doesn’t want to seem mean.

Together, they clean away the dishes and once again Lucy gets caught up in the effortless domesticity of the moment. As they move easily around each other she can’t help but watch his body, how tall he is, how strong his arms are. Ok maybe she is feeling a little tipsy.

“So what we’re you thinking about in the car earlier?” He breaks her reverie

“The car?”

“You said you’d tell me after you’d eaten” he pressed

“Oh yes!” Trills Lucy, emboldened by the wine “I was thinking about what I am”

Tim raised an eyebrow are her, tilting his head “a police officer?” He asked clearly confused.

“No!” She laughed “ to you”

“To me?” No idea what she was talking about

“What I should call myself”

“Other than Lucy?…” his eyes widen, just barely “what you should call yourself”

“I know we aren’t going public yet” Tim opens his mouth to interject but Lucy carries on “which is absolutely what we both want” then quickly “right?”

Tim nods, knowing she hasn’t finished yet “but I was thinking”

“Lucy” Tim, interrupting firmly this time with a hand placed on her shoulder “you’re my girlfriend. Unless you don’t want to be?” The grin on her face tells him everything he needs to know “Drunk girlfriend Lucy is hard work” a devilish smile spread across his face as his girlfriend hits him on the shoulder.

“I can leave you know”

“But I don’t think you want to” which earns him a second punch to the shoulder.

They curl up together on the sofa, they tease each other and they kiss. They talk work and family and even a little about past relationships.

Until Tim finally notices the time 11:30pm, time to get Lucy home.

“Lucy” he brushes a stead of hair from her face and behind her ear and she sighs happily “it’s time I drove you home”

She begins to protest but Tim simply points to the clock and the words die in her mouth. They quietly gather up her things, so as not to wake the sleeping canine, Tim slips on a hoodie and grabs his keys.

The journey back to Lucy’s apartment is mostly quiet, a full day at work and the late hour seemingly catching up with them both. Tim pulls up out side and turns off the engine, neither make a move to leave the car. Wanting to eek out as much time alone, together, as possible.

Tim watches as she leans across the centre console, placing a small hand on either side of his face and kissing him deeply, she pulls back a little and her eyes bore into his soul

“Thank you for tonight, it’s been…” she searches for words for a brief moment “perfect” she leans in once again to place a gentle kiss to his lips but his hand rises and winds through her hair and it’s like that they are lost.

It’s at least 20 minutes before Lucy breaks the kiss and they surface, properly, for air. Both taking shuddering breaths, Lucy rubbing her leg. It had not been the most comfortable position but they both seemed to think it was worth it.

“I should go”

“Yes” Tim agrees resolutely, pushing the truck door open and meeting Lucy at her side of the truck “do you want me to walk you up to your door?”

“No, I’m fine. Anyway, I’d probably end up inviting you in and then we’d be having a really awkward conversation with Tamara in the morning!” Tim couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips “and you didn’t have to deal with her after she walked in on our ‘practice’ kiss so I’d leave you to do all the talking”

“Ok,ok!” And he smiled as Lucy laughed, this may only be date three but they both new Lucy was going to win all their fights “I’ll say good night to you here then” with a wicked smile on his face he crowds her against the truck door and it’s another 20 minutes before they once again finally emerge from the kiss.

As Lucy lies in her bed, oblivious to the eyes that saw just enough of her goodbye with Tim to put everything together, she thinks about the next date and the one after that. The 100th date and 1,000th.

She finally falls asleep with a contented smile on her face.

#chenford #chenford fanfic #lucy chen #tim bradford #the rookie #longest fic yet #I’ve had it on hold over a month and just wanted to get it out the drafts #date night #third date #too long #getting back into writing

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iamsososick · 1 year

Text

Soo it’s 5 am and I have some miscellaneous thoughts on brendon ending panic!

Panic has been a shambling corpse since like 2014

I’m glad that brendon isn’t gonna be walking around wearing the shield of Ryan’s teenage accomplishments.

I have trouble defining panic at the disco!, I feel like a lot of people do. Obviously Fever and pretty. Odd are “true panic!” and here are my opinions on the other albums

to get it out of the way, I consider vices and virtues “real panic!” Primarily because a lot of it was made by dallon weekes. I hear so much dallon in v&v, to me at least he has such a particular style. It leans so heavy into that 1920s orchestral baroque pop rock.

listening to a lot of the brobecks you can kind of tell what he brought to v&v cause it’s present in his other music. Think of a track like visitation of the ghost. It just reminds me quite a bit of ballad of Mona Lisa. Old timey feeling Haunting intro with soft spoken verses and explosive choruses.

I also think it’s important to acknowledge the way that dallon was treated during his time in panic! And that many ideas and songs were stolen and changed by brendon even in later albums so, keep that in mind.

I still think that v&v is an awesome mind child from one artist I really love and one I at least used to love. I suggest that anyone that likes v&v check out dallons other work. if you wanna get into a band that isn’t like from the 2000s but still has that nostalgic dallon weekes feel absolutely listen to IDKHOW. And if you want a indie feeling vices and virtues, go listen to violent things.

After v&v is where things get fuzzy. My opinion on too weird to live too rare to die is positive. I used to dislike/not listen to this album until pretty recently, But this comes back around to the stealing thing. The song that originally changed my opinion on TWTLTRTD was far too young to die. as some may know, that’s dallons song and you could and should go listen to his demo, it’s so good. songs like girls/girls/boys and all the boys(not on the album) we’re also taken and changed from dallon in some form.

So yeah, obviously they’re good songs, brendon didn’t really make them, which is something I find I say over and over again when talking about panic!

As for death of a bachelor. It’s definitely not a bad album. it was one of my favorites in my tweens. But looking back on it, it’s very… brendon. I believe that at some point brendon himself made decent/good music. And that point is death of a bachelor. It’s him. It sounds like a solo project it sounds like just his musical influence, and it’s good. Not amazing. But they’re good songs. Maybe I’ve just listened to them so so so many times but they’re not all that remarkable anymore.

Now into the decline. When pray for the wicked came Out embarrassingly enough i really liked it. I was 14. Listening to it now I think it’s alright. Very mediocre album, a far cry from real panic!

I do think it has some interesting sounds like, i don’t mind the intro to roaring 20s. And old fashioned isn’t bad, but it sounds like a Taylor swift song, I swear. Just imagine her vocals instead. Which isn’t a bad thing I love Taylor but it’s definitely not panic!

An important note about pray for the wicked is the start of Brendon’s vocal deterioration. From what I’ve heard brendon doesn’t take care of his voice, he’s also a smoker which definitely doesn’t help. This takes us right into…. Viva las vengeance.

I’ll save you the savage take down of this album that has already been torn to shreds. It’s just bad. It’s so insanely bad. It not just bad, it’s lifeless. Like a dead wet fish being smacked against the ground. His voice bothers me like nothing else.

Brendon was always praised for his voice, and specifically, his high notes. And if you know the guy, you know he loves attention. So he kept busting out high notes, kept throwing them in live during songs that didn’t call for them. At first it was cool, I remember being so impressed with his dream on cover.

But it’s just not cool anymore. He seems to have damaged his voice into locking in a high register. He almost never uses his lower register anymore.

I don’t have to spell out why that is so unfortunate. being all high notes isn’t impressive or healthy . It’s only cool when it’s special. I remember how people used to talk about victorious and how vocally impressive it was. Now it’s all he can do.

The actual music in viva las vengeance is bad too. I don’t know a lot of music theory but I do know it just sounds hollow. Middle of a breakup sounds like generic kids YouTube Chanel backing track and don’t let the lights go out is just empty and off putting.

And. Local. God.

At first, The fact that he even opened his mouth about Ryan after all these years felt confusing and infuriating. Its hard to even explain what brendon is trying to do. It’s not a diss track. But taking a second to relax and actually listen, It seems like a lament? a lament of a time long Gone. To me he maybe is thinking back on what he could have done differently. Should he have been like Ryan? Should he have let the music speak for itself instead of selling out and single-handedly running this once great band into a wall. I hear so much regret in the way he takes about ryan. I can tell he still admires him.

My final opinion is, As bad as the song is, it’s still closure to me. He finally actually made a song about how he feels about Ryan Ross and early panic. It’s almost validating to know he really has been holding onto this for so many years. it wasn’t just us looking way too into things. We all had a feeling he still thought about early panic even when he denied it. A lot of the things that felt like they were about Ryan probably were. So excuse me while I high five my younger self.

All in all, I’m glad panic can finally die. As someone who’s been invested in this band and the fraught relationship between these two men for the better half of my life, the circle feels completed. Ryan said his piece with lonely moonlight, brendon with local god. Ryan got what he wanted, to never sell out even if it means fading away. And brendon rode his superstardom straight into the ground. It all makes sense. I feel like I can lay it all to rest.

To me, The life and death of panic! at the disco is a tale of creative integrity, and just what it means to be a real musician. This band birthed the yin and Yang of selling out. The shining example of someone who refused to let his music be warped and hollowed by fame. And someone who only knows how to take and change for the sake of it.

The band is gone, The legacy lives on only through us now. Thanks for reading this long ass post. Stay real out there panic! Fans.

#panic! at the disco #ryan ross #p!atd #brendon urie

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the-himawari · 9 months

Text

A3! Nanao Taichi - Translation [SR] Purple Fiancée (2/2)

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

*door opens*

Taichi: Do you have a minute, Azuma-san?

Azuma: My, it’s puppy-kun.

Taichi: Ah, Yuki-chan’s here too.

Yuki: Azu-nee let me try out the skin care products he bought.

Taichi: Ooh, gotcha. I’ll come back again in that case!

Yuki: No, it’s fine. We were just chatting.

Azuma: Did you need something from me, puppy-kun?

Taichi: So the thing is, the role I’m gonna play in Autumn troupe’s next play is Olivia who’s a mature and sexy woman. I came here since I thought it’d be nice if you could give me some acting advice or other tips.

Azuma: I see. Well, I do know someone among my acquaintances who’s mature and sexy just like you’re looking for… I think I could offer you some tips on how to act. If you’re alright with me, I’ll teach you.

Yuki: Perfect timing. I’ll help out too. I was just thinking I’d like to make a sexy costume.

Taichi: Are you sure! Thanks, you two! I’ll do my best. I’m counting on you!

-pause-

Taichi: (It's been a few days since I first got their advice, but thanks to Azuma-san's gentle guidance and Yuki-chan’s slightly strict coaching…) (I think I'm gradually getting better at acting mature and sexy!) (I wonder what they’re gonna teach me today? Hehe, I’m actually kinda excited~.)

-pause-

Taichi: Thanks for waiting!

Yuki: He’s finally here.

Azuma: We’re ready over here.

Taichi: Woah, you’ve placed so many shoes out! What are we doin’ today?

Yuki: I’m thinking of giving Olivia boots with heels for her outfit.

Taichi: Heels! That sounds mature and sexy alright!

Yuki: Doesn’t it? While ease of movement is important, I also want to consider how it looks. So, I’d like to test out how high we can make your heels.

Taichi: I see…!

Yuki: By the way, Azu-nee prepared all theses shoes for us. Thanks, Azu-nee.

Taichi: That’s Azuma-san for you…! I appreciate it!

Azuma: Fufu, you’re very welcome. I’m glad to help.

Yuki: Now then, try putting on the shoes with the shortest heels first.

Azuma: We’ll start from 1cm.

Taichi: You got it.

Yuki: Also, walk like you did during “Last Runway”.

*walks*

Taichi: Like this? This one’s a piece of cake!

Yuki: Ok. Wear the 2cm heels next.

*walks*

Taichi: Like this, right? This one’s no sweat either!

Azuma: Both his walk and posture look nice.

Yuki: Let’s keep going. These are up next.

-pause-

Yuki: Alright, next are the 6.5cm heels.

Taichi: Woah. These are pretty high… Here goes…

*wobbles*

Azuma: The way he stands is a bit unstable compared to the previous shoes.

Yuki: Strut your stuff.

*walks and wobbles*

Taichi: Oh god…!

Yuki: He started shaking after just a few steps.

Azuma: These might be tough, hm?

Taichi: I-I’m gonna do it! I can do it if I practice…! No matter how much it takes for Yuki-chan’s vision of Olivia’s costume…!

Yuki: We’re not going further than this. It’s not going to look good.

Taichi: No way…

Azuma: I know how you feel, but you'll be in trouble if you force yourself to wear them and get hurt.

Yuki: I’ll go with 5cm. Olivia’s boots will be easy to move in while also looking nice.

Azuma: I also think that height looks the most flattering when you stand and walk.

Taichi: …You think so?

Azuma: Your posture is going to deteriorate if it doesn’t suit you or if you’re not used to the height of the heel. I think this height is just right for you, puppy-kun.

Yuki: These fit the best for Taichi’s Olivia.

Taichi: I see… I agree. Thanks so much, you two! I'm gonna wear the 5cm heels to look more presentable, pretty, and feminine… I’m gonna do my best to practice how I move!

previous |

#a3!#a3! translation #nanao taichi #act! addict! actors!

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swirlysmile · 2 years

Note

Hi! I've been thinking about this idea so if you like you can write about it🤗: reader ejects during a practice for the mission and has to spend the night at the infirmary just in case, worried trying to hide it hangman goes to see her and ends up staying (not dating yet, they go back and forth with silly fights but already have feelings for the other), reader tries to play it cool like it was nothing but maybe he tries to make her laugh to cheer her up if you want?

changed it up a little, forgive me 🥲 still stuck to the general idea, so hope you like it!!

word count: 2k

warnings; mentions of ejections, dangerous situations, some swearing, slightly OOC hangman

Eject, Eject

You wish you weren’t here right now, but you also felt incredibly blessed to not have a WSO with you.

Right now, your plane was rapidly descending. Engine recovery measures were failing, and at this point you were too far in to give up.

“Left engine failure,” you speak, trying to keep a level tone. You knew that if you panicked, everybody else would.

Murmurs of instructions were being blasted in your ears through the comms, but none of them really hit until Maverick said “If you eject any later, you’ll die!”

You’re already almost to 500 feet, making ejection more dangerous than it would have been if you’d listened the first time.

That cleared your conscience enough to make you notice what a low altitude you were at.

The jet was screaming at you to pull up- and your co-workers were screaming at you to eject.

You finally got it in your head that there was no saving this plane, so you reached down to grasp the handles and pulled upwards.

You manage to open your eyes just in time to see the main event- your F-18 drop into the mountainside. The ringing in your ears tells you that it didn’t sound as cool as it looked.

You’re sure that your slightly limp body floating down from the sky missed the mark too.

The other pilots are celebrating from their huddle by the radio after Maverick confirms he saw a parachute.

You’re barely conscious after your landing. You're close enough to the ruins of your F-18 that the fumes are really starting to get to your head, and the wreckage doesn’t smell very good.

Your vision goes a little dark, then you hear the sounds of a sweet sweet rescue helicopter.

After that, you’re out.

There's sounds of beeping, a few monitors hooked up to you, and a whole lot of headache. Other than that, you feel great, Nothing broken, and hopefully nothing of note.

“They’re keeping you in for the night to monitor you,” Maverick says and you can’t help but groan.

They haven’t found anything wrong, what could change in a night?

Apparently lots, but that’s besides the point.

You’re passed out again for maybe fifteen minutes, the click of the door opening awakening you.

“Bagman,” you deadpan, and he gives a mock two finger salute.

“Dammit, you’re not dead. Thought I was going to slide into the number one spot.”

“Alive and well, thanks for your concern.”

Hangman is happy that Coyote isn’t present, or he’d expect some ‘Oh, he was concerned alright’ comment, exposing him in his lies. He walks over to one of the chairs by the springy hospital bed and happily takes a seat.

“What’s new?”

“These lovely tubes, the soothing beeps, and this military issued bed that’s actually a little comfortable.”

He grins at that last one, knowing the pain of springy bunk beds all too well. Honestly though, he’s just glad you’re alive, and he’s a man on a mission, a mission to get you out of here as soon as possible. Maverick didn’t tell him much, so he had no idea how long you’d be in the hospital.

“I don’t know, it looks a little small,”

“You say that as if the gymnastic mats we get are any bigger.” You scoff jokingly, and he grins again.

Normally, Hangman is all talk and it’s hard to enjoy being with someone like that. His mere -measly- little presence is enough to make you roll your eyes, especially when he says something that’s completely dicked. Now, he’s letting his ego deflate a little, and he’s convincing himself that it’s because he’s caught you in a moment of weakness. Hangman has already won, what more does he need to do?

Coyote would disagree.

He’s shaking his head a little, eyes closed.

“Ah man, you kill me. You really do.”

“Finally.”

“Still a dick, even on your deathbed.”

“We both know you’d be worse, Seresin.”

He can’t even argue, because he most definitely would be worse. He’s imagining what he’d do in that situation, and he’d probably be happy that he beat a fellow pilot to inevitable demise. If he can win at anything, he’ll take it.

He’s smiling, that stupid cocky little smile that he always does, but maybe less arrogance written on his face than usual. It’s replaced by a bit of joy.

“So, why’d you come?” You say, and his head starts to spin. He’s trying to think of excuses, but it doesn’t really work so he just settles on telling you the truth. “I don’t know, I was worried I guess.”

You roll your eyes at that one.

“I am honored that you in all your glory, Lieutenant, would worry about me.”

“You’re high ranking in my heart,” He says, and that makes your face go a little red. You blame it on the fact that you tried to hold the laughter in. He can’t help but laugh with you, partially at his own stupidity, and partially out of happiness. He did complete his ‘mission’ after all. You’re grinning, and clutching your chest while trying to regain your breath.

“Feeling better already?” He questions

“Definitely. Just being around you has cured me of all my ailments.”

“Laughter is the best medicine,”

You’re expecting him to leave at any moment now- thinking he came in just to push your buttons a little bit to your surprise, he stays. He keeps talking to

you- and it’s one of those rare cases where you actually enjoy talking to Jake.

Who knew that all it would take to make Hangman a pleasant presence is a near death experience?

“I was scared,” you admit, and Hangman’s eyes widened a little bit. You weren’t expecting to tell him that- you weren’t expecting to tell anyone that, but after a few hours of talking it just spilled out. It wasn’t unlike much of the other word vomit you’d shared. “It’d take one crazy son of a bitch not to be scared.” Jake says, and you smile meekly. It’s almost as if he’s admitting something himself.

The hospital staff practically has to kick him out because now he’s just talking to you about nothing in particular, and the weirdest part about it is he can’t stop- maybe he’s setting the scene, telling you about how your friends were worried (but he was completely cool, calm, and collected) when your engine failed. Maybe he’s telling you about the celebration when Mav announced the sight of a parachute- or he’s just telling you about how the rest of training went.

He’s being honest, telling you about how he felt throughout the day, but he leaves out his feelings on the engine malfunction.

It feels oddly vulnerable and new to him, and he’s not sure he’ll ever tell anyone how scared and helpless he felt.

When he leaves though, he leaves you with a wave and a small smile, and your heart rate begins to go a little faster- the monitor exposing you.

“Hey hey hey! You about gave me a heart attack yesterday,” Phoenix says, greeting you in all of your un-hospitalized glory. You give her a grin as the rest of your fellow pilots come up to say hi.

One person hangs back, Hangman.

He’s thinking he already talked to you enough. He spent hours in the hospital, and he’s hoping that you aren’t going to say anything. He’d be in for some mocking ‘jokes’ from Bradshaw if that were the case. His little charade is ongoing until you pop up next to him and make an off handed comment about his appearance, something like “Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” and then the teasing begins.

He’s geared up, getting ready to fly the course for this super special mission when Coyote pops up next to him. Hangman is internally groaning. If anybody is going to say some ego-bruising, self-image shattering comment, it’s Coyote. Then he just stares at Jake- “Man, you’re whipped.”

Jake stares back incredulously. Whipped isn’t a word he would even think could be used to describe him, but he stays silent.

“Man, I knew it!” He says, and he’s hitting Jake on the back.

“No way in hell am I ‘whipped’” He says, adding in finger quotes for that extra bit of emphasis.

“You can tell yourself that all you want, Hang. We all know it’s true, and it’s a matter of time before you realize. Before she realizes.” Rooster adds, walking into the room.

“Shut up Bradshaw.”

Hangman rolls his eyes, finishes zipping up his flight suit, and leaves.

Maverick immediately knows something is up. Hangman’s usual instinct to fly fast hasn’t kicked in- he’s actually doing pretty well, as far as not “crashing” into walls goes. He’s about halfway through the course when it finally hits him, and he can’t control his flying as well as usual. His head is a bit cloudy, and he isn’t focusing on the track in his nav system.

He almost goes headfirst into one of the canyon walls, narrowly avoiding it by pulling up into “SAM territory”.

“Hangman, you’re dead.” He hears, and he curses. He knows that Maverick is going to scold him, and frankly, he isn’t in the mood. The worst part about it all though? Bradshaw did better than him.

“Why are you dead?”

“I don’t know, sir.” He says, answering semi-honestly. He’s not going to expose himself to the rest of the class, but he also isn’t entirely sure why he ‘died’.

“That’s not good enough. Why are you dead?”

“I pulled up to avoid hitting a wall.”

“Why were you going to hit the wall in the first place?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

Maverick just sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose and stops talking. The room is eerily silent until he tells the next pilots to get moving, and says “Seresin, come here.”

You can't make out what Maverick says, other than a whisper of “What’s got you so distracted, kid?”

You’re watching them intently when Hangman finally sits back down, and Maverick turns his attention back to the simulated course on screen.

When the last group of failures gets back, everyone’s gone in the air and Captain Mitchell is not having any of it.

“I suggest all of you get over whatever is distracting you and learn to fly the damn course! Dismissed.”

When you leave base, your head is pounding. Getting yelled at is never fun, and in light of recent events, it makes it worse. Not that you’re not used to yelling- The Navy is a whole lot of yelling. You, logically, know Maverick means well, but damn that was harsh, especially since the spiel was directed at Hangman.

He washes his face, and body, with cold water but the shower does little to ease his racing mind. Then, he gets the bright idea to get it out of his system in the form of a confession.

You hear the pounding on the door of your military-issued housing and you groan. The door opens with a loud screech, and you’re surprised to find Jake Seresin standing outside, hair still wet.

“Seresin, what can I do for you?” You say with a smile, and sure, if this had been 3 days earlier you definitely would have told home to go home, or get lost. The turn around shocked even you, all because of a hospital visit.

“Hear me out on this one, I really like you a lot and I think that’s why I came to the hospital. I was really scared, and I tried not to tell you about how I felt but…” At this point, you’re zoned out. His lips keep moving, and you keep staring at them. “When are you going to kiss me?” He hears, cutting through his rant. It takes you a moment to realize you’ve said it aloud, but you definitely notice when Jake's eyes are wide open, glued to your lips too.

It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt nervous about kissing someone, so he’s glad when you tug the collar of his shirt and pull him towards you.

“Fina-fucking-ly” you say, and he laughs a little bit, chasing your lips again.

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake ‘hangman’ seresin #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic #swirly writes #swirly anon #request #constructive criticism #constructive criticism welcome

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