#treat you until youre actively dying not just getting close | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Text

LANDLESS GULL (I)

|| COV MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS: PROLOGUE || NEXT: CHAPTER II ||

PAIRING: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Three years later, you find yourself in a similar situation. But will new revelations put more of the past event into perspective? Or will your anger overcloud your judgment?

WORDCOUNT: 9.7k

WARNINGS: Implied stalking, angst, illegal activities, self destructive tendencies, insinuations of PTSD, sleeplessness, violence, abductions, talks of death, drugs etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The routine was the only thing that saved you, and it had never once wavered. Not in two out of the three years since the death of your father.

Wake up at five, sit in silence until six, and leave the house by seven.

Though you were in your last year of college, the wallet in the pocket of your sweatpants was still bare of the plastic of a standard driver’s license, so, you take the same long route you did every morning; feet hitting the concrete. The black iron under your grip leaves you shivering as you lock the front gate to your family’s estate, the end of the long walkway a grand, overgrown, sight as you take one last glance.

Hucking your backpack higher over your shoulder the elusive black form of the resident stray cat darts from one of the overgrown and thick bushes to another; the steadily browning leaves a barrier of dying flora.

“Don’t kill the finches, yeah?” You huff quietly, eyes dull and heavy with fatigue as the morning air chills your skin. Even if it was getting colder as the seasons changed, your mind never once went to the prospect of calling a cab.

The thought of someone you didn’t know driving you somewhere…you frown as you think it over, shoes stamping on top of weeds sprouting from the broken sidewalk as the utter stillness of the morning grows long. No. No, It was easier to walk or take the bus. A train, maybe.

But walking lets you think; makes you tired.

So, by eight AM you were always at the Café an hour's journey away, cheeks chilled and body quivering like your bones were made of ice. The winter was worse, so you didn’t have it in you to even consider complaining.

Hector smiles at you when you walk through the old front door, dodging the umbrella holder slightly in the way as your nose sniffles. You pointedly stare at his large mustache instead of into his eyes, sighing lightly.

“Ah, there she is!” He exclaims. The excitable Café owner had told you that his family had come up to Chicago from New Jersey only a decade ago, which would explain the still prominent accent. “Just in time, eh? C’mon then, I got a nice hot one ready just for you like always, Sweetheart.”

“Trying to make me wife number three, Hec?” You slyly remark, walking over the hardwood floors and itching at the skin under your eye. Lids flicking open and closed as a call to sleep seeps into your brain, you take comfort in the familiar atmosphere.

It was dimly lit, the business, relying more on natural light than anything. The scent of coffee and baked goods stuck to your nose, waking you up as you pull the thick cotton canvas of your jacket closer and look around as you shuffle to the counter. Shelves lined with bags and small homemade treats make a quick smile grow.

How does he find the time to bake all of that?

Hector laughs, but you pay little mind. In your coat pocket, your fingers play with a coin, thumbing the engraved face slightly. A slow glaze of memory spreads its fingers over your eyes when you spy a family picture on the counter—the mustached man with his two daughters.

“Hell, if all it takes is fresh coffee cake and two espressos, my odds are lookin’ pretty good if I can say so myself.”

You snap back to the present with a stiff neck, blinking quickly. Clearing your throat, you roll your orbs and remove your hands from your pockets, rubbing them together and creating friction when the lack of heat starts to burn.

“No offense, but I think I’ll stick to my oppressively single ways, Big Guy. You have better luck with the lady down at the bank anyways. What’s her name,” you stare at Hector’s large nose, raising a brow as he moves his body to the side and grabs his utensils. “Cassidy? Crissy? It’s something with a ‘C’.”

The man’s filling up your drinks and pulling a piece of fluffy cake from the display case, rushing about as if he’d never known peace in his relatively normal life.

Hector was in his mid-forties. Balding. Large and stocky—not exactly someone you’d envision running a business like this all on his own and actually enjoying it. His pasty complexion reminded you of a carton of milk left in the sun, but he got on well enough with the locals to a point where everyone on this street knew him personally. Above all, Hector was a people person. Speaking to him was easy, and the constant burning anger in your chest loosened when he was around. Let you breathe.

All things considered, you quite liked the man.

“Clarissa,” Hector enunciates, putting everything on the counter as you pull out your wallet from your back pocket. “And, yeah, she’s the security guard down there. Beautiful damn woman, Kid.”

Your lips quirk as you take the items in crowded hands carefully, slapping two tens and a few crumpled fives to the counter. As you’re turning and walking to your seat, you call over your shoulder.

“Like a woman who can beat you up, then?”

“God, do I.” You share a chuckle together, and, knowing your routine, Hector begins to whistle under his breath and wipe the front counter clean of crumbs.

Always taking the corner seat next to the large front window, you slip into the wall booth and put everything on the table grunting before shucking off your backpack. Besides you, most of the morning customers just came and went as they pleased, picking up what they needed and leaving—realistically you should as well.

Majoring in history and minoring in business left you deep in work and covered to the neck with projects; already sleepless nights didn’t help when the large classrooms of the University of Chicago got too loud to stand, the raised speaking of students like screaming in your ears. You always skipped morning classes, particularly the large ones for your own sanity. Attendance was tanked, but because the work was all posted online your grade hadn’t suffered.

You'd gotten it up since the first year, at least. That was all that mattered.

Taking a sip of your first cup of espresso, you let the caffeinated liquid hit the emptiness of your stomach and sigh. You place it down on the woodgrain, closing your eyes for a minute and tilting your head down. Around the beverage, your hands twitch at the warm material, feeling your own blood pump in your veins and the loose shirt under your jacket sag as warm air comes to create a dichotomy of senses. Hector always kept the Café warm, but it was never enough for you.

Everything always felt cold.

Blinking back to the present, the Tv situated atop the small bookshelf in the corner spews the early run of the news as you gather your laptop from your bag and set it down; eager to get to work.

“...As we experience the anniversary of the death of—” You blink, fingers pausing over the keys as half of your password is typed out. Staring at the blinking black bar, you hear a violent inhalation of air from the front desk.

“Oh, fuck, Dear, I’m sorry. I forgot that it was today. Here let me–”

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head harshly and tiling your gaze in Hector’s direction. You stare hard at his dirty apron. “No, it’s okay. Leave it on.”

Your voice is stiff, digging into that well in your stomach of barred teeth and barbed wire. Blood instead of water and a bucket made of bone that dips into crimson liquid.

“But…” He trails, and your hands hover above the laptop. You notice a tremor before picking up your drink once more, downing a good portion of the scalding liquid with a gulp. You clear your throat against the burn and lower it.

“If I had an issue with it, Hec, I’d tell you. Trust me, I already know what the date is. Lived it for three years to the day.”

The man grumbles, itching at his round chin. Not too keen. He picks up the remote near the cash register and lowers the volume all the while he sends your hunched form glances with creased brown eyes.

“We remember the countless donations to those less fortunate than himself, the man always seen with a smile on his face greeting visitors, and the tragic end he met as a result of a robbery gone wrong.” Your jaw clenches, hands curling in as you glare at the blinking black bar with hidden hatred. A cruel smirk slashes your lips. Robbery gone wrong, now that was funny. You never knew how anyone believed that. “...Admissions to the Museum of Natural History are at half-price all week.”

The news anchor moves on and your fingers spread to rest atop the smooth keys, lungs tight.

They had been talking about your father, of course. The fabricated story was like a knife to the chest every time someone brought it up. Acquaintances at school, professors. Taking a peek outside, you see groups of random people walk past wondering for an instant if they’d come in and recognize you.

Your dad was incredibly well-known when he was alive.

A robbery, your sneer grows as you log into your laptop, face falling to a blank slate as you clink on a plethora of named files. Pathetic. Of course, the CIA would spew something like that.

“What’s going on? Please, Dad, what’s happening?” The world is swirling with technicolored lights. Amber eyes. A hand on the top of your head.

The words pop up as a document loads, bolded and black. You shake off nausea and take down more caffeine, finishing off the first cup with muted disgust. Pushing it farther down the table, you move the second closer.

OPERATION: KINGFISHER

OVERSIGHT: STATION CHIEF KATE LASWELL, TS/SCI

OPERATIVES: CLASSIFIED

STATUS: ACTIVE

MISSION REPORT: MONDAY, 0823, CHICAGO, USA: THREE YEARS PRIOR:

All the rest was blacked out in long streaks of dark highlighter, the image fuzzy. A sharp needle inserts itself into your nerves, every slam of your heart like a gunshot as your sides pinch with disappointment.

No. Your jaw clenches.

How long had you been trying to get access to all of the government documents that were relevant to your case after you figured out the CIA was behind your father's and your abduction? A full year at this point? So many sleepless nights and under-the-table deals. And the information that mattered the most was still a level above the fabricated station you had given yourself to slip past lines upon lines of code like a snake in the grass.

You want information on Private Samson Row. The name you had figured out belonged to the person who had pulled the trigger on your father. You’d sleuthed out the others’ names as well through a straight week of only coffee and red-eyes. But you'd done it.

Captain John Price, Lieutenant Ghost, Sergeant John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, and Sergeant Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.

Private Samson Row.

What had given them away to be a government body was the one-word phrase that Price had barked after the shot was only an echo.

“What in the fucking hell are you thinking, Private?!” The leader's voice yowls and grunts as you slowly open your eyelids, lashes fluttering over your cheeks. “We needed him alive, you Muppet!”

From then it was history.

Blatant irritation stems in your veins at the brick wall that now presents itself mere black lines away from a reason as to why this all had happened, fingers flinging across the pad to fly through the fifty-two-page file. Not a single word was visible.

“Son of a…” You strangle the curse under your breath and go to dig your fingernails into the back of your neck until crescents form. Blazing white pain and a shifting of sinuses.

If it wasn’t obvious, the laptop with you now was rarely used for schoolwork. In fact, you never even planned on going to campus today—no one expected you to, so it was better to feign brokenness instead of icy fury.

“Kate Laswell,” scoffing humorlessly, you shake your head at the only portions of the document filled in, “I keep seeing your name on everything. Christ, with the intel that I’ve read up on involving you, I’m surprised your personal file wasn’t more difficult to crack open. Only took me four days. ” You mutter to no one and nothing numbly.

But it seems an answer is given.

The bell atop the front door swings, a small tinkering of tarnished silver metal and a creak of rusted hinges. Feet that stamp lightly, but press firmly. Bleeding contained purpose.

Your body stills; lungs going immobile.

When you were young, you could memorize the sounds of the staff going down the stairs at the mansion. Tell who was who just by the pace and the weight on the creaking wood; it was a game that you were sure you could still play even years later in that practically abandoned estate. The slightest sound made you snap to attention when you were alone.

Just as this one did. But that wasn’t because of paranoia.

“Ah! Hello, Sir, welcome!” Hector calls, motioning with a hand as the air goes tense. “What can I get you today? We’ve got a little Coffee Cake left if you want, I gotta say, man, it’s my best batch yet.”

It was because you knew him. Those feet.

This can’t be right.

A throat clears. “Sorry, Sir. Not today.”

That voice. Your eyes shutter wider, eyelashes frozen at the screen of your laptop.

British. Smooth. It was a voice that played in your subconscious at a constant—never leaving. A flash of amber eyes. Blood slashed your vision, coating the world in a sheen of red; gore dripping down your face faster than water. A funeral shroud of pure hatred.

Gaz. Kyle Garrick.

With a quivering hand, your finger slowly clicks the Escape key like it was an intimate partner, watching the document disappear on quick feet and with ruffled clothes into the scene of your wallpaper. Staring blankly at the multiple incriminating folders that meet you, your ears twitch to the sound of a slow inhalation; tapping digits over a pant pocket.

You don’t dare look up.

A tall shadow begins approaching, and you briefly seize. Humming emanates in the back of your head like a kind of drunken sloshing of senses.

Run.

Your heart mirrors the steps that Gaz takes. Against the nature of the cortisol and rampaging adrenaline in your blood, a flicker of your lips betrays a chilled amusement. A part of you had always known this would happen. It’s strange to say, but even as your legs start shaking, your expression is measured; held-back brows, loose lips, and a fluidness to your shifting eyes.

But your mind…

What’s he doing here? You panic. Why…why is he here? They couldn’t have possibly known I was reading up on them, could they? No, no, I’ve been careful.

You can’t move. Your mind can’t function. Every nerve is sparking with a need to sprint and flee. But yet again, your body leaves you frozen.

One of the double chairs in front of your table is pulled out, and a figure dressed in a white shirt covered by the second layer of a fitted blue athletic top calls your gaze. The build of an intensive workout schedule is shown unabashedly, sleeves pulled up to dark elbows that shift the tense forearm muscles. Brown and tan Army pants cause your eyebrow to raise incredulously before the limbs disappear under the barrier.

The frozen shackles on your limbs break and your lips move before you can shut yourself up. Maybe it was the familiar atmosphere, or maybe it was the therapist’s words from that month-long fiasco of court-mandated therapy way back in the beginning.

The coin in your pocket burns, and you long to clench it in your fist until you’re dripping blood like a stuck pig.

“Not exactly trying to hide it, are you?” You look back down at your laptop, opening the search browser and pretending to look up something unimportant. “I’ll admit it, Gaz, I like this instead of having a gun shoved halfway into my vertebrae. Not too fond of it, you understand?”

Silence holds out. A head turns away for a moment as his body shifts in uncomfortableness.

“I’ll be needing you to come with me, Ma’am.” The accent punches you in the throat, the stern order that coasts along like a fish in water.

What gave him the right?

How does one stay calm when your head is like a pot of boiling water? The bubbles roll in great waves of anger and fear as you try and stay outwardly calm with struggling success. You doubted you were able to look anything besides purely rage-filled, but didn’t dare check by looking into the man’s eyes—or even his face for that matter.

You glared over the screen and dug daggers into his bobbing Adam’s Apple, settling on your answer. Sarcasm.

“And I’ll need you to understand that I’d rather choke on this coffee cake.” Your finger points slightly to the untouched plate with a tremor in its bones. “I don’t want another barrel pointed at my forehead, no offense.”

Gaz’s jaw shifts, clenching before loosening, and in his sensitive ear, the radio sizzles to life with a spark.

“Kyle, I’ve got eyes. Talk to me.” The Brit looks outside through the glass, immediately finding the large figure leaning against the wall of a library across the street.

Gaz’s Captain has his arms crossed, beanie-covered head tilted to seem like he’s watching cars that pass by; a gruff-looking man simply people-watching. Everyone misses the bulge of a pistol stuffed into the small of his back—under a brown leather jacket and a black sweater. Price itches at his brown beard with a frown.

“In position, Sir. Speaking with her now.” The man at the front desk of the Café watches him closely, pretending to clean a spot on the back counter that seems to never go away despite the multiple passes. He wouldn’t be a problem if it came down to that.

“Copy. Keep on schedule.” The Sergeant wasn’t sure why he was here—why out of all the others in his Task Force, Price had decided he needed to be the one to engage with you.

“Roger that.”

This was the last thing he wanted to do.

He didn’t know how to convince you to come with him without replaying the scene from three years ago; it was imperative that he didn’t do that. Though it had been necessary…his thighs shifted over the rickety chair. It wasn’t supposed to end like that. Everyone was paying for it.

Gaz’s brown eyes glance to the table, one hand going to fix the position of his favorite ball cap over his head and press it down.

He felt naked without his gear.

Figures I’d be the only one bloody stripped down to nothing.

“Ma’am,” the Brit starts slowly, watching your ears twitch as you burrow deeper into your large jacket. A flicker of hesitation seeps into his heart. With a frown on his tense lips, he could still see your shoulders bunched up; breathing labored. You were terrified—rightly so. “It would be best to listen to me, yeah? No one’s going to hurt you. This is for your own safety but I need you to come quietly.”

Kyle had put all of his cards to the shock value; the hope that your fear of him would prompt you to come along in a shell-shocked reaction and a hesitance of an imaginary weapon. It worked in a few other missions, he’d even done it a few other times in the army, though it was always a hit or miss.

But staring hard at your thin lips, he noticed anger as well and was forced to face reality. This was never going to work.

Your internal timer ends, and all the primal instincts trapped in your mind let loose a vile scream. The memories are too great; too violent. Even this man’s voice is a brand in your soft tissue.

“Listen to who? An accomplice to murder? And ‘not hurt me’.” You snort, reaching up to grab the top of your laptop and close it with a slam. Hector pauses his fake cleaning as you stare at Gaz’s nose and the barely-there stubble that lives over his upper lip and cheeks. “You’ve done a pretty horrible job of that…The only way you’re getting me to go with you is in a body bag.” Your brow raises. “I’m sure you’re familiar with them, hm? I’d kind of hoped you’d already be in one by now if I’m being honest.”

“Listen,” Kyle prided himself on being patient, but the clock was ticking. Laswell needed you at the designated location and that was where he intended to take you in one piece. The injection needle in his back pocket was looking more and more promising if this continued to be difficult, a mixed concoction that only the CIA could put together to knock a person out for a long while. But why did he feel so hesitant to use it? He’d also been the only one to suggest someone try and speak to you first before forcing you to go along with them.

I guess this is what happens when I try and put in my two damn cents. Stick to procedure next time.

“I don’t think you understand the position you’re in—”

“The position I’m in is entirely you and your little friends’ fault.” You growl, voice breaking and eyes turning to look outside. Snapping when you see his lips part, “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Kyle’s mouth closes with a clench of teeth.

Trapped like an animal you have half a sense to gnaw your own leg off. There was a hunch in your mind as to what was happening—the files you’ve read that weren’t blackout out gave in-depth mission details; play-by-plays. These people worked in teams. Always.

Your eyes dart with frantic knowledge as Gaz sits tense, a subdued annoyance flaring as his hands tap the table and thinks deeply.

You find Captain Price easily and the agony grows. The stocky man shifts in the morning light, the familiar body leading to a slashed remembrance of folded arms and black balaclavas. His stare was like a burning piece of wood shoved directly into your eye sockets.

Alleyway in the back, your feet shuffle, tense. You had to get out of this. Take the corner and run to the busier intersections. Try to keep calm. Breathe.

Easier said than done. Kyle was the same man who had put a gun to your head with the intention of pulling the trigger—your life was nothing more than a bargaining chip. Would he do the same again?

Yes. No one was saying he didn’t have a weapon on him now; the only difference was this time you didn’t know why he was here in the first place. The easiest answer was the documents, but was it that simple? Why send the same people after you?

Not that simple, but it is illegal. The thought of going back to a small room; a rope around your wrists…your hands go to itch at the healed skin, still sensitive despite the years. The Sergeant clocks it with a pulling frown and tight brows.

“Ma’am,” Gaz’s voice snaps your vision back to the table, and you go to take a drink of the remaining cup of espresso to calm your nerves. You send a glance at the heavy backpack beside you and blink. “I didn’t have to come and speak to you, alright? I’m doing this to try to find some standing. This isn’t a ploy, but you have to follow me.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Bloody…no.” Kyle grunts, itching at his neck as his earpiece goes off. He looks sideways.

“Kyle, this isn’t working. Stick ‘er.”

“I can get her to come along,” he mutters harshly, not noticing one of your hands going to place the drink down while the other sneaks to the strap of your bag. “There’s no need to—!”

The force hits him right in the neck, and his head snaps back with a heavy jerk. His chair falls backward from the weight, sending him sprawling in a tangle of limbs and rushing feet over the floor. A heavy crash emanates throughout the building and the wind is knocked from his lungs as brown eyes bug out of the sockets.

“Hector! Call the police!” The front door is slammed open with a violent noise of shaking glass and a bell. Shrieking hinges.

“Bloody fucking hell!” Kyle shouts, shoving the backpack off of him and ignoring the sharp pang in the back of his skull. He recovers quickly. Hot irritation spikes as Price barks into the earpiece; the Sergeant scrambles after you with fast force.

“After her!”

Your feet slam to the concrete as the laptop stays tucked into the crook of your elbow, chest conforming to the press of it as you puff out quick breaths. Inside your ribs, the blood rushes out to your head, creating a pound like a drum.

Shoving aside others on the sidewalk, shouting sounds out from behind you before the dark shadow of an alleyway meets your snapping vision like a blessing from above. Pushing past an older man, you take a sudden turn into the darkness, the morning chill momentarily getting pushed back by the fire under your skin. Wind rushes past your ears.

Faster, you tell yourself, feet flying over stray garbage bags and puddles, don’t let them catch you. They can’t catch you.

Easier said than done. They were trained soldiers. SAS in league with the CIA.

Panting, you clutch your laptop tighter and feel cold sweat drip down your spine before a yell echoes from the entrance behind you.

“Hey!” It was Kyle’s voice, stern, but the sound of another set of feet told you who else was in pursuit. If you were being honest, the Captain scared you far more than the Sergeant did.

Your eyes go unfocused as reality sets in.

“They came back for me,” muttering, you see the brief alleyway end up ahead. “They tracked me down again to finish the job.”

“Bravo 7-1 she’s comin’ to you!” You don’t register the grunted words until you’re already taking the corner on the opposite side of the street, about to disappear into the expanse of a crowded downtown rush.

The wall of muscle sends you sprawling out on your back, the laptop flying from your hands in a wide display of just how fast you’d been running as discomfort ripples up your spine as the ground meets you. The pain that blossoms in your nose is sharp and immediate; a groan exiting into the air as you close your eyes tight to push back the shock and the momentum that had just been immediately halted. Nonsensical words exit you in slurring huffs.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” A Scottish accent hits your pulsing ears, as your shaking hand covers your eyes, teeth bared as a dull ache stems from the back of your head. Rocks poke into your back. “You alright down there? Didnea expect that.”

A hand snaps to the collar of your shirt, hauling you up easily as your bearing has yet to come back to you. The word spins.

“Ow,” your lips release a whine, face turned down as you blink away black dots. Large feet covered by brown combat boots become clear as the running slam of the other two gets closer.

Starling, you snap your head forward and attempt to rush off with barely functioning feet.

“Ah, ah!” The Scot laughs, and a locked fist stays rooted into the textile of your clothes. “Can’t have that, now.”

You look up at a strong man with pale skin—brunette stubble over a sculpted jaw and a scar over the chin. Long lips that curl into a smirk to show off white teeth. If you had to guess, this was John MacTavish. Soap—otherwise called Johnny.

You’ve seen the photos in the files, but you have no rush to look into his bright cerulean gaze anytime soon, but you see wisps of his mohawk sitting on his forehead.

“Get your hands off of me.” You growl, feet straining to stay steady. Your lids blink quickly to gain control as, like a newborn foal, it’s like your body doesn’t know how to control itself. “Bastard.”

Jesus, my head’s yelling at me to sit down. The hell is this guy made out of? Stone?

The Scot only chuckles as Gaz and Price catch up.

“No can do, Little Lady.”

Kyle lets out a deep sigh as he stops, having seen the entire scene play out when you ran head-on into the older man and tries to tell himself to feel bad—he did slightly, but the mirrored pain in the back of his own skull found some sort of redemption.

Girl’s got an arm on her. He rubs at the back of his head.

“I think that makes us even. Wouldn’t you say, Ma’am?” The Sergeant huffs light-heartedly, staring at you without so much as breaking a sweat from the short pursuit. The Captain shakes his head, going to pick up the laptop on the ground as your teeth clench.

“Call Ghost. Get him over here for the Exfil.” Civilians watch, but like they usually do, no one steps in to say anything or to spare more than a glance. “ASAP.”

“Shut up.” You scowl at Gaz’s chest, replying to his comment. Jerking yourself out of Soap’s hold, he lets you stand fully by yourself before he presses large fingers into his earpiece to mutter something out. The Scot still eyes you closely. There was no use trying to run anymore. “It was the least you deserved. Or are we forgetting how we met in the first place—should have dumped coffee over your head too.”

“Now that’s overkill, isn’t it, Love?” He can’t help but snap. Perhaps it was the dull thumping in his skull, or perhaps it was just you. “Manners never a prospect in your home?”

No one tested his patience quite like this and he’s only just re-met you. Your anger was justified, the Sergeant knew deep down, but he’d never expected this. In the brief time, you had insulted him, thrown a bookbag at his head, and then insulted him some more. Maybe the Captain had been right when he suggested all those weeks ago that it would be better to just knock you out right off the bat.

Still could…Kyle twitches his nose, huffing to himself and shaking his head.

You bare your teeth. “Shove that overkill and that stupid nickname up your—”

“Enough. Both of you.” The Captain interjects, growling out as a black van pulls alongside the road. Walking to it, Price shakes his head, fingers pressing into his nose bridge as he enters the passenger seat. “Fuckin’ hell.”

You fall silent and fight back the burning heat in your cheeks as the lack of ability to escape becomes evident to you. What else could you do? Scream? No—they’d just shove you in the car and put a gun to your spine again.

Every option led to you getting into that car. That…that compacted black car with tinted windows and filled with the men you hate the most.

Will Private Row be in there? A pang of horror enters you. Will he…?

Your father’s blood is forever stuck into the fabric of your flesh like a tapestry. Lining the stitching of your pores and the embroidery of your genes.

“Go on, then,” Soap prompts, a hand pressing into your shoulder blades like you were an unruly calf. Your eyes narrow, lips pinching down into a tight frown.

Today was supposed to be easy. Simple. No college, no questions, and certainly no abductions. Your dad was always on your mind—what happened? Why did the Private shoot him when in every report you had read interrogations of that kind took hours upon hours to finish?

If I keep my cool, you reason, feeling all of the eyes on you as you grab the car handle and pull it open with a pop, maybe I can get answers as well. Straight from the source.

Your eyes search the interior and a great weight is lifted. No one else besides the driver and the Captain, who are separated by a wall and a small window in the front, is present. No Private Row.

Thank God.

What would you have done then?

These last three years were a learning period, and when you hop into the vehicle and shuffle to the far right, your hand delves into your jacket pockets; the one connecting with the coin, its metal cold to the touch. Your finger skims it, pressing into the groves until an indent forms in your flesh. But there was one thing you learned in the time you spent destroying yourself to get even a sliver of information on your abductors. They were always playing games.

Games of intellect, of mental fortitude and knowledge. It was a chess piece being moved and hoping yours was in the line of fire so the king could be checked. Your unease is still present, the quivering fingers and the snapping gaze but if you can keep your head on, then maybe—

The car door on your side opens.

“Excuse me, Ma’am. Can’t have you by the door,” Gaz mutters, and your lips release a stifled scoff. But you do as you’re told, watching from the corner of your eyes as the tall body scoots inside, easily situating itself in between you and the door they were apparently afraid you’d throw yourself out of.

They’re going to lock it anyways—what's the point? You could call them paranoid, but that would just be hypocritical. When the last sliver of outside light is cut off as the door closes, you flinch at the loud noise and take a steadying deep breath. Soap sits on your opposite.

You’re completely stuck in the middle.

Kyle watches as Ghost sends a glance back. The Sergeant nods stiffly and the car peels out. Johnny leans back, arms crossed, and watches the world as it passes by while those brown orbs stay locked on you. The subtle shaking of your shoulders; the way your eyes bug and the pupils stay small.

Sweat stays on your eyebrow ridge, and Gaz thinks about how close you’ll become to a snowball if you pull in even farther. The man clears his throat in dismissal and a small sliver of regret. After all, you are a mostly innocent party in this.

He’s about to open his mouth and ask if your head is okay when a deep chuckle sounds off from the front of the car.

“Well, you’ve been busy. Laswell was right.” Your ears perk, mind forcing back thoughts of the walls closing in around you as Price’s gravel voice sounds out. The car smells like gunpowder and leather. “How’d you manage this, then?” You blink at the interior window and say nothing.

You’d seen the bear of a man take the computer; had no doubt he could find a way into it, though you had never thought it would happen that fast.

Your lips thinned.

Kyle and Soap exchange glances, curiosity sparking as Ghost drives them to where Laswell told them to meet with the package.

“That’s none of your business.” The comment exits you in a string of whispers, defensiveness sparking.

“Well, it’s my business when my name’s on it, eh? How long did this take to pile together?” Your mouth stays shut as the Captain’s visage looks back at you from the rearview mirror with narrowed lids.

“Sir?” Gaz asks, confused.

“She’s got files on us—on all of us. Kate too. More than she thought.” The Sergeant looks down at you in surprise, eyes going slightly wider.

“What in the hell does that mean?” Soap questions, hands gesturing out from his cross-body hold as you sink even deeper into yourself. Bitter tears bite at the back of your vision.

“It means someone’s been digging where they weren’t supposed to.” It’s the first time that Ghost has spoken, but it was all that was needed. Your body shivers at the Manchester accent; the numb brutality of it.

But you say nothing, and the ride is silent besides the way all of the hard stares nearly spoke words out loud.

Everything just felt like a blur of sound and color. Separate; removed. If you tried hard enough, you were back in the Café with Hector—eating that coffee cake you never even got a bite out of and chugging down espresso that you were already craving again.

Your finger digs deeper into the coin in your pocket.

The cops would show up. There was no doubt that the past New Jersey resident hadn’t called them when you told him to. But there was also no doubt that the CIA would step in and take jurisdiction. It was what they did when your father was murdered—they’d spun a story as you sat in a room that belonged to a detective and sobbed in an inconsolable state. Reporters and news crews outside.

Nothing we can do, you were told, it was a robbery. Out of our hands, but we’ll try our best to find the culprit.

You already knew the culprit. The man in the corner. His name was Samson Row and he had been nervous. He had a trigger finger.

Your eyes harden as they glare at the floor and your jumping feet. For your father, you would get as much information as you could, and then leak it if you had to—if these people let you live. But before that, you wanted to know why. Why had he died? You’d do nothing until that was answered.

Swallowing down saliva, you speak as the car turns off the main road, heading farther and farther away from the parts of town you knew. Your lungs go stiff.

“So where’s Row?” The air shifts as your hoarse voice coldly utters, “What? Is he not part of your little group now? Figured he’d be here to finish off the rest of it, he only did half a job last time.”

Kyle looks to the side, an elbow resting on the window sill. Soap clears his throat awkwardly as his great body shifts.

“Hm,” Price grunts out. But if you were looking for an answer, no one gives you one.

Hatred flairs. What gave these men the right to think they could just push you aside like that? They put a gun to your head! Killed your father!

The rabid sense of justice and entitlement grow until your jaw is clenching, unease mixing with agony. You deserve answers even if it kills you.

Your mouth opens, and your instinctually watering eyes stay stuck to the floor.

“I–”

“Laswell’ll explain,” Gaz’s quiet voice leaves you tense, muscles wound up as if you had forgotten he was there. A barrel flashes over your sight and you want to shift away but know you can’t.

Kate Laswell. So that’s who you’re going to meet.

“...Good,” you lick your lips.

About time.

It’s only ten minutes later that you’re let out of the vehicle, an underground parking garage and its dim lighting making your pupils widen to accommodate the darkness. Gaz gets out first, keeping the door open for you by the frame and you pause before following after, keeping a wary eye on him.

“Head alright?” You frown and stare at the Brit’s nose.

“Hope yours hurts even more.”

“This way.” You follow after the Captain’s voice, leaving the Sergeant behind to gape, blink, and slowly shut the car door. Ghost slips past with a hidden amusement and the group continues on.

This is going to be one hell of a mission.

To you, it was clear that this was a military base.

The entrance needed a keycard, and the vehicles stored underground were armored besides the one that you’d been brought in. The hallways were lined with tile and the staff that walked past were all dressed in clothes ranging from fatigues to full-on issued uniforms. People would try to meet your eyes, but you always looked away before they were able.

“In here.” Price utters, sliding an identification card through a reader before a faint clicking emanates out. The brunette tilts his head firmly as he opens the door.

You blink, but unlike the strange and heated interactions with Gaz, you hesitate to get on the Captain’s bad side. The chilled eyes digging into you as you state at his scarred hands… Your body shivers and you slip past the men into a brightly lit room.

Even without a weapon pointed at you, their eyes still felt like knives. Their words like bullets. Everything reminds you of three years ago, and try as you might, all you want to do is go to bed and forget about this.

Still the adrenaline hadn’t crashed, and when it did you knew you were going to be out of school for a week. Shaking. Sobbing. Rolling on the floor refusing to eat because what if they were right outside the door of your bedroom?

As you expected, the door closes behind you with a lock being set in place. But what you didn’t expect was to not be alone in this medium-sized room holding only a table and…

Your gaze widens on the figure in one of two chairs. Slim, yet fit, her pale skin sits under a simple white blouse and a lanyard over her neck. Hands intertwined and sitting over a stack of physical files in manila folders as a wedding band glints.

Dirty-blonde hair forms strands of bangs with the rest held back like a hostage near the top of her back, wrinkles in her forehead and around her lips. Without thinking clearly, your eyes make contact with hers, and you’re left violently flinching away, blinking rapidly and tilting your head down to force away amber and gold. Your heart seizes, but you recognize that shade of blue you’d just seen.

Gunmetal. So, this was Kate Laswell in the flesh.

A soft sigh meets the air.

“Please, sit.”

Biting your lip wearily, you start forward, hand connecting with the extra seat before you slowly pull it out. Your fingers tap the material before you hesitantly lower yourself into it, eyes going to any possible exit beyond the door behind you.

There was none.

“I’d like to apologize for the stress, but you can imagine that we wanted to cause the least amount of panic possible. To both you and the public.” Your vision sits on her lanyard, watching the picture jump as she moves to sit farther upright. “Kyle was the one to suggest speaking to you first, though I didn’t think it would work.”

You slouch.

“It didn’t.”

Kate blinks at your frame, studying the ragged look and evident sleeplessness. She would almost call it sickly. A frown grows over her serious face.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Where’s Row?” To hell with subtlety, you decided.

“It’s not as simple as that.” The woman doesn’t miss a beat, shaking her head back and forth slowly. “I’ll need you to listen to what I’m about to tell you.”

“...And why should I do that?” Your brow raises, voice gaining ice. “You’re responsible for my father’s death. You know that? You had oversight for that Operation.” Laswell stares at you, you can feel it. “Hell, you had oversight for a lot of Operations. What was the number… forty-five and counting? But that’s really just a blanket number, isn’t it?”

You can’t help the comments, they fall from you quicker than blood, and the back of your head burns something awful. Lights dance.

“John told me you had government documents on your laptop. A number on all of the members of One-Four-One.” Kate sighs quickly, motioning to you with a hand. “I have to admit, I did expect something like that to happen—so I made sure to let them know that you most likely already knew they were SAS.” A pause. Your hand goes to itch at your nose, peeling back skin as a way to ground yourself. But you’d be lying by saying you weren’t intrigued and a bit in awe. You’d underestimated how much Laswell actually knew about you. Who was to say they hadn’t been keeping an eye on you this whole time? Who are you kidding, of course they did. You curse yourself internally. “But unfortunately, that’s not why we’re here.”

Your fidgeting halts; eyes narrow. The Agent moves back, taking up a file and spreading it open, you watch with rapt attention.

If not the stolen documents, then what?

“Do,” pictures meet light, and your interest peeks, “these individuals seem familiar?”

One was of a man in a nice suit, expensive looking with a well-trimmed beard of blonde hair and a bald head. Tattoos are inked into visibly pale skin. The photo was taken as he was getting out of a large vehicle, armed guards holding a door open though it looked like he himself wasn’t in need of the entourage.

He was built like a boar on steroids.

Your hand grabs the page and brings it closer, face pulling close in concentration as your hands go clammy. You had no recollection of this stranger.

So what is this about?

The next was of a woman with a darker skin tone, perhaps from South Asia, though you couldn’t be certain. She was dressed nicely as well, in silk skirts and a long-sleeved shirt that wraps around her smaller body. The look is finished off with a thin garment over her shoulders.

She’s picking out spices at an outdoor market, the image partially covered by the lip of a jacket as if someone had been trying to be discreet.

But the guns of the armed guards are still seen as they flank the woman.

You look up, placing the photos down and shaking your head. Pulled in eyebrows causing your gaze to stop at Kate’s nose. “No, why?”

“Because they’ve put a price on your head.” Your body freezes and it takes a moment to register what she just told you.

Eyes wide and lips slightly parted; the ache in the back of your skull burns brighter as you find your breath has stopped. Sucking down a gasp, you bring a hand out of your pocket to scratch at your neck, mind running.

“What…what?” Laswell takes the pictures back, continuing nonchalantly as if your heart isn’t about to explode. You feel faint, and the lights buzz in your ears.

A price on my head?

“Crime syndicates with terrorist connections.” She begins, and you can’t help but listen. “Since your father’s death, they’ve been waiting for you to take up the mantle. Your families held tight bonds in the past—the museum your father was running was a cover to smuggle Yaromir Osipov’s weapons,” Kate points to the man, then to the woman, “and Mala Kham’s drugs. They were later sold at an undisclosed location and a portion of the profits was sent back to fund conflicts. Hired assassinations. Symbolic murders...”

The rest is left as an open statement.

“I…” You stutter, panic palpable. The air was getting thicker; harder to breathe. You can’t remember a time when your own clothes had felt so suffocating to wear.

It wasn’t a question to you as to why you’d restrained yourself from looking anything about your father up in the CIA databases. It was a fresh wound and an incredibly bloody one. The man that raised you wasn’t that man—the one that would smuggle drugs and weapons into Chicago and sell them off somewhere else.

The man you remembered was respectable and above all, kind. Indirectly causing the deaths of people? No, that wasn’t him. Your mind broke at even the barest insinuation. It… it refused to even consider it.

Kate Laswell watches blankly, humming under her breath and nodding to herself. As if she’d just confirmed something that she’d been on the fence about.

She continues.

“When three years passed and you never got into contact, your mother either, their product wasn’t getting sold at high rates anymore. Chicago is a vastly important playing field. The best way to get another house in power is to take out any remaining opposition and reinstate someone else.”

“My mother and I,” you murmur with a hysterical look that snaps into your eye. A sharp rigidness enters vertebrae, hands hastily slam the table in a grand display along with a crashing chair behind you as your feet push you upwards. “She’s in Ireland,” your mother was a traveling nurse, going abroad more often than not and away constantly. You hadn’t talked much after the first year of your father's passing. She left you to your grief and took hers with her. “D–do you have her in custody already or…or—She should be with someone! Is she still just—?”

“She’s in a secure location.” Kate interrupts, her hands raising. She’s calm; incredibly so, and you feel that serenity of her voice leaks into you, your shoulders lessen from their raised-hair stance. “And an Agent I trust is with her. She’ll be back in Chicago soon.”

“Jesus…” A hand spreads over your face, digits on the table clenching. While your mother and you didn't talk often, there was no part of you that wanted her dead. Not a single piece.

A sheen of embarrassment floods your blood at the scene you’d just made, but that doesn’t stop the confusion.

“But, wait,” your hand lowers, and you frown at the lanyard, “why would you care?” Kate places the photos back into the folder and closes it. “And why would you murder my father if you felt like this would happen?”

Where’s Samson Row?

“Our intention was never to have a casualty involved with our investigation.” Laswell sends you a glance with her emotionless eyes. “Nonetheless with a witness. It was an unfortunate accident.”

Your face blanks.

Unfortunate accident.

“Then why did your Private,” your mouth spits, hostility immediately pushing past formality, “shoot?”

No hesitation.

“We don’t know.” The laugh that rockets from you is cruel; violent and full of malice.

“What?!” You point at her, leaning forward over the table as your common sense vanishes. “You're the CIA and you can’t even control who you employ?! You murdered an innocent man!”

Kate looks at you with nothing, blinking slowly as you glare at her forehead. Did she not even care? The Agent says your name seriously.

“Your father was many things, but I can assure you, innocent was never one of them.”

“You expect me to just believe you?” You nod sarcastically multiple times, your loud voice no doubt flying under the opening of the door. “Just to, what? Accept that your Private shot him in the head right next to me for nothing? That’s hilarious if you think I’m that dumb.”

“What Samson Row did was against orders. No one here gave him the green light and thus I can’t say why he pulled the trigger. You’re going to have to accept that we don’t have the answers you’re looking for.”

Angry tears are splattering the table, a rampant betrayal. It was getting incredibly hard to not start swearing at this woman, but your father raised you better.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Laswell speaks lowly, “but I’m not lying to you. If your father kept all of this hidden…then there’s no thought as to if he cared about you,” a delicate silence as your jaw clenches, both hands clenched over the table as your head bows down, salty water bouncing off the flesh. “You should remember that.”

Your mouth opens, but you close it just as quickly. What could you say to that?

“You…don’t know…” Whispering can’t hide the enraged tremor of your tone. “Why?” The hopelessness.

Kate gives you a minute, and when your tears come to a slow stop, she opens her mouth.

“I’ll be providing you a protection detail until the cells overseas can be disposed of. You and your mother will be well taken care of in the safety of your own home.” She continues, “If you can do something for me in return in the meantime.”

A harsh laugh exits and bounces off the walls.

“Why am I not surprised?” Laswell ignores you.

“Your father had sensitive information that searches of his shipping lot and museum office didn’t offer any leads on. While you’re spending more time at your home, I want you to look for them. Anything that involves other dealers or a location to a hub.” You roll your eyes, smirk growing on bitter pieces of flesh.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” You ask the Agent with a splay of your hand, foot tapping the ground in a rhythmic beat as you stare hard into the wall above her hair. Swiping at your cheeks until they’re raw. “I know you’re not above breaking into houses.”

“After the event three years ago, my superiors are,” a small noise in the back of her throat as she pushes herself up from the table, “less than pleased with how One-Four-One and I are handling this situation. It would look better on paper if you cooperated.”

“Is Samson dead?” Shoving your hands into your pockets, you lean back on your heels, tilting your head as you look at Kate’s collarbone. You can see her take a breath; lungs inflating like plastic sacks.

“Yes.” It’s like a punch to the gut—you have to stop yourself from staggering backward. Your next words are strained as your hands clench. But the woman just watches, intrigue laced in her studious eyes; half-narrowed with a dipped chin.

“How.”

“Do you have any other questions for me?” It was apparent that your inquiries would get you nowhere, at least the ones that mattered to you.

You nod stiffly, cutting your losses. You’d just look into it yourself. “Who’s going to be at my house?”

“Kyle.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“And why him?” Your voice growls, and you have a sudden need to pace around the room as your ears twitch to Laswell’s sighing and the shifting of her papers.

“Sergeant Garrick is trained in VIP protection. I’m sure you’ve read all about that.” Slyness enters her tone.

Of course you had.

Every file on your laptop was a mix of both professional and personal documents—all unimaginably delicate information if it were to get out into the public. For the Task Force itself, as well as their families. It would mean even more death and slaughter.

A nail in a coffin. Blackmail.

“I know that.” You grunt, taking a hung skin by your fingernail in between your teeth and biting down until you rip out portions of your flesh with a dull burn. “That’s not what I’m asking you—he’s the man who put a gun to my head.”

The insinuation is bare to the world.

“And now he’ll be the one using it to point at others.” The Agent slips past you, and your nose picks up the scent of linen and cigarette smoke.

This is the point that you should stop talking. Cut off loose ends and think of a way out of this. But you’d gotten cruel; cold-hearted with little regard for others feelings. What you wanted was the upper hand. You needed it. Some semblance of control in a situation that was so far out of it that the concept itself should be in space. Control was how you’d survived. You recall a flash of a file with Kate Laswell’s name attached and you’re speaking before the connotation fully registers.

“I wonder if your wife knows what you do. How many families have you ruined?” The woman pauses behind you, a hand on the door. Her legs shift. “Do you tell her? Or do you keep her conscious clean as you spread the blood on your hands over to her?”

Scream at me, you plead, eyes small. Yell. Rage. Please, just do something predictable. Let me win something.

Kate looks over her shoulder at you, but your vision stays anchored ahead; back turned away from the door entirely. Eyes blinking; lungs jumping like frogs to find oxygen as if to suck down flies.

“I should thank you.” The words echo. “You’re giving my department leeway to move on Osipov and Kham now that a US citizen is in direct crossfire…” The woman turns back to the door. “I’ll be expecting Garrick to send updates every two days. Try not to kill him.” She walks out the door on steady feet and it stays unlocked behind her when the metal eventually closes with the semblance of a period in a sentence. The almost inhuman silence left in its wake makes your ears ring with noise in the absence of all else.

Alone, mere seconds later, your hand quickly snaps to your mouth to muffle a wail, eyes kept firmly shut in grief as your knees shake. You only barely stop yourself from hitting the floor as the panic finally registers; halfway folded over the table.

A ways off in the hallway, none the wiser, Gaz leans against the wall—arms crossed and head resting behind him. It’s only at the sight of Laswell that the calm man perks to attention like an eager soldier.

Since he knew his charge already, Kyle had stayed behind while all the others of the Task Force had left with various degrees of goodbyes and well-wishes. Pats on his shoulders as he chuckled and made them swear to not have too much fun without him.

About to open his mouth and ask the fast-paced woman how it went, he’s interrupted by Kate’s blue eyes blazing as she glances at him.

“Good luck, Sergeant.” Her still voice is grim. “You’ll need it.” The female Agent walks on without another word, leaving the Brit wide-eyed and staring after.

“...Brilliant.” He fixes his cap and sighs before the sound of his cracking knuckles echoes through the hall. “Just bloody brilliant.”

TAGS:

@fatunn , @mh073099 , @littlegaypng , @untitled69555 , @babybooday , @caffeine-anxiety-and-randomfacts, @underrated-youngster , @jupiterredolent , @idocarealot , @karnellius , @latteisaqueen , @petrat97 , @jade-jax , @roosterr , @escapefromrealitysm , @renaich, @kysa32 , @human-turtle , @aurora-basin , @terumisworld , @violet-phantoms, @xxfeelmylovexx , @neelehksttr, @nezukos-number1fan , @20forty9 , @mdjenjen, @marrianena, @angeldaisyy, @alhaizen , @homicidal-slvt , @emerald-valkyrie , @raissadoesthingslmao , @misfne , @hollyhopesworld , @wasteland-babe , @330bpm-whiplash , @anna-banana27 , @justherebecausesafarisucks, @sunnynomoar , @doggydale, @thecrispypotatochip, @74478328 , @blueoorchid , @das-conk-creet-baybee, @dragonfruit1985, @chestnutsandcurls , @vamqyr3 , @lavalleon , @nebula67 , @urfavsunkissedleo

528 notes · View notes

deathmetalunicorn1 · 8 months

Note

Never thought I will miss a person so much or their wirtings so much. I'm really glad you take a break for yourself.

I recently just found your works and immediately you went radio silence and I didn't get to request last time. I read your RoR works where child reader was replaced. Can you write another one with alternate ending? Maybe instead of dying, child reader had enough and reported what happened to her to her teachers or a social workers. Reader have experience with neglect and abuse, which is why she snapped when she realizes the RoR characters was treating her like her abuser did which cause the one who replaced her got arrested or something. The ending could be either reader was taken by the social workers and cutting the RoR characters out of her life (in which she ignores all attempts to readopt her) or she still lives with them but no longer trust them (stopped calling them her parents/family and plan to moved out instantly once she was of age despite the RoR try to change her mind).

-You remember the day well, when the girl, six years older than you, was adopted by your family, who adopted you as well, she was twelve going on thirteen while you were six, small for your age but shining under the love from your adoptive family.

-That is, until Emilianna was brought in (trying to make up a name I hope nobody else has and if you do I sincerely apologize), and your little light was snuffed out by her sunshine brightness.

-You wanted to be happy, telling her how happy you were to have a big sister, which your family thought was adorable, and while she was smiling on the outside, hugging you close, inside she was sneering, annoyed that she had to share such a wealthy family with someone who was mere trash in her eyes.

-Aware from prying eyes, you learned that she was a cruel and vain person, teasing you for your short stature, telling you that you would never be cute and that your family only loved you because they had to, while they loved her because she was perfect, cute, delicate, and gentle.

-Emilianna also threatened you if you ever told on her, pinching and beating you behind closed doors where your bruises and marks couldn’t be seen and pain scared you, so you kept quiet, desperate that your family would soon recognize what was going on as you began to shy away, not joining in family activities, almost like you were hiding from all of them.

-All of their attention went to Emilianna, if she wanted to go out shopping, they would all drop everything to take her out, to make her happy if she were to ever bat her sad eyes, telling them that she had never had a family shopping trip before.

-You woke up from your nap that day to a completely empty house and panicked, checking each room for someone before you came to Emilianna’s room, finding it full of clothes, toys, and so many lavish things, while you were still in your clothes you’ve worn for three days, since you had no clean clothes, as they were all forgotten in the hamper in your room, as you couldn’t carry it as your hamper was bigger than you.

-There was no longer a plate for you at the dinner table, as they had forgotten about you, and you would have to find something, usually a bread roll or something small, to stave off your hunger pains, while Emilianna could throw her food away if she didn’t like it.

-You endured this treatment for almost two months, nobody ever seeming to realize what was happening and that they were forgetting you. Emilianna was always sure to keep you under her control, threatening you if you cost her the lavish lifestyle she’s come to enjoy.

-The final straw for you is one cold winter day, where you only had a half a day at school, Emilianna had told you that you didn’t need a coat- as you were going to be picked up, and she took and hid your coat.

-Shivering out in the snow, your tears welled, wanting to cry before you heard, “Y/N?! What are you still doing here!?” you turned, seeing your teacher and you instantly burst into tears as she ran over, removing her coat as she bundled you up.

-It was two hours later, you were safe inside the hospital with your teacher and two police officers. You were angry and tired, as you had been treated badly long enough- and your family betrayed you.

-This was the same when you were with your original family- this is how you were treated- and they were ignoring you in favor of Emiliana- just like your original big brother, and this time, you were going to fight back.

-Officers had gone to your home and your family freaked out- hearing that you were in the hospital after they failed to pick you up.

-Emiliana fessed up, after being asked by the police, scared, that she took the message and ‘forgot’ to tell everyone, which got them angry at her- but they were horrified to learn that you were covered in wounds- abuse wounds.

-Your family swore up and down they didn’t hurt you and they allowed the police to search the house. Emiliana was panicking, seeing them going into her room, followed by several members of your family, before going to your room and instantly they were in an uproar again- demanding to know where your clothes and toys were.

-With more pressing, Emiliana fessed up- showing them her closet, which had all of your stuff, thrown back there and she was instantly in tears when they told her that she needed to come in for questioning, they all did.

-Hades, Adam, Odin, and Eve were the one’s allowed to come to the hospital, under police guidance, and seeing you there, looking so broken, seeing the abuse wounds, Eve immediately tried to run to you, “Y/N!”

-You shied away, causing her to freeze as you held up your arms to your case worker who picked you up, holding you close.

-As the truth was revealed- that Emiliana had been abusing you- putting you in your place, as she wanted to be the only child in your massive family, Adam, in tears, tried to ask you why you didn’t say anything, “You ignored me- I tried talking to you all several times, but you all brushed me off for her- you all abandoned me!”

-Your words cut deep, breaking their hearts, as they hadn’t meant to- begging for your forgiveness. You hugged your case worker, “I don’t want to go back to them- they don’t care about me- they don’t love me.”

-Your caseworker could see their pain- they truly didn’t know, but they were still neglectful to you and she hugged you close, “Then you won’t- and I will be in contact with Emiliana’s case worker- she’s going to be removed as well and placed in an institute where she can get the therapy she needs. I’m sorry.”

-You refused to look at them as she carried you away, your family calling out your name. She could feel your tears on her shoulder, breaking her heart, holding you close- she didn’t want to fail you again.

-Your family was broken after you were taken away- hearing what you had said about them and they all realized that they had indeed forgotten about you- they couldn’t remember the last time they saw you smile, running up to them for a hug.

-They were furious at Emiliana, who tried to plead and cry with them and her case-worker, as she didn’t want to leave such a wealthy home- she didn’t want to lose her clothes and toys- her happiness.

-The family was broken- you were the glue- the happiness, holding them all together, and you were gone, and they could never fix that, and you refused to see them. You never wanted to see them again so they could never hurt you again.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror hades #ror adam #ror eve #ror odin

140 notes · View notes

cemeterything · 11 months

Note

i feel like your ocs would have amazing aita posts

oh definitely. in fact here's a sample for you.

Annie: "AITA for constructing a moral framework based on my belief that I am a character in a cosmic horror setting where my knowledge of the horrors makes me a target and thus I must do whatever it takes to survive (NOTE: I have justified the ruination of the lives of hundreds of people thanks to this worldview, but in my defence most of them had the potential to kill me even if they weren't actively trying to do so)"

also "WIBTA if I were to wander the earth leaving a trail of destruction in my wake until someone puts me out of my misery because my boyfriend died"

Lincoln: "AITA for continuing to pursue my passion of making music even though it compels people to kill each other (btw my new album is now available for pre-order!)"

Samara: "AITA for helming a highly dangerous expedition to the Arctic despite my lack of experience in this regard in order to prove to my father that I'm worthy of inheriting his company"

Nicky: "AITA for becoming a tool of the state in the fight to prevent angels and demons from abusing or destroying humanity for extremely personal revenge quest reasons (I do torture people for information as part of my job)"

Eddie: "AITA for placing myself intentionally in high-risk situations to spite my overbearing sister (regardless of your verdict I will be continuing)"

Logan: "AITA for tying my loyalty to whoever I perceive to be the most capable of protecting me from harm at any given time and doing whatever they ask of me unconditionally"

Fen: "AITA for letting people drown if they don't pay me to ferry them across the marshland which I am a physical manifestation of"

The Radio Host: actually i'm not even gonna try to write one for him he's a genocidal dictator who wants to turn the universe into its personal surveillance state

Dante: "AITA for running away from home to play a game that could kill me because I didn't want to talk to my parents about my mental health and also being a nepo baby I guess"

Maja: "WIBTA if I just lay down and gave up while my team are waiting for me to bring back help and rescue"

Pentifer: "AITA for killing innocent people so I can use their corpses as puppets to get close to my assassination targets if I was abused by my creator until I became hateful and cruel and now have no reason to trust that anyone will treat me differently when I'm widely feared and considered an abomination"

Jocelyn: "AITA for being an opportunistic cult leader who eats people and turns them into cocoons for spiders if I was raised to believe I have no choice in the matter"

Ram: "AITA for dying so badly that it was the catalyst of the problems for everyone around me"

Radi: "AITA for being unable to fall in love with the person who loved the person I was before her personality and memories were forcibly erased and I was born from the ashes of her destruction"

176 notes · View notes

bonefall · 11 months

Note

Lord, everytime I think of post-TPB Bramble and bringing up not being trusted because of his father, I now can't help but think of it as a self-report. Like, there's no actual self-reflection happening, just some tiny part of his brain recognizing his father's behavior in his own and it makes him lashout every single time. It's both pitiful and fascinating.

That's what I'm SAYING like... In TNP, there are a precious few moments where cats are comparing him to his father, but for the most part, it's Brambleclaw freaking out that the people he's close to are thinking it based on no evidence. Especially Squirrelflight, who becomes jumpy around HAWKFROST who is actively causing problems

TNP creates a situation where it's actually perfectly reasonable to be concerned about similarities. Bramble's fucking mean and bossy. There is a tigerclone in RiverClan pushing for aggression between the Clans at a sensitive moment wistfully wishing he could have met his dead dad. They get haunted in their dreams by their evil ancestor. Tigerstar LITERALLY influences their bloodline from BEYOND THE GRAVE.

But Bramble becomes so jumpy about the comparisons that he can't confront the idea that maybe people are right. Maybe your EVIL DEMON GHOST FATHER is influencing your behavior. So he deflects, denies, cannot confront the uncomfortable idea until he's standing over Firestar, his biggest defender post-TPB, dying in a fox trap.

And then the whole thing nonsensically concludes, "Ah, well, he didn't go so far as to kill Firestar so actually he's not like Tigerstar." As if the only feature Tigerstar has is murder-happiness. No need to confront how he threw Leafpool under the bus a few chapters ago when it benefited him, was unable to self-reflect until this moment, bought Hawkfrost's manipulation hook line and sinker despite several people warning him because he couldn't accept that he was Influenced By Their Father.

The story they wanted to tell in TPB about 'not being defined by your family' was dead the SECOND Hawkfrost walked onto the screen. He IS defined by his bloodline, they WROTE a character whose whole thing is being influenced by his biodad, a person he never met. They don't want his villainy to stem from RiverClan because it's sooo sorry about TigerClan, so the source of his evil is... literally his father.

And like, that's interesting, actually. Not that Hawkfrost was born evil because of an evil gene, perish THAT thought, but that you do inherit the legacy of your parents. Like it or not, the people who raise you, who you hang out with, who you are compared to, HAVE AN IMPACT ON YOU.

That you CAN'T ESCAPE THAT

That RUNNING from your problems will land you RIGHT in their shoes, and the only way to break that cycle IS TO CONFRONT IT. To treat their lives as a cautionary tale, an example of how to NOT be, and remember that the line between you and your abuser is a line, not a chasm.

TPB says, "You are not defined by your parents" and TNP could have cleverly responded, "...unless you let them." But that would have required Bramble to actually suffer a consequence at the end, do some introspection, consider the fact that he was proving his detractors correct with his shitty behavior.

Or, at the very least, let the narrative end on a bitter note that this is just a sign of things to come.

But an idea IS THERE, man. It's fascinating. Bramble is intriguing to me.

#warrior cats analysis #bone babble #that's why After Sunset We Need To Talk is actually mandatory reading for tnp in this essay i will--

141 notes · View notes

ninemccartney · 2 days

Text

You wanna fuck me? I really wanna fuck you.. Like, really, wanna fuck you I know you want me to dominate you You want me to make you squeal You wanna melt in my hands Melt on my tongue You wanna come to the dark side? Come meet the devil and be murdered by his demon dick Sacrificed for pleasure, ultimate pleasure You wanna give in to your desires Give in You wanna give in to your lust Give in I can fuck you into oblivion I can fuck you til you forget theres a world outside You want me to make your pussy tender? Your ass red from my whip Your head light from me choking you until your eyes roll back to white You know Enlightenment comes just before death And death is the sweetest bliss The final release You want me to make you feel like you’re dying Wrap my hands around your neck And bring you so close to loosing consciousness You finally stop fighting You finally forgive yourself You finally release all the tension All the pent up aggression The stress The pain The trauma You release it all and finally let go Allow pure unadulterated ecstasy to flood every inch of you Baby do you want me to make you let go Fuck you til you piss, cum and quiver Shaking uncontrollably whilst firmly perched on my shaft Gripping me like a hot flesh vice Whilst swiftly loosing grip of reality We’re conjoined below the hips I’m plugged deep into your socket Shooting volts of electricity up your spine and through your body When we fuck its a lightning storm Is that what you want

Hmmm your hearts beating real hard right now Pounding against your chest Like I wanna pound your soft sweet pussy Are you ready for me? Are you wet for me? Are your panties soaking? Are your thighs sweating? You’re leaking And I wanna taste it oh dear God I wanna taste it.. You want me to devour you.. Completely You know what I think I have a better Idea A gift to bring forth life and power Amidst the dissolution of both our ego’s My crotch is swimming in your chalice Soaked with the water from your golden cup Your juices running down my balls like syrup on pancakes We absorb each other Our hot flesh melts together until there are no more lines between you and I No more borders No more 2, just 1 Let me fuck you into ecstasy Allow my cock to reach up through your kundalini And touch every chakra until we activate nirvana An orgasm of the highest order The ultimate pleasure Eternal life Through heavenly sex Shall we begin at your root Where I penetrate and massage your silk pussy til its smooth and moulds itself to the shape of my shaft I fit perfectly inside you like your tongue fits perfectly inside your mouth Now let me grind my hips and dip my dick in and out and in and out Your sacral Where I rearrange your guts like churning butter Say you can feel me in your stomach Reaching, reaching, reaching, You’re squirming, squeaking, squeezing I want you to digest me still feel the phantom of my dick inside your belly every night before you sleep Just relax and let me reach Your solar plexus Just beneath your lungs I’m here to fuck you til’ you’re breathless Have your soul jump from out your chest And still be restless

Watch your body go limp Your lips go cold and as you’re ascending Fuck you back to life Have you *gasp* and grab me Trembling You’re so cute when you tremble Now, I can treat your body like a sexy work of Art But when my tip goes up and hits your your heart You’ll know you were made for this If blood is life then bleed on me I could cum from the way you beat on me Let my sperm swim through your arteries Til every part of you has a part of me This is even deeper than love But as I thrust further we go further above Until I’m lodged in your throat You take it so deep It vibrates the more you moan And groan and choke and choke You’re about to pass out So much saliva dripping right out of your mouth You slobber and try to holler But only “glug glug" comes out You’re getting dizzy Its okay You’re with me Close your eyes Don’t you see Were going even higher now Your third eye And your crown I can show you pleasure that knows no bounds Take you to worlds made from the sound of your pussy slobbering, slopping Rising, dropping I’ll make a fucking cuck out of God if he’s watching We’re swimming in sweat This is as dirty as it gets Your Pussy’s Heroin My Dick is Heaven This is Nirvana We can create a whole new world now if you wanna I can pump life inside of you If you’d give me the honour I can show you ways to use your body So hard to believe There’s no words to describe it

So the only way, is to feel Do you feel good? Does it feel good? Are You Gonna Cum? Are You Cumming?

I want you to Cum For Me Cum For Me Cum for Me

9 notes · View notes

not-your-fucking-kacchan · 2 years

Note

Hi! How are you? I'm not sure if you're okay with angst but I am in a dark place right now. TW! Death of a animal.

Last Thursday, I had to make the toughest decision of my life. My dog of 12 years who I loved dearly was suffering with fluid surrounding her heart and lungs. She was dying in my hands at the vet and there was nothing I could do to save her except putting her to sleep. I'm still 19 and my parents didn't want anything to do with it so I made the call right there and then. It still haunts me seeing her dying in front of my eyes and I just would really love if...I don't know have a Bakugo X Reader where he comforts and helps reader through this tough time... Maybe moments where she comes home and from the happy barking she got used to nothing, or when she gets up for a glass to drink she goes to pet her and there's nothing.

If not, It's okay and I hope you have a wonderful night/day! :)

Oh gosh! You got lost in my inbox bby I'm so sorry :(

I hope I'm not too late to make you feel a little better, and I hope you can forgive me for taking so long :(((

I put your ask first in line to make as soon as I saw it <3

Masterlist <3

Warning: Death of an animal...

Bakugou x Reader - Because she's not here

It felt so unbelievably... empty.

Losing her wasn't something you had expected, and it had been so sudden. You didn't even have enough time to say goodbye.

You had taken your dog to the vet for a checkup just because she had been acting a little... down. She was no longer as active and excitable, choosing instead to cuddle with you and spend most of her time laying down.

You thought maybe she had an infection, or the food just wasn't good enough for her, but when you found out there and then just how much pain she was in, the only choice you had was to let her go.

It was hard.

Seeing her eyes open for that last time... It was never something you thought you would have to see.

That night, you came home without your best friend.

You walked home in the cold, staring at the floor in front of you and, you don't remember when you got to your front door but suddenly you were there, key in hand as you prepare to spend your first night without her.

Your stomach and your chest hurt, and you couldn't even swallow through the lump in your throat as you rest you back against your now closed door, not even bothering to make it to the bedroom before sliding down to the floor.

The tears just wouldn't stop, not that you even tried to stop them yourself. Theres no wet nose pressing into your palm while you pet her, and there's no happy panting or the scrape of her nails against hardwood floor. It was just emty.

A part of your life is missing, and you don't even know how you could go on without her.

After a few hours of crying into your hands, mourning the loss of a part of your family, you finally get the courage to pull out your nearly-dead phone to call your boyfriend.

He answers immediately. It's currently 11pm.

"Babe?..."

It sounds like he's just woken up, but you know you can't do this without him, so you press on. He knows there must be something wrong for you to be calling this late.

Maybe it's just the exhaustion of crying so intensely, and the dull but heavy and painful pressure of heartbreak that's worn you down enough for you to call your boyfriend this late, but you need him, and he would never dream of refusing you.

The second you stutter out what's happened, he's already put the door, and he has to fight back his own tears so that he can be there for you. He had grown quite attached to her during the years he had been dating you, and had treated her like his own family.

"Shit-. Babe, ah- i-it's gonna be okay. You hear me? Oh-..."

Another wave of grief washes over you and you draw in a shaky breath, crying in big, uncontrollable sobs as your phone sits on the floor next to you.

That night, he holds you close and lets you cry into his chest until you have no more tears to give, and you pass out in his arms while he strokes your hair.

The next few days has Bakugou essentially living with you. He's there to greet you after work and to keep you company while you both grieve the loss of your friend.

It's so hard to come home, and you know you wouldn't be able to without Bakugou there, because it's just too soon to be face to face with the obvious emptiness of your apartment.

He helps you face it though, and he helps you move on. You couldn't ask for a better partner.

Through his tough exterior, he really does look after you, making sure to be there everytime you go to stroke your dog, only for nothing to be there, and every time you expect to be greeted by padded paws and a jumpy dog when you come back, he's there to say hello with a kiss and a hug.

This is how the two of you ended up living together.

You just weren't made to be alone. It's the one thing you're truly afraid of. Not the dark, not the boogeyman, not spiders, just the thought that you could truly be alone one day.

So he moved in with you, and it made it just a little easier to cope now that you had some more company, and someone to cuddle when you felt alone.

Together, you both tried to move on, and although the pain never really goes away, it's just a little easier to go on.

244 notes · View notes

kyokoyamatekisser · 1 year

Text

⭐ — Miiko Takeshita x GN Reader

theme park wonders!

tws : none !

category : fluff <3

It was a warm summer morning, you had decided that today would be a good day to spend with your girlfriend, Miiko. You had dialed her number that very morning, she was surprisingly awake at 10am. Shocking! The two of you decided that you would go to the new amusement park that had opened a few days before. You had to take a train to get there, but it was most definitely worth it.

"Miiko's so excited!! Ever since she saw a post about it online, Miiko has been dying to go!!!!" Miiko exclaimed, running on to the train. "I'm glad you're excited Miiko, but can you please keep it down a bit? We are at a train station you know." You whispered, trying not to disturb anyone on the train. "Oh! Sorryy.."

Once you two had arrived at the amusement park and gotten your tickets, you decided to head towards the bumper cars first. Miiko had persisted on it after all. The line was long unfortunately, but your girlfriend was practically bouncing with how excited she was. Just seeing the smile on her face made the long line tolerable.

"Miiko's gonna get you N/N!" Miiko excitedly shouted from across the metal rink. "Not if I get you first!" You shouted back, waiting for the operator to activate the switch. Once the switch was activated, you immediately rushed to try and bump into Miiko. You accidentally bumped into a kid instead though and lost your train of thought, letting Miiko get to you before you could make your way to her. *Crash!*

After that headache inducing bumper cars match, you and Miiko had decided to do a few other rides before eating lunch. You two had decided to eat at a cute themed cafe, Miiko had found it online before and realized it was in the area, so she was obviously excited. Once you two had finished your lunch, you decided to get a sweet treat.

"Ooh! Y/N, do you want to share a milkshake?! We could also share a slice of pie or cake!!" Miiko began to ramble about all of the different sweets the two of you could share, putting a smile on your face. In the end, you two had decided on sharing a strawberry shortcake.

"Oh my god, do you want to feed cake to each other like they do in movies!?" Miiko exclaimed with enthusiasm in her tone. You could swear you saw tiny sparkles in her eyes. "Sure..? It wouldn't hurt to try." In all honesty, you were slightly excited that she suggested that. It made you feel warm and fuzzy that she would want to do that with you. Of course, you two had been dating for a few months already, but you still got nervous around her sometimes. It's not that she intimidated you, she's just so loving and caring that you can't handle it sometimes. "Say aah!" —

It had been a few hours since the two of you had eaten lunch, there was around 40 minutes left until the park closed for the day, it was 6:20 pm. You and Miiko were exhausted, even though Miiko refused to admit it, you knew she was. The two of you had decided to ride the ferris wheel until it was time to go. You were observing the clouds, until you felt something, or someone lean against you. It was Miiko, she had fallen asleep on your shoulder. You giggled softly to yourself, brushing a small strand of hair out of her face. You got more comfortable in the position you were in, leaning your head against Miiko's. Just taking in the moment.

hii<3 I'm back!! idk if I got hit with writers block or lack of motivation, but i'm not deadd i promise

#miiko takeshita #miiko takeshita x reader #d4dj #d4dj groovy mix #d4dj x reader #x reader #x reader fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

villainsblog97 · 2 years

Text

Xdinary Heroes when their S/O is sick or injured

The comeback is so close now! (Tomorrow at 8 pm for me) so let's go with another head cannon!

How would the heroes take care of their S/O when their either sick or injured? Let's find out!

Warning: mentions of broken bones and injuries, mentions of painkillers, slights language, mentions of being sick? 🤷‍♀️

Scenario: boyfriend, romance, comedy, fluff

Gun-il ❤️‍🩹

Boy is gonna eat this shit up

Yes he was very shocked and sad when he found out you broke your arm

Your dominant arm for that matter

But he knew he's got to take care of you now

So like I said

He's gonna eat this up

We're talking the whole treatment

Making your meals

Helping you get dressed

Even washing your hair in the bathtub

He's gonna be the best boyfriend / nursemaid ever

He'll rotate the ice and heat too

Help get you pain killers when you need it

Hell he'll even feed you

Yes

"Here comes the airplane"

You knew that was coming

And then he'll set up a movie

And just hold you

On your good side that is

Being ever so delicate with you

Jungsu ❤️‍🩹

He was so excited to hang out with you

Spend some time with his love

Until he called you on the phone

You sounded like you were dying

Sneezing nonstop

And coughing up a lung

Jungsu's mom mode immediately kicked in

"Jagiya are you okay!?"

He would be so worried

You explained to him that you woke up feeling like shit

You felt horrible though

He finally had a day off and you were sick

Junsgu didn't despair though

He was still gonna see you

And take care of you

He showed up at your house with soup, snacks and some tea bags

He would keep a light blanket over you and check your fever often

He'd make you some warm tea

Some soup too

He would be sure to keep his distance from you

He can't get sick

JYP would kill you

But he's gotta make sure you're taken care of

Gaon ❤️‍🩹

Next time Jiseok says you two should go out in the pouring rain and play in it

Tell him no

Because now you're paying for it

You have a cold from hell that was delivered to you by Satan himself

Your head was stuffed to no end

Your throat felt like you were swallowing nails that were lit on fire

Your eyes burned like the 7th circle of hell

And your body shivered like you were in the artics

Jiseok woke up to you sneezing your brains out

He came running in

Of course he laughed a little

"Baby you look awful"

However he feels responsible for this

He asked his band mates to get some stuff that you'll need

Ie: cold meds, cough drops, tea, all the essentials

No way he was leaving you

You could flat line any minute at how bad you looked

He would apologize profusely

And kiss your head

"Jiseok I'm sick!"

"Eh.. I'll take my chances"

He'll make sure to help soothe all the pains, aches and chills

He'll have plenty of tissues for you

And make you warm foods and tea to help your throat

He will not rest until his baby is feeling better!

O.de ❤️‍🩹

He was hella panicked when you told him you couldn't move

There was a shooting pain in your spine

You weren't sure what you did the night before

Seungmin took you to the doctors and found out you had a severely pulled muscle in your back

He halted all his activities to take care of you

He would help you up off the couch if you needed to get up

He would also walk around the house with you to loosen up those muscles

I could also see him having you lay on the couch on your stomach

And he'd massage your back

He would also make sure to have a warm compression against your back

Like Gun-il

He would treat every movement so fragile because he's heard your painful cries

And it kills him to hear you like this

He finally got you to sleep for a bit

Your head rested on his lap

Running his fingers in your hair

Covering you up with a blanket

Making sure you were comfortable every 10 minutes

Jun Han ❤️‍🩹

Poor Jun

He's so worried about you

Your allergies have officially kicked your ass

Your energy is drained

Jun Han has to take care of you

He wants to

He doesn't want to see you sick

He'd come in and get you set up with some allergy relief

A humidifier

And lots of tissues

Luckily it was only allergies

But he wanted to make sure they didn't make you sick

You would be lying if you didn't say you were grateful to have him here

He took care of you so well

He even promised you ice cream when you felt better

You woke up from your nap

And told him that you felt a little better

Jun Han sighed in relief

You two would watch movies and maybe eat some snacks

All was good

Until Jun Han sneezed like 4 times in a row

"Uh... Jagiya... are you sure you had allergies?"

Jooyeon ❤️‍🩹

Jooyeon was an absolute mess

He took you rollerskating

Your date was going great

But you didn't expect it to end in the hospital with a sprained ankle

Jooyeon felt heavily guilty

Rollerskating was his idea

And now you two are waiting to be discharged from the hospital

You kept telling him that you were okay

And not to blame himself

But he vowed he would take good care of you

He'll carry your stuff

Help you off the couch

Hand you your crutches

Make you some food

Order you some food

He's gonna help you in every way he can

He may not be the best at it

He will definitely freak out at any small noise you make

"What's wrong? Are you okay!?"

He's honestly so adorable when he's worried

That's it for today! Hope you guys like it! Don't forget to stream Hair Cut and the other MVs! And vote for XH on MAMA! 😁

#xdinary heroes #boyfriend scenario #gun-il #jungsu #gaon #o.de #junhan #jooyeon #fluff #comedy

42 notes · View notes

wondero28 · 2 years

Text

Beach Day w/ 4*Town

My first ever request! It still means so much to me, i hate that i can’t link to the original ask

————

Also i uh- I don’t really go to the beach often?? I hope these trips are ok?? I dont think I’ve been to a beach maybe 5 times. Some of these run a little long though- im sorry-

————

Robaire

- Robaire going to the beach seems like an innocent trip- but its quickly something that’ll turn into him trying to show off to you & make the most romantic possible trip

- Even if going to the beach was a spur-of-the-moment choice he’s already thinking of ways to make you smile and laugh at the beach. If its a planned trip then he’s going to work up so many romantic & cheesy displays

- He doesn’t spend much time shopping for the occasion, he’s mostly good to go regardless

- He wears simple green swim trunks & has a muscular body! He’s not ripped or anything- but Robaire works out & it shows so enjoy the eye-candy on the beach trip

- You both visit a beach that sits behind an expensive hotel & is somewhat private because of that. Robaire doesn’t really disguise himself but fortunately he doesn’t really need to since the beach is never too busy

- When you both actually get to the beach, Robaire is going to follow you around & let you have plenty of fun before trying anything too romantic. The first thing he’s going to WANT to do though- is just swim around in the more shallow water & play around with you. He see’s it as a good excuse to hug & give playful kisses (and if given the chance will absolutely smother you with affection). But if you both swim & his foot gets touched by a fish or washed up kelp??? The man is screaming like a gull & flopping over in a panic

- His real goal for y’all’s trip though?? To have a nice little dinner on the beach towels and just enjoy one another’s company. He brought a lot of your favorite snacks & a tiny radio to play music while you both rested & ate. He’s going to use the little dinner date to get close to you & compliment you on just about anything. And he does! It’s honestly super romantic until a seagull tries to steal some of his food- you’ve never seen Robaire flinch so hard (or watched anyone try to punch a bird before)

- Ultimately its a very fun trip, you come back tired but feeling loved from all his cheesy antics. If the other guys are there- he most certainly gave them death glares & explained prior to not interrupt his day w/ you

- Aaron Z & Aaron T definitely interrupted the both of you regardless because: A. rivalry & B. T screams so fucking loud its unsure of whether he’s dying to a shark or loosing at a game of beach ball

————

Jesse

- I’m not saying he’s gonna make it a big deal- but he’s gonna make it a big deal

- No seriously Jesse treats y’all’s trip to the beach like y’all are preparing to fight a god. He’ll take you out shopping to get some new swim/beach clothes, new towels, sunscreen, a nice umbrella & cooler etc etc. its a fun day honestly, he makes it into a fun lil date for y’all

- the entire time you guys prep for the trip Jesse is absolutely ecstatic. He loves time like this with you and is hyped about getting to show off his body & new swim trunks

- Speaking of his beach body & beach wear- Jesse is a thick guy. Not necessarily got any pudge but he’s not a super masculine or thin guy. And he bought the most tacky ass Hawaiian floral swim trunks. If you tried to convince him to buy otherwise he’d be dramatic & fake upset, if you joined him in wearing tacky shit?? He’s grinning ear to ear

- You both attend a normal beach, probably later in the day so its less busy. He has sunglasses on & his hair up in a tiny ponytail to avoid being noticed or bothered (which works ridiculously well like ??? Wtf ??? How??)

- When y’all are actually at the beach, Jesse had hopes to try a lot of various activities but in all reality he just ends up lounging around and following you. He’s willing to try just about anything with you but if its left up to him, the both of you are going to snuggle up on a towel & probably lazily float around in the waves a bit later

- He compliments your beach clothes & flirts with you endlessly. It ranges from him telling you how much he loves how you look in the sunny rays to him using bad pick-up lines on you (like y’all Arent already dating 😒)

- His favorite part of the day is honestly probably going to swim in shallow water with you because he just wants to hold you close to him & be your floaty. It doesn’t matter if you’re bigger or smaller then him in any way- the man is insistent that he holds you and lets you relax in his arms while y’all swim around

- Later in the trip Jesse will 100% serenade you while yall are relaxing. He presents to you: a bag of chips and a little paper plate of food from one of the shops on the beach✨. You didn’t expect it to be as good as it was- you both promise each other you’ll need to visit the shop again. But oh? OH! He also got you a gift! While you’re eating Jesse pulls out a pretty little bead necklace with a shark tooth that he snagged from one of the beach shops

- “So you don’t forget about our first beach date!” He cooes, he’ll put it on you & says he doesn’t really expect you to wear it all that often but that he hopes you enjoy it regardless (if you wear it often after the trip- Jesse is filled with so much pride & joy)

- Ultimately its a very chill trip. Its full of a lot of kisses & loving touches, you both have fun (unless the rest of the band is there- then it’s probably a nice trip + a lot of hoots & hollers from the boys WHICH HE IGNORED SURPRISINGLY WELL?)

————

Tae Young

- Going to the beach with Tae? I think you mean bird watching & animal hunting

- Not animal hunting as in like- hurting them. But animal hunting as in Tae wants to find a lot of different beach animals & get pictures of them

- Going to the beach with Tae Young was probably a spur-of-the-moment type trip so the two of you are wildly under prepared & probably visit a very public/busy beach. You both likely buy snacks & drinks from random shops set up along the beach, he’ll buy you both matching bracelets that have tiny animal charms in them. He also feed you freshly made goodies from random shops & makes sure you’re never too thirsty or hot on the beach! He’s a sickeningly sweet significant other >:0!!

- He tries to keep his identity hidden with a big ass sun hat & glasses- it works but there were 2 really close calls & he almost cried about both of them

- Aside from the hat & shades, Tae Young is sporting some swim trunks, a beach shirt with various tropical animals on it, and some on brand crocs (😎). You dont see much of his beach bod unless you drag him out to swim but he’s not super toned or anything. He’s got a little bit of pudge on his tummy from the snacks he consistently eats but its mostly unnoticed

- Y’alls day consist of what you’d imagine. A LOT of finding animals & getting pictures. You both actually end up staying on the beach well into the night because new animals started to emerge after the sun set. You guys see sea gulls, 1-2 pelicans, a lot of tiny hermit crabs, various lizards, some random unidentified fish that was hanging out in the shallows, and at night you even saw some moon jellyfish wash up!! Which Tae Young insisted you help him toss back into the water. The entire trip was filled with so many fun animal facts & an ecstatic Tae

- Speaking of the animals- Tae Young was 100% doing what no one should do on the beach. He was feeding the gulls. It was really chaotic but when he got you closer to him & had an arm around you while you both fed & watched the gulls?? It was honestly really sweet. And if you express wanting to try other activities with him he’ll do whatever you want in a heartbeat. He doesn’t want to make the trip about himself or his own fun- he just forgets that not everyone is buck wild for animals sometimes

- Also I didn’t mention prior but Tae Young PROBABLY invited the others. So for most of the day you can expect Aarons T & Z not far off because the both of them are trying to catch the animals they come across (ever seen 2 grown ass men trying to catch a pelican? It ain’t go well)

- Later in the night, Tae Young is going to lay around n cuddle up with you on a few beach towels. The two of you can just stargaze & talk. And honestly i think a lot of today made you both tired so Tae 100% offers to let you nap in his arms for awhile while he just gently rubs your back & peppers your face & hands with kisses

- Ultimately?? Super fun trip. Maybe not the most normal beach day/night but it was a unique adventure for you both. And y’all had the best cuddles and laughs that day

- Also jesse got a video of T being absolutely beaten down & bitten by a pelican. Its viral & the both of you are just standing in the background as Tae young shares a fact about how pelicans are scary because they try & usually do eat anything smaller then them (T cries abt this)

————

Aaron T

- Ok so a trip with Aaron T, is really just a trip with Aaron T + Aaron Z. But a trip with Aaron Z? Is really a trip with Aaron Z + Tae Young. And a trip with Ta- ok you get it. The entire gaggle of boys is there with you guys unless you explicitly tell Aaron T he’s not allowed to invite anyone else

- Whether a beach trip w/ T is spur-of-the-moment or not- he doesn’t prep much. He loves visiting the beach & already had what he needed (or he thinks so at least)

- He dresses up with bright orange swim trunks, some sandals, and a long sleeve swim shirt that hugged onto him very nicely 👀. You didn’t directly see much of his beach bod (though hes willing to show you if you ask *wink* *wink*) but Aaron T is pretty thick and lean. Not really got a lot of defined muscles but he’s strong

- He takes you & the others to a public beach WITHOUT ANY DISGUISES because he “promises privacy” so naturally until he reveals y’all are actually sneaking over a natural rock wall to a more secluded part of the beach- you’re all awkwardly trying to hide faces & avoid fans. Sneaking over the rock wall seemed so casual for T, honestly no one else really expected to be sneaking anywhere so a few of you fell over & hurt y’all’s asses

- But once over that wall?? The beach was absolutely gorgeous. It was clean & almost completely empty aside from maybe 1-2 groups of surfers who had the same smart idea

- This was one if the few times when T was actually pretty quiet too, while you & him were setting up your own little spot on the beach, he was just calm & at ease. If you ask him about it, he’ll say he’s quiet so he can listen to the waves. Turns out our lovable and energetic boy is immensely relaxed by the sounds on a beach. Its cute really, you caught him sitting in the sand with his eyes closed just listening to everything around him. This kind of threw the other guys for a loop but you knew better

- Now if its up to T, the two of you are going to do surfing or boogie boarding. He will 100% use this as an excuse to wrap his arms around you (or be wrapped up in your arms) and be close to you while he explains how to use the board. If you’re not a particularly strong swimmer? You both boogie board & he will be close by. Anytime you fall or wipeout he’s laughing & cheering! Giving you kisses & hugs after every try

- If you both actually go surfing (cause yes he got a board appropriate for you & your size) the both of you are going into get a bit of friendly competition between you, T, and Z. And hey! Who knew? Aaron T is ridiculously good at surfing! And he’s having a ridiculous amount of fun. You’ve not heard such a strong belly laugh out of him in ages. He tells you outright that he’s super thankful to share this with you- that this was one of his favorite old hobbies he had to leave behind for the band

- If you don’t care much for the water he doesn’t mind at all, he’ll happily sit around with you on the sand. He convinced you & Tae to help him bury Jesse in the sand & then not help the blond out. Also he 100% forgot to bring food so he’s going to climb over the rock wall & come back with food. He brings the both of you some bags of snacks & while it isn’t SUPER romantic- the both of you share some chips & play the pocky game with them. It was goofy & awkward but it was so worth it

- Ultimately? A trip with Aaron T to the beach is filled with a lot of laughter, not even because of jokes. Just because of fun, and that was pleasant

————

Aaron Z

- Unlike T, a trip with Z does not involve him inviting the others. So the both of you actually sneak away from the band one day to have a nice beach date. It was probably planned but- honestly he doesn’t mind being drug out to the beach at random. Not if its just you two

- Speaking of- Aaron Z really cherishes alone time with you, he had an easier time opening up & being more himself. So you can expect him to be more chatty and giddy on this trip then he is normally (its not that he’s uncomfortable around the guys- he just has an easier time being himself when its 1 on 1, and has the most fun being himself around you)

- Z dresses very casually for the occasion, hes wearing a black t shirt with some black swim trunks that have purple accents. He didn’t bother bringing shoes so he buys some crummy flipflops right before y’all head out to the beach (he only trips in the sand 1 time 😎) he intends on taking off the shirt for swimming- and his beach body?? Absolutely beautiful ✨ he has a classic beach bod with some decent muscle definition all over (if you make a comment on it you get to see him grin and blush)

- Also he’s similar to to Robaire if y’all got to plan. He got you both a nice hotel room that was out by a private beach, and you both end up visiting at one of the less busy times

- Beach activities for the day are completely up to you unless you force Z to choose something. So take the day to do whatever you like! He’ll be asking you questions & chattering away. You hear a lot of chuckles and snickers out of him, and he’s regularly keeping his hands on you. But not in a pervy way! He just likes physical contact so he’ll be holding hands, wrapping his arm around you, be sitting close, giving regular cheek and temple kisses etc.

- If you make Z choose the activities for the day, he’s probably going to ask you to go swimming with him & maybe surf if you feel comfortable. He’s not as into surfing as T is but he still likes & wants to show off his skills to you on the board! Ultimately though Z wont really have many ideas. Similarly to Jesse- Z just wants to laze around with you. He just enjoys snuggling up and talking

- If you’re not a huge fan of the water though, you can expect ALL KINDS of stupid little competitions between the two of you. Be it playing a game of beach ball, building a tiny kingdom out of sand, seeing who can find the coolest sea shell or sand dollar, playing tag etc. Z is competitive by spirit & adores watching you try to beat him. And as a bonus?? Winner gets to be peppered with kisses and love

- He definitely let you win a few games just so he could smother you with love & compliments. Its so rare to see him so consistently with a smile, but its what having such a wonderful S/O does to a guy 🥰

- The both of you keep some cool shells & sand dollars to remember the trip. And little do you know but Z has a TON of pictures of you from this trip. Selfies & some secret ones- his home screen is a new picture of the both of you in a selfie with him kissing your cheek

- Overall? A relaxed and pretty playful day at the beach, he probably wasn’t super assertive and thats fine. He was yours the entire time & thats what we care about

#4town #4townie #4town x reader #4town imagines #aaron t #aaron z #4town jesse #4town robaire #4town taeyoung #4town aaron t #4town aaron z

28 notes · View notes

elenavampire21 · 5 months

Text

Warning’s: mentions of sexual activity, body shaming and abusive relationships so if you don’t like those please skip.

@worldofheroes @helloitstsyu @love2write2626 @elenavampire21

A meeting with Change

You rolled your eyes as Billy Tom’s personal trainer was yelling complaints that your dresses to slutty and that your getting fat.

Tom was chatting to on of the directors and he could hear bits and pieces of the conversation and instantly thought *your so not dresses slutty and definitely not fat your fucking gorgeous*

Billy yells at you to go get him a coffee and to make it the barista to make it too strong or weak and it has to be at a certain temperature or the whole coffee is ruined.

After Tom had finished talking to the director he sprinted to catch up with you.

“Mrs y/l/n don’t mean to sound rude or nosy but I just can’t help think why exactly are you with billy from what I’ve heard and seen he treats you like shit and a slave”.

Your lost and didn’t hear a word Tom was saying all you were looking at is his lips and picturing them kissing every inch and part of your body.

Tom waved a hand in front of your face “y/n did you hear anything I said.”

You broke out of your trance “yes I did hear no your not being nosy or rude the reason why I let him treat me like shit and be a slave is that I get a feeling of being close or there if you ever needed anything mr cruise

But I’m bored of being married to an arrogant big headed ego maniac plus I literally can’t remember why I even married him he’s got the cheek to call me fat and the other thing I’m dying to feel the passion and the excitement of passionate sex billy and me we’ve I say we it’s me I’ve lost the spark to have sex with him, his lordship will be wanting his perfectly preserved room temperature coffee”.

You head off to the cafe and get your husband tedious coffee and you buy another coffee and blueberry muffin and walk back too the set your eyes instantly scan to find this certain person who’s not your husband though Your hear him barking loud and clear .

“Y/n finally get your fat ass over here and bring me my coffee I didn’t get you my money to go buy yourself a coffee and haven’t I told you before muffins make you look fat and there disgusting.”

You turn around and try your hardest not to car your carrying the other coffee and muffin and look at the trailers until you instantly stop and your face lights up with joy carefully balancing the coffee and muffin your hand reaches out and knocks on the trailer door in a matter of minutes the door swings open to reveal a surprised but happy Tom.

“Y/n am I needed on set sorry please come in take a set was gonna ask if you wanted a coffee but I see you’ve already got one.”

You smile and hand Tom the coffee and blueberry muffin “no this is yours if I’m correct you like a cappuccino with a tiny hint of cinnamon one sugar and not a lot of foam on top and you prefer the blueberry muffins instead of chocolate because it’s not to rich have I done okay or did i screw up on anything”.

Tom to a sip of is drink was exactly how he likes it and taste a tiny bit of cinnamon. And he was impressed with how you knew he preferred blueberry instead of chocolate for muffins.

You stand up “well I’ll leave you to enjoy your break and hopefully see you on set for your next training on a stunt or fight bye to”.

You didn’t finish saying his name when all of

a sudden you’re distracted by these soft

All most silk lips kissing yours feeling Tom’s tongue sweep across yours automatically opening to invite his tongue into your mouth you’re both sucking and twirling.

Tom gently pushes you softly onto the couch he gets up and walks towards the door locking it and strides back and slowly removes his shirt, boots, trousers and leave him standing in his boxers and can tell he’s extremely hard.

You slowly twist a hand behind your back and manages to unzip your dress, kicking your high heels off left you in a matching blue see through bra and panties.

You automatically turned to get onto your knees and pulled down Tom’s boxer to find his rather excited and hard cock ready.

Still on you knees you sit up. Tom walks and slowly sweeps a hand over your clothes tits which made you let out a soft moan once his hands managed to unclip the bra he through it over his shoulders.

In a low and seductive manner tom looks at you. “Off the couch be a good girl or I’ll tell your husband you’ve been naughty.”

He slowly and teasingly slipped your panties off and looked at them “oh darling I haven’t even done anything to you and your panties are all ready soaking tut tut,

Lay back on the couch that’a girls are you comfortable.”

As you’re laying on the couch you instantly knew your dripping and leaving stains on his couch but your pussy is throbbing to feel Tom big hard cock buried deep inside your walls. You teasingly popped a finger into your mouth and sucked on it never breaking eye contact with Tom.

Tom groaned as he watched you teasingly suck your finger Tom spits to collect saliva and gives his cock a few little pumps before he softly rubs the tip of his cock against your walls before slipping his cock inside your soaking wet folds. Both you and Tom groaned.

You hooked your arms round his neck and Tom pounded into you and pulled him closer to aggressively but passionately kiss him. You start bucking your hips faster the sound of wet skin on skin and your tits slapping against each other.

Both pulling back for air Tom changes and starts jackhammering and squeezing both your tits as you’re screaming and groaning.

You lay on hand above your head and the other is tracing Tom’s lips he opens his mouth your fingers slips in and Tom sucks on ever finger individually .

Looking at Tom as he’s taking time to appreciate your likes and dislikes and how he makes sex feel mind blowing you instantly think why didn’t I marry Tom instantly of the dickhead billy.

You and Tom are proper fucking hard things are shaking and clanging onto the floor.

Your mouths wide open and your and Tom and making really wild pornographic noises.

“Ahh ahh ohh fuck Tom Tom ohh yeah right there that’s it ohh fuck ohhh fuck ohh fuck Tom I’m gonna cum so bad it may ruin your trailer couch.”

Meanwhile billy is talking on his mobile right to another snobby friend bad mouth that your a lousy wife the only reason why you both haven’t had sex is because in his point of view your way to ugly and fat he much prefers having sex with his much younger thin and gorgeous mistress that he’s secretly been having an affair.

Tom’s trailer wasn’t to fare and both you and tom heard every word, you accepted you weren’t wrong that billy was cheating on you even had the check to say you where turning into a psycho and imagining things.

Tom looked and you and smirked pushing his small trailer window open a bit.

Tom leaned down and whispered. “Why don’t we give this ungrateful arrogant bastard a good show I know your desperate to come so baby I want you to be as loud as you want”

You returned to hooking both arms round Tom’s neck an he began to slab him cock in and out of your soaking wet pussy. He then aggressively jackhammers into you.

Throwing your head back and screaming at the top of your lungs as loud as you could

“Ohhhh Ohhh ahh ahh yes Tom yes daddy don’t stop fucking me there ohh I’m

Cum so bad over your couch” you’re bitting your lip and smirking at Tom.

Tom’s also smirking and he rambs his cock in and slamming it hard back in and his jackhammer his cock is making a squelching noise.

your both feeling weak and ready to cum you forcefully rock your hips along with Tom’s thrust and instantly you both scream.

Tom feels your liquid cum running down and coating his cock and you’re instantly feeling the nice warmth of Tom’s cum coating your walls and sliding into your stomach.

Tom gently pulls out of you and automatically cuddles you and he’s gently stroking your cheeks and moving little strands of hair that’s stuck from you both sweating.

Billy quickly ended his call when he heard the screaming of Tom’s name thee tom Cruise his loyal trusting hardworking stunt man fucking his wife. He was angry marching up the trailer steps and bagging on the door “TOM YOU BETTER OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR NOW”.

You and Tom are passionately in a loving cuddle Tom groaned and slowly got up and put on his boxers and Lounge trousers still topless.

You bolted up and had sheer panic in your voice instantly getting up and grabbing Tom’s shirt which totally looked like a massive dress. Before Tom could grab the lock on the door you pleaded with him.

“Tom don’t open the door he will kill you I’ve heard him be like that before because it was one of his so called business owners party I was yet again like his slave getting him drinks being a good little girl standing in the corner waiting for master to bark out yet another command.

After a long while of his bad mouthing me to all of his useless disgusting excuses of clients that I was a fat ugly skanky whore who dressed in disgusting choices of clothing that night a nice innocent guy.

was just chatting to me and bought me a drink suddenly billy was done for the night.

the whole ride back home I got abusive names and every single name called I just sat there and took it my whole marriage ever wondered why I’d arrive on set with concealer or wore dark sunglasses and I’d make the excuse I was hungover or had a headache not it was for the beatings I’d get from billy.”

Through everything you’d just came out and said Tom’s fist was clenched and he was gritting his teeth slowly he turned and unlocked the door letting billy storm right in Tom Instantly stood right in front of you all most protecting you.

Billy’s glaring at tom “what the fuck is this Cruise think you have the right to swarm your way into my wife’s panties and fuck he whenever you like she’s not a fucking whore she’s my fucking wife or have you forgot that.”

You instantly grab Tom’s hand and walk to stand so her backs against his chest he automatically wraps his arms around you keep your body really tightly close to his.

“Oh you know Billy shut the fuck up, I’m done being treated like you’re own personal slave saying I dress slutty I’m fat, I’m a useless wife the only reason we haven’t had sex is because I’m ugly oh and your so called younger mistresses I knew you were fucking Mindy your private accountant of Hope you two have the best of luck together.”

You grab the remainder of yours and toms clothes and follows Tom you smile at him when he gets to the door because you two secretly faked a script that needed a signature which billy stupidly did without reading it. “Oh Tom darling can you wait for me then I’ll change and we can go home together.

Billy looked confused “and where the fuck do you think your going bitch your technically still married to me so you would be fuck going home with him.”

You and Tom Smirked you shook your head “no you can go home to your stupid Naive accountant Mindy remember that so called script that needed a signature if you had actually properly read it you would of noticed it said divorce proceedings, that’s right we’re officially divorced and I’m gonna live a wonderful and amazing life with my new husband Tom.”

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise smut #tom cruise fanfic #tom cruise

4 notes · View notes

briarcrawford · 7 months

Text

Dying Last Words

There is death everywhere, but not everyone is fully gone yet. The main character finds one final person, barely hanging on. Hoards of other people are dead, but somehow this one faceless person holds on just long enough to pass on whatever information the main character needs, before dying.

Somehow, the main character had arrived at just so perfect of a time that they got all the information they needed, and that was it. This scene has been done so many times exactly this way, that it doesn’t pack the emotional punch a lot of writers think it does. The message-giver does not stammer on about loved one’s they are worried about, or ask why no one is treating their wounds. Instead, they know they are dying and just pass on a message like a recorder that someone hit “play” on.

While you are absolutely allowed to write whatever feels right to you, in this post I wanted to give some different options, in case any of them spark ideas for your stories.

Option 1: A Different Kind of Message

If having the message-giver speak does not seem to fit right for the pacing of your story, another choice is to have that dead person literally have a message. Some examples are:

The person had a hastily written letter with the necessary information, but was cut down. Before dying, they were able to hide the letter away, which the looters missed but the main character was able to find.

The main character arrives too late, and after a miserable moment, the armies canine mascot recognizes the main character, so bounds up with a letter tucked into its collar.

The message is desperately written in the dead’s own blood, or scratched with a rock. Perhaps they were not able to get the full message down, and the main character has to figure it out.

The message is left using magic that only the main character can activate. This can be extra interesting if the dead person hated the main character, but picked them anyways. This hints that those close to the dead person could not be trusted.

If you can convey the desperation to get the message out, it can add emotion even if the character has long-since died.

Option 2: Have Us Know The Dying

Other writers try to fix the emotional barrier by introducing us to the character right before the death. The soon-to-die blabbers on about their hopes for the future, but again, this happens so much that as soon as a new person starts doing that, it pretty well marks them for death for readers. We don’t get emotionally attached, because we know they are going to die.

If you want to have us know the character, have it be someone we met long before. This way, we will actually be heartbroken before they die and actually hope in vain that they might pull through.

Option 3: Build False Hope

If we know the character, you can build false hope. Perhaps the main character carries that beloved dying person to help, but they die just before reaching it. Or perhaps the main character has healing magic, but the magic does not heal fast enough to save them. That false hope can sometimes amplify the emotion, and shows how much the main character wants them to live.

Option 4: Skip The Last Words

Finally, sometimes a death has more impact because there are no last words. For example, in Disney’s animated The Lion King, we see how close Mufasa and Simba are, but Mufasa is dead by the time Simba can get to him. There are no last words, and instead Simba begs him to wake up and lays curled up next to his father until forced to leave. It is a death that haunts many of us, because it was packed full of emotion. Mufasa was not able to warn his son of the danger, and Simba was not able to properly apologize, and that trauma follows him.

#writing #writing fantasy #writer #write #writing advice #fantasy #fantasy writing #fantasy novel #characters

2 notes · View notes

hahahahahangst · 2 years

Text

Sweet dreams (are made of this) (Be The Young 6)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, self-h*rm, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily's life used to be normal. Until one day, her family died, leaving behind just one letter.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

MASTERLIST

Sweet Dreams (are made of this)

Everybody's looking for something

Emily’s stomach dropped. She had not seen John in almost a year, but he somehow looked much older than she remembered. She did not move. Dean, instead, immediately lost any interest in the fight he and Emily were having and walked to hug his father. Emily glared over at Sam, who was also standing still, shocked. “Dad?” Was the only thing she could utter, still trying to process his presence. Every single question she had died in her throat together with the fight she was having with Dean. Sam dropped his duffel on the floor, making the weapons clank on each other. John walked past him and straight to Emily, who he drew into a hug. She frowned, surprised. John wasn’t a big hugger. Especially not with her. Sure, he had never been actively mean, but he surely had not shown any signs of treating her like a real daughter.

Dean spoke as the familiar beer and sweat scent made its way into Emily’s lungs from John’s clothes. “Dad, it was a trap. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

John let go of Emily. “It’s all right. I thought it might’ve been.” Emily, free from the hug, crossed her arms in front of her, nervous.

“So… you were there?” Asked Dean.

“Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive.” John looked around. “She was the bad guy, right?”

Dean and Sam answered in unison. “Yes, sir.” When Sam didn’t hear Emily’s voice, he turned towards her. He gave her a worried look, but John started talking again, capturing his attention.

“Good. Well, it doesn’t surprise me. It’s tried to stop me before.”

“The demon has?” Now Sam’s attention was undivided. For a second, Emily recognized the same anger he had seen in him the first weeks after Jessica had died.

“It knows I’m close.” Explained John. “It knows I’m gonna kill it. Not just exorcize it or send it back to hell… actually kill it.” Emily’s attention was raised. She took a step forward, finally getting closer to the group. She exchanged a look with Sam, trying to figure out how their dad was planning on killing a demon. However, the only one who expressed all their doubts was Dean.

“How?” To that question, John smiled.

“I’m working on that.”

“Let us come with you!” Said Sam. Dean sharply turned towards him, giving him a warning look. “We’ll help.”

“No, Sam, not yet.” Replied John. He paused for a second as if he was expecting an answer. “Try to understand: this demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Dad, you don't have to worry about us.” Insisted Sam.

“Of course I do.” Sighed John. “I'm your father. Listen- Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight.” Emily instinctively looked over at Dean who was staring at their father. “It's good to see you again. It's been a long time.” Sam and John hugged. Dean quickly looked back at Emily, who crossed her arms again, looking away. As soon as Sam and John separated, the Daevas were back. Emily lost track of what was happening immediately, her body being thrown through the bathroom door. Immediately, the shadow demon scratched her, leaving deep marks on her abdomen and arms and making her scream in pain. In the mess, she heard Sam say something and then, a bright light invaded her room. A hand grabbed her in the white and started dragging her out. Unable to see, she let the hand, which she recognized as being Dean's, lead her out of the house. The first person to talk as soon as they were out was Sam. “We don’t have much time, as soon as the flare runs out they’ll be back.” He looked at their father, probably expecting him to enter the car. As they discussed whether they should be joining forces or not, Emily started losing perception of her surroundings. Her heart was beating so fast she was almost able to hear it, and her hands were starting to go numb. She knew what was happening, it was a panic attack. She tried to get Sam's attention, but he was way too busy in his discussion and before she knew it, Emily was sitting in the back of the car. The argument kept going between Sam and Dean, but she lost pieces of it, occasionally losing consciousness in a combination of the panic attack and the wounds she had, which were bleeding all over the seat. The fight subsided and Emily, short of breath, was finally able to get Sam’s attention. He turned, seemingly calm.

“Are you ok?” His face turned extremely worried as soon as he focused on her face.

“Do I look like-” Dean hit a speed bump and Emily stopped talking, groaning in pain. “Do I look like I’m okay?!” Emily tried to lift a hand off her wound and saw it covered in blood. Her breath went even shorter, cutting off her air supply completely. She started coughing repeatedly.

“Dean…“ Sam turned back towards the front of the car, finally realizing what was going on.

“What?” Exhaled Dean, nervously holding onto the steering wheel.

“I think we should stop.”

“We need to get out of this town, I cannot stop now!”

“Dean, she’s having a panic attack.”

“Great,“ he groaned. “And what good is stopping going to do?”

“It’s-It’s fine.” Emily was able to blurt, scowling at Dean. Soon, however, the disturbed breathing made her feel nauseous. She covered her mouth with her hand.

Sam quickly picked up on that.

“Dean, stop the car.”

“We are not far enough, we-”

“Do you want her to puke in the car? Because that’s what’s about to happen.” Said Sam, raising his voice to overcome Dean’s. The car soon came to a stop.

Sam rushed out to help Emily, who was able to keep her mouth shut just long enough to kneel on the ground and vomit. Sam helped her hair back.

“It’s alright, we’re safe now.” He said, patiently waiting for her to recover. Dean kept the engine on, nervously looking around and tapping on the steering wheel.

While sick, Emily grabbed Sam’s wrist, looking for some contact.

It was long due, Emily thought as she realized she was unable to open her hand, the tension in her nerves too much to let her do so.

“Sam, we need to go!”

“Enough, Dean, she-” He tried to move away from her to go speak to Dean, but her grip was firm. She looked at him, her breathing and gagging still weirdly covering her sobbing. All Sam could see was a prayer to not leave her. Not then, not there. It felt like the whole world was crashing on her, she would have done anything to not be let go. Sam's arm felt like the only thing keeping her from falling in an enormous pit, from falling straight to hell.

”...Dean, your sister is sick, care to show some compassion?” He said, looking back at the car.

“I’m trying to save her life, care to collaborate?” Dean signaled them to get back in the car.

”...She just vomited two days worth of food, she is bleeding-”

“Yeah, and we’ll all be dead if we don’t leave! Look, there’s a motel one day from here, we can-”

“YOU CAN GIVE ME FIVE FUCKING MINUTES!” Yelled Emily with a terribly distorted voice. Sam immediately stopped talking and took a step back, frightened. “Good god, Dean, when will you ever be worried about the right thing? When?!” She stood up and weakly threw a fistful of dirt and gravel in his direction, finally letting go of Sam’s wrist. He started massaging it immediately. Emily looked at him doing so, realizing he had hurt him, gagged and then turned around to vomit again.

“Does she look like she can travel one day to you?” Sam whispered behind her.

“What do you want me to do? We are not safe here!”

“To stop behaving like a complete asshole!”

Emily, who was hearing all of it, slowly turning the panic into anger, turned around, cleaning her face with the back of her sleeve. She felt dirt mixing with her tears, vomit and snot and spreading on her entire face, scratching her.

“Shut up!” She pointed to Dean. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Sam looked at her, worried, while she fell back on the ground and kept crying. Unable to calm down, she started nervously slamming her hand on the floor, moving dirt and gravel and cement pieces around. Sam sat next to her and stopped her hand, which somehow made her cry even more. That was when she heard the engine of the car finally stopping. Dean appeared over her.

“Alright, enough now-” he said, forcing her off the floor. She cleaned the back of her jacket with his hand and dragged her towards the car. “Sit down, let me see.” He forced on the car seat and crouched in front of her. Then, he lifted her shirt to see where she was wounded. He grimaced. “Yeah, you’ll survive.” He pulled the shirt back down. “Are you going to throw up again?” Emily scowled at him.

“Dean, come on…” Sighed Sam. “Five minutes. Just five.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Five minutes, then I’ll leave, with or without you.” Dean walked around the car and sat on the hood. Sam, instead, helped Emily out of the car.

“You see what I mean now?” She cried. “An unaffectionate son of a bitch.” Sam sighed.

“Yeah. I see.” He quickly glared at Dean. “Sorry, come here…”

The second she landed in Sam’s hug she realized how long it had been since someone had hugged her genuinely. Since she had last felt a hug.

The hug was the last thing she felt before she woke up in a motel room. All the panic and the breakdown were gone, but were replaced by a horrible sense of hunger and thirst. She also had a terrible headache, and her nose, which she didn’t recall being painful, hurt. All the wounds the daeva inflicted also were painfully stinging for the sweat she was covered in.

The first person she saw was Dean. He was sitting at the desk, looking at the opposite wall, and was reading an old-looking book.

“Good morning.” Emily tried to say. All she was able to let out was a groan. But it was enough for Dean to notice her. He looked surprised.

“Look who’s awake.” he said, standing up. He filled up a plastic cup with water and sat on the bed next to her. He handed her the cup. “Are you feeling better?” She took the cup and drank it.“Terribly thirsty…” Emily gestured to him to bring her more water.

“I bet, kid, you’ve been out two days.” She stopped the cup in front of her lips, raising her eyebrows. “Thought you were gone for good for a second.” Emily moved the cup away from her mouth.

“I mean, if I am here it means my heart and lungs worked the whole time.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean dead, Emily, I meant gone gone, like Girls, Interrupted gone.”

Emily squeezed her eyes, trying to recall the last minutes before she fell asleep. She kept drinking. “Well, while you are awake, it’s time to change that bandage.” He walked towards a duffel bag in the corner. “Those things got you good.”

“You’re the one who looked at it and said that I was going to survive.” She commented, bitter.

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I? You’re here.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you.” She rolled her eyes.

“Who do you think sewed you back? Because it was not Sam for sure. He was busy keeping you still.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You put up quite a fight.” Dean grabbed his duffel.

“Dean, I was sleeping.” Emily scoffed.

“Yeah, sure.” He said, sarcastic. “Not sure what you mean by sleeping but that was not sleeping. Look.” He rolled up his sleeve, showing what looked like claw marks on his forearm. “I had to punch you in the nose to stop you.”

“Well, that explains the pain.” She said, touching her nose and grimacing in pain. “Sorry I hurt you.” She apologized. “But I would lie if I said you didn’t have it coming.”

“That’s true.” He said, coming back to her with a half empty bottle of whiskey and an old t-shirt. She looked down at her abdomen to see a winchester-style “dressing”, which consisted of dental floss and an old t-shirt.

“Good god, Dean, who did this? Frankenstein?”

She commented, moving her brother’s hands away from her body. “No, put that stuff away.” She pointed at her backpack. “Go in my bag and take out actual medical supplies.” He did so and, surprised, took out some actual medical thread, disinfectant and bandages.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

“The vet?” She said, bitter, trying to sit down. She groaned, in pain. “God, I never felt worse in my life.” Emily rubbed her face.

Dean ignored and walked back to the bed, took away the t-shirt and slowly cut the dental floss away. She hissed in pain.

“Okay, uh- pass me that bottle and a q-tip.” She cleaned her wounds, trying to hold back the pain and groans with the little strength she had. She then had him pass her the stichting supplies, but once she tried to hold the curved needle, she realized how weak she actually was. Holding the needle made all her nerves tingle and it felt as the heaviest thing she ever picked up. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to do it?” He asked. She nodded and gave him the supplies.

Sam came back in the room while Emily was swearing at Dean, who was in the process of sewing her back together.

“You are a fucking butcher, be more delicate, would you?”

“Emily, you’re awake!” He said, smiling. “How are you feeling?” Asked Sam.

“Dean broke my nose-” She answered “...and then sewed my skin together using dental floss.” She reached for her cup on the nightstand. “So, I am probably about to die.”

“As you can hear, Sammy, she’s back to being a bitch, which means she will be fine.” As he said that, he intercepted her arm trying to hit him behind the head. “Stand still, or the scar will be even worse.” He smirked as Emily could do nothing else but lay there.

“So…“ Started out Dean a little later, almost done with his job. ”...pre-med, uh?”

“Come on, do you really want to do this right now?”

“I’m just curious, you know.” He handed her a bottle of water, which she drank almost all in one chug. “Never knew you wanted to do that.”

“Never knew you were interested.“ she answered, staring at the ceiling while her brother started covering the stitches. He gave her a disappointed gaze, making it clear he did not appreciate the bitterness. Emily sighed. “I was trying to get into Stanford.” She blurted out. Sam turned towards her.

“Really?” He asked.

“Yep. Worked all my life for it.”

“How was it?” Asked Dean, still busy medicating her.

“Well…” she started, thinking back to her previous life. “I was in the process of writing my acceptance letter when- Well, when it all went to shit.” She explained.

They stayed silent for the following ten minutes while Dean finished patching her up.

“Are you feeling better?” Asked him. She nodded and he helped her sit down properly.

“Here-” he said, dropping a brown bag next to her leg. “Eat something.” The smell of cheap fast-food got to her and she quickly made her way in the bag and took out a hamburger. It was kind of soggy, but to her hungry stomach it looked like the most delicious thing ever.

“Okay, I’ll go steal some meds for you, sit tight okay?” Said Dean as he left the room. Emily smiled as he left and absentmindedly looked at the door, still vaguely smiling even after it closed.

Dean left and she was left alone with Sam.

“Are you okay?” He said, raising Emily from her trance.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She immediately stopped smiling. “Thank you for being on my side the other night.”

“It’s alright.” He smiled. “But to be fair, it was Dean who actually managed to patch you up.”

“It doesn’t matter, Sam, you-” Emily sighed. “You stood up for me… nobody in this family had done it before.”

“Yes, but… why?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… if you and Dean solved whatever problem you have going on, you two could just… get along.” “Me and Dean don’t have a problem.” Said Emily, cleaning her face from the hamburger crumbles with her forearm.

“Then… What happened? I know I already asked you this, but I still did not get an answer from either of you.”

“I am not sure I am following you.” Emily asked, surprised, taking another bite.

“I mean, you always fight for the littlest things. And as far as I understood from dad, this has been going on forever.” He looked at her.

“Ugh…“ She brought her hands to her face. ”...I guess there’s always been some tension, you know? He’s always been a dick.” Emily shook her head.

“So you're telling me… That there is no real reason?”

“There’s plenty of reasons, Sam.”

”...like what?”

“Are you asking for a list?” She said, bitter.

“No, just…why?”

“I’ll give you one reason: Dean is an asshole.”

Sam stayed silent for a while.

“Do you want to know what the real problem is?”

“How would you know?”

“I know Dean, and I have been looking at you.”

Emily was skeptical. “Go ahead I guess.”

“You are just too similar.”

“Shut up.” She said, scoffing. “Me and Dean are two different breeds.”

“Not entirely, I mean, just think about how you deal with feelings.”

“Which is…?”

“You don’t. And that is part of the problem.”

“I deal with my feelings!”

“Is that how you ended up sleeping for three days after having a nervous breakdown that had you throw punches around while sleeping?”

She decided to let it go. She moved the covers away from her feet and sat there for a while, looking at the terrible stitching job Dean made on her abdomen and regretting ever letting him touch her with his butcher hands.

19 notes · View notes