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doctorstethoscope · 3 years ago

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The Right Chapter 4 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hi besties we’re back besties :)))

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: brief mentions of a gun and domestic abuse, the beginning of ~feelings~ between hotch and reader

wc: 3.1k

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the smell, which Reid would tell you was interesting, because smell is the sense that we lose the most in sleep. Hence, smoke alarms. Shaking the thought away with a fond smile, you padded into the kitchen slowly, finding Aaron with his jacket and tie long discarded, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“It smells so good!” You announced.

“It’s olive oil and garlic.” Hotch chuckled as he turned away from the stove to face you. “And you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

You craned your neck to look at the stovetop clock behind him. “I slept for three hours, Hotch. And I’m sure you’re going to enforce my full eight hours later tonight.”

“Well, this isn’t ready yet.” He said.

“Really? You aren’t just feeding me oil and garlic?” You quipped.

“Don’t be a smartass,” he smirked at you.

“I want to help,” you told him earnestly, looking up at him from where you’d perched yourself in one of the barstools at his counter. “What can I do?”

“Here, chop this onion,” he said, sliding everything you’d need across the counter so you could stay seated.

He moved around the kitchen gracefully, combining ingredients and stirring a sauce and boiling water for pasta with the ease of a practiced chef. He refused to tell you what he was making, and you leaned forward in your chair, trying to see if the spices by the stove would give you any clues. They didn’t, but before you knew it, Aaron was plating pasta with chicken and mushrooms and broccoli in a sauce that smelled heavenly.

“Will you tell me now?” You whined as you both sat down at the table to eat.

“It’s nothing special, really.” he laughed at your antics. “It’s pasta in a lemon-dill cream sauce.”

“You’ve been holding out on us,” you accused as you took your first bite. “Aaron, this is delicious.”

He smiled back at you, trying to ignore how much he loved hearing his first name come rolling from your lips. “Well, you helped.”

“Please. I chopped vegetables and used the can opener. I certainly did not, and could not, whip up a lemon-dill cream sauce on a moment’s notice.”

You continued to banter over dinner, laughing and smiling in a way it felt like you hadn’t in weeks. Aaron, ever-efficient as he was, had handled most of the cleanup as he was cooking, so all that was left was packing up the leftovers and putting your dishes in the dishwasher. When you closed the fridge, Aaron spoke up again.

“So, Jess is supposed to drop off Jack tomorrow.” Aaron mentions, with a certain forced casualness.

“Oh, I can be out of your hair.” You said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m sure I can stay with Emily--”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Aaron stopped you. “I’m not kicking you out. I was just going to say, I can ask Jess to keep him for a little while longer.”

“Hotch, no way. He’s your son. I’m not kicking him out of his own house or keeping him away from his father.”

“Of course you aren’t. I can go visit him at Jess’s place and when you’re comfortable with him, he can come here.”

“I’m plenty comfortable with Jack.” You assured him. “I just meant, won’t it be weird for him, if I’m here? And I don’t want to intrude on your time with him.”

“You’re not an intruder. Jack loves you. And I--” he started to say something, but caught himself. You decided not to think too hard about it. “I would be happy to have you here, with him.”

You still felt uneasy-- you knew his time with Jack was precious. You took a deep breath, preparing to strike a compromise. “How about this-- I go stay with Emily-- listen--” you stopped him before he could cut you off. “I go stay with Emily tomorrow night. It’s Saturday. I need some girl time, and Jack needs some dad time. You and Jack can spend the day together, and then I can come back on Sunday and you can talk to him about me being here before I’m actually in his kitchen eating his cinnamon toast crunch. I know he loves me, and I love him too, but I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

You could tell that he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of you being out of his sight for a whole day, but he wasn’t Josh-- he wasn’t going to try to use his emotions to control your behavior. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the discomfort on his face. You know that sooner or later, you’d have to have a conversation about where you’re actually going to live-- but you decide not to push him any further tonight.

“I’ll be with Emily the whole time. After today, I’m pretty sure she’d shoot him on sight if given the opportunity. You don’t need to worry.” You told him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. Your touch grounded him, brought him back to reality.

He took a deep breath, resigning himself to give you what you wanted, just as he always would. “And you’re going to take your meds, and take it easy, and not--”

“Yes, dad.” You scoffed. “See, this is why I need you and Jack to take some time. You should get all of this out with him.” you laughed at him, and he grinned back at you.

“You’re just as stubborn. That’s not my fault.”

“Some people call that being strong-willed, Aaron.” you teased back, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure.

Aaron panics slightly when he doesn’t find you in the guest room the next morning, but his anxiety evaporates when he sees you perched on the couch in the living room, your hair thrown up into a bun, sitting criss-cross with your feet tucked underneath you and your laptop on your lap. You’ve brewed a pot of coffee, and Aaron takes a minute to look at you fondly before that nagging voice at the back of his head reminds him that you’re his subordinate, that you were hurting, and that even if you weren’t, you could never love a bitter, old, broken man like him.

“Working on something?” He asked, interrupting his own spiral.

Your eyes shot up instantly, not having noticed his entrance. “Nothing important. The coffee’s still hot, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” He reminds you, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. “You’re not an intruder here. Especially not when you make a strong pot of coffee.”

“Doing anything fun with Jack today?” You asked, shutting your laptop as he sat down at the other end of the couch.

“It’s supposed to be nice, I think we’ll go to the park. He’s just about ready to take the training wheels off of his bike.” He smiled fondly.

“Aw, my little man! I’m so excited for him.” You cooed, only brightening Aaron’s smile.

“What about you?”

“I’m not sure. Emily said I should be ready for brunch and that she, JJ, and Garcia would handle the rest. She mentioned that someone gave her explicit instructions for me to take it easy, so I imagine we’ll probably be skydiving and binge drinking.”

“You think you’re real funny, don’t you?” Aaron asked dryly.

“Yeah, actually, I do.” You smiled over at him, and the corners of his mouth quirked up before he could force them into their usual stoic line.

There’s a knock at the door, and you shoot up. “That’s Em.”

Aaron places a hand on your forearm as you trot past. “Hey.” His gentle voice stops you in your tracks. “Be safe, please? Be vigilant, and call me if anything happens?” He looks up at you, and you can see the lines of concern etched around his dark brown eyes.

“Nothing’s going to happen, Aaron.” You placed your hand on top of his. “Enjoy your day with Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There’s a moment that passes between you, and you almost think you’re going to lean and give him a peck on the cheek to say goodbye, but Emily knocks again and you’re both distracted. You roll your eyes at yourself as soon as your back is to Aaron. Clearly these painkillers were taking their toll on you.

When you and Emily arrived at the restaurant, JJ and Garcia were already at an outdoor table waiting for you. The four of you chatted and laughed over pancakes and coffee and fruit before walking around the downtown area shopping. Then JJ started leading you down a less-familiar street.

“Where are we going?” you asked, picking up your pace a little to walk next to JJ, who was at the front of your four-person group on the sidewalk.

“That is for us to know, and you to find out.” She winked at you with a smile before taking off ahead. You let her, falling into step with Penelope.

“You know, too?”

“Of course I do, kitten. But I’m not spoiling the surprise! Just be patient.”

You know better than to even try with Emily. You just rolled your eyes, chuckling a little at your friends’ antics. Eventually, JJ is leading you up the steps of a brownstone, set back a little way from downtown.

“What are we doing?” You asked breathlessly.

“We’re just taking a peek.” JJ said, opening the door and leading you up to a second-floor unit.

“This feels illegal.” You remark as Emily produces a pair of keys.

“I know the owner,” she tells you, swinging the door open and letting you walk inside first.

Natural sunlight pours into the empty apartment. You look to the left and see a granite kitchen island, and crisp white cabinets situated between stainless steel appliances. The space that you assume to be the living area is open, and the room is of course void of furniture, but it’s not hard to imagine a loveseat in the center of the room, a chaise along the far wall, a coffee table in the middle, an open bottle of wine and all of your friends filling the empty space.

“What are we doing here?” You ask with a little chuckle.

“Well, we know that Josh’s name is on the lease at your current place.” Penelope starts. “And you just have a lot going on right now, and we wanted to help, so we were looking at some places for you. If you don’t like this one that’s fine, I have a whole catalogue of others sorted by distance from work and walkability and--”

“You guys didn’t have to do that. Thank you.” You smiled.

“We wanted to.” JJ tells you.

“Well, what do you think? Go, look at the bedroom.” Emily prods, and you smile, swinging open the door across the room, revealing a large open bedroom and an en-suite bathroom with a truly gorgeous tile shower.

“The place looks great, Em, it really does. I’m just going to have to think about it. There’s been a lot going on.” You understate.

“Of course.” She responds.

“Not to mention the fact that Hotch barely wanted to release me into your care for the night, so I’m not sure he’ll take well to me moving further than his guest room.” You laughed.

“He’s got it, bad.” JJ comments offhandedly, and your jaw hits the floor.

“Jennifer!” You chastise her.

“What? You can’t possibly play dumb here.” She asks.

“I literally couldn’t have less of a clue what you’re talking about. Hotch has only ever been platonic and professional with me.” You denied.

“Well, of course, but he’s different with you.” Emily defends JJ.

“Different how?”

“He’s--- he’s just different, sweet cheeks. He lets his walls down, and only by 10% or so, but for Hotch, that’s major.” Garcia supplies.

“He’s protective of you in the field.” JJ notes.

“He’s protective of all of us in the field. We just get partnered up a lot.” You defend him, although you don’t know why. You’d want nothing more than to let them convince you that you meant something to Hotch the same way he meant something to you, but you couldn’t let yourself believe that. It would only mean more heartbreak later.

“And who makes that decision?” Garcia reminds you.

“And it’s not just the field. He doesn’t even like it when the local cops look at you the wrong way or give you a hard time.” Emily adds.

“You all need to get away from work more. You’re profiling when there’s nothing there.” You argue weakly.

“You’ll see,” JJ smiles, rolling her eyes at you. “We’ll let you off the hook for now. But you might want to put a little thought into why your first worry about getting a new place is what Hotch would think.”

The rest of the day found you back at Emily’s place, lounging around in comfy clothes and binging shitty rom-coms. You ordered a couple of pizzas for dinner, and passed around twizzlers and coca cola like you were at a middle school sleepover. It was nice. Great, even. Josh wasn’t the biggest fan of your coworkers, and you had grown more distant from them over your time with Josh. The conversation was breezy and light, the evening full of laughter. It wasn’t until later, when everyone was cleaning up and preparing to head out, that your tone became a little more serious.

“Thank you guys, seriously.”

“You know you don’t have to thank us for eating takeout and watching movies in our sweats.” JJ tells you with a smile as she tosses some candy wrappers.

“And you know that’s not what I’m thanking you for. I know I wasn’t the best friend when Josh and I were together.”

“Clearly that wasn’t your fault.” Emily reminds you.

“Maybe not, but I still appreciate everything you all did for me today. I missed you.”

“We missed you too, bug.” Garcia said, wrapping you up in a hug. “Just don’t tell boss man that we stayed past your bedtime.”

You let out a laugh. “He’s so ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in loveeee,” JJ sings out teasingly.

“Watch it, or I’ll tell him you kept me out late drinking!” You joked with her as you and Emily walked JJ and Garcia out the door. You and Emily bid your goodnights to each other as you slipped into her spare room, stretching out across the bed lazily. You feel your phone start to vibrate, but you can’t for the love of god remember which zippered pocket of your go-bag you’d left it in. When it stops vibrating, you let out a frustrated groan. Finally, you find it, in the pocket of the jeans you’d worn to brunch this morning. You have a missed call from Aaron, which you return immediately, flipping back over to lie against the mattress. He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You check the time briefly, rolling your eyes a little. It’s not even midnight. “No, I was awake.” You tell him.

“Did the girls just leave?” He asks casually, but you know Garcia probably wasn’t joking about Hotch enforcing a bedtime.

“A while ago. I was in the shower when you called.”

“You’re an awful liar, you know.” He chuckles at you.

“I thought we agreed that you were going to let all this parental energy out on Jack.” You responded, hoping he could hear the smirk in your voice.

“I just don’t want you to push it.” Hotch confesses with a sigh.

“Hotch, I’m okay. Really. You got me out of there and got me patched up. I’m good now.” you tell him, sitting up against the pillows.

“I also let you go home with him that night after I saw him hit you.” He reminds you, and although you can’t actually see him, your mental picture of him, head hung and thumb running anxiously against his fingers, is startlingly real.

“I made that choice, Hotch. You gave me an out and I chose not to take it.” You reminded him. “That’s on me.”

“No, it’s not. This wasn’t your fault.” He’s quick to correct you

“Not yours, either.” You add.

“He pulled a gun on you that night.” He says, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah, he did.” You said quietly.

“If I had let you go home with him, and he had--” He starts to spiral, but you pull him out of it.

“Aaron. I’m right here on the phone with you. You came and got me out of there. I’m okay.”

“I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t-- I can’t imagine a world without you in it.” He confesses, sounding breathless even though you were sure he was just sitting on the sofa at home.

“You don’t need to. I’m right here.” You tell him. “Is that why you called?”

“It’s good to hear your voice.” He answers, in his own roundabout way. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, I did. What about you and Jack?”

“Yeah, we did. We didn’t quite get the training wheels off yet, but we’re getting there. He’s so excited to see you tomorrow.”

“He is?” You asked.

“He is. Are you surprised? He’s not exactly shy about how much he likes you.”

“No, I guess not,” you laugh, remembering a time he had nearly knocked you over in Aaron’s doorway with the force of his hug. “What did you tell him?’

“I just told him that you’d been feeling a little sick, and that you were going to be staying here until you were feeling better.”

“And he was okay?”

“His exact words were ‘is she too sick to build legos with me,’ so yeah, I think he’s okay.” He laughed, and you tried to push down the sense of warmth that the sound of his laughter spread throughout your chest. It didn’t work. He interrupted your internal dilemma without realizing it. “I should let you get to sleep.”

“Try to catch a few hours yourself, Hotchner.” You tell him.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Hotch?” You say before he can hang up the phone.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“I can’t imagine a world without you in it, either.” You tell him in a whisper that’s almost self-conscious.

“You don’t need to. I’m right here.”

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11 @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you

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coldsandfluff · 3 years ago

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Friday Night Fever (F/M, Original, Illness Care-Taking Fluff)

Wrote this little original F/M care-taking fluff fic inspired by something that happened to me when I was in college (basically, caught a cold, three friends came over unannounced and insisted on me coming with them to the bar until one of them noticed the thermometer on my nightstand and realized I really was too sick to go). I've changed all the characters personality/appearance (including myself) so that we are completely unrecognizable, and added more to the story of course 😚

So if you like group of friends, platonic to maybe romantic care-taking fluff and F/M illness, read on!

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Annabel left the sandwich shop at the end of her evening shift, feeling the cold autumn air seep through her jacket. Darkness had blanketed the town hours ago, and college students were already filling the streets on their way to the bars to celebrate the end of the week. Not that they’d really needed a reason to drink, of course.

As she launched the trash bags in the large dumpster in the back alley, Annabel felt an uncomfortable shiver running down her back. She’d been feeling under the weather for a couple of days, downing vitamin C fizzy drinks to stave it off. What she’d hoped would end up being a little annoying cold was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for. She could feel the icy tendrils of a fever crawling on her skin, and all she wanted to do was slip under the covers of her warm bed and sleep all weekend.

Her phone pinged as she started making her way back to her apartment.

Finn: We’ll be there in 40 minutes. Zack wants to pick up some pregame vodka from the store first.

Annabel sighed. She’d met Zack, Finn and Alex at her second job—a fancy new restaurant in the heart of town where she’d been waitressing part-time for the past two months. They’d hit it off on opening day, when Zack had accidentally broken a whole stack of plates. No one had seen what had happened but the four of them. Zack had gotten his dishwasher’s apron stuck on the door handle, and his hands had slipped at the sudden pull.

The crash had been deafening.

Right before the owner had rushed in to ask what had happened, Zack’s best friend, Finn, had kicked the wheel of the cart where the plates had been sitting a few moments ago, giving Alexander and Annabel a knowing look.

They’d all told the owner that the cart was broken and had tipped over without anyone touching it. Somehow, the owner had bought the lie. That night, Zack insisted on paying them a round of shots at the bar, and a tradition was born: The four of them. Every Friday. With lots of alcohol.

It was the only time Annabel let loose. With her two jobs and college, she was struggling to find free time, but Friday nights had become sacred. There was nothing like downing drinks and letting the buzz take over, following her three new friends wherever they wanted to go. It was always an adventure. Especially with Zack at the helm.

But tonight, there was no way she could make it.

Annabel: Actually, I can’t come tonight. Sorry.

She walked past a group of friends laughing and hollering, wishing she’d felt as good as they did. But the headache growing behind her eyes wasn’t going to let up, and adding alcohol to the mix would only make it worse. Not only that, but her nose had started running in the past two hours. She’d had to go blow it in the restroom every half hour, getting herself banished from the front of the store by the manager. She’d washed her hands so often that her skin was almost raw.

Just like her nose.

Finn: Nah, you’re coming. Nobody cancels Friday night. Come on.

Annabel couldn’t hold a smile. She typed back, sniffling. Her sinuses were prickling like crazy, as if she’d accidentally inhaled a cloud of tiny fireworks. She stifled a sneeze in the crook of her elbow, mid-word. “Ehh—Ehh’KSHHeeww!” Her eyes watered from the force of it. She wiped the tears away and resumed typing.

Annabel: I’ll make it up to you guys next weekend. Drinks on me.

She grabbed a crumpled tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed at her nose. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, beckoning her. As she crossed the last stretch of sidewalk to the entrance, she kept checking her phone.

No reply.

Shrugging, she unlocked the front door and took the stairs.

***

Back in her apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom to the right and used toilet paper to blow her nose, finally free to make as much noise as she wanted. She winced from the roughness of it on her chapped nostrils, but it was all she had. She wasn’t exactly the planning type. Her idea of a grocery list was memorizing the first three items and hoping the rest would come to her as she walked through the aisles. Most often than not, she’d have to make a quick run at the convenience store down the street to get what she’d forgotten.

She gathered her thick curly hair into a bun and looked at herself in the mirror. It was enough to confirm that she’d made the right decision. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin was so pale that her freckles popped like they did in the summer. Except for that slight flush high on her cheeks, of course. She popped a thermometer under her tongue and removed her work clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the bathtub.

Shivering from the sudden change in temperature, she covered her arms with her hands and ran to her dresser. Her warmest, softest sweater was the first thing she grabbed and put on, before throwing on a pair of comfy leggings and wool socks. The thermometer beeped.

100.8 °F. Figured.

She rolled her eyes and shuffled over to the “kitchen” of her studio apartment, which was the size of a matchbox and only contained a mini fridge, a microwave and an old sink. She poured herself some water and walked over to the bed, placing her glass and the thermometer on her nightstand. She would have brought over medicine as well, but she’d run out last semester after catching the flu going around campus, and had forgotten to replenish her stash. No matter. She could sleep this off. It was just a cold.

She suddenly sneezed twice in a row, as if her body wanted to protest her minimizing her illness, then got under the cover. Just as she was getting a little warmer, propping up her laptop to watch a movie, there was a knock at the door.

Annabel sat up, startled.

“Anna, open up!” a voice said behind the door.

Zack.

Annabel chuckled. Of course they wouldn’t give up that easily. She groaned, getting out of the warmth of her bed. She considered rushing to the dresser and putting on cuter clothes—they were her friends, but they were still boys, and she didn’t want to look like shit in front of them—but the thought of it was enough to drain her energy. Screw it. She walked over to the door and opened it.

“Finn told us you don’t want to come,” said Zack as he walked in. It was her friends’ first time coming up to her apartment. They’d usually wait for her downstairs. “So we’re here to change your mind.” He didn’t look at her, too busy checking out her place. He was dressed for the night—a buttoned-up shirt, navy blazer, jeans and dress shoes. His casual chic style always stood out in the local bars filled with broke college students, but he liked it that way.

Finn walked in after him, a crooked grin on his lips. “See, I told you you can’t cancel Friday night.” His shaggy blond hair half-covered his eyes, as always. Finn and Zack had been best friends since high school, and couldn’t have been more different from each other. At least physically. Finn was tall and lanky, Zack was smaller and worked out a lot. But they were both party guys, always ready for a crazy night—even though Finn was a bit more mellow than Zack.

Finally, Alex came in, and Annabel closed the door behind him. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if apologizing for the other two. He was a lot more like Annabel. Quiet, chill, along for the ride—whatever it may be. His deep brown eyes held her gaze for a second too long, and Annabel noticed one of his eyebrow raise ever so slightly. She bit her lip, feeling self-conscious about her appearance. They’d never seen her in such a state before. Thank god she hadn’t had the energy to remove her makeup yet.

“So this is where you live, uh?” Zack said, sitting on her desk chair and spinning it around and around. “I like it. Dorms suck.”

Before she could reply, Finn tsked. “Wow. So no love for your roommate, uh?”

“Dude, I love you,” Zack said, “but between you and an apartment all to myself, the choice is obvious.” He stopped spinning and turned to Annabel, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s so important that you can’t come with us? Do you have a date?”

All three boys turned to her. Annabel almost laughed. Could they not see the condition she was in? She cleared her throat. “No, I’m just not feeling well.”

Finn sat on the edge of her bed and examined her from afar. “Like what? Stomach thing? Flu?”

“Probably a cold, I guess.” Annabel could feel Alex’s gaze on her at her side. She glanced at him, then looked down, feeling silly. Now that she was saying it out loud, it sounded like a poor excuse. But she did have a fever, after all. She just didn’t want to start listing her symptoms.

Zack clasped his hands together. “You know what will make you feel better? Alcohol!” He grinned, as if proud of his solution. “Didn’t they used to give brandy to people when they were sick? We’ll make a special mix for your throat. Something with lemon and orange juice. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, I already have a headache…” Annabel said.

“Just take a couple of Tylenol. It’s like a hangover in advance,” Finn said with an encouraging smile. “One time, I went out clubbing with an ear infection and everything was fine. Actually felt better the next day, weirdly enough.”

“I don’t know guys, I won’t be much fun if—” Annabel was interrupted by a fierce tickle deep in her nose, spreading like wildfire. She ducked to her side, away from Alex. “Ehh’KSSHeeew! ‘KSSSHeeew!”

“Bless you,” the three boys said almost in unison.

“See?” Annabel said, pointing at her nose and sniffling. “You want me to sneeze all over you guys all night?”

Finn shrugged. “We’ll bring tissues. Whatever.”

Alex walked over to the bathroom and grabbed the toilet paper roll from the counter, then handed it to her. “Here.”

Annabel ripped a piece off and wiped her nose. “Thanks,” she said, sheepish.

Alex’s gaze paused on her for a few seconds before he turned to the other two. “Guys, she’s obviously sick. Let’s just go and let her sleep.”

“It’s just a cold,” Zack said. “She’s young and healthy. It’s nothing.” He got up and put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Give it an hour, and if you’re not feeling better after a few shots, we’ll walk you home.”

Annabel considered it for a second, trying to fight the shivers. Maybe if she wore something warm and took a few shots, she wouldfeel better. Numb the pain a little, at least. While she pondered it, Finn laid down on top of her bed spread and locked eyes with the thermometer on her nightstand. He frowned and sat up, picking it up.

He looked at her, thermometer in hand. His voice softened. “It’s that bad, uh?”

Annabel blushed. Why did admitting that she had a fever feel so vulnerable? She looked down and nodded. ��Kinda.”

Zack looked at the thermometer, then back at Annabel. He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on her forehead. “Ooof,” he said, a hint of concern slipping in his tone.

Finn got up. “Let me see,” he said, walking up to her and placing his own hand on her forehead. His eyebrows shot up. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, you need to be in bed,” Zack finally said, guiding her back to bed. “Why didn’t you say you had a fever? Jesus, Anna.”

She shrugged, sitting on her mattress. “I don’t know. I just get fevers with colds. I guess it’s normal for me.”

“Fevers suck,” Finn said. “Last time I had one, I stayed in bed for two days and everything hurt.” He walked over to the front door. “We’ll miss you tonight, though.”

Zack followed. “Hope you feel better. We’ll text you all the crazy shit that’s going to happen so you don’t miss anything.” He followed Finn out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Alex.

Alex watched them walk by, then grabbed the roll of toilet paper on the counter where Annabel had left it. He brought it over to her nightstand and gave her a sad smile. “Do you need anything?”

Annabel shook her head, relieved that she was going to be able to stay in bed. “I’ll be okay.”

He seemed to hesitate for a second, then nodded. “Let us know if you want us to get you food later. I know I can never sleep when I have a fever.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. Her nose scrunched up, overtaken by another annoying prickle. “Ehh… Iihh’KSSSHHeeww!”

“Bless you.”

Zack’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Alex, you coming?”

Alex snickered. “I guess I should go.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “Feel better, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.”

***

Annabel tried to sleep, but her fever and runny nose kept waking her up, leaving her floating halfway between dreams and reality. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get any rest in her state. She needed cold medicine.

It took her a long time to finally convince herself to get out of bed and go to the convenience store, but she managed to push the covers away and get up. She shivered, causing another tickle in her sensitive nose—it had only gotten worse in the hour since the boys had left. She ducked at the waist in an exhausting triple. “Ehh… Hehh’KSSSHeeeew! ‘KSSHHeeew! Hiihh’KSSHeeew!”

Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Annabel frowned and made her way to the door, cracking it open.

It was Alex. Alone.

“Bless you,” he said with a shy grin.

Annabel let him in. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with the guys?”

He shrugged, closing the door behind him. “I thought you might need this.” He showed her a plastic bag filled with tea, tissue boxes, ramen, cough drops and—she gasped—cold medicine.

Alex chuckled. “So I was right. You don’t have any medicine, do you?”

Annabel laughed. “How did you know?”

“Your nightstand. You only had a thermometer on there. When I’m sick, I take Nyquil everywhere I go.” He handed her the bag. “And I wanted to make sure you had tissues instead of toilet paper. Your nose will thank me.”

Annabel touched her chapped nose, smiling. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” He stood there for a second, as if not knowing what to say. “I’ll uh—I’ll let you rest.”

Before he could go, Annabel put her hand on his elbow. “Wait. Do you want to—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, her nose scrunching up yet again, her eyes fluttering. She spun around and sneezed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Hehh’KSSHH! Ht’Ksshht!” She turned back around, blinking away the tears and laughing. “Sorry!”

Alex laughed, too. “Bless you.” He held her gaze, then looked down. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh—I was just wondering if—maybe if you’d like to watch a movie with me. I don’t think I can sleep until the medicine kicks in.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. Of course he didn’t want to watch a movie with her. This was Friday night. What kind of college guy wanted to hang out with a sick, sneezy, nose-drippy girl on a Friday night instead of getting drunk with his friends. “Sorry,” she added quickly, “I forgot that the guys are probably waiting for you. I guess I’m kind of loopy from the fever.”

Alex took a step forward and placed his hand on her forehead. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, that Annabel closed her eyes, appreciating the coldness of his palm on her hot skin.

“You are definitely burning up,” he half-whispered, frowning. “I was wondering if the guys were exaggerating. Guess not.”

Annabel bit her lip. “I’ll be okay after I take the medicine. You don’t have to stay.”

Alex removed his hand. “I do,” he blurted. “I mean, I do want to watch a movie with you. And stay.”

“Are you sure?” Annabel asked through her blossoming smile. “Aren’t you worried you’ll catch my cold?”

“Actually, I have a confession to make.” Alex led her to the bed and placed the content of his bag on her nightstand. “Last Friday, I kind of had a cold. It wasn’t as bad as yours, pretty minor, but… Zack convinced me to come out anyway and I—I think I might have given it to you. You drank out of my glass and I didn’t have time to stop you.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Annabel laughed. “I can’t believe Zack didn’t rat you out earlier. It would have been the perfect example of someone going clubbing with a cold and ‘being fine’ anyway.”

“He probably knew it was partly his fault that you’re sick and didn’t want to admit it.”

Annabel shook her head. “Well, you owe me a Friday night.” She got into bed and patted the spot next to her. “That means I get to pick the movies.”

Alex grabbed the throw blanket at her feet and draped it over her. “That sounds fair.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and settled next to her. “But when you fall asleep, I can’t guarantee I won’t change it.”

“Deal.”

After taking a dose of Nyquil, Annabel started the movie, snuggling under the blanket. She wondered what kind of crazy adventures Zack and Finn were getting themselves into. She expected to feel FOMO, but instead, she shot a glance at Alex next to her, and realized she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was Alex’s shoulder touching hers, but it felt like this was the start of a different kind of adventure. Maybe not alcohol-fueled, but Nyquil was pretty close.

All because they’d shared a not-so-secret cold.

And Annabel had a feeling it would be worth the fever. And the countless sneezes to come.

THE END

#caretaking fic #care-taking fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #care-taking king #sickfic

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

Not a Baby: Nat and Chris (And Ronnie)

CW: The first part is pure fluff with a couple underage drinking references/jokes. Second part references the events of Chris getting appendicitis (One, Two, Three, Four) and takes place while he is healing from surgery. Includes surgery references, whumpee rejecting medication, medical trauma references

Sometimes, you just want bittersweet fluff lined with angst.

“You gotta help me out,” Tristan sings along with the radio as they wait at a red light, Ronnie furtively checking her phone. “It’s all a blur last ni-eee-eye-ee-ight…”

One message from Paul, just now out of bed after a longer-than-usual workday had fully wiped him out, thanking her for leaving some food in the fridge. She smiles, faintly, at the sight of the little heart emojis he leaves after every single text.

He’s not much for showing emotion in his face, not like Tristan wears his own feelings on his sleeve, but he knows how to make sure Ronnie feels loved. He always has.

The light turns green, and she taps on the gas, then lets her foot slowly press down. Next to her, Tristan dances in his seat, totally unselfconscious, rocking back and forth.

“We need a taxi, ‘cause you’re hungover and I’m broke…”

Ronnie starts laughing, one hand over her mouth, the other still on the wheel.

He blinks, turning to look at her. They just clipped his hair short last week, getting him ready for the next competition coming up. She never expected to be a Gymnastics Mom, not once, but here she is, chaperoning her teenage son to the gym on a Saturday afternoon, where he more or less lives these days. “What?”

“I just. It’s something else to listen to your teenage son sing about being hungover, Tris. That’s all. You’re way too young for this song. And probably just for Katy Perry in general, not that anyone should listen to-”

“Mom.” Tristan rolls his eyes, leaning over and pointedly turning the volume up on the radio. “I like Katy Perry. And I, I, I know what hungover is. I’m not, not, not, not-... not-not four years old. I’m fifteen.”

“Fair enough, but I don’t think my fifteen-year-old should know about being hungover, either.” She takes a turn, the radio cheerfully blaring that’s what you get for waking up in Vegas and she wonders why she keeps letting Tris pick the radio station, exactly, when they could be listening to some perfectly fine soft rock right about now. “What do you get up to at Aki’s, huh? Maybe I need to speak to Aimi. Ask if you’re having wild parties as soon as I leave.”

“Oh my god, Mom.” Tristan turns bright red, and she tries not to enjoy how much he’s his father’s son - always but especially when he blushes, the red seeming to make the scattering of pale freckles stand out even more, not less, when he does. “You are, are not going to-... we don’t drink, Mom. We just, just watch shows and… hang out.”

“I know, baby,” Ronnie says, laughter still edging her voice. “I’m teasing you, that’s all.”

He glares out the windshield where he sits next to her, running his fingers up and down the smooth seatbelt, along its edge. Back and forth, enjoying the mix of silk and rough in the texture, she thinks.

“I’m not a, a, a, a baby,” He mumbles, all teenage resentment and irritation.

“Oh, honey. That’s the downside of having parents,” Ronnie says, gentling her voice down to affection, taking another turn. She can see the gym now, down at the end of the street. Aimi will probably already be here with Aki, she figures, and maybe they can make a coffee run while the boys practice. “It doesn’t matter how old you get. You could be fifty and I could be sixty-seven and I’d still see you wrapped in that hospital blanket looking up at me with big eyes. Even when we’re both old, you’ll still be my baby.”

He rolls his eyes again, but this time she catches the hint of a smile he’s trying to hide pulling at one side of his mouth. Tristan leans forward and switches the radio station over to Ronnie’s favorite, then falls back into his seat, focusing on the seatbelt again.

Sometimes, like his father, he doesn’t know how to say he loves her, but he always knows how to show it.

Two and a half years later

Nat came down for a glass of water, only to find Chris wide awake on the couch at 3 am, top teeth biting down so hard on his bottom lip she was afraid he’d draw blood, making his slow, careful, shuffling way towards the stairs.

She’d managed to convince him to go back to the couch, or really more or less command him, but the trade-off was promising she’d stay downstairs with him for a while.

Now, instead of water she has a mug of hot tea steaming gently on the side table, instead of her warm bed she has Chris’s head resting on a pillow in her lap while she runs fingers slowly through his hair - dark red in the night, lit with a hint of silver by the reflected light coming off the television - and instead of dreams, she has reruns of Frasier.

“You palmed your pain medication earlier, didn’t you?” She asks the question as gently as she can, without judgement.

He doesn’t answer, green eyes locked on the television, where the main character’s younger brother is preparing for a date and managing to set an ironing board on fire in the process. It’s probably one of the best scenes in television history, but Nat can’t even begin to pay attention to it. Worry has her all twisted up, heart beating a little too fast, as she picks up her mug and takes a sip, honey and lemon and yes, a little bit of whiskey in her tea all settling over her tongue.

“Chris,” She says, softly. “I asked you a question.”

“Mmmhmm,” is all he says, and he doesn’t move. His head is a soft weight against her leg, and his hair runs like silk through her fingers. He’s pale not just from the darkness and the late-night TV, but from the pain he must be in, must be holding back.

Of course, there’s no one who has come through her house who hasn’t been pretty good at hiding pain, after a while. Once you’re drowned in it, once it’s your everyday truth, you learn not so much to actually hide it as simply to go on living with it.

No one Chris’s age should already be so good at this.

“You have to take those, or you’re going to hurt like this all the time for a while,” Nat says, trying to keep from lecturing him. His freckles stand out more, lit by the cool blue-tinged light of TV. She watches him smile, just a little, at the slapstick comedy going on. “It’ll take longer for your incision to heal if you-”

“Don’t, don’t like pills,” Chris whispers, and she watches one of his hands, palm flat, running up and down the heavy weighted blanket she’s laid over him. It’s soft as rabbit fur, and he starts to hum, nearly a whisper, as he touches it. “Jake’s gone. Out. Didn’t… didn’t want them.”

Nat takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. “Chris, you can’t only take pills when Jake is here to give them to you. He can’t always be here, he has things he does outside of this house-”

“I know. But… I didn’t want them. I, I, I don’t mind hurting a little.”

The funny thing is, it’s not bluster. He really doesn’t. Chris would really rather lay here, awake in the middle of the night, in terrible pain than simply put two pills into his mouth and wash them down with water. There’s been too much done to him with drugs, and he’s not the only one she’s had to help recover the idea of medicine as something other than torture.

He’ll get there.

She hopes.

“Okay, well… where did you put them?”

There’s silence, again, but this time he shifts a little, a flash of his hurt and discomfort across his expression. “In, in the couch cushions.”

“Do you have any of your other doses in there?”

“... mmhmm.”

“Chris…” She sighs, putting her hand up to her forehead, rubbing her fingers just above the bridge of her nose as the tension starts to build behind her eyes. Oh, her head’s going to hurt soon. She can’t just be up at night like she used to without paying for it the next day. “How many have you skipped? Huh?”

“... four.”

“Four. Four times-... okay.” She exhales, slowly - he’s tense under her hand, now, and she can feel the worry in him. Knows he’s trying to figure out if he’ll be in trouble, get punished. Disciplined for the ways he’s learned to live with what happened to him.

A different kind of test than what he’s tried on Jake, but it’s still a test.

“Chris. I can’t tell you how much I don’t want to have to sit here and watch you and see you swallow them. I know that it’s hard for you, I do, and I’m so sorry that we have to do this, but I have to take care of you. I want to take care of you. And part of that is making sure you know how to care for yourself. When you’re recovering from serious surgery-”

“The, the, the, the cut’s not even that big,” He mutters, a hint of irritation.

Nat feels a surge of affection for him that, if she were standing, would nearly knock her off her feet. Chris interrupting her, Chris being pouty and sulky and every inch a seventeen-year-old boy, is a new thing. She doesn’t take it for granted.

It’s just… a little inconvenient right now.

“It doesn’t matter how big it is. It went all the way inside your stomach, and it was a pretty serious surgery. You need these pills or you are going to hurt like hell for so much longer than if you take them and get better. You got it?”

He sighs, but relaxes against her again, and she starts running fingers through his hair again, simple and maternal. “Yeah. I, I do.”

“Okay. Let’s watch the show and see if maybe you’re up for taking your dose and heading back to sleep in a bit, huh?”

“Will you, you, you stay? Even if I-... even if I do, and fall asleep?” He twists a little to look up her and winces as it pulls the still-tender muscles in his abdomen. “Will you stay?”

Nat thinks about how badly her back’s going to hurt in the morning. The headache already trying to sneak its way in around the edges. How she’s going to end up napping half the day away and not getting a damn thing done she had planned.

Then she just smiles down at him, at his wide green eyes in his narrow face and the heavy blanket hiding every other inch of him in softness and warmth. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay right here with you, ‘til Ant’s up in the morning. How’s that sound?”

“Good. See if you can get comfortable for a bit.”

The two of them fall back into an easy silence, broken only by the low-volume of the TV show, and get through two more episodes of Frasier before Nat’s tea is gone and she and Chris are both half-asleep on the couch, her hand simply resting on his hair, now, light but ever-present.

Eyes closed, the television’s cool blue still dancing against the inside of her eyelids, she hears Chris mumble, “Night, Nat,” in a sleep-slurred voice. It’s got to be four in the morning, there’s not much night left.

“Night, baby,” Nat murmurs.

“Not a, a baby, Mom,” Chris whispers, but both of them are too close to sleep to notice.

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump @outofangband

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

In the Neighbourhood

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, very lightly edited

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After your grandmother breaks her hip, you volunteer to look after her as she recovers but her neighbour is a bit too friendly.

Note: @lokislastlove thinks I won’t call her out anymore but I’m calling her out and you should too. Always blame her.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your grandmother’s house never changed. Nestled between two larger homes and with grass as green as the next, it was as perfect as any along the suburban sprawl. Inside, the same framed pictures of your mother and your aunt and uncle, those of you, your siblings, and your cousins, and family members you only saw at reunions. All of them far away. All of them keeping her company only in the still images. None of them coming to care for her; none but you.

You didn’t mind so much. With two degrees under your belt, you were ready to start your novel as you pondered a third. Your online transcription job was easy enough to travel with and you loved your grandmother. The least you could do was help her out in her recovery. A broken hip but otherwise okay. She couldn’t do much from her wheelchair and you feared a worse injury if she tried.

You moved in on a Sunday. The family next door, the Barbers, were the perfect picture of a suburban clan. Andy introduced himself and his wife, Laurie, and their quiet son, Jacob. Then they asked if your grandmother, Lucille, was coming to their barbecue that afternoon and invited you along with her. Your grandmother confirmed that she didn’t want to miss out on Laurie’s potato salad because she’d tripped on a rug.

So you wheeled her over, careful as the grass slowed the chair, and you angled her through the open gate. You seemed to be the last to arrive. The air smelled of searing beef and swirled with the buzz of voices. You stood behind your grandmother’s chair as you looked around nervously and a plump woman with short curly white hair approached.

“Darla!” You grandmother greeted. “You’re back from your little getaway.”

“Arn was keen to come home,” The woman smiled up at you and back to your grandmother. “I heard you had a bit of an incident.”

“Oh, still spry, but the damn doctor has me ‘takin’ it easy’,” You grandma sneered. “I’ll be up at it before long. This is my granddaughter, you remember her, don’t you?”

“I do,” Darla smiled though you barely remembered her. “So sweet of you to come down to look after our Lucille.”

“It’s nothing,” You said. “I owe her. I spent too many holidays on campus.”

“That you did,” Your grandmother chided. “But do go on and socialise, dear. There must be someone here your own age. Or closer to. You can’t be lettin’ yourself get caught up with us old biddies.”

“I’m fine,” You chuckled. “Really.”

“You go. Get something to drink.” You grandmother snapped her fingers. “Mingle!”

You huffed but left her with Darla and another woman, you were certain her name was Betty, passed you on her way to join them. You looked around. The wives were in their clusters and the men drank from brown bottles as they laughed and talked about sports. You didn’t know about children or baseball.

You went to the end of the table, just by the barbecue, a cooler open and waited as a young boy claimed a can of Orange Crush. You reached inside and took out a grape soda. The lid of the barbecue closed and you turned to face its master; Andy smiled as you blinked at him.

“That’s the kid’s cooler,” He said. “There’s a mini fridge in the garage if you want something stronger.”

“I’m good with this,” You cracked the can.

“I thought you were a college girl,” He said as he set down his long spatula.

“Graduated.” You assured him. “Never was big on the scene though.”

“Really?” He lifted a brow. “I kinda miss it.” He stepped around the barbecue, closer to you. “It was a while ago now but it was fun. You know,” He put his hands on his hips as he looked across the yard. “I was in a frat with Carson over there,” He nodded to skinny man holding a bottle of water amid the sea of brown glass. “We got in quite a bit of trouble. Maybe I wrote a few of my exams drunk but didn’t do much harm.”

“Oh yeah?” You said dully. “What do you do now?”

“Law. Assistant district attorney.” He preened. “But don’t worry, I can still have fun.”

He winked and you squinted at him. He was an old man trying to relate to a youth. There was what, ten, fifteen years between you? Wasn’t that much, really, and yet it was.

“Legal fun,” You suggested.

“Well, the immoral isn’t always illegal,” He mused. “So… Miss Graduate, you have a job lined up?”

“I work online for now but I’m writing, too.” You shrugged. “Nothing fancy but it’ll do for the time being. Until my grandma’s better.”

“That’s a nice thing you’re doing,” He said. “You know, not a lot of people I know my age would drop everything to go care for family.”

“Least I can do,” You sipped from the can. “She always did make the best lemon meringue. It has its perks.”

He chuckled and backed up as he grabbed the spatula again and opened the barbecue.

“Offer stands,” He called over the smoke. “Beer’s in the garage.”

“Thanks,” You smiled and slowly walked away. This was like that party you’d spent hiding on the porch; awkward as hell.

🏡

The first two weeks passed swiftly. You woke up, made breakfast for your grandmother, her usual oatmeal and tea, then you spent a few hours working online, then lunch, an hour of writing, a walk through the neighbourhood, some alone time, dinner, and then some nightly crime dramas with your grandmother. Each day was identical to the last and you felt the vaunted slog of suburban life.

It was Saturday. You needed to get out. Your grandmother even encouraged it. A few hours at the bar, drinking, dancing, you returned with a guy, Gabe, you met there, hushing him as you snuck him in the front door.

The house was dark as you climbed the stairs carefully and ushered Gabe into your bedroom. You closed the door and grabbed him as you stumbled to the bed. It was messy, hurried, and desperate. Entirely regrettable as you laid staring out the window at the sky after. You didn’t have time to ask him to leave before he started snoring.

You slept for a few hours and woke as the sun began to rise. You poked the stranger you knew as Gabe until he woke up and you threw his clothes at him before you dressed. You peeked into the hall and waved him out behind you. You led him down the stairs and to the front door. He left you with some empty nicety and you hid your wince. It wasn’t your first one night stand but it was definitely the worst.

“Fun night?” You turned as Andy descended the steps of his porch and opened his car door.

“You work on Sundays?” You grumbled. You hoped he hadn’t seen your regret walking away.

“Not usually but I got some hours to make up.” He dropped his briefcase in the back seat and closed the door. “I know that guy. Pretty sure he’s still on probation for the molly he was dealing at the mechanics.”

“Ugh, no.” You covered your face. “You saw?”

“I got a bit curious as I was finishing my coffee.” He pointed to the window with lacy curtains. “Great view just above the sink.”

“So you’re one of those neighbours?” You crossed your arms.

“I seem nosy but really I’m just looking out for you.” He opened the driver’s side door and planted his hand on the roof of the car. “Look, you don’t know the people around here. I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, I won’t be seeing him again.” You retreated to the door and stopped there. “Boring, to say the least.”

“Heh,” Andy scoffed. “Really?”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” You rolled your eyes and stepped inside, closing the door with a snap. You went to the bottom of the stairs and looked up. “Hey, grandma,” You called as you began to climb. “You ready to get up?”

🏡

At the end of the next week, you took your grandmother to her check up. Her recovery was on track but she had a long way to go. The doctor was optimistic that at her next appointment, she’d be ready to use her walker more often.

As you helped her out of the car and got her settled in her chair, you ignored the roar of the mower in the next yard. You’d seen Andy as you drove up. He was pushing the machine back and forth across his already perfectly manicured yard; shirtless. As you turned to push your grandmother up the walk, you couldn’t help but notice that he was in great shape for his age. For any age, really.

“Hey,” He yelled over the motor and shut it down. “How’s it going, ladies?”

“Andy,” Your grandmother chimed. “Great! Doc says I’m doing well.”

“Mmhmm,” You mumbled, still slightly embarrassed over your last interaction with the man.

“Well, seeing as I’m already out here and you already had such a busy day, I could do your lawn while I’m at it?” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and you quickly tore your eyes away from his chest.

“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Your grandma giggled. “It’s so hot out here.”

“I don’t mind,” He insisted. “Laurie’s gone to see her parents with Jacob so I’m just trying to keep myself busy.”

“Twist my arm, why don’t ya?” Your grandmother shook her hand. “Fine! Sweetie,” She reached back and tapped your hand. “Let’s go make some lemonade for this young man so he doesn’t overheat.”

Andy smiled and you nodded at him awkwardly. You wheeled your grandmother up the newly installed ramp and inside. She ordered you to the kitchen and directed you to the lemons hidden in the crisper.

“The juicer is just under there.” She pointed to the cupboard, “And you’ll want to add some sugar.”

“I know how to make lemonade, grandma,” You said as you pulled out the pitcher.

“That Andy’s a nice man,” She said. “So helpful… handsome too. It’s too bad you’re so young… and he’s so married.”

“Stop,” You warned. “You said the same thing about your doctor.”

“Yes, but he’s a doctor. He’s rich.” She snickered. “And not married, just not into your type.”

“Grandma,” You snipped. “Really.”

“I don’t know how your mother ended up with you.” She said. “She was such a little troublemaker.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard,” You said as you washed the lemon juice from your hands and added water and sugar to the pitcher. “I think her stories were more a warning.”

“Too smart for your own good,” She tutted as you mixed the lemonade.

You went to the cupboard and grabbed some ice cubes from the freezer as you set a glass on the counter. You poured the lemonade and gave her a sour look.

“You think you can look after yourself for a few minutes?” You asked dryly.

“Girlie, I was taking care of you while you were in diapers,” She narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.”

“I don’t wear diapers,” She hissed as you neared the door. “Yet.”

You went out the front door as Andy pushed the mower across the yard just along the walkway. He stopped and looked over at you. He shut down the motor again and neared you as you came down the steps to hold out the glass. He thanked you and took a big gulp before he handed it back.

“You know, I didn’t mean anything,” He said. “The other day. Sometimes… I say stuff without thinking.”

“It’s… whatever.” You shrugged and set the glass on the rail of the porch. “No hard feelings.”

“I just got a hot tub. Just gotta hook it up and it’s ready to go.” He said. “You should stop by later. Get a soak in.”

“No, I don’t think so.” You stood at the top of the steps. “I don’t wanna leave grandma all alone. She wants to watch Casablanca tonight. I promised we would.”

“Maybe another night.” He offered. “You work so hard. You deserve a break.”

“Maybe,” You said evasively as you turned and crossed the porch. You glanced back as you opened the door and he was still looking at you.

“Lemonade’s good.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

🏡

You finished lunch and left your grandmother to her puzzle at the dining room table. You went upstairs to change the shirt you’d spilled mustard down; it was all you could smell. You tore off your shirt and tossed it on the bed. You rounded the bed to the dresser that sat just below the window and opened the draw. Movement caught your eye and you looked up across the space between yards.

Andy’s eyes met yours through the windows. You’d never realised they were adjacent, let alone so easy to see through. He wore a towel around his waist, freshly showered and his gaze strayed for just a moment. You blanched and pulled out a shirt and covered yourself with it. He smirked and tilted his head. Then he winked and a shiver went through you.

You grabbed the curtain and closed it so forcefully you nearly bent the rod. You backed away and put the shirt on properly. Surely, he was being funny. A tense, awkward moment. What else could he do but make a joke? Well, it wasn’t a very good one.

🏡

You stayed inside for the better part of a week. Aside from your walks with your grandmother and a trip to the grocery store, you kept your curtains closed, and hid yourself away. Maybe you’d built it up in your mind but you were just set off-kilter by the wordless interaction. Since, you felt as though you’d been walking a tightrope, too afraid to look down.

But that night, your grandmother wanted to sit outside. It was warm and the nights were shorter; later. You wheeled her out, a book on her lap, and as you made to skirt back inside, he appeared. Andy had impeccable timing. It made you wonder if he was watching you; if he had been for much longer than you knew. Well, now you were just being paranoid.

“Hey,” He stood at the edge of the yard. “Beautiful night.”

“Sure is,” You grandma replied. “I’ve got a new book and I’m ready to enjoy the breeze.”

“Oh, a new book? What’s it about?” He asked as he neared tentatively.

“Another scary one.” She cracked the cover. “Or so I hear. Skinwalkers taking over a whole city.”

“Ah, spooky,” He commented and looked at you. “And you?”

“Writing. Inside.” You said evenly.

“I figured since it was so nice, I was finally gonna try out my new Jacuzzi,” He said. “I just… I did promise you a soak so I thought maybe--”

“Eh, I don’t know.” You neared the door. “I really should try to get some writing done.”

“Nonsense, dear,” Your grandmother intoned. “You’ve been on that computer all day. You should go, relax.”

“Really, I--”

“Laurie might join us. She’s inside doing some work.” He piped up. “She wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Go on! I’m getting sick of ya anyway,” Your grandmother snorted. “You could stand to loosen up.”

“Grandma,” You huffed.

“Go get changed,” She ordered and smiled at Andy. “She’ll be over shortly.”

You blinked and tried to hide your irritation. You went inside before Andy could notice and you stormed upstairs. You weren’t even sure you’d packed a suit. You searched through the dresser. The curtains were still drawn tight. You found your old pink bikini with the white flowers. Really? It had to be that one?

You changed, reluctantly. It couldn’t have covered less of you. You found a tee shirt and pulled it over. You descended the stairs again and stepped out on the porch.

“Thanks for that, grandma.” You scowled.

“I can see why you were never popular,” She laughed. “Go. Have fun. This old lady can handle herself.”

You stomped down the steps beside the ramp and stopped at the border of the yards. You sighed and went to the gate, it was open in expectation of you. You heard the whir of jets before you entered. Andy was just beside the hot tub, testing the temperature with his hand as you stood across from him. He looked up and gave a crooked smirk.

“Andy,” The back door opened and Laurie appeared. “Oh, hey.” She smiled at you before turning back to her husband. “I’m gonna pass. Gina’s not going to make it in tomorrow so looks like I’ll be up all night.”

“Damn, that’s too bad,” Andy said. “More tub for us I guess.”

“Yes, love you too,” She said dryly. “You enjoy yourself. And don’t leave that thing on all night.”

“Yes, honey,” He said before she shut the door. “Love you.”

You swallowed. Your mouth was dry. Maybe you had been a bit presumptuous. Andy climbed into the jacuzzi and lowered himself into the warm water with a sigh. You hesitated to get closer but you did. He watched you, expectantly. You grabbed the edge and tried to will yourself in.

“You’re wearing that?” He nodded to your tee.

“Yeah,” You lifted your leg over the side.

“You don’t gotta be shy,” He grinned.

You paused and frowned at him.

“I’m joking,” He said. “The other day. That was… funny. Bad timing.”

“Mhmm,” You drew your other leg over and carefully sat.

“You met any more cute guys?” He asked suddenly. You squinted.

“What?”

“Not much to do around here, you know? Pretty boring.”

“No. I don’t--” You sputtered. “I don’t think it’s a very good idea. Once my grandma’s better, I’ll be going.”

“Still, it’s lonely.” He said softly.

“What do you care?” You asked, harsher than intended.

He was quiet. He leaned back and looked over at the house then back to you. He exhaled and spread his arms over the edge.

“So… that toy you hide in your night table? You always use it or you ever just… feel yourself?”

Your heart sank. You felt as if you would choke on air. Had you imagined his words?

“What did you just--”

“Took you long enough to catch on,” He said. “Got a good view of you when I can’t sleep but… not anymore. Too bad.”

“Andy,” You stood and the water splashed around you. “You-- You’re-- Laurie, she--”

“I haven’t fucked her in months. This is what she does.” He sat forward and caught your hand. “She works. All the time. I try and she… just doesn’t want to.”

“Let me go.” You struggled with him. “You’re disgusting. You’re married!”

“Me? Fucking awful some young girl strolls into town and tries to seduce a married man? What would grandma think? And Laurie? She’s not one to sit back and be humiliated.” He tugged on you. “I have a reputation around here. You’re just a stranger, and apparently one, who fucks strangers.”

“What are you talking about?” You nearly slipped as he spun you back to him. “You’ve been watching me and--”

“I’m just a neighbour looking out for you,” He pulled even harder and your feet slid across the bottom of the jacuzzi, forcing you to catch yourself on him. “Like I do all my neighbours. They would confirm as much.”

“Get--” You grabbed his arm as it snaked around you. “Andy! Laurie--”

“Doesn’t give a fuck and if she came out, well, she’d only realise what’s she’s pushed me to.”

You wriggled as he held you to him. He drew your leg over his so that you straddled his lap. You pushed on his chest and grunted.

“You keep it up and everyone will hear. Even sweet old nana.” He snarled. “I saw you looking at me that day… when you brought me lemonade.”

“No, no,” You rasped.

“I’m old, not that old,” He purred. “As you can obviously see.”

“Let me go. Please.” You begged. He was too strong and your arms only ached from pushing against him. “Andy--”

“Shhh,” He grabbed your chin with his wet hand and pulled you close until your lips almost met his. “In this town, rumours travel. It might be old news that you left a bar with that dumb kid but now, it’s evidence.” His hand slipped down your neck and squeezed. “Such a bad girl.”

“No one would--”

“They have no reason not to believe me,” He rolled up your wet shirt with his other hand. “Annie across the street, she likes gossip. She’s seen you flirting with me, at least that’s how she told it to Laurie but you know, my wife just laughs it off. And now she’s no doubt seen you come into my backyard in just this.” He pulled your shirt higher. “And her mind is going wild.”

“I can’t--”

“How long did he last? A minute? Less?” He snarled and his other hand slipped down to draw your shirt up. You kept your arms down as you tried to resist. “Bet you could wait to use your little toy.”

“Stop,” You pleaded.

“Get your arms up.” His voice was deep and dangerous. “And stop your whining.”

You stopped and stared at him. His blue eyes burned into yours and sent a shiver through you. His fingertips pinched your hips as they crawled under your shirt and he pushed it higher.

“You don’t shut up and someone will hear, sweetie,” He warned. “Up.”

He tugged until you raised your arms. A wave of bile rose in your chest and you let him peel away your wet shirt and reveal the skimpy bikini beneath. He dropped the cotton over the side of the tub and his hands grazed the triangles of your top.

“Cute,” He hummed. “You hiding this from me?”

You were quiet, sickened. With him, with yourself. You knew you couldn’t fight, wouldn’t. You remembered the barbecue and how you’d been the odd one out. Recalled how Andy had talked to almost every person there. Everyone loved him and no one knew you.

“Mmm mm mm,” His fingertips walked around your neck and he picked at the knot behind your neck. The straps loosened and he let your top fall and expose your chest.

He bent to bury his face against you and nibbled along your tits. You looked, startled, to the back door. It was still shut. A light glow from a bedroom above and the distant beat of music escaped through the slightly opened bedroom window. Another light died on the first floor and was replaced by a second on the top floor, reflecting against yours on the other side.

You quivered as Andy took a nipple in his mouth and sucked. You felt it in your core as his hand cupped your other tit. He reached beneath you and played with the edge of your bottom. He drew you back as he leaned against the side of the tub and lifted his pelvis, and you with him. He tugged on his shorts and sat back down.

You felt hollow and a cloud of panic filled your stomach. You struggled against you and he bit you. You squeaked as his teeth threatened to break the skin and stilled. He parted and looked up at you.

“Be a good girl,” He felt beneath you and began to stroke himself.

“Please--”

“Shhh,” He turned his hand and hooked his fingers in your bottoms, pulling them aside. “It’s okay, sweetie.” He rubbed his tip against your folds. “It’ll be good.” He drew you to him and angled you over his dick. “Better than ever before.”

He forced you down and your lips formed an o as he entered you. You latched onto his shoulders without thinking and he pushed you to his limit. His lips and teeth returned to your chest as he once more began to toy with you. You quivered as he began to rock your hips.

The water swished around you, swirling and slapping against your skin. You held your breath as you tried not to cry out. You hissed as you dug your nails into his shoulders and let him guide you. Despite yourself, despite everything, it felt good. It felt wonderful. He was right and you were weak.

“You like that?” He nuzzled your throat. “Is this what you think of at night, huh?”

You bit your lip as he kneaded your hips and kept your moving.

“I think of it all the time,” He muttered. “All the time. Maybe…” His breath caught and he groaned. “Maybe I could offer to take you grocery shopping, hmm? We could have some fun in the car…”

“Andy…” You whimpered. “No, we can’t-- not again…”

You grasped his wrists and tried to push yourself off of him. A semblance of sanity returned to you as you looked him in the face. His eyes were dilated and dusky. He was entranced; incorrigible. You struggled as he held you down.

“This is wrong--”

He shoved you off him as his lip curled. You stumbled back and caught yourself on the other side of the tub. The water splashed as he stood behind you and grabbed your arm. He turned you over and pushed you over the siding, a jet blowing against your pelvis.

“Doesn’t feel wrong to me.” He growled.

He held you down with a large hand between your shoulders as he pushed your legs apart with his knee. He pressed against you and searched for your entrance, swiftly impaling you. You choked down a mewl as your hips crashed into the wall of the tub. He leaned his weight on you entirely as he rutted into you without relent. You were certain someone would hear the clapping of flesh or the stir of water all around.

“You’ll do what I want, when I want,” He sneered. “And from what I can tell, you’ll like it.”

“Andy--” Your voice fizzled as the pressure mixed with the steady stream of the jet as it hit your cunt.

You held in a moan as you hung over the side of the tub, the blood pounding in your head as you panted wildly. You covered your mouth, afraid you would cry out as the coil inside you twisted and twisted. Your legs quaked as you orgasmed.

Andy’s hand gripped your hips and he pulled you back against him, again and again, using your body easily. You slid back and forth over the side and he bent over you, crushing you against the tub. He growled in your ear and his thrust jolted your body.

He pulled out suddenly, still looming over you as he stroked himself against your bikini and pressed his damp beard to your cheek as he shuddered. His hot cum spilled out onto the wet fabric and dripped down your thigh as he eased himself through his climax. He sighed and pushed himself from atop you, falling back into the water heavily.

You stayed as you were for a moment. Stunned. Shakily you stood and fixed your top and pulled your bottom straight. You couldn’t look at him. You climbed out of the tub and walked unsteadily across the grass.

“Ah, that was relaxing,” He said. “Come back anytime.”

You ignored him and continued onto the gate.

“Oh, and it’s supposed to be a cool night,” He called after you. “You should keep your window open.”

You slipped through and the gate creaked behind you and closed with a metallic click. You shivered as you kept to the side of your grandma’s house and entered through the back. You didn’t want anyone to see; you were certain they would know if they did.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #dark andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x reader #andy barber x reader #fic #one shot #dark fic #dark!fic #Defending Jacob

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nicknellie · 4 years ago

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@chickwiththepurpleguitar requested: flarrie hurt/comfort something? Maybe Carrie’s losing her voice and needs to perform soon so she can’t talk to Flynn so they just communicate with notes and pointed looks but Flynn knows what she means cause they know each other so well?

This is so cute and I love it so much. They would 100% be able to read each other’s expressions like an open book. I had a lot of fun writing this, thank you so much for suggesting it! I think I might have aged them up a bit because I gave Flynn a car without really thinking, but honestly I don’t know how that works in America so it might be completely plausible. Anyway! I hope you like it!

I Can Wait

“What did the doctor say?” Flynn asked the moment Carrie opened the car door and plonked herself in the passenger seat. She was rewarded with a glare like a laser beam paired with an absolutely furious pout. Clearly it wasn’t good news and Carrie was none too happy about it. “Is it serious?”

Carrie shook her head and sighed quietly. Instinctively, Flynn reached across and took Carrie’s hand between her own. She watched as Carrie defeatedly tipped her head back and closed her eyes, obviously frustrated, and then she pulled her hand from Flynn’s grasp and dug around in her handbag for her phone. She quickly pulled up the notes app, tapped out a message, and brandished her phone in Flynn’s face.

Doctor says I need to rest my voice for two days.

Flynn frowned. She could already tell that this wasn’t going to be a fun two days for Carrie – she relied so heavily on her voice, whether that was for singing, bossing people about (though she would never admit that’s what she so often used her voice for), or just quiet calm conversation that was usually reserved for Flynn’s ears only. Carrie needed her voice and as far as she would be concerned she’d had her best tool and weapon snatched away from her.

“Poor thing,” Flynn said, stroking Carrie’s hair. She watched as Carrie breathed contentedly, soothed just that little bit. “Did they say what made you lose your voice?”

Carrie typed out another message: Using it too much, which is stupid.

Ah. Flynn should have been able to guess that. For the past two months, Carrie had been working herself to the bone for the biggest show of her life so far, a performance with her band set to take place in front of at least two dozen record execs and managers for an incredibly exclusive crowd. Along with the other devoted members of Dirty Candi, Carrie had been rehearsing almost non-stop – when she wasn’t singing she was composing, when she wasn’t composing she was dancing, when she wasn’t dancing she was working on costumes, when she wasn’t working on costumes she was getting some sleep with the one or two spare hours in her day. She had thrown herself headfirst into her work and was still yet to resurface.

That was the thing about Carrie, something Flynn loved dearly. She never did things in halves. If Carrie wanted something she would seize it with both hands, she’d drive herself harder and faster than any sane person was willing to just to reach her goals. Sometimes it paid off; other times she sang so much that she ran her voice dry.

“So that’s it?” Flynn asked. “You can’t say a word for the next two days?”

Carrie shrugged defeatedly. In that small gesture, Flynn saw how truly crushed Carrie was feeling. Maybe two days wasn’t really that long, but in Carrie’s mind it was two days being unable to work on songs at all, not to mention she would be unable to direct Dirty Candi’s choreography with anything resembling ease if she couldn’t speak to them. In her mind, it would be two days closer to her show and two days completely wasted.

“Hey,” Flynn said, finding Carrie’s hand again. “We’re not going to let this get in the way of anything, okay? You’re still you – you’re the most capable person I’ve ever met. If anyone is going to find a way around this it’s you. Okay?”

After a moment, Carrie met Flynn’s eyes and offered her a small smile. She leaned forward and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to Flynn’s lips before impatiently tapping the steering wheel which Flynn took to mean ‘let’s get out of here’.

Flynn knew that getting Carrie to rest completely would be impossible – she suggested it as they drove back to Carrie’s house, but Carrie sat there with her arms crossed, pouting petulantly and shaking her head until Flynn had to accept that she wasn’t going to take any more steps back than she needed to. So when they arrived back at Carrie’s place, Flynn followed Carrie through to the home studio where Carrie immediately went into the back room and started working on costumes.

It would have been easy for Carrie to get somebody else to work on Dirty Candi’s costumes – after all, she had more than enough money to hire a professional to make most of them, and if worse came to worst she could have just bought them from anywhere. But Carrie liked doing things independently so almost all of the band’s outfits were handcrafted by her (though Julie always helped when she had the time). It broke Flynn’s heart a little to watch Carrie at the sewing machine, threading bright pink fabric through it, launching herself back into preparation when she really should have been taking a moment or two to unwind.

“Do you want anything?” Flynn offered.

Carrie looked up from her work briefly and raised an eyebrow – ‘like what?’

“Water?” she suggested. “Or tea? How about honey and lemon, that’s meant to be good for sore throats, right?”

Carrie gave a quick smile, which Flynn interpreted as ‘yes please’, and not a moment later her head was back down and she was working again. Flynn hurried out of the studio to the Wilsons’ kitchen and busied herself preparing the drink. She mixed the honey and the lemon juice in with the hot water and brought it back to Carrie – she was rewarded with a bright smile and a brief hug before Carrie, unsurprisingly, got back to work.

For a while, they simply sat together in silence. Flynn texted Julie to fill her in on the diagnosis and how Carrie was doing while Carrie got on with bits and pieces she needed to do. In a way, Flynn thought, this would be good for Carrie. She was always complaining about the little jobs she never had time to get done, but now she couldn’t do much else she would be able to get on with them.

Flynn was just considering heading home and leaving Carrie to it when she was unceremoniously hit in the face with a paper aeroplane. She blinked in surprise and then looked at Carrie who was smiling innocently.

“What happened to just asking when you want attention?” she said, rolling her eyes.

Carrie just raised a judgemental eyebrow – ‘seriously?’

“Oh, yeah, that. What is it, then?”

Carrie mimed opening the paper aeroplane she’d thrown, so Flynn did. There was a message inside, scrawled in Carrie’s loopy handwriting.

I have a meeting with a manager later but it’s over the phone.

Flynn scrunched the paper up into a ball and threw it back at Carrie who caught it easily. “You’ll have to cancel,” she said apologetically. “You’re not breaking the doctor’s orders for this.”

At that, Carrie batted her eyelashes and smiled hopefully, and Flynn immediately understood what she was getting at.

“You want me to do the meeting for you,” she said disbelievingly. “I have no idea what I’m talking about! I’m not even in Dirty Candi!”

Carrie picked up a pen and grabbed another sheet of paper, hastily scribbling down another note and chucking it in Flynn’s direction. It hit the floor a metre or so away from her and Flynn kicked it towards herself, which probably took longer than if she had just stood up and collected it.

Put it on speaker phone and I’ll write down everything you need to say, it’ll be fine. Plus you’re our marketing team, you know how to make us sound good.

It was true. With Flynn’s help, Dirty Candi (and Julie and the Phantoms) had grown in popularity enormously with a fanbase well into the thousands even though they’d hardly played any live venues that weren’t spirit rallies or open mic nights.

“You’re sure?” she checked, and Carrie nodded. “Fine. When’s the meeting?”

Carrie held up five fingers.

“Five hours?” Flynn said.

She shook her head.

“Five days?” she tried. “That’s plenty of time, you’ll be able to talk by then.”

But Carrie just shook her head again.

Flynn sighed. “It’s five minutes, isn’t it? You’ve given me literally five minutes warning.”

Carrie smiled smugly – ‘now you can’t back out even if you wanted to’.

The meeting went surprisingly smoothly. Flynn blagged an awkward explanation as to why she was on the phone instead of Carrie and the manager didn’t seem to mind. There were a few awkward pauses when Carrie was taking a while to write down her response, or when Flynn was struggling to decode her unnecessarily ornate handwriting, but they got there in the end. When they put the phone down Carrie was smiling, so Flynn took that to mean she thought the meeting had gone well.

It was only then that she checked the time and realised how late it was getting.

“I should probably head home,” she said reluctantly.

She and Carrie had moved to the living room and sat themselves down on the couch, but instead of getting up and leaving Flynn laid back and rested her head on Carrie’s shoulder, getting more comfortable. She felt Carrie wrap her arms around her waist and press a feather-light kiss to her cheek. It made her heart flutter – it was good to know that Carrie didn’t need her voice to make Flynn lose her mind. In fact, this quiet solitude, no sound between them but gentle breathing, was more than enough to make Flynn’s heart beat too fast.

Flynn didn’t know how long they’d been sat there together when she heard Carrie sniffle. She had tried to cover it up and muffle it, which had made it more obvious if anything. She turned her head awkwardly in time to see Carrie turn away and sniff again. Though it was dark and neither of them had bothered to turn a light on, Flynn didn’t miss the way a single tear rolled down Carrie’s cheek.

“Hey,” she said, wriggling until she was sat in front of Carrie, cross-legged, holding her hand. “Care Bear. Come here.”

Carrie didn’t need telling twice. She practically fell into Flynn’s arms, crying quietly, her tears soaking through Flynn’s jumper. Flynn gently ran her fingers through the ends of Carrie’s hair and down her back, holding her close to calm her down.

In truth, she had been half expecting this since they got back from the doctor’s, it had just been a matter of time until it actually happened. Carrie worked not only to improve herself and get further than everyone else, but to distract herself and make herself feel like she was making progress. Flynn knew her well enough to have guessed that when she immediately set about continuing prep for her show it meant she was trying to make herself feel useful, like she could avoid the elephant in the room and actually do something.

It was just to hide how low and wasteful she was really feeling.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Flynn whispered softly once Carrie had calmed down a notch. “I know you want to be able to carry on like normal, but you’ve got to see that you’re working yourself too hard. It might feel like a setback, but you’ve been working at this for months – you’re more than ready. These two days won’t change anything. Surely you can see that?”

Carrie just exhaled, somewhere between a sob and a sigh. To Flynn that meant ‘no’.

“Well, I’m right,” she said. “You’ve done one day, you can do another. Then you can ease yourself back into rehearsals and I promise you’ll smash it when the actual show comes. You still have two weeks left, that’s plenty of time.” She squeezed Carrie that little bit tighter. “You’ll be amazing.”

Carrie didn’t say anything, for obvious reasons. She didn’t respond at all – didn’t get her phone out and type out a message, didn’t even meet Flynn’s eye to say something in that silent language only they would understand. She just held onto Flynn like it was all she could do. So Flynn held on in return, telling her she wasn’t alone and she never would be, not if Flynn had anything to say about it.

The next thing Flynn knew, it was morning. The sun was streaming in through the living room’s enormous glass windows and she was still lying on the sofa, having just woken up, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She stretched and felt her joints crack satisfyingly, then shook her head to wake herself up.

Carrie was already awake, changed out of yesterday’s clothes (something Flynn hadn’t done since she hadn’t intended to stay the night – she would have to steal something of Carrie’s, which always made her feel a little giddy) and sat on the sofa next to Flynn, pen in hand, writing something.

“Good morning,” Flynn yawned. She laid her head on Carrie’s lap; Carrie sighed, inconvenienced, but didn’t move her away, instead reorganising herself to accommodate her girlfriend. “Did you sleep okay?”

Carrie nodded and gave Flynn a pointed look – ‘yeah, how about you?’

Flynn waved a dismissive hand. “You know me. I can sleep anywhere. What are you writing?”

In reply, Carrie picked up another bit of paper, scrawled a lengthy message, and handed it to Flynn before getting back to her work at hand.

I was thinking about what you said last night and I hate to admit it but you were right. I’m trying to write another song, but not to perform at the show. Maybe for another performance or not at all. I’m doing what you said, taking a step back for a bit.

Flynn smiled up at her, unsurprised to see that Carrie was blushing and avoiding eye contact. That message was about as close as Carrie ever came to pouring her heart out; admitting that she was wrong and Flynn was right was always a frustrating thing for her to do, but it was one of the purest ways that Carrie showed her love.

“What’s the song about?” Flynn asked, lifting her head up and trying to read to words at the incredibly awkward angle but to no avail.

If possible, Carrie blushed even deeper. In response, all she did was tap Flynn’s forehead twice with the end of her pen (which was garishly decorated with bright pink feathers and very tickly) and got back to writing.

Flynn felt her own face light up. “It’s about me?”

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Carrie’s mouth and she nodded. Flynn shoved herself into a sitting position and tried to read over Carrie’s shoulder, but Carrie hugged the paper to her chest, scowling as she hid the words from view.

“Oh, come on,” Flynn whined. “I want to read it!”

Carrie just shook her head emphatically. Flynn assumed it meant ‘not yet’.

“When can I read it? Or hear it?”

Carrie scribbled down another note: Not until after the big performance, and even then it’s only if that goes as well as you think it will. Otherwise I’m shredding this song and you’ll never hear it.

Flynn laughed and rested her head in Carrie’s lap again. A moment later she could hear the scratch of Carrie’s pen against the paper again. “Okay. I can wait that long.”

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @willex-owns-my-heart @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @teammightypen @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright

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whump-cravings · 3 years ago

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Bird in a Ditch

saw a prompt about someone being dumped on the side of the road and an idea started to form. I’ve also wanted to try a BBU type thing, so here it iiiiiis

Content Warnings: BBU, pet whump, winged whump, nonhuman whump, fantastic racism referenced, extreme disassociation, past torture implied, tbh this piece is pretty mild

Lemon shook xir head to try and clear fatigue, keeping xir eyes on the road as xe leaned forward to manually roll the window down. Cool air blasted xim in the face and behind xir neck, sending refreshing shivers down xir spine.

Something glowed gold on the road and xe jerked the wheel, sliding into the other lane. "Feathers?" xe said, throwing xir gaze to catch another glimpse of the obstacle, already pulling over.

A downed barn owl? xe wondered, flicking the hazards on. Getting xir phone out, xe searched the cabin for a blanket or something to wrap the little dude in. If it wasn't dead, anyways. I better hurry. Another car could come by at any time.

"Probably already dead but just in case—" Lemon muttered to xirself, trying to forestall disappointment before it began. Xe surfaced with a canvas tarp and hustled out into the night, boots hitting asphalt. Xe was a little ways away from the bird...

As the phone's flashlight caught feathers again, Lemon frowned. That looked a lot bigger than an owl. Maybe an eagle, or—

Maybe a whole goddamn person? Xe stopped at the side of the ditch, looking down in shock at the humanoid body connected to the wings. Xe'd never seen any birdfolk up close. They were rare in this part of the world, where everybody was pretty damn racist.

That was neither here or there. Lemon shook xir head, dropping the canvas and propping the phone and its light up before carefully finding the top of the person’s outstretched wing and trying to gently-gently-gently fold it towards their body.

How did I mistake them for an owl? These are huge! Xe felt soft clicking underneath hands through the feathers and bone. Now up close, the feathers didn't seem to shine with the golden luster Lemon had seen before, but were instead dull and dirty.

"Sorry, sorry," Lemon murmured, though the person hadn't stirred. Concern buzzed in the back of xir head as xe stepped around to the face-down body.

Lemon crouched, slipping a hand down the side of neck and searched for a pulse. Still warm—there. Xe let out a sigh of relief at the rhythm beneath xir fingers. "Didn't want to have to report a dead body tonight," xe chuckled.

Xe moved xir hand to the bird person's shoulder, gently shaking. No reaction. "Of course, you wouldn't be lying in a ditch if you could wake up," Lemon muttered, straightening. Xir gaze traveled down, and xe picked up the phone to get a better look.

The bird person was wearing only boxers, so there was a lot to see. Mostly, they were dirty. And the wings looked terrible. Whole patches of feathers were missing, and the ones that remained—Lemon suspected those weren't supposed to look so bedraggled. Xe shook xir head, sympathy turning in xir gut. Poor thing. Had they been mugged and then dumped, or maybe crash landed here?

The situation presented a problem. It’s one thing to bring home an animal, xe thought to xirself. This is a whole person. If they were awake, Lemon would have given them a ride to wherever they needed to go and the little cash xe had on xirself.

Xir mother's voice rattled in the back of xir head. It wasn’t as dangerous for Lemon to pick up people off the side of the road as for xir sister, but their mother always had some new story about somebody being shot and having their car stolen when they mentioned picking somebody up.

Xe waffled. I could wait until they wake up... Assuming they didn’t die of exposure, and assuming xe didn’t want any sleep tonight. Xe glanced around at the dark road, then back down at the stranger. If they were unconscious like this and didn’t smell of alcohol, they probably weren’t that dangerous. And somebody who felt less neutral about birdfolk might come along to finish them off.

Lemon sighed, already knowing xe couldn’t leave them here and trying to figure out how to get them over and into to the truck. Maybe xe could carry them there, but the wings would probably drag. Xe tried imagining walking backwards while carrying them from the front. Could xe lift them high enough? Probably not.

"Tch." That wouldn't do. After a moment's consideration, xe looked back at the canvas.

It took some pulling and maneuvering, but soon Lemon was pulling the bird person across the road on top of the canvas. Xir sweatshirt was tucked underneath their head, keeping them safe from rocks.

"Expected you to be a lot heavier, honestly," Lemon said. Maybe the weight was normal for adult birdfolk.

It would have been way more comfortable for them, Lemon was sure, to be in the cabin, but xe wasn’t sure xe could manage that without damaging their wings further. So, xe carefully lifted them by the front and laid them face down in the truck bed. It was not graceful and xe was a little relieved they weren’t awake for it. Xe tucked the sweatshirt back under the person's head.

"Home is just a few minutes away," xe promised as xe tried folding up their wings, worried about the wind catching them or about hypothermia setting in. Xe unfurled the canvas with a shake, then draped it over the bird person's body and wings to block the wind, securing the cloth at the corners with bungee cords.

Looks like I'm trying to hide a dead body, Lemon thought when xe put the tailgate up. "Hang in there, buddy."

Lemon would have liked to speed home, but the bed's occupant had xem driving far more carefully than normal, particularly around corners. When xe got to the apartment, xe pulled into xir spot in reverse. It was a much shorter distance to carry somebody from the truck bed to the door, so Lemon did—xe wasn’t entirely sure xe could get them through the door otherwise. It was already a hassle to get them past one door, the next, and then settle them on the floor of the small bathroom against the wall.

Xe closed and locked the front door, then flicked lights on. As xe stepped back into the bathroom, careful to avoid any errant limbs, xe started.

The bird person's eyes were open.

"Hey, you're awake," Lemon exclaimed.

But the person didn't seem to hear Lemon--they hardly seemed aware of their surroundings at all, staring straight forward. Shit, had they been awake the entire time and Lemon just hadn’t noticed? How awkward that would be! And...

Xir realized their face was covered in scars. Unable to help xirself, xir eyes were drawn down. Mottled bruising covered their ribs, long-healed scars past that and the dirt. Same with their legs. What had happened to them? Was this just the result of being birdfolk here?

Xe took a steadying breath, crouching down. "Hey, can you hear me? Can you look at me?"

Finally, the tiniest response. Topaz eyes slid fractionally towards Lemon's center of mass, but nothing else. Their expression and muscles remained listless.

"Good, that's—no no no, come on, don't do that," Lemon cajoled in gentle frustration as the bird person closed their eyes. What am I supposed to do with this? Xe scrubbed xir tired face with one hand. What were the symptoms of a concussion?

"Let me get you something to drink," xe said. "And maybe eat?"

No response. The only sign they were still alive was the gentle rise and fall of their chest.

Lemon wearily got back to xir feet, ambling into the kitchen for a glass of water and some—did bird people eat normal food? They looked plenty human. But what if they were allergic to stuff? Xe grabbed a small variety of snacks—string cheese and pepperoni from the fridge and a little baggy of trail mix. Bundling the food into a paper towel in one hand and holding the glass of water in the other, xe returned to the bathroom.

"Here we go," Lemon said as xe returned, kneeling at arm's length to set down the array of food. Xe set the cup of water closer still. "Little bit of food, little bit of water."

Their eyes were open again, looking down at Lemon's offerings. Maybe. It was hard to tell for sure, since they seemed unfocused. They made no movement to accept.

"Does your head hurt?" Lemon tried. "If you have a concussion, we should..." Xe trailed off. I don't have money for an emergency doctor visit. "Have you lie down, probably."

It's like talking to a rock. "I'll give you some space."

Getting back to xir feet, Lemon went back into the kitchen and washed xir hands. Xe probably should have done that earlier, but if they haven’t died of dirt already, they probably won't from a little on their pepperoni.

"Might as well prep a meal," xe mumbled, since xe couldn’t sleep until xir guest was settled. Xe took a moment to draw up some videos online about birdfolk and birds in general, then got to work with the food.

About twenty minutes later, everything was assembled in the pressure cooker. Lemon hadn't heard anything from the direction of the bathroom. Anxious, xe checked on xir guest.

I'm going to have someone die on my floor of starvation and atrophy, Lemon thought. The bird person was in the same exact position xe’d left them. Their tourmaline-brown gaze still rested on the food and water.

Lemon chided xirself. They could be a paraplegic for all xe knew. Maybe their eyes were all they were able to move. It would explain their weight.

This thought in mind, xe crouched a little closer to them. "Hey," xe said. "Can you blink twice if you understand me?"

Their eyes slowly rolled back up to Lemon's chest. Noticeably, they didn't blink.

Lemon laced xir fingers together and pulled them apart, repeating the motion a few times while they thought. Could be he was a paraplegic foreigner? Hells.

Reaching out slowly, Lemon tapped their hand, before picking it up and turning it over. Xe froze.

On their wrist was a black barcode.

After staring for far too long, Lemon let out a shaky, "O-oh."

I'm going to have someone's slave die on my floor. Xir anger towards the Box Boy industry stirred—a regular feeling. The legalized trafficking wasn’t something xe could do much about, other small donations here and there to liberation and activist groups.

Who had dumped this poor bird on the side of the road? Where was the owner? Lemon's eyes went to their patchy wings.

"Can't be sure they didn't do this to you," xe said softly, jaw clenching at the idea of it. They could have very well escaped and ended up in that ditch on their own, just to get away from the abuse written on their body. It matched up with the stories Lemon had heard and read about how owners fucked their slaves over.

Fuck, and it wasn't even like this man was nondescript. Birdfolk were rare enough, a Pet bird was sure to be noticed in a crowd. Stealing a Pet was grand larceny, and Lemon didn’t want to think about how much an exotic specimen might go for.

Calm down. So far all you've done is provide aid. That's not theft.

But Lemon's hands shook as xe held onto the bird person's, because xe knew xe couldn't—

That's a problem for Future Lemon, xe decided, taking calming breaths. There were groups xe could contact, but not tonight. Tonight, this poor bird needed a safe and calm place to recuperate. Lemon could provide that.

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mudpuddless · 3 years ago

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Q-Branch's Saturday night dish

aka. tofu & veggie noodles, because they make everything better, even nightshifts. (recipe under the cut)

Ingredients are (as the name suggests) highly variable and partially not even strictly necessary but if you want a simple simple dish you can always eat microwave lasagna, so:

noodles (instant ramen? rice noodles? leftover spaghetti? anything goes)

veggies (I used aubergine, zucchini and pea pods because thats what I had on hand. usually at the very bottom of a fridge there are at least some carrots, even in q-branch)

tofu (self explanatory. also not technically required but. ya know. just do it. q-branch typically has some on hand because it keeps for forever)

furthermore:

soysauce

sesame oil (no, its not necessary. its only a teaspoon. I'm not saying you need to add it but you absolutely need to add it)

cooking oil or butter

chili (powder? chopped and dried? fresh? or *gasp* none at all? doesn't matter. of you're cooking for the rest of the team you might want to leave that to personal preference but ya know.((if you want to join team villains, just dumb a whole bunch and dont tell anyone))

lemon juice (again not necessary but you should still absolutely put it, trust me)

garlic

onions

cream/ coconut milk (as per preference. you can always leave it out completely but it helps if you prefer milder dishes)

peanuts (just. peanuts. they can be salted or plain or leftover from some trail mix. again: check with the rest of the shift if anyone is allergic. putting peanuts in food for someone with a nut allergy won't even land you in team villains, even we aren't that bad)

sugar (or honey, if your boss happens to be the extravagant kind and keeps honey for tea around)

water (you always need water. if not for the dish because your noodles are already cooked and your veggies dont need to be steamed, you could always drink some. also take your meds.)

Then you need some kitchen appliances:

a pan, coated of possible because yes

a cutting board for this veggies you are adding because scurvy is not something someone from the 21st century should die from. also for the tofu.

a knife (NOOO) or two knives. or three if youre feeling fancy. the more the merrier and so on

a pot or kettle if you need to cook your noodles and depending on which noodles you're using.

maybe a measuring spoon, but you know. the rules were made to be broken.

NOW. COOKING *cries in teenager*

(these steps read like a choose your own adventure novel except there are no numbers because no. just follow the instructions)

#1 NOODLES:

-> if you have leftover spaghetti: good for you. onto the veggies.

-> if you are using instant ramen: prepare them like usual, except you don't add the seasoning and chilipowder and plant oil and whatever else, to make the worlds most disappointing bowl of ramen.

-> if you are using any kind of asian noodles: usually you can cook them pretty easily by playing them in a bowl and pouring boiling water on top. just let them steep and you're fine. (if they need to cooked, as in "in a pot" cooked (like spaghetti) , do that instead. if you have a choice between spaghetti and any kind of ramen, choose the ramen though)

#2 VEGGIES:

(just. pick whichever veggies youre using, again: these can grow cold so you could use left overs. just. consider what spices are already on them)

-> carrots: cut into thin slices (like wheels but more angled for fanciness points), roast in cooking oil with a pinch of sugar

-> zucchini: cut into 3 mm or 1/8 inch wheels, place in a bowl, cover with boiling water and a pinch of salt, till you like the consistency (usually 7-10 minutes), then drain

-> aubergine: steam with water and a pinch of salt until done, add more water as necessary, place aside when done

-> peapods: roast with a bit of oil and a pinch of salt, place aside when done

-> broccoli or cauliflower: split the little tree thingies into quarters along the vertical axis, roast with a bit of oil and a pinch of salt, place aside when done

-> peas or corn: if they're fresh, add them to a pan with a spoon full of water and roast in a bit of oil and a pinch of slat and sugar when they're almost done

-> any canned veggies (peas, corn, bamboo sprout slices etc): drain and put aside, canned veggies are all cooked in the canning proccess

!!! IT DOESN'T MATTER OF YOU NOODLES/ VEGGIES COOL DOWN OR GO COLD ENTIRELY, SO JUST MAKE THEM WHENEVER YOU HAVE TIME!!!

#3 TOFU

-> cut your block of tofu into cubes (circa one inch or 1.3 cm), place the cubes on a paper towel to get rid of excess water. in a pan heat a tablespoon of oil, a pinch of sugar, a pinch of salt and some chili flakes. add the tofu when the oil is hot and fry till golden brown.

!!! IT DOESN'T MATTER OF YOU NOODLES/ VEGGIES COOL DOWN OR GO COLD ENTIRELY, SO JUST MAKE THEM WHENEVER YOU HAVE TIME!!!

to finish off:

slice up some onions and roast in a bit of oil and a pinch of sugar and salt.

add crushed and diced garlic

add crushed or diced peanuts

add all your veggies and stir

add your noodles and stir

add any amount of soy sauce depending on the amount of food you're making. keep in mind the amount of salt you added to the individual veggies. (safe amounts are anything form one to four table spoons of soy sauce)

add one teaspoon of sugar

stir.

when you think you're done, keep stirring for another ten seconds.

taste: does it need more salt? sugar? soy sauce? this recipe is too vague on everything else for me to give precise measurements for the sauce, so taste test!!!

if you added too much salt, added too much chili or like coconut milk: add coconut milk

stir again

place in a bowl

sprinkle as much chili as you like on top

add (depending on your portion size and preference) half to a full teaspoon of sesame oil by drizzling it on top

stir and enjoy

use your newfound energy to take over the British government from the inside. join team villains :)

#recipe #noodles #veggies #veganrecipes #if you use the vegan ingredients #vi #cooking #asianfood

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theimpossiblescheme · 3 years ago

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The Rebirth of Lupin III

(I was rewatching Part 4, and this plot bunny took me hostage after watching Episode 14, “The End of Lupin III”. After what was probably Lupin’s most harrowing near-death fakeout yet, I couldn’t help but wonder about the aftermath, and before I knew it I’d written this. I hope everyone enjoys it!)

It wouldn’t have been the first time Lupin the Third “died.” Hell, given his track record, it probably wouldn’t be the last either. But damn if he hadn’t put on one hell of a show. Old Pops had been wrapped around his little finger the entire time—the discarded meals, the weakened voice, the repeated talk about the end being near… that final scene with the shared cigarette… the genuine sorrow in Zenigata’s voice, even moreso than all the other times… it was his finest performance yet.

It might also have been his stupidest.

Turned out skipping meals for multiple months, only eating what he absolutely had to in order to finish the painting on the cell floor… that kind of stunt tended to really negatively impact your health. Go figure. The amount of times he’d blacked out midway through mixing his makeshift paints, or he’d felt the acid from his own empty stomach rising into his throat as he worked… he’d honestly lost count. Walking made him dizzy, and that last cigarette tasted like nothing so much as burning tar on his lips, even as he forced himself to finish it. That final scene, hearing his ears ring as Pops spoke and feeling his hands shake under his blanket, really did feel like one. Empty stage as Lupin collapses before he can even unveil his master plan. Before he can live up to Pops’ faith in him. Lights out. Curtain.

It had been an honest to God miracle he’d made it farther than that. Standing to gloat over his victory as Zenigata finally opened the cell made his legs teeter dangerously, and his throat still felt raw, but if he was going to live to see the finale, by God he was going to make it an unforgettable one. He’d managed to walk away smiling as Pops could do nothing but laugh in hysterical disbelief, and Lupin felt a bit of that hysteria bubbling up in his own lungs, too. He’d actually pulled it off… damn, somebody up there must really like him.

Somebody out on the bay liked him, too, apparently. As soon as Rebecca and Robson’s motorboat sped into view, Lupin wasted no time leaping into the water after it. Finally, another familiar face—even if his limbs felt like they might snap at any moment, he was still going to make it out to them. To know that Rebecca had made it out alive, that she hadn’t given up on him even after so long. When she hauled him up into the boat, his head lolled onto her shoulder against her neck, and he noticed her perfume had changed. Some new label must have sent her fresh samples… she smelled nice, like a fruity cocktail on a summer day…

Rebecca brushed a lock of hair out of his face, and he suddenly became very aware of how long he’d let it get. “You look terrible,” she said with a very faint smile.

Lupin managed a wheezing chuckle in response. “Yeah, probably.”

And then he blacked out again.

When he came to, he was in an actual bed. With sheets and a pillow. What a difference it made on his neck—sleeping on concrete had done him no favors. On the endtable beside him was a bowl of stew, still hot, and a cup of what smelled like lemon tea. Not his favorite, but beggars and choosers and all that, and Robson really didn’t have to go to the trouble. Besides, after so long actively avoiding any food provided him, it smelled goddamn delicious. Even with his arms and legs still feeling like matchsticks, Lupin still managed to sit up and help himself. The stew was gone in nothing flat, and the tea was half-finished and cooling by the time Lupin felt strong enough to stand up. The Rosselini’s guest rooms were comparatively plain next to the rest of the house, but they could still stand up respectably with any of Fujiko’s favorite upscale hotels.

(Where the hell was Fujiko… or Jigen or Goemon for that matter… best not to think of that right now. He’d only just woken up, after all. There was still time… there was nothing but time now.)

And of course, the décor was hardly the highlight. Propping himself against the wall, he turned the latch on the window and opened it, letting the morning breeze waft in and the sun warm his face for the second time in God knew how many days.

San Marino was still beautiful. A jewel too big to pocket, but not too small to admire. Lupin stood for a long moment drinking in the view before turning to the guest bathroom.

The sight that greeted him there was less than beautiful. He still had the damn beard and long tangled hair, but that wasn’t the worst of it. His cheeks had hollowed out into nothing, and his skin had gone so grey and cold from darkness and malnutrition it may as well not be there at all. A skull framed with dark hair stared back at him from the mirror, and it took all of Lupin’s self-control not to hurl the half-digested stew and tea into the sink. Of all the times he had to actually almost die, it had to be when he didn’t even look like himself. A disguise would be one thing—his true face and body would still be underneath—but this…

This wouldn’t do.

Luckily, a razor and shaving cream had been left on the counter for him. Lupin immediately snatched them up and began to fill the sink with hot water, actually tapping his foot impatiently as it didn’t fill fast enough. He needed to see his face again, needed to know that it was still him under all this. When the sink was full, he wet the razor and hurriedly slathered the shaving cream across his chin and cheeks, even carelessly getting some into his hair. This would be fine. He’d be fine. Good as new, even.

If only his hands would stop freaking shaking…

He lifted the razor to the underside of his chin and instantly felt his hand slip. A few seconds of panic preceded the bolt of pain as he felt blood drip into his fingers. Damn it all… dammit dammit dammit, why’d he have to let it go this far?

“Lupin?”

The voice didn’t come from the door, but instead the window. Lupin barely even processed that before wheeling around, knees weak and face burning with embarrassment. He couldn’t let anybody see him like this, not even—

“Goemon!”

His samurai still had one leg out the window as he climbed through, but he froze in place upon seeing Lupin framed in the bathroom door. A hundred different emotions warred in his eyes, and Lupin wanted so badly to run over and hug him before Goemon’s face settled into its usual stoicism. “Is this where you’ve been all this time?”

“Ah… not exactly,” Lupin said sheepishly, reaching a hand to the back of his neck and internally cursing the cold sweat that had gathered in his hair. “I’m not really sure how long I’ve been here. Rebecca and her butler came to get me after I got away from Pops.” Another poor excuse for a chuckle wheezed out of him. “Lemme tell you… they don’t half kid around locking somebody up here if they want ‘em locked up… it’s a lot worse if you don’t have the key.”

“I can see that.” Goemon finally drew closer, studying Lupin intently. “You don’t look like you had an easy time of it.”

“Honestly, does anybody have an easy time in prison? That’s why I try to stay out of it, y’know.” But it was hard to keep even a weak smile in place, looking at Goemon now… God, he really could have died. He could have never seen him again, or any of his gang. Faking a grand exit for the benefit of Interpol, knowing he could return when the coast was clear, was so much different. And Goemon looked so healthy next to him—he’d even put on a bit of weight for once, which told Lupin that Jigen must have found him a nice Japanese place outside San Marino. Hell, compared to Lupin’s sorry state, he looked downright beautiful. It felt like it had been years… Lupin could stand there staring at him for even longer than that. How must Jigen and Fujiko look at this exact moment? Were they worried about him? Were they okay? All at once, he wished they were all here, together, and that he didn’t look like the freaking Crypt Keeper when he went to greet them.

Goemon reached up and touched Lupin’s cheek with his fingertips, and Lupin tried very hard not to lean into the touch as he had with Rebecca. “I’m not sure if the beard suits you, though. Or the long hair. You look a bit like something else crawled onto your head and died.”

That got a stronger, if extremely wry, smile out of him. Nice to know both their senses of humor were intact. “Yeah, not a fan myself… I don’t suppose you could…?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not using my sword to give you a shave, Lupin.”

“No, not with Zantetsuken, dummy—just use the razor.” There was the arch, fussy side of Goemon… he had to admit, he’d missed that, too. Nodding as if he’d understood all along, Goemon picked up the razor and washed away the blood before cupping a hand around the back of Lupin’s neck and letting him lean back as he worked. His hands were much steadier, almost gentle in their grip, and he was always a few degrees warmer than Lupin himself. Endless physical exercise would do that, Lupin supposed—ironic, considering how much time he spent under freezing cold waterfalls and out in the snow. Fujiko’s hands were always just on the comfortable side of cold, but she avoided that kind of exertion if she possibly could.

“Where are the other two?” Lupin asked, trying to move his jaw as little as possible so he wouldn’t obstruct Goemon’s work. “Are they--?”

“They’re both fine. Fujiko had rented out a beach house on the Italian mainland to wait for you, and Jigen had been spending time at one of the casinos. When I called to let them know you’d escaped, they told me they were on their day—they should be here this evening.”

Thank God… “So you finally figured out that phone I gave you, huh?”

“I’m not actually from the Sengoku Period, Lupin—I know what a cell phone is and how to use it.” He paused to wash off the razor again, and a very light pink stained his cheeks. “Fujiko also helped a great deal. Especially our first night in San Marino.”

“Oh, I’ll bet.” For once, Lupin hadn’t meant it with any lewd intent, but it didn’t stop Goemon from yanking his head back a trifle harshly as he found a new angle with the razor. “They’ve gotta be pretty pissed, too… that I took so long. I know I would be.”

“They’re upset, certainly. But no more than usual for you.” It wasn’t said with any real malice, just as a blunt statement of the truth, but it still stung. Did it make it any better or worse that for once—out of all the times he’d faked his death—he actually feared it might be for real? Instead of just an act he’d strung them along on for the sake of the greater plan?

Probably worse. At least all those other times, the plan was to come back.

“I’ll do better next time.” And he really did mean it. Although he’d probably stave off the “next time” for as long as he could—one impregnable prison cell full of rotten uneaten food was enough. “And I’m definitely not gonna let it go this far. Believe it or not, the beard isn’t even the worst of it. With my hands the way they are, I’d hate to think what’ll happen when I need to pee.”

“As long as Jigen doesn’t have to hold you up.” There was no smile on Goemon’s face, but there was one in his voice. “And I know for a fact he’ll hold you to that promise.”

Lupin couldn’t help but grimace. As much as he’d love to see his gunman again… “Yeah, not looking forward to that conversation. Not just ‘cause I’m gonna bruise like a banana if he punches me.”

“I’ll do my best to separate you.” There was the smile—it softened up the prematurely harsh lines of Goemon’s face as it always did, and Lupin had to remember to keep his head still and resist the temptation to kiss his cheeks until his lips went numb. Rinsing off the razor again, Goemon tilted Lupin’s head slightly to his right. “I might be at this for a while—please promise me you’ll never grow a beard again.”

“You got it, man. And I got all the time in the world.”

#lupin iii #my fanfic #I can't believe this is my first non-prompted piece for this fandom... I don't hate it honestly. XD #But yeah that episode is both really good and a little wild because he's apparently back to 'normal' in the end #(after an apparent time skip but still) and I'm just sitting there like... *dude you almost died.*#I know it takes a lot to knock you out of the running but *come on.*#So that was where this came from (and his relationship with Goemon doesn't get enough love so that's why he's here too. <3).

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wind-goddess-eri · 3 years ago

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Lemons in the Hospital (Hannibal King x F!OC)

Okay, here me out. I was watching Blade and It was on my mind cause I’m weird. I made a little smut thing......Enjoy!

Warning ⚠️: mental hospital, death, abuse of power, needles are mentioned.

The Mental Institution seemed even gloomier today than usual in Nurse Stella Mercer's eyes. Granted that she worked in a hospital that not only took care of the physically, mentally and strangely disabled, but also for those with 'certain qualities'. Qualities like being vampires that were somehow disabled in some form or another, vampire slayers that couldn't work anymore, demons that passed as humans, like Nurse Mercer who was a half demon half human herself, that couldn't 'function properly' around human mortals. This place took care of not only humans, but the inhuman as well.

Working here made anyone's day gloomy but today the supply for candles as lighting only made it gloomier. The hospital was trying to cut back on using so much power so the main doctor ordered all the staff to use every candle available for light in rooms that didn't have light bulbs. The room Nurse Mercer was currently in was one of those rooms, filled with probably 100 candles or more out of reach of the three patients she had today. Running a hand through her light brown hair she sighed deeply at the sight before her.

There was Deacon, a vampire patient in here because of his mental disability he'd gotten a while back during one of his hunts in Africa. With his medium length hair that was pulled into a ponytail and his toned body he seemed to stick out like a sore thumb because his posture was that of a child's, clearly not looking like he was 'normal'. His case was so severe that he only had two options; Let his vampire clan kill him so the secret would be safe or come here, where all abnormality was welcome, even to humans who were the doctor's favorite type of patients. Deacon had somewhat of a bipolar personality; in one moment he'd act like a child and seemed to take everything around him like any child would. Other times though, when he was really mad he'd claim he was going to break out and kill as many humans as he pleased. Since he was a vampire, the staff took him seriously. If anyone tried to take away his bagged blood (which was how they fed their vampires) he'd become violent, so no one bothered him too much. It was only bagged blood, no harm no foul. He was calm today. None of the human staff were allowed to be near the vampires. Even if they worked at the institution, no human was allowed to know of supernatural beings. It wasn't hard to keep that secret when there were mind wipers working in the building.

Hannibal King was a curious case really. Clearly the man was human, with his tanned skin, muscled chest and arms but what gave him away most was his scent. His reflexes weren't that bad either. The ruggedy look he always had on also gave away that he was an aging mortal. With short cropped hair and eyes that just pulled anyone in he would have made a very impressive vampire, which he claimed he once was until he found a cure. No one but Danica believed he was ever really a vampire because none had ever changed back into a human. Danica knew all his thoughts and knew he was telling the truth. The fact that Hannibal had chosen to become human again scored him high in Danica's book, though Danica wished she could have that choice. Hannibal King had once been a human vampire hunter or slayer but had gotten into a bad accident on a mission with the daywalker Blade that had paralyzed him from the waist down. All he could now move was the waist up and was bound in a wheelchair for the remainder of his life. He seemed to take life as a handout; whatever he got he deserved. Sometimes though, he would write in his notebook with such vigor that he'd look like he was cursing the world for what he'd lost. Hunting was all he knew. The fierceness in his eyes almost made Nurse Spenser fearful every time she was around him, which was strange to her. Like somehow he'd be less human than what he was. Strangely though, him and his roommates Deacon and Danica, both vampires, got along well.

Casually Stella's eyes looked over at Danica Talos. She had black, messy hair with golden, yet unfocused eyes. Her case was simple, yet just as hard to believe as Deacon because it was hard to damage a vampire, let alone make it permanent. She was blind from an incident that was so freaky it actually blinded her permanently and nothing could be done. Since she'd also gone partially deaf she couldn't be allowed into the world on her own.

These three were now Stella's permanent patients. Only about four times before today had she actually taken care of them in the past six months she'd worked here; mainly because she'd only substituted for their main care giver before but now she'd been assigned as their permanent Nurse. Mrs. Cole, their old nurse, had passed away. Now she was responsible for merely three patients at all times instead of different patients every day. They seemed to like her enough to not complain. Deacon claimed that she was like an older sister to him, Danica always expressed her gratitude for Stella 'clean thoughts' by playing songs for her on her keyboard for her when she asked. Hannibal King always let Stella read his journal entries about his life before he came here. He wouldn't let any other read his stuff and he used violence to enforce that. He may have been in a wheelchair, but the man was still deadly.

As Stella gazed about the small common room the three of them shared, she saw that Deacon was playing with his toys (clearly mentally five years old right now), Danica was playing her keyboard messing with melodies and Hannibal was staring out the window. Straightening out her uniform, Stella made her way over to Hannibal and started to wheel him away. "It's time for your bath, Hannibal," she whispered in his ear trying not to disturb Deacon and Danica even though both could clearly hear her. They were still vampires even if damaged ones. Stella took him to the entrance of his door and walked away for a moment or two.

Before she knew it even happened, Hannibal had grabbed her hand and looked her in the eyes. She'd never seen that look in them before and could not distinguish what it was. "Don't leave me," he whispered so quietly that she knew not even the others would hear. She walked back to him from her short distance, getting even closer with every step. With ease she removed his hand trying not to blush because as much as she didn't want to admit it, she thought he was too sexy for his own good. Sweetly she smiled at him. "I must Hannibal. I have to get everything ready for your bath." With that she walked away again. Not even four steps later she heard the sound of glass break. Quickly turning around she entered into his bedroom and found that he'd taken his night drinking glass and broke it. As she bent down to pick up the big broken pieces she felt his eyes staring at her. She ignored him for a moment but when she used the broom and dust pan to remove the little pieces and still felt his eyes on her she turned around to find him staring at her ass. Slowly she raised her left eyebrow at him until he noticed she was watching him watch her.

Finishing up with the broken glass Stella turned to head for the trash can in the other room then heard a 'thud'. Quickly dumping the shattered pieces of glass into the plastic purple bin she turned around to find the source of the sound. Before she even took two steps she saw Hannibal at the doorway crawling towards her. Having no clue as to what to make of his suddenly strange behavior, she did the logical thing; her job. Making sure not to walk over someone, she paced herself carefully and picked him up, making sure not to squeeze too tightly and crush him with her demon strength and put him in his wheelchair and rolled him to the bathroom.

Speak of the devil, right as she turned the water on in the tub to the right temperature Deacon came in with a goofy child-like smile on his face. "What are you doing Nurse Mercer?" he asked in a child-like way, his voice sounding innocent. His ruby red eyes gleamed of curiosity.

She didn't turn to him as she answered him, continuing to adjust Hannibal's bath water. "It's time for Hannibal's bath Deacon." The water was perfect now.

Unexpectedly, Deacon's voice took on a tone of humor. "Ha ha, Hannibal's a dirty boy! Hannibal's a dirty boy!" Before he could continue his chant, Nurse Mercer got up, took Deacon by the hand and led him back to the common room the three of them shared. "Where are we going, Stella?" his attention completely distracted.

"It's time to play with your army men, Deacon," she answered. While setting Deacon G.I. Joe in front of him, she noticed Danica was wandering around, as if she was searching for something. "Danica, are you looking for something?"

She paused where she was at. "Just keep staring at me so I can see through your eyes where the bathroom is. I need to discard this shirt and puke in the toilet." "Why do you need to do those things?" Stella asked politely.

"For one thing, Deacon poured something all over me. Secondly, he made me swallow some of Hannibal's human food." With understanding she took Danica to the bathroom, ignoring her protests and led her directly to the toilet.

Quickly unbuttoning her shirt, Stella turned to leave. "Are you ok from here?" she asked again.

"Fine, thank you, Stella," she whispered as he regurgitated into the toilet. She hoped Danica wouldn't miss the bowl by accident SOMEHOW. She was a vampire after all.

When Stella came back to the other bathroom where Hannibal was, she noticed that he had already stripped down butt-naked on the floor. Using her massive strength, she picked him up and set him in his bath water. The soap slipped from her hand as she'd reached for it and dropped on top of his legs. Eventually getting to his back after she'd made her way from the legs up. Out of nowhere, she heard him speak. "You're very pretty, Stella," he whispered very quietly. Momentarily she stopped washing him and looked into his eyes, searching for the truth in them; and she found it.

Then she shrugged and continued washing him, remembering that this was her job. "I'm serious. You are beautiful," he continued, his voice a little louder than the first time. Again she shrugged, trying not to blush (which wasn't working). Her eyes did not meet his this time as she could tell he was waiting for her to answer but she remained silent. After cleaning his neck she reached for the shampoo and proceeded with going after his succulent, thick and short brown hair. As her fingers dug the cleansing product into his scalp, moving through the soft hair her attention was so caught up that she didn't even see him reach for her until she'd been pulled into the tub with him.

Too shocked to do anything else, she merely got out of the tub. In doing this, she'd noticed that both her white pants and undergarments were completely soaked. Slightly irritated she grabbed two towels, placed them next to the wheelchair, picked Hannibal up, put him back into it and placed the towels over his crotch. "Bath time is over." The words came out harsher than she'd meant them to be but he ignored her anyway.

Wheeling him to his room she heard him speak again. He seemed to be getting on her nerves a lot today. "You should change," he suggested. Apparently he seemed to not notice her predicament of having no extra clothes.

"Uh, no Hannibal. I don't have spare clothes here." There, that was logical, wasn't it?

Unfortunately he wouldn't let it go. "Just grab a towel. No use walking around in wet clothes." The way he said it was so calm that as he said this it actually seemed to make sense to her. So she did. Once she'd removed her wet clothes and the towel was around her waist (her shirt still on) she started to dry him off, sadly attempting to NOT stare at his crotch. Yes he was one of the sexiest beings alive to her but just because she was his nurse didn't mean she could just ogle his private parts while changing him.

While she was drying off his chest he'd grabbed her so quickly behind her neck and kissed her passionately. For a lack of better judgment, she merely gave in to his power he'd had over her from the moment she saw him, sitting in his window. She was his if he wanted her because somehow, this man had claimed her half demonic heart even though they hardly knew each other. "I've loved you since the first time I saw you, Stella." he whispered into her ear when he went to take a breath. This got her heart racing faster than it had ever gone before in her life. He pulled her face away from him so she'd look into his eyes. The lust and passion was evident in those brown orbs. "I don't care if you're half demon, I want you!"

With that he quickly unbuttoned her blouse and worked his magical hands over her skin, making sure to touch every inch of her flesh. For the first time in over twenty three years, she'd made a rash decision without thinking and just let her lust take over as she let him over power her body. Once the garment was removed he unclasped the front of her bra and released her breasts from their confines. His hungry mouth latched onto one of them, causing intense heat to build up in her lower abdomen. He taunted the tight nipple, making it hard as rock and just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he moved to the other one, giving it as much attention as the one before. But she could only take so much torture. As the pressure built inside her she felt the need to create some friction, hoping it would ease some of the tension. Just as bare as the day she was born she rubbed her nude body against his slightly, only intensifying the build-up. Pushing him down against his mattress, she straddled his waist just above where she wanted him most.

His cock stood hard and firm, waiting for her make him sink deep within her. She kissed up and down his chest, tasting every inch of him before returning to his lips. Those lips looked like they needed a good sucking and she was happy to be the sucker to taste those babies. The pressure of his hands guiding her hips near his length brought back her fierce arousal. Without even another thought she rammed herself on his painfully erect cock. She couldn't wait for the foreplay; she needed a release as much as he seemed to need a good fuck. God only knew he looked like he needed one badly.

The feeling of his hard member inside her made her pant hard as she started to move fast, taking the lead instantly. Faster and faster she rocked her hips to match his as he used his arms to thrust up inside her, hitting that sensitive spot. Sweat started to pour over the both of them as they felt the tip of their orgasms. Bucking harder it was only seconds a few minutes later until they both completed the race to the finish with a mind-blowing, out of this world first rate orgasm.

Removing herself from on top of him she laid next to him, still not believing that they had just shared a passionate moment together and that he was in love with her. But as the seconds ticked by she started to believe because I DID happen. Both of their bodies were covered in sweat, the room smelled like sex, and the fact that they were both flushed pink only hardened the evidence.

Just as she was about to say something to break the silence that had been going on for several minutes there was a loud banging on his door. Apparently she'd locked it and forgot why at the moment. By the sound of the person's voice it was the doctor with his weird, raspy voice. "OPEN THE DAMNED DOOR!" he yelled. Not wanting to either upset the doctorshe quickly threw on her (now) dry clothes and helped Hannibal dress as fast as they could then opened the door with a smile. The look on his face showed his annoyance at once. "Why as the door locked?" he asked, using his calm voice suspiciously.

The answer came to her only that quickly because it was completely true. "Deacon was bothering Hannibal today so I locked the door while changing him so he'd have some privacy." Quickly her eyes darted to the movement of doctor's hand. "What's with the needle?" she asked, suddenly noticing how huge it was as he waved it around in his hand.

The doctor smiled evilly, like he always did. "It's time for Mr. King's check-up. Wouldn't want our little human to die on us, would we?"

Suddenly she noticed how eerily quiet it was. It was never this quiet, not when you had a vampire that never slept who thought he was five years old and another vampire who again never slept but played the keyboard almost constantly. Something felt wrong. "I'm just going to check on Deacon," she mumbled as she walked out of the room. Briskly walking to Deacon's room, what she saw made her heart stop cold. His body laid lifeless (more than normal) on the floor. His frame was perfectly still, flat on his stomach with a giant needle standing straight out from his spine. It was the same exact kind that Hannibal was going to be given.

Without another thought she raced back to Hannibal's room, not bothering to check on Danica, knowing that she was already dead. If the doctor was going to start killing off his patients, he would start off with the ones that would warn the others. In this case, it would have been Danica. At least she could have given a fair warning that would have alarmed Deacon, Hannibal and herself. Deacon would have probably just kept playing with his toys.

There he laid on his side, coughing and gasping on the floor, his life fading before her very eyes. NO! This couldn't be happening. Not when she'd finally found someone to love her just the way she was. She didn't know what to do since she had no clue what was in the needle so she started to freak out, pulling her hair and such. Kneeling next to him she took his pulse and found it almost non-existent. He only had seconds left to live. Pulling out the needle she was about to try and suck out the drugs he'd been given but his hand pulled her to his face. "Just let me die. Trust me," he whispered, a smile dancing his face she saw for the first time. And with that, the heart of Hannibal King, former evil-vampire slayer's heart stopped beating and he died.

#n/sfw text #smut #tw death #hannibal king x f!oc #blade trilogy #fanfic #my writing

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im-done-arent-you · 5 years ago

Text

Conversations You’d Have While Dating John Bender

Bender: “If I died, how much would you miss me?”

(Y/N): “It’s cute that you think death can get you out of this relationship.”

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(Y/N): “Jesus it’s cold!”

Bender: “Here, take my jacket, I’m not even that cold.”

(Y/N): “Thanks, I’ll give it back tomorrow at school.”

*later, at (Y/N)’s house after everyone has gone home*

(Y/N), aggressively inhaling in Bender’s jacket while curled up with it: “I’m never giving this back.”

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Bender and (Y/N): *staring into each other’s eyes*

Andy: *opens a soda can*

(Y/N): “We’re having a moment here.”

Andy: “And I’m having a soda, your point?”

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Bender: “I have very high standards. I’d never date anyone clumsy-”

(Y/N) walking in, tripping and falling face first on the floor: “Ah shit, oh, hi guys!”

Bender: “I want them.”

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Bender: “(Y/N), what the hell are you doing?”

(Y/N), feeling Bender’s hair while mumbling: “What the fuck this is so soft and smooth…?”

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Bender: “You have a sweet lookin’ ass.”

(Y/N): “What was that?”

Bender: “You have very nice eyes.”

(Y/N): “I liked the first one better.”

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Teacher: “Okay, here’s the classwork.”

Bender: “Please help me.”

(Y/N), sighing: “You’re lucky you have me.”

Bender: “I know, right? The only thing I know how to do on this paper is write my name.”

(Y/N): “You just spelled it wrong.”

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Bender: “Hey, (Y/N), can you do the thing?”

(Y/N): “What thing?” Bender: “The thing that never fails to make me happy.”

(Y/N): “Oh, okay.” *smiles*

Bender: “Thank you.”

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Bender: *Licks his lips while rolling up his sleeves*

(Y/N): “Jesus take the wheel.”

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(Y/N): “You… you have a face.”

Bender: “Yes. Yes I do.”

(Y/N): “I mean… a nice face. You have a nice face.”

Bender: “Thanks… I think?”

(Y/N): “Oh my gosh. Please just accept my awkward attempts at flirting. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

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Bender: “Is your name Jingle Bells?”

(Y/N): “ No no no no, please don’t, Bender, have mercy-”

Bender: “Because you look ready to go allll the way.”

(Y/N): “Shut up, Bender, it’s the day after Thanksgiving!”

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(Y/N): “Do you know what time it is?” Bender: “Do I look like a weatherman to you?”

(Y/N):

(Y/N): (Y/N): “What?”

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Brian: “Why do you guys wake up so late? What time do you even go to sleep?”

(Y/N): “I always fall asleep first because Bender always strokes my hair and I snuggle into him until I finally do.”

Bender: “I always disassociate and have an existential crisis, so I never actually know.”

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Claire: *sees Bender and (Y/N) walk into the room holding hands* “So who finally confessed?”

Bender, with a proud smirk: “It was me. I made sure it was real short and sweet.”

(Y/N): “You yelled ‘Listen here you little shit, I have feelings for you and it’s about time you acknowledge them!’ at me from on top of the school roof.”

Bender: “It worked though.”

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(Y/N): “Are you...blushing?”

Bender: “What, no.”

(Y/N): “Did I get the ever-stoic, hardcore, total badass Bender to blush?”

Bender: “No..It’s..It’s the cold.”

(Y/N): “Huh. It’s the cold. And not that I told you ‘Your face is freaking cute and I bet the rest of you is too’?”

Bender, blushing harder: *voice cracks* “N-no.”

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(Y/N): *Drops something* “Oh, fuck me.”

Bender: *smirks*

(Y/N): “That wasn’t an invitation.”

Bender: *Gets closer to (Y/N)*

(Y/N): “I mean it, Bender.”

Bender: “Gets in (Y/N)‘s face with a low hum and a smirk*

(Y/N): *Blushing furiously*

Bender: *puts his hand under (Y/N)’s chin and leans into their ear* “I think we should have pizza for dinner.”

Bender: *Sits back down*

(Y/N): “Oh, for the love of-” *repeatedly smacks Bender with a pillow*

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(Y/N): *kisses Bender’s forehead*

Bender, frowning: “You missed.”

(Y/N): “Huh?” Bender: *Leans forward and kisses (Y/N)’s lips*

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Bender: “What are you doing?”

(Y/N): *Wiggling into Bender’s arms* “Hiding.”

Bender: “....Don’t you mean hugging?”

(Y/N): *Pauses* “Did I fucking stutter? This is my safe place. Now shut up and put your arms around me.”

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Bender: “I have to get something off my chest.”

(Y/N): “Is it your shirt? I hope it’s your shirt. Please let it be your shirt.”

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(Y/N): “I get this weird feeling in my chest every time I see you.”

Bender: “.....Is is heartburn?”

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Bender: “You know, I’m jealous of you?”

(Y/N): “Huh? Why?”

Bender: “Your partner is way hotter than mine.” *walks away*

(Y/N): “Wait- but you’re my- we’re dating...Come back here you little shit!”

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*Bender and (Y/N) kiss*

Allison: “Aww..”

Bender: “Allison i have had it up to here with your bullshit!”

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(Y/N): *Smiles*

Bender: “There it is again.”

(Y/N): “What?” Bender: “You better not smile for anyone else like that. If you do I might have to kill them.”

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(Y/N): "What's your biggest fear?"

Bender: "You."

(Y/N): "Me?!"

Bender: "I'm scared that one day you'll look in the mirror and see yourself as I see you. That you'll realize just how amazing you are, and that you deserve better than me. I'm terrified that you'll leave."

(Y/N), on the verge of tears: "Oh, god, Bender please don't say that. You are the most amazing person I've ever met, I could never leave you. Ever. God, I love you so much more than it's possible to say, you know that? I hate seeing you feel like you aren't enough because you are, Bender, you always have been. You always will be. I love you."

Bender: "Aw, come on, Baby, please don't cry, I love you too."

——————————————————————————————————

(Y/N): *Complains about Bender*

Bender: "I could be a drug addict. Do you realize how lucky you are?"

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Bender: "Where's your liquor?"

(Y/N): "At 11 A.M?"

Bender: "Why, does it move around throughout the day?"

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Andrew: "You deserve an award for putting up with me."

Allison: "You're my award, Andy."

Bender: "You deserve an award for putting up with me, (Y/N)."

(Y/N): "Hell yeah I do. You're a real bitch sometimes."

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*On the topic of how to sneak out of detention*

Bender: "I have a plan."

(Y/N): "No weapons."

Bender: "I have no plan."

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(Y/N): "You know what I did yesterday?"

Bender: "Got prettier?"

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(Y/N): "Damn. We're out of decaf."

Bender: "Well there's no need to get hysterical."

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(Y/N): "I already knew you didn't have any moral qualms about breaking and entering."

Bender: "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

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(Y/N): "Earlier Bender walked into our classroom to see me, saw algebra on the board and yelled 'Oh what the fuck is this, get me an eraser before I pass out!'"

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(Y/N): "So Bender, what do you want to do tonight?"

Bender: "You, probably."

(Y/N): "You know you said that out loud, right?"

Bender: "Yup, no regret."

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(Y/N): "Has anyone seen Bender?"

Claire: "It's 10 A.M., I would be worried if he was here."

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Bender: "Hi pretty (Y/N). Oh, you're so pretty. But not just your face, your brain. It's like your beautiful brain exploded all over your face."

(Y/N): "Are you drunk?"

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Bender: "I assure you I am the most attractive person in this room."

(Y/N): *Walks into the room*

Bender: "Never mind."

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(Y/N): "Putting a lemon in your water isn't gonna balance out the fact that you chugged seven beers in under thirty minutes last night, Bender."

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(Y/N): "Bender... why do I love you?"

Bender: "Because you're the only one who can tolerate my bullshit and vice versa."

(Y/N): ".............I was gonna say your eyes, but that works too."

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Bender: *About (Y/N)* "My partner is like an oven."

Brian: "Explain."

Bender: "Roasts me."

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(Y/N): "Next time I wanna hurt someone, I'm coming straight to you for help."

Bender: "Aw, that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

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Bender: :I'm just sitting here with my empty pizza box, my Coke, and my Baby. *Leans over and kisses (Y/N)'s cheek* I may be out of pizza, but I'm never out of love for them."

(Y/N): *Blushes*

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(Y/N): "Bender no."

Bender, drinking hot Cheeto dust mixed with vodka from a vase: "Bender yes."

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*Sneaking into the teacher's lounge for snacks*

(Y/N): "But how do we not get caught? There are teachers everywhere!"

Bender: "Easy. Keep a cool head and a sweet smile."

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(Y/N): "I drink to forget but I always remember."

Bender: "You're drinking soda."

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(Y/N): "You're a fucking loser."

Bender: "Well you're fucking a loser."

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Bender: *Takes off his shirt*

(Y/N): "What a time to be alive."

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Bender: "Hey, I like your pants."

(Y/N): "Thanks."

Bender: "But, you know, they'd look better on my bedroom floor."

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*During a fight*

Bender: *Rolls his eyes*

(Y/N): "Yeah keep rolling your eyes, you might find a brain back there."

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Claire: "Are you a big spoon or a little spoon?"

Bender: "I'm a knife."

(Y/N): "He's a big spoon."

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*Mr. Vernon left his door open*

Bender: "He left his door open!"

(Y/N), looking at Bender: "Slim Jim raid?"

Bender, nodding: "Slim Jim raid."

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*During an argument*

(Y/N): "You are unbelievable, Bender!" *Starts storming out of the room, stops halfway* "Do not watch my ass as I leave!"

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(Y/N ), answering the phone: "Hello?"

Bender: "Hey, it's Bender."

(Y/N): "What'd he do this time?"

Bender: "No, it's actually me, Bender."

(Y/n): "What did you do this time?"

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*Talking about a teacher*

Andrew: "Yeah she's a bitch."

Bender: "Speaking of bitches..." *looks at (Y/N)*

(Y/N), without looking up from their book: " Choose your next words carefully."

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(Y/N): "You shouldn't smoke. It isn't good for you."

Bender: "Fuck off."

(Y/N): "I love you too."

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*When Bender first tells the group about (Y/N) and him dating*

Andrew: "How hot are they?"

Bender: "It doesn't matter what they look like. I mean, they're already the most beautiful person in the world to me."

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Allison: "Are they flirting?"

Claire: "I think so."

(Y/N): "We are not flirting, we are arguing."

Bender: "We're flirting."

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Bender: "Have I ever told you you look like a sexy praying mantis?"

(Y/N): "Every time you drink alcohol."

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Bender: "You know, (Y/N), I've been drinking- I mean thinking-!"

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(Y/N): "It's quiet....too quiet..."

Andrew, bursting into the room: "Bender let a snake loose in the library!"

(Y/N), sighing: "I knew it."

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Brian, on the phone: "(Y/N), what are you doing?"

(Y/N): "Homework."

Bender, taking the phone from (Y/N): "I'm homework."

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(Y/N): "You think you're a better kisser than me?"

Bender: *Raises eyebrows*

(Y/N): "You think you're a better cuddler?"

Bender: *Raises eyebrows further*

(Y/N): "Well come over here and prove it, punk."

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(Y/N): "Claire, tell Bender that he's an idiot but I still love him."

Claire: "Gross, tell him yourself."

(Y/N): "We're in a fight."

Claire: "You're sitting in his lap?"

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Bender: *Lights a match with his teeth*

(Y/N): "You have no idea how hot that is."

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(Y/N): "Bender, you..."

Bender: "I?"

(Y/N): "Um...y-you..."

Bender: "I what?"

(Y/N): "You make my heart have premature ventricular contractions."

Bender: "Huh?"

Brian, from across the room: "They mean you make their heart skip a beat."

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*In a fight*

(Y/N): *Flips Bender off*

Bender, smirking: "Maybe later, Honey." *winks*

(Y/N): *Rolls eyes*

Bender: "Hey! Don't roll your eyes when I allude to fucking you!"

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(Y/N): *Kisses Bender*

Bender: "What was that for?"

(Y/N): "I've been thinking about what makes me happy. You make me happy."

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*After getting caught breaking the rules*

Mr.Vernon: "Did you two really think you were gonna get away with this?"

Bender: "Well, it would be stupid to say yes now."

(Y/N): *Stares blankly at Vernon while nodding in agreement with Bender*

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*(Y/N) is absent from school*

Allison: *About (Y/N)* "Do you miss them?"

Bender: "You can tell?"

Allison: "There are two things in this world you cannot hide. Sneezing and love."

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Andrew: "I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter S."

Claire, looking over at Bender and (Y/N): "Is it sexual tension?"

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(Y/N), to Bender: "Oh, you're touch starved? Wanna hold hands about it?"

#john bender imagines #john bender x reader #bender x reader #the breakfast club #the breakfast club imagines

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jilytho · 4 years ago

Text

and they were roomates

Jily/Marauders roomate thing just for fun. Happy Jilytober!!!!

Read below or on AO3 of FFNT

Moving in together had always been the plan. The Marauders, out in the real world. Throughout Uni they were always forced to split up into different apartments in groups of two, usually ending with Sirius and James in one apartment and Remus and Peter sharing one down the hall. Remus insisted it be that way because he insisted he wouldn’t be able to focus on schoolwork if he had to deal with his idiot of a boyfriend 24hours a day but separate apartments in no way made them spend any less time together. James swears he spent more nights on the floor of Remus and Peter’s kitchen than in his bed. Still, once they were done with school and off in the Real World having an apartment for all of them to live in was the ultimate goal.

They set out to look for a spot that was nice enough to fit the bizarrely high standards of Sirius, while still not breaking the bank for Remus or Peter who insisted on paying their own way without any help.

It was Remus who ended up finding their place, somewhat dodgy area of town but right down the street from his favorite Thai takeout place, three coffeeshops with adequate reading vibes within a four block radius, and a seven minute commute for Remus to get to the lab everyday. 14C was a once cute three bedroom apartment now covered in years of dust and grime and now officially theirs.

Sirius and Remus claimed the master with its very own ensuite so James could stop having to pick Sirius’s hair out of the shower. It wasn’t a perfect set up but they all found ways to mesh together and make it just right and just theirs. Peter was immediately made interior designer and found a couch and two armchairs off of craigslist so that they could stop sitting on the floor in front of the TV. James was in charge of the kitchen and bought real utensils and bowls so Sirius would stop pouring his cereal onto frisbees. Remus developed his very own homemade cleaner filled with bleach and alcohol and was likely poison in a bottle but it somehow made the beige counters white and sparkling.

Technically James and Sirius were the only names actually on the lease, a Sirius suggestion, so that if they were ever late on rent it wouldn’t impact the credit Remus had spent so long building up. It had the added benefit of Peter and Remus not having to worry if their paycheck was being delayed and they had to pay Sirius or James a few days late because the boys were always good for it.

Being adults in the real world never stopped any of them from still behaving like children. Sirius refused to take out the trash so James took to dumping the trash on his head while he was sleeping, and accidentally got day old noodles onto Remus’ pillow. They broke two TVs during two separate games of indoor football and Peter was a world class baker but was the worst at cleaning in the whole flat and left flour everywhere, constantly. But still, they were happy. They ate dinner together almost every night and had movie nights on Thursdays. Peter and James invested in heavy duty ear plugs within three weeks of moving in and realizing just how thin the walls were.

After a full year of making Apartment 14C home, the lease was up they unanimously decided to resign because this was their place. But then one day they wake up to find that Pete has his bags packed and is all “I got a job across the country bye”. They want to fight him and Remus, always the logical one, brings up that they literally just signed for a whole year and are only 20 days into this new lease. And Peter, the little slimy rat, smirked and said “Not my name on the lease, not my problem” and just left.

They learn from Facebook that he was working for some politician that stands for everything the boys do not. The kind of politician who would actively root against the happiness and togetherness of Sirius and Remus. Once they learn that, they are officially done missing him.

At some time in the middle of the night all the pictures that Peter was in from school are mysteriously replaced with pictures of James’s cat.

Sirius wants to keep He-Who-We-Do-Not-Talk-About’s bedroom empty and make it into a yoga studio/library combo but Remus says that it's ridiculous to pay that much extra in rent and he refuses to let Sirius pay for the room and so the roommate hunt begins.

Everyone they met with was either too sweaty or too loud or was great on paper but had a super distinct death like scent so the room sat empty for almost a full month. James was content to let it stay that way and just keep finding reasons because it was good with just the three of them. They weren’t the same and James was sometimes a third wheel but these were his brothers, he didn’t need anyone else.

It stays empty until one day, Remus comes home from work one day saying that he has a friend from class, a nice well mannered and smart girl who would pay her rent on time but is in urgent need of getting off of her sister and terrible brother in laws couch before she “sets it and the house on fire”. Sirius isn’t sure he wants someone willing to commit arson moving in across the hall from him but a quick look from Remus shut him up and he was suddenly all for the mystery girl coming in. Remus said she would be moving in in three hours and would James be available to help her carry in her bags? James felt slighted that he wasn’t even given a vote or a chance to meet the girl, but that was mostly because despite Peter leaving and betraying them, James is loyal to a fault and still saw the room as Pete’s room and Pete’s stool in the kitchen despite the fact that the lying bastard just took off with no warning and changed his phone number and was a traitorous little bastard. Still, he couldn’t argue the point too much or he’d look stupid so fine, let the new girl move in but “Remus I swear, make it clear that this is just temporary until she figures it out and we find someone else we can all agree on”. He decided he just wouldn’t hang out with the new girl. They’d be apartment mates but they wouldn’t be friends.

She shows up with seven boxes and three bottles of wine to her name. James’s mouth is full of pasta when she introduces herself to him and he is so startled by the green of her eyes that he swallows without chewing and starts hacking noodles up while waving hello as she watches, green eyes wide with concern and amusement, hand still held out to shake.

The first week after she moves in, he avoids her like the plague. He mentally insists that he has no need to get to know her because this is just temporary and she is going to find a new place and it doesn't matter how green her eyes are if he just doesn’t look at them.

By the start of the second week, it stopped mattering if he didn’t directly interact with her because she was still everywhere. The living room was transformed from a bare bones TV and couch room to completely cozy with scented candles and fuzzy blankets and fun, colorful throw pillows that James instantly became obsessed with. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t love the lemon scented soap in the kitchen or how she always made sure there was coffee in the pot for him or how the scent of her rose body wash somehow fills the whole apartment everytime she showers and is amazing or how the whole apartment just felt warmer and better now that she was there.

He stopped getting surprised when she found ways to just fit with them. He always thought Peter worked well with them, they were brothers of course, but now he couldn’t help feeling like Peter had been a square peg squeezing into a circle hole. He fit but it was also just a little tight or tense or unequal. Lily, on the other hand, clicked in just right. She was instantly just one of them, even before James had accepted it. On her 10th day of living with them (a celebration Sirius insisted required an ice cream cake) all reservations about her completely imploded because there was no arguing that she belonged with them and they belonged with her. When he woke up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, he wasn’t at all shocked to find her and Remus reviewing chemical formulas at 3am on a Tuesday. Like of course they were, why wouldn't they be. It felt even less surprising that he just walked himself over and sat on the ground in front of her and stole her flashcards so he could quiz them both. It felt only natural when he saw her and Sirius getting ready to go to spin class together, even though Sirius never brings James to spin class with him anymore because of the one time he fell off his bike and caused a ruckus. He’s barely even confused when he ends up at a sunrise yoga class with her even though he had never been awake to see sunrise a day in his life. He’s even less surprised to learn that he enjoyed it immensely and had never been so happy to be up that early. He tells himself that it's just the impact of the yoga that he is in such a good mood but knows it has a lot more to do with the laughing goddess in the downward dog next to him.

They get glared at all through the class because he keeps whispering things to her and making her giggle and then he becomes so transfixed by her laugh that he loses his balance and falls out of his pose, almost toppling the woman next to him. She laughs so hard her face matches her hair and giggles every time she looks at him for the rest of class.

And then it’s Sunday and Blokes Brunch easily becomes “Lily, let’s go time for brunch” and when she pops the champagne (which had always been James’s job but he couldn't’ even fight her properly for it) he sees the sparkle in her eyes so much clearer than the sparkle in the drink and he lets himself actually see her and oh my god did she look good.

It still hurts when they see a picture of Peter on facebook or in Snapchat memories but slowly their memories start to fill up with green eyes and red hair and lovely smiles. It is no surprise when just the suggestion of her moving out became criminal. It was no surprise to any of them except for James when she stopped sleeping in her room and started sleeping across the hall with James. None of it was how the Marauders expected their lives to be at all but there was also more joy and warmth and love than any of them could have ever predicted.

#happy jilytober #jilytober #jily #drabble #mywriting #James Potter #lily evans #maurauders era

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

Text

Recovering Your Catfish: Changes

Summary- 1.6k Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader. Being back home after the ill fated trip trying to cross the Andes has left your Frankie a different man. While he deals with the trauma, you are there to remind him he still has you. Thick and thin, you are with him the entire way.

Warnings- None except uncomfortable flashbacks.

A/N- this was just an indulgence @babiiface95 has dragged me into for this man. I have no idea how accurate any of this will be, its pure just my fantasy with it. Also I have no clue why, but I see him living in Louisiana, so again I self indulged and that’s where home is for him.

“We’re not dropping the money! Push it, it can go over that ridge.”

“Fuck off Tom, you cant get this thing over it without blowing one of the engines.”

“Get it done.” Tom grunted at him and Frank pushed the lever, making the Mil Mi-8 helicopter shake and rattle. Then it popped, the levers on the dash spinning out of control. They pushed it too hard.

They were going down.

“Frankie! Frankie wake up.” Gentle hands cupped his face and his eyes sprang open to a moonlit dim room filled with the rattling sound of an old AC unit trying its best to combat the midsummer bayou heat and failing miserably. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, but all he could feel was the permanent deep chill of the Andes that was forever ingrained in Franks memory. “Its a dream baby, your home.”

“Fuck Y/N, I’m sorry.” He groaned, his hand raising to cover his eyes as he came back to the present.

“It's okay. You were just mumbling in your sleep.” You smile softly and your touch turns to one that smooths along his cheek, and drops to gentle strokes to the side of his neck and rubbing his earlobes, feeling him start to relax now that he is awake again. In this lighting his brown eyes seemed almost black as he stared up at the ceiling, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. You settle back down next to him, dropping your hand to the center of his chest, which he covers with his own to clutch at it, like he was afraid you were going to let it go. “Do you want to tell me about it?” You offer him, sometimes Frank would share his dream, other times he wouldn't.

“It was just when our engine blew. If I just had one of them cut that load, we would have made it over that ridge. Tom was so stubborn. Wanted the whole load. I knew it wouldn't make it… but I just kept following orders.” He admitted softly while you shifted in closer regardless of the stifling humidity.

“All the men heard you Frankie, any of them could have dropped the load . Its not just on you, you warned Tom.” You reminded him softly, knowing he would continue shouldering the blame because he was the pilot.

Frankie hummed to agree with you, but you knew it was simply to appease you for now. His head tilted to press a kiss against the top of your head.

You sat outside of the therapist office, the windows rolled down and was sure to park in the shade, occasionally you would sip from your water bottle, waiting. Franks sessions usually ran 45 minutes to an hour and you worked it out so that you were here for him afterwards, he never liked being all alone after them, said that all the thoughts would get overwhelming. You were happy to do this for him and were incredibly proud of how far he had come from when he came home.

You waited in the little office at Gerald’s Airstrip where Frank worked on and off since retiring from working Delta Force. The man who left on some “secret mission” he wouldn't tell you much about had been hopeful, promising life was changing for the two of you when he returned.

How right he was.

When the small plane landed and the door opened, you made your way out of the office. The first off the plane was the youthful face of Benny followed closely by Will, which you smiled and hugged them both tightly as they made their way off the steps. “Im so sorry” You whispered to each of them, a rub to their backs and a step back. “I'm so glad you are home though.”

“We are to Y/N.” Ben went in for a quick hug once more and you embraced him once more before separating. The two of them splitting from you and you turned back towards the plane to see Frank making his way carefully down the steps and that's when you felt overwhelming relief. Giving a gentle sob, you rushed the last few feet and vaulted at him, hugging him tightly which he welcomed.

He squeezed you into him and buried his face in your neck just as you did, your fingers clutching at the back of his shirt, taking a shuddering breath, just holding one another for a few moments till you pulled your head up, nuzzling against his ear. “Thank you for making it home Frankie.” “I missed you so much Mon Cherie.” he matched your grasp, like he couldn't lose you, couldn't hold you tight enough to him. Truth be told, after the time he left till he returned home had brought back so many memories of his Delta Force days that you wanted to put it all behind you. For good. No more secret missions, no more worrying if he wasn't going to make it home. Easing back enough to look at him, his hands falling to your hips as you cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing along the smoothness of freshly shaven cheeks.

“You ready to go home Catfish?” you say his nickname with affection and he nods, his brown eyes softening the way warm chocolate would turn when melted.

“More then anything please.”

The therapist’s office door opened and you saw Frank drop his baseball cap lower over his eyes to block some of the midday glare as he made his way across the parking lot where you were parked. You turn the car on and ease out to meet him halfway, which he slipped into the passenger side next to you, going to buckle up.��

You never ask him how it went, Frank needed time to process his own thoughts before he was one to share, you knew he would come to you with it probably over coffee the next day or middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, the dark making it easier to face himself. Instead you treated it like it was a normal day. “I got to stop Breaux Mart for some groceries, want me to drop you off at home?”

“Nah, I will come with you. We can stop at the fish mart on the way home, on me.” He offered and you nodded with a grin.

“Deal.”

The market was not too busy, midweek usually wasn't close enough to the weekend for the crowds, which is why you worked your shopping time now along with his therapy sessions. It was all a part of Frank not wanting to be alone afterwards, but did not want to be in the overwhelming presence of people trying to go about there everyday lives, always in a hurry.

Just like he had hurried through the jungle with his rifle against his shoulder, his heart pounding in his ears as he followed behind his team, spinning on his heels to be sure they were not being followed. The rain was drowning all sound, meaning he had to rely on sight alone.

Hurry hurry hurry while loading the vehicle.

His hand shot out and grasped your thigh, overwhelmed searing his chest. You didn't flinch at his sudden movement, just dropped your hand from the steering wheel while waiting at a red light and covered his.

He didn't have to hurry now, didn't have to have orders screamed at him that it was life and death, they gotta move faster to get out of there. Never again, he was home.

With you.

He glanced at you to see you biting at the bottom of your lip as you maneuvered the truck through traffic to the supermarket you preferred to use. Letting go of his hand to use both hands on the wheel when turning.

“I was thinking about making a lemon layer cake for this weekend.” You kept up an idle conversation, glancing at him. “So don't let me forget the lemons.”

“No Ma’am, I won’t.” he promised as they both left the truck. Frank grabbed a cart on the way in, and you pulled out your list, steering him towards the vegetable section to start. You picked through leafy greens, picking up bundles and giving a slight shake to lose the excess water before slipping them into a baggie and setting them in the cart. The drizzle of water shot off near Frank making him wince when he felt the spray settle on his skin, closing his eyes to push the memory of rain water drenching him till his clothes clung to him in a suffocating way, heavier from all the rain while running. Even drinking water made him cringe now, remembering the saltier mix of sweat and blood streaming down his face unable to escape the taste of it with fresh rainwater.

Suddenly he felt your hand slide against his on the cart, pulling his hand into his and giving a squeeze, leading you two away from the spray of the water, towards other vegetables. Somehow you always knew when he needed to be brought back to the here and now. Lifting your hand, he pressed his lips to the back of your hand in a silent thank you while you dropped in a few ears of corn.

“We can do a boil this weekend if you are up for it.” You draw him back into the here and now. Fuck how did he get lucky to have you.

“You know I'm never gonna say no to that. We got the seasoning?” he questioned and you give him a light push, laughing.

“It would be a sin if I didn't have it on hand permanently.” You winked while grabbing other ingredients to use. Approaching the lemons, Frank pauses while grabbing a bag of fresh lemons and you reach to grasp one lightly through the netting, bringing it to your nose to inhale the fresh citrus scent.

“Just what I needed, thank you.”

“Anytime Mon Cherie.”

#finding your catfish #frank morales #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier au #amber writes #sweater writes

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asavt · 4 years ago

Text

Cookie Run!Promare AU(3) - Operation Rescue

By Notebook

The smell of disinfectants permeates throughout the entire surgical room, as the cleaners wash away the remains of former Mages. The ashes of these test subjects cling unto the sponges and mops as the cleaners dipped them into their water buckets, turning the once clear water into a murky grey-red.

Once the room was fully cleaned, the cleaners drained the discolored water into the sink before filling the buckets with fresh water. They gathered their cleaning supplies and headed towards the next surgical room for disinfection. Preparing the room for the next batch of Mages for dissection.

——————————–

Near the bottom of the facility, where the most valuable Mages are kept, a figure shivers near the corner of their cell. His entire body was covered in bandages due to the plethora of medical tests from the day before.

The Mage looked around the cold white sterile room he was imprisoned in. Bereft of anything else, save for the bed he slept on. The harsh lights beamed down from the ceiling as the figure stared at the white wall before them.

He hoped each day that someone might come and saved him from this never-ending nightmare, but alas that day still has not arrived yet.

It has not arrived in over 3 years.

The figure continued to stare towards the white wall when the door to their cell slid wide open. A flurry of doctors poured into the room, along with a few guards that followed them into the room. The doctors ordered the guards to take Y-9 to the “sleeping” room.

The guards picked up the tired Mage and carried them towards the room. The Mage did not fight back against the guards, knowing full well of the consequences for those who do.

“Excuse me. Are you new here?” asked a nurse, who was drinking her 7th cup of coffee. The man nodded his head as he adjusted his glasses.

From what the nurse observed, the man had brown hair with a light brown highlight, light pink eyes, and a soft smile. He also wore white scrubs along with white with light blue shoes and the tag of which unit he worked at.

The typical uniform for nurses who worked at the facility.

The man, carrying a thick manila folder, smiled at the veteran nurse before him. “Yes, I am. I was wondering where unit 1 is located? They didn’t give us a map of this place. So… I was just wondering where it is. I have to deliver some important paperwork to the unit’s doctors,” explained the male nurse.

The female nurse gave him a weird look before responding to the new nurse’s question.

“Sorry, but no one is allowed in that unit except for the nurses and doctors that were assigned to that unit,” explained the irritated nurse. “You just have to deliver the paperwork to the proper secretary and ask them to deliver it for you. That’s just protocol, kid.”

“Ah, I see. And where do I find the proper secretary?”

“Just keep heading straight until you find the fake fountain, then turn right. Then you keep going until you find the sign that says, ‘Unit 1, Main Secretary’. Just go in and give them the paperwork. They will do the rest.”

“Huh, I see. Thank you, Ma'am.”

The young nurse waved the old nurse goodbye before walking past her, heading towards the direction of the fountain.

The nurse finished her 7th cup of coffee before throwing the soft paper cup into the trash can next to her. While she walked towards the operating room for the next experiment, a sudden chill ran down her spine.

As Tea finally finished the last of the facility’s finances a male nurse, whom Tea never seen before, entered his office while carrying a large manila folder. The nurse looked at the secretary and smiled, which in all honesty creeped Tea out.

“May I help you?”

“Umm, yes… I need to enter Unit 1 to deliver some important paperwork, but I don’t know how to get there. Can you help me?”

Tea rolled his eyes. Figuring they are new to the facility Tea explained, “Unless you’re assigned to Unit 1, you are not allowed to enter that specific Unit. If you need to deliver some paperwork to the docs over there, just hand me the papers and I’ll fax it over to them.”

“Wait. So, you have access to Unit 1?”

“Yes!” Yelled the very tired secretary. “Now, just give me the folder and be on your way.”

“Alright. Alright.” The male nurse answered as he laid the folder on the table and left the office.

When Tea picked up the manila folder and opened it to see its contents, a large puff of gas and smoke envelope the entire room. Knocking out the secretary.

As soon as the male nurse heard a loud thump, he knew the sleeping gas had worked. He waited for a few minutes before entering the office, so as to not get knocked out from the gas.

The male “nurse” rifled through the secretary’s desk before finding the plethora of keycards for Unit 1 in a secret compartment underneath the desk.

The “nurse” took the keycards, hid Tea underneath his desk, and left the office.

The “nurse” walked towards the door to Unit 1 and used all the keycards to unlock the doors, thus gaining access to Unit 1.

The male “nurse” quickly entered the Unit and headed towards the elevator that will take him to the lower levels of the facility. The levels where the Mages are kept.

When the elevator doors finally opened, the “nurse” headed towards the back of the unit.

The “nurse” smirked a little as small flames appeared from his fists. Disappearing just as quickly.

————————————-

“Alrighty then. Just be a good test subject and it will all be over lickety-split.”

One of the doctors chirps as they put in an IV on Y-9’s arms along with an anesthesia face mask.

Y-9 knew this day would come, yet he didn’t feel scared nor sad, but rather relieved. It was finally going to be over.

Just before the anesthesia kicked it, a large explosion shook the entire unit causing the power to shut down. Soon, the backup generator kicked in and the alarm ranged throughout the entire unit.

Before the doctors could realize what was happening, the doors to the operating room flew hide open and flames shot from every direction. The doctors ran for their lives, while Y-9 looked towards the one that stopped the dissection.

Y-9’s field of vision grew smaller and smaller, as their rescuers picked them up and placed them on a gurney to wheel them to safety.

The last thing they remember was seeing the exit sign before everything went black.

“Hey. Hey! Can you hear us?”

“I don’t think he can hear us.”

“Is he in a coma?”

“No, he’s just asleep from the anesthesia they gave them.”

“Oh, then-Huh? Boss look! He’s waking up!”

Y-9 slowly opened his eyes to find not the harsh white light of the facility but the warm yellow lights of a warehouse. Y-9 lifted his head and looked around his surroundings.

He finds himself surrounded by a bunch of people, who were either treating the wounds from those who were rescued from the facility or standing guard around the windows and doors of the warehouse.

Y-9 then looked towards the two people next to his bed.

“Did…. Did you guys save me?”

“Sort of,” the younger of the two answered.

“I merely short-circuited their systems, while the boss here did the bulk of the work.”

“Now, don’t sell yourself too short. We couldn’t have saved as Mages as we did without you frying the circuits,” the older one replied to the younger one.

“No, really it was no big, man.”

“Well, it’s a big deal to me. This is the most Mages we have ever saved, and I think-Oh?”

The older one looked towards Y-9, who had confusion plastered on his face. The older gentlemen smiled at Y-9.

“I’m so sorry for not introducing ourselves. We are the “Magicians”, a group of Mages dedicated to saving our kind and rising against those oppressing our kind. My name is Espresso, the leader of the “Magicians” and this here is Lemon.“

"What’s up.”

“He is one of the top generals of the "Magicians”, so he helps with these sort of missions.“

"Yup. I can use my mana to create electricity. As a result, I can hack almost any computer or fry any system.”

“But he’s better at frying than hacking.”

“Sad, but true,” Lemon said as he puts on his jacket with lightning bolts on them.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Huh? My… name.”

“Yes,” Lemon responded. “What’s your name?”

Both Espresso and Lemon waited patiently for Y-9 to answer their questions. A few moments digging through buried memories later, Y-9 looks at the boss and the general of the Magicians. He answers:

“Cinnamon. My name is Cinnamon.”

=========================

CINNA MY SON–

HHHHHH Lovely, absolutly lovely and cool dude!! come on guys!! you better read this is soo cool!!!

#submission #fanterature #cookie run!promare AU #espresso cookie #cinnamon cookie #lemon cookie #I'M SCREAMING #CINNA #MY SON #MY BOY #MY LITTLE HE/THEY #SJALDHJWD #man espresso is so cool here #so is lemon #GRRRR PEOPLE THREATING THEM AS LABORATORY RATS GRRRRR

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