#I worked from home earlier this week because of the snow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bellaxgiornata · 11 months ago

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The Devil at Your Window |1: Snowed In|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 8k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series summary: In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?

a/n: Just a short collection of one shots that I'll update whenever the ideas strike. It'll be told in a style like Falling for the Devil but it won't get nearly as long (unless y'all end up loving it, too). I just couldn't deny giving us all the fantasy of black suit Matt reappearing at your apartment window and all the flirting, sexual tension, feelings, and naughty things that might ensue... The installment list for this little series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer

Picking up the steaming mug of tea you’d just finished making from off the kitchen counter, you cradled your other hand around the warmth of the ceramic and drew it towards your chest as you turned and headed back towards your living room. The small spot of heat against the front of your sweatshirt caused a shiver to run down your spine as your sock-clad feet padded along the cold hardwood floor and back towards your couch.

It was freezing inside your apartment tonight and the blustering snow storm raging outside in Hell’s Kitchen wasn't helping. Thankfully your office had already announced its closure for tomorrow before you'd finished work earlier this evening. The snow had already started to dump from the sky before you’d even left the office, falling heavy and wild as it accumulated in a cover of white that blanketed everything in the city. It would have been beautiful if you hadn’t needed to walk home afterwards in the frigid mess–especially with the way the large clumps of snowflakes pelted and battered you in the face over and over, the cold stinging at your skin.

The city was expected to get a whopping eighteen inches of snowfall minimum over the next twenty-four hours, so you were grateful that your boss wanted as little to do with making it into work tomorrow as you did, especially because you couldn’t afford to do anything but walk to the office. The last thing you wanted to do was trudge through all of that mess and slip on a patch of ice, inevitably falling in a massive pile of snow and leaving you stuck in damp dress clothes all day.

No, you'd rather stay dry and cozy at home enjoying a lazy day off of work.

You were just hoping the power in your apartment building remained intact throughout the fury of the winter storm. You didn’t want to think about losing the heat in your building in the middle of all of this. Another shiver ran through you as you pushed the thought away–hopefully not something you’d need to worry about tonight.

But since you didn’t have work first thing in the morning, you had every intention of enjoying your night. You’d immediately come home and thrown off your dress clothes before settling on something comfortable–soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt sans bra underneath. Then you’d made dinner and cleaned it up fast before claiming your ‘spot’ for the evening on your couch. Which consisted of both of your blankets and the television remote while you binged a guilty pleasure show that you hadn’t had time to catch up on for the past few weeks. Tonight you were intending to stay up a bit late, cozy up beneath your blankets, drink some hot tea, and lose yourself in the plot and romance of the show before eventually dragging your tired ass to bed in the hopes of sleeping in tomorrow to make up for staying up late.

Eyes focused on the paused television screen as you moved, you rounded the side of your couch while drawing your steaming mug up to your lips. You sipped at the warm liquid, reveling in it for a moment before you swallowed it down. You could feel it heat you from the inside out as a pleasant sensation washed over you. Your eyes closed briefly for a moment–it was the first time you’d actually felt warm today.

Opening your eyes, you continued towards the couch and began to lower yourself down onto the cushions while trying not to spill any of your tea from the mug. Just as you were about to sit back down on the couch and cocoon yourself in both of your blankets, ready to settle in for more of your show, something outside the window to your right caught your attention. Your head spun in the direction just as a flash of black dashed past the window and a loud bang reverberated through your apartment.

A frightened yelp slipped out of you at the sound and you clutched your mug tight to your chest, your heart thudding heavily in terror. Whatever had just literally dropped onto your fire escape had been large, especially with the sound of that impact. Sucking in a breath, you held it as you stared transfixed at the window, almost ridiculously terrified it would be some sort of wild animal–like a bear or a wolf–on your fire escape.

Though, more realistically considering you were in New York City, you knew it was probably a burglar. Who else would be traversing fire escapes late at night? Especially dressed in all dark clothes? Except…that also seemed a little ridiculous, too. There was a literal blizzard happening outside, meaning everyone would be home. In their apartments. Making it impossible for a burglar to break into anyone’s place unseen. Plus, it was insane outside, what criminal would risk dealing with that right now?

So what the hell had just fallen onto your fire escape?

Another thought struck you soon after and your lips parted in shock at the idea as you blew out the breath you’d been holding. With trembling hands, you very slowly reached out, carefully placing your mug of tea onto the coffee table before you without taking your eyes off of your window. Gradually, almost nervously, you rose to your feet before taking hesitant step after hesitant step forward. Another sharp, surprised gasp flew out of you when you saw the dark figure sit upright on your fire escape, bent in half as if they were in pain. Which made sense, considering the fall they’d just taken.

But your body froze up instantly at the sight of the man dressed in all black bent in half and dusted in white patches of snow. He wasn’t a burglar at all. With the black cloth tied over his head and the form fitting shirt he was wearing, there was absolutely no mistaking who he was. You'd certainly seen enough images of him plastered across the media.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had just fallen onto your fire escape.

Eyes widening in shock at the infamous vigilante attempting to pull himself up to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding onto the metal railing of your fire escape, you were suddenly overcome with the urge to check on him. To make sure he wasn’t seriously injured from that fall.

Without thinking your actions through, you crossed the last few steps to the window and unlatched the locks before pushing it up. The masked figure immediately spun towards you at the sound as a bitter gust of wind burst its way into your apartment, chilling you instantly while those thick snowflakes once again assailed your face. For a moment you locked eyes with him–or at least, it seemed like you did despite the fabric covering half of his face–as your mouth hung open. You suddenly found yourself at a loss of what to say in the moment. And considering the way his lips thinned out along his face and the way he remained silent, he clearly wasn’t going to strike up a conversation with you, either.

Eyes darting down, you saw he had one gloved hand clutching at his right side as if it hurt him. His shoulders were hunched in on himself as his back faced the violent winds blowing snow relentlessly. Seeing him in person for the first time ever–something you’d never expected in your life considering how elusive the media made him out to be–you realized just how thin and unprotective his clothes really were. Especially tonight considering the cold weather. He had to be freezing.

An icy wind whistled loudly, another flurry of heavy snowflakes pelting you right in the face and breaking you from your thoughts. Blinking the snow from your lashes, you finally found your voice.

“Are you alright?” you asked hesitantly, unsure how one should approach the masked man. “I just–just saw you fall. It looked like it hurt.”

He gave a curt shake of his head, wincing before he turned more towards the railing. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replied.

Something warm flooded your veins at the gravelly tone of his voice. It suited him somehow, even if it sounded fake. Like he was pitching his voice lower to sound like someone else in order to hide his identity. Not that you'd probably have recognized him anyway.

With his back partially to you now, especially this close when there was barely a few feet of space between the pair of you, you could see just how incredibly muscular this man was. His black shirt clung to him like a second skin, the toned abdominal muscles on his upper body clearly visible even from just his profile. Even the pectoral muscles of his chest were well defined and visible beneath the sheen of black. His arms were thick–far too big for just one of your hands to wrap around. And as your gaze lingered lower, you fought back the thoughts that entered your mind at the sight of how large his thighs were in those tight pants–and how pleasant a profile his ass also had. You wondered briefly if he'd gained all that from working out or if it had more to do with his nightly activities.

Though when you saw him grab onto the metal railing of your fire escape with both of his gloved hands, the movement drawing your attention away from observing him as he attempted to swing himself over it, you nearly screamed as you lurched forward. You lived on the fifth floor, was this man really about to fling himself off of the fire escape from all the way up here?

But the scream died in your throat the moment he cried out in pain, his feet slipping from off of the railing as he fell back onto your fire escape. He let out a hiss of pain as he clutched at his clearly injured side.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out, shoving the window open wider despite the cold and snow and leaning further forward. “You’re clearly not okay. Do you need something? An ambulance or something? Is there someone I can call? Or–or something I can do to help?”

The man rolled off his injured side and onto his back, gradually turning towards you as he lay on the fire escape. You hadn’t expected the amused and pained chuckle he emitted while the snow accumulated on the entire front of him, lightly covering the thin layer of his black shirt. Which you’d noticed had ridden up, revealing a small sliver of skin just above the dark, form fitting pants he was wearing. You tried hard to not keep glancing back at that patch of skin as it slowly rose higher and higher, unsure why you were so distracted by it.

The sound of his amusement soon drew you back to the moment and you cringed. Why the hell was he laughing?

“Are you alright? Did you…hit your head?” you asked him cautiously. “Maybe you have a concussion…”

Another amused sound slipped out of him, but that was quickly followed by a pained groan as he tried to once again rise up onto his feet. “I don’t have a concussion,” he assured you.

“You sure?” you asked, an eyebrow arching onto your forehead as you crossed your arms over your chest to stay warm when you began to shiver from the cold. “Because this doesn’t seem like a funny situation to me.”

“Well,” he grunted out, wincing as he drew back up to his full height, “normally I’m the one offering assistance, not the other way around. So yeah,” he continued with a faint shrug, your eyes once again catching the way he was holding his side, “it’s kind of amusing. In an…irritating sort of way.”

Your heart sank to your stomach at his words. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered, heat rushing up to your face instantly. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I was just concerned–”

He took a half step forward, cutting you off as he waved a hand between the pair of you. He shook his head, letting out a slight huff of laughter. “No, I didn’t mean you were irritating. Just…this situation. The–the snow and the falling part.” In a quieter voice he added, “And having an audience for it.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you stood there studying him for a moment. He was injured and wearing barely anything at all in the middle of a blizzard. He looked like he needed help even if he seemed like the type not to ask for it.

“Do you want to come inside?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. “I mean, to get warm and maybe sit down for a moment? I could call an ambulance or–or a taxi or something to bring you to a hospital.”

Another amused huff of laughter slipped out of him as he shook his head. “No hospitals, please. I’ll be alright. But…if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind a moment to warm up.” His gloved hand lowered, pinching a bit of fabric from his shirt as he glanced down at it. “Admittedly this doesn’t offer much protection from the elements.”

You eyed the thin material between his gloves doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like it offers much protection from anything,” you told him.

A surprised bark of laughter peeled out of him, the sound drawing a smile onto your face. You’d made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laugh. Now that was something you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. He didn’t seem like the type to break character easily.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he agreed, his laughter subsiding.

Taking a step back from the window, you waved a hand towards him, gesturing for him to come inside. “How about you come in so I can close this window and we both can stop freezing?” you suggested, surprised at how bold you sounded considering who it was you were speaking with. “I’m shivering already so I can only imagine how cold you must be.”

You watched as his lips curled up into a charming grin at the corners, just beneath the black fabric of his mask. It was impossible to deny that he had a handsome face–at least, from what you could see of it. You imagined the rest of it to be just as attractive beneath that cloth and a sudden intense curiosity to know what the rest of it looked like overtook you as you watched him carefully climb through your opened window. He moved slowly, wincing in pain as he made his way inside. Despite his tough act, that fall must’ve really hurt his side and you frowned, wishing he’d accept your offer to help. There was no way he was as fine as he claimed to be, surely he needed medical attention.

“Takes a special kind of person to just invite me into their home so readily,” the Devil’s rough tone came out as he turned his back to you, shutting the window after himself. “Normally people prefer to avoid me.”

“You’re not dangerous,” you replied almost instantly.

The window closed with a sharp clack before his masked face turned over his snow-dusted shoulder, his attention fixed on you. “Oh?” he asked curiously, a smirk growing over his lips. “I’m not?”

Your eyes were drawn to his mouth, though it wasn’t like there was anywhere else to look when you spoke to him with that mask covering most of his face. The smirk appeared teasing, and for some reason that had the hair on the back of your neck bristling. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your loose sweatshirt and it was now cold in your apartment. Quickly your arms wrapped over your chest, hugging yourself tight. His lips almost seemed to curl ever higher in response.

“I mean, you are ,” you amended, “but to, you know, criminals.”

You swallowed hard when he remained still, gazing at you over his shoulder wordlessly.There was something almost predatory in the way he was studying you. It was easy to see how this lone man terrified the criminals on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, striking fear into them. He certainly had a presence. Goosebumps rippled beneath the sleeves of your sweatshirt at his continued silent stare.

“Right?” you asked tentatively, voice softer.

His smirk vanished as the other corner of his mouth curled upwards into what felt like a warm smile despite you being unable to see if it reached his eyes. He nodded gently, turning slowly back towards you as he did.

“That's correct,” he agreed, brushing the snow from his broad shoulders. “I’m only dangerous to criminals. So unless you’re hiding any dead bodies or have some outstanding charges…?”

You laughed, though abruptly you snatched your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to quiet the noise instantly. He was witty and funny. You weren’t anticipating that. Or the way your reaction to his quips seemed to please him, like he was trying to charm you. Which seemed even more curious, considering who he was and what he spent his nights doing.

“Can't say that I do,” you said. “I'm probably the most boring person in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Well now,” he replied teasingly, “don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're not taking that title all by yourself.”

That charming smile was back on his face and it had your stomach fluttering. Tearing your eyes away from him, you noticed the television was still paused on your show. Paused on a scene where the two actors on screen were clearly about to kiss. Cheeks burning, you hurried over and grabbed the remote from the couch and turned it off.

“You can make yourself comfortable if you want,” you told him, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your tone. “I've got a couple of blankets you can use to help warm you up.”

His heavy boots thudded with each of his steps as he crossed the room and made his way to the couch. You bent over, grabbing both blankets from your place on the couch where you'd previously been curled up as he passed behind you. The moment one of his cold gloves brushed against your back, you froze.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No it's–it's fine,” you replied.

He passed behind you before settling onto the opposite end of the couch from where you had clearly taken residence. You forced a smile onto your face as you turned and leaned over, holding out the blankets towards him.

Pull yourself together , you internally chastised yourself. Just because it's been a while since you've had a man here doesn't mean you need to react to every little thing. That's not what this is, obviously.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the blankets from your outstretched hand.

You nodded before sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping space between you and him. Curling your legs up under yourself, you watched as the Devil wasted no time throwing both blankets around himself, beginning to visibly shiver beneath them as he tried to warm up.

“Are you sure you don't want me to call anyone?” you asked him.

“No one to call,” he answered. “And a hospital would defeat the purpose of trying to remain anonymous.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you muttered, glancing away and spotting the forgotten tea on your coffee table. “Would you like something to drink at least? Some water or some hot tea, maybe?”

His masked head tilted curiously to the side at your question, a grin returning to his plush lips. “Playing hostess?” he asked.

“Well I'm sure you've got to be thirsty running around Hell’s Kitchen and fighting criminals all the time,” you explained. “I always sort of wondered if you stashed water bottles around the city or stopped for water breaks somewhere–not where you live, I imagine. Since you're trying to keep your identity hidden.” Your eyes narrowed as you added, “Or do you just let yourself get dehydrated every time you're out? Because that's not good for you, you know.”

The Devil's grin grew wider as he shifted on the couch, facing you even more from his place on the cushions. “Oh?” he asked, curiosity in his tone. “You've thought about me before, have you?”

Eyes dropping down to your lap, you smiled sheepishly as you shrugged. “I mean, I've had some theories circulating about you ever since you kept reappearing in the news,” you admitted awkwardly. “Sort of hard not to.”

“Well now you have to indulge me,” he teased. “Enlighten me on some of these theories of yours.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued to avoid his covered stare. “I mean, they're not that interesting…”

“Oh come on,” he tried again. “It's not like we don't have the time. And maybe I can confirm or deny some of them for you. Besides, I admit I’m curious to know what you think of me. Especially being so willing to offer help like you did.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. He looked far less intimidating beneath your blush pink blanket now. What would it hurt if you told him a few of your ideas about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Maybe he might laugh at them, but would hearing that sound again be all that bad? And it truly would be interesting to learn more about the mysterious vigilante, something you'd probably never have the opportunity to do again.

“Okay,” you agreed with a nod. Straightening up on the couch, you turned to face him more fully. “So I've always thought with the way that you fight that you were trained by some sort of secret ninja assassin organization.”

A hearty chuckle filled your living room at your first theory. The pleasant and resonant noise left you grinning as your stomach fluttered in response. You briefly wondered how often the Devil actually laughed when he was out.

“I cannot confirm nor deny that,” he responded.

The playful smile that kept appearing on his face was beginning to further disarm you. You found yourself enjoying his company, soon becoming used to the way half his face was hidden from sight with that ridiculous fabric. And for some reason your unexplainable attraction to him was only growing.

“Next theory,” he prodded, the smile on his face apparent even in his voice.

“You're not wealthy,” you stated, leaning forward and grabbing your tea from the coffee table.

“Oh, ow,” he joked, playfully recoiling back from you on the couch. “What makes you say that?”

You waved a hand at him across from you as you settled back into the cushions, mug in hand. “Because you wear clothing that is obviously not meant to protect you very well in a fight,” you answered. “I imagine if you had money you'd have something…nicer. Meant for what you do. And,” you continued, pausing long enough to drink down some of your now barely warm tea, aware of him focused on you, “you protect Hell’s Kitchen. Only Hell’s Kitchen. This part of the city isn't exactly filled with the wealthiest people. And with how dedicated you are to everyone here, I assume it's because you probably grew up here yourself. Most likely still reside here, too.”

The Devil hummed appreciatively when you'd quieted, his masked gaze still on you. You swore you could feel it as you drank down more of your tea.

“You're observant,” he mused. “Maybe I need to watch myself around you.”

A surge of pride swelled in your chest; you hadn't expected his praise. Or the way it would make you feel. And apparently, you'd guessed something right about him.

“You're also not married or in a serious relationship,” you blurted before you could help yourself, wondering what more you could learn about him.

“Poor and unlovable?” the Devil asked with a surprised laugh. “That's what you think of me?”

“No,” you disagreed, laughing a little with him as you shook your head. “No, but I mean, I imagine you don't have time for someone else. And I figure most people wouldn’t like their partner going out and doing what you do. Putting yourself in danger.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, shifting on the couch and making himself more comfortable. “A partner would certainly be…a distraction. A liability. One I couldn't really afford to have. So no, you're not wrong, I don't have one.”

You glanced down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the mug in your hands. Half of you was hoping to hear that he wasn't with anyone–though you refused to admit to yourself why that mattered–but the other half of you had heard the way he'd said that a partner would be a distracting liability and you’d felt a sad pang hit you in the chest. Considering how much he seemed to be enjoying your company when he didn't even know you had you guessing that the Devil was a lonely man deep down.

But that wasn't a theory you felt comfortable sharing.

“Any others?” he asked, breaking through your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you focused back on him across the couch from you. His smile had disappeared, his lips now downturned at the corners just a bit. His posture had changed in your silence, the same as his mood, as if he'd picked up on the subtle change in yours somehow.

Strange.

“I imagine you're the kind of guy who's fridge is always empty,” you answered.

A ghost of a smile reappeared on his face as he huffed out an amused breath. You couldn't fight the smile returning to your own lips at the sight of his again.

“Well hey now,” he countered lightly, “there's usually beer. Sometimes orange juice and eggs.”

You giggled, unable to stop yourself. “Who'd have guessed the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is just your average bachelor?”

“Average?” he repeated in mock offense, his head tilting to the side. “I'm just average now?”

Quirking a brow at him in a challenging manner, your own head cocked to the side. “Maybe tell me more about yourself and I could say otherwise,” you boldly teased back.

“Well obviously,” he began, grinning at you in a way that had your body heating, “I can't exactly do that now can I? Defeats the purpose–

“Of remaining anonymous,” you finished for him. “I've picked up on the importance of that.”

A silence soon settled between the pair of you, one that slowly began to cause your nerves to grow with the way he kept smiling at you. Once again you desperately found yourself wanting to see the rest of his face, curious to know just how handsome he really was under that black mask. Though you settled for studying what you could see, your eyes tracing the soft curves of his pink lips, noticing the way they very minutely twitched under your scrutiny. Eventually your gaze dropped down, following the hard lines of his stubbled jaw. As your eyes trailed further down, they lingered on the part of his neck that wasn't covered by the blankets he’d wrapped around himself for warmth. A heat burned in you as the urge to reach out and just touch him, just to see if he was real, suddenly grew within you. It didn't help that it almost felt like you could feel the weight of his own eyes fixed on you beneath the mask, once again making you very aware of your lack of bra beneath your sweatshirt.

Catching your lip between your teeth, you noticed the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Had he been having similar thoughts? Observing you, too?

Inhaling a sharp breath through your nose at the idea, you knew you needed to stop this line of thinking and stop it fast. There was absolutely no way the Devil would be interested in you. Certainly not like that. That was absurd.

“Would you like something to eat?” you asked, trying to calm your pulse. “If your fridge is empty all the time I'm guessing you could use something to eat.”

“I mean, I suppose if you’re–”

He stopped short the exact moment that the lights died, throwing the pair of you into almost complete darkness. You sucked in a breath, turning to look out the window just to your right. It was eerily dark outside, a sight that was rare in the city. Even the buildings across the street had been thrown into darkness. There was nothing but the howling wind and snow outside.

“Guess it was too much to hope the power wouldn’t go out in this mess,” you breathed out.

“I suppose so,” he replied, his tone just as soft.

Reaching blindly forward, you set your almost empty mug onto the coffee table before you. For a moment you reached around on the surface until your fingers brushed against your phone. You picked it up and unlocked the screen, grateful for the bit of light it shed in the dark as you turned on the flashlight function.

“So I can’t offer you a nice cooked meal without power,” you told him, rising to your feet, “but I can get you an apple and a couple of protein bars? If you’d…like?”

“You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it,” he said.

“It’s the least I can do for the man who does so much for the rest of us,” you told him, maneuvering around the couch and navigating your way to the kitchen by the light of your phone. “I’d feel awful leaving you hungry and dehydrated.”

Wrapping one arm around your chest to try to fight the chill that had been steadily creeping into you, you headed towards a cabinet near the sink. Reaching up, you grabbed a glass from out of it before taking a moment to fill it beneath the faucet before setting it along the countertop. Then you plucked an apple out of a fruit bowl on your counter, taking a moment to rinse it off first. The moment you’d turned off the faucet you heard his voice from across the apartment.

“You’re cold.”

For a moment you found it odd how his words hadn’t come out as a question but more of an observation, though you quickly shrugged the strangeness of that aside. You set the apple down on the counter beside the glass of water before sliding a step to your right and opening up another cabinet.

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to shine the light from your phone into the cabinet to read the labels on the boxes. “I wasn’t the one out in that snowstorm wearing barely anything at all.”

“You say that like I was out there naked.”

His voice had unexpectedly come from just behind you this time and it jolted your heart in your chest instantly. His sudden proximity mixed with his word choice had you startling on the spot. Your hand that had been about to pull the box of protein bars out of the cabinet accidentally bumped it instead, causing the entire box to slip off of the shelf. But before it could tumble to the floor and spill its contents, a black gloved hand darted out beside your face, catching it before it had barely fallen six inches.

You stood there rooted to the spot, his hand just brushing your arm as his held the box of protein bars. The hair on the back of your neck had risen, aware that he was standing barely a foot behind you now. Slowly, you turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your pulse quickened further at how close his face was to yours. He was looking at you, too. Or at least, he was facing you. Eyes dropping down, you couldn’t help but notice that mouth of his again.

“I apologize,” he said, your eyes watching as his lips moved. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sometimes I forget how quiet I can be. I just wanted to give you one of the blankets. No sense in me using both when you’re cold.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unable to form any other response.

With his attention still on you, he reached up and slid the box back onto the shelf. Then he seemed to take a purposeful step back from you, his lips set in a straight line. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, because you were sure there had to be something. Had he felt the tension you’d just felt? Or were you just ridiculous and overly hopeful?

And why did it even matter? You were never going to see this man again after tonight anyway.

Blinking a few times, you returned your attention to the shelf. Reaching up, you slid your hand into the box that had nearly taken a nosedive to your kitchen floor and pulled out two protein bars. Keeping your eyes actively focused away from the Devil nearby, you closed the cabinet and slid a step back to your left, grabbing the glass of water in your hand with your phone and the apple in the same hand as the bars. Though before you could turn around, you felt something gently drape over your shoulders. Looking down, you noticed it was the pink blanket he’d been wearing.

“Like I said,” he repeated, “there’s no sense in me using both.”

“Right,” you whispered, pulse pounding in your throat.

Turning on your heel, you stepped past him and made your way back to the living room by the light of your phone. This time you heard the heavy steps of him following after you. You assumed that was intentional.

“So why were you out in this blizzard tonight anyway?” you asked him, making your way around the couch. You hoped having something to talk about would distract you from whatever it was he kept stirring inside of you. “Surely there aren’t a lot of crimes being committed in this weather?”

The Devil let out a light laugh as he accepted the offered glass of water and food from you. One of your brows quirked curiously onto your forehead at his reaction as you sat back down in your original spot on the couch. Though you noticed as he took a large drink from the cup while lowering himself onto the cushions that he’d sat closer to you than before. You watched as he ripped open a protein bar and tore off a large bite next, but he didn't answer until a moment later when he’d swallowed the bite down. Internally you noted he must’ve been hungrier than he let on with the way he was devouring that bar and you’d wished you’d had more food to offer him with the power out.

“You’d be correct,” he told you. “And yet I still stupidly made my way out into this storm tonight in the hopes of catching a lead on something. Instead all I got was my ass frozen and my side bruised.”

You watched as he took another large bite of the protein bar, chewing it almost contemplatively as his head canted to the side. You could still see him in the beam of light from your phone which you were still clutching in your hand. Somehow this lighting made him even more appealing as it cast sharp shadows along his jaw.

“Though I suppose unexpectedly meeting you was a highlight,” he added, causing your cheeks to flush. “But you know, you never did give me your name.”

“Well you never exactly gave me yours,” you immediately quipped back.

Those beautiful lips of his curved upwards yet again as he chewed the last bite of the first protein bar. What you wouldn’t give to see if that smile had reached his eyes.

“Alright, point taken,” he replied.

Tearing your gaze away from him, you focused on your phone. If you kept the flashlight running the battery would die in no time. And who knew how long the power might be out for, you might need it later. You supposed you didn't need it on just for a conversation.

“I’m going to turn the flashlight off on my phone for now, if that's alright?” you told him, fingers darting across the screen to do just that. “Might need the battery on this later.”

“That’s alright,” he replied, sounding as if he was chewing another bite of food. “I don’t need it.”

He’d made the comment just as you’d leaned forward to set your phone back onto the coffee table, but you’d paused as the words processed in your mind. Your eyes narrowed again as your mind raced. Something about the way he’d said that sounded as if it had another meaning to it. But before you could put too much thought into it, he’d changed the topic.

“You’re still cold,” he pointed out. “That blanket alone isn't helping.”

Brows furrowing together as you slowly sat back, you wondered how he could possibly know that. The pair of you were in almost pitch black again with your phone flashlight off. It wasn't like he could see you and you hadn't been shivering, though there were definitely goosebumps dotting your skin. How could he possibly know?

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket you had on tighter around yourself. “It’s bound to get colder here with the power out now.”

“And with how long you had your window open earlier,” he added. “The temperature is going to drop in here faster than it would have if you hadn’t helped me.”

You sighed, frowning in his general direction. “So much for being able to help you warm up,” you muttered. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured you.

It felt as if he was shifting on the couch nearby. Your brows knitted further together as you tried to make out what he was doing through the dark. All you could see was a faint mass of black that seemed darker than the rest of the blackness. Then moments later you felt a blanket being draped over your lap.

“No, uh uh,” you said, shaking your head and immediately grabbing the blanket. “There’s two blankets, we can clearly share.”

“You’re freezing,” he countered.

“And you’re not cold?” you shot back.

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve already been far kinder than I deserved this evening,” he replied.

You grabbed the blanket in your hands and stubbornly tossed it back in his general direction. An audible sigh sounded through the darkness to your left.

“You know I can just leave, right?” he told you. “Which would leave you with no reason to not use both blankets.”

Your eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound of his voice. “But then you’d be allowing more cold air into my apartment, which would only make the temperature drop faster in here,” you argued back. “Then I'd really be cold.”

He breathed out a laugh and you imagined the smile on his lips at the sound. You smiled triumphantly back at the dark shape of him because you knew you had a good point. Even though really, you could just layer on more clothes.

“Okay,” he relented. “That’s true. So how about…we share?”

The smile on your face quickly disappeared at his suggestion. Mouth dropping open, you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. It took you a few seconds to regain the ability to respond.

“Share?” you asked.

“Body heat would certainly keep us both warmer,” he answered. “So would sharing two blankets instead of using only one.”

“Oh, uh, well,” you stammered, your mind racing at the thought of your body pressed up against his. “I–I–”

His deep laugh rumbled towards you through the darkness, the sound causing your lips to clamp shut.

“I’m not suggesting anything immoral,” he assured you. “Simply a possible solution to the very real problem of us freezing in here. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to leave?”

“No!” you exclaimed.

Immediately your eyes widened in horror at how quickly you’d responded to that. And judging by his chuckle, he’d also noticed, too. Your face scrunched up as you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so eager to keep him here in your apartment.

“Well in that case, we could share the blankets and our body heat,” he suggested again. “Because the temperature has definitely dropped a few degrees already and it's only going to continue if the power stays out.”

Nervously your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You were trying hard to control the racing of your heart, positive he could hear it with how hard it was beating now. Of course you weren’t going to pass up a chance to basically cuddle the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for warmth during a snowstorm. You just needed to find a way to not sound so eager to accept his offer first.

“I suppose you…have a point there,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “That’s–that’s usually what people do in survival situations. Use their body heat to keep warm.”

An amused huff came from him and you realized he’d scooted even closer to you on the couch. Your breath caught in your throat the moment you felt his thigh bump against yours.

“So are we in agreement with sharing both blankets, then?” he asked.

“That–that appears to be the most logical solution to the problem,” you answered. “So yeah, I guess we…share the blankets.”

Despite the lack of light, the Devil seemed to move with ease and fluidity through the darkness, something you were paying close attention to as he gently sidled his way up against the side of you, managing to wrap both blankets around the pair of you. All the while you’d sat pin straight on the couch, aware that he was flush to your side from your shoulder all the way down to your knee. You clasped your hands in your lap, unsure of where else to place them. Truthfully, you had to admit you were already much warmer like this, with his body heat enveloping you beneath both blankets.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone far gentler than it had been all evening. “Because that's not my intention.”

“No,” you answered with a light shake of your head. “You're not.”

He chuckled softly, his body shaking yours slightly with the movement. Your head turned towards him and you wished you could see at least the part of his face that was visible right now.

“Then why are you so tense?” he questioned.

“I'm not tense!” you lied.

He laughed again, this time louder. The movement jostled you somehow further into his side, though your hand flew out and landed flat on his very solid chest as you tried to stop yourself from falling further into him. Your eyes widened in horror yet again, but before you could push yourself away you felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders and allowing you to sink even more into him. Heat was very much creeping up your neck and reaching your cheeks now in embarrassment.

“You're very tense actually,” he teased. “If you're uncomfortable I can move, but we aren't going to be sharing much body heat if you don't actually sit next to me.”

Slowly you removed your hand from his chest, lowering it to your lap. Though with the way you were sitting facing partially towards him now, your knuckles were brushing against his thigh.

“I am not tense,” you grumbled. “And you aren't making me uncomfortable. This is just…awkward. I barely know you and you don't know me.”

“Okay,” he conceded. “How about since you've guessed a few things about me, I think it's only fair you tell me a few things about yourself now.”

“I told you I'm not very interesting,” you reminded him.

“Ah, well,” he replied with a shrug, “I think I'd like to decide that for myself.”

Biting your lip, you turned your burning face and buried it into his shoulder, glad he couldn't see how nervous he'd suddenly made you. It was hard to tell if he was flirting with you or if that was just his vigilante persona–when he wasn't beating people, of course.

With your nose pressed against the fabric of his shirt, you noticed he smelled surprisingly good. There was the hint of his sweat, but there was also a faint clean detergent scent. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, inhaling a deep breath in. Even though he was still a stranger and a vigilante, he seemed kind and safe so far. And he also hadn't thrown you off of himself for getting even closer to him, either. Maybe you should just do what he seemed to be doing: relax and enjoy the unexpected cuddles tonight with an unexpected acquaintance.

“Alright, what do you want to know?” you whispered, eyes still closed as you focused on his scent.

Eyes fluttering open, you felt yourself waking from a deep, comfortable sleep. Though your eyes instantly snapped closed against the bright light that immediately assaulted them. Slowly you blinked them back open, trying to adjust to the surprising sunshine pouring through your living room window. Gradually you began to push yourself upright, realizing you were laying with your head on a couch pillow, both of your blankets snuggly wrapped around you. For a moment your face twisted into a look of confusion as you hesitated, staring down at the two blankets. Why had you been asleep on your couch?

But then flashes of last night came back to you. The masked man falling onto your fire escape. The joking and constant banter between the pair of you. Darkness when the power went out and the feel of his warm, muscular body wrapped around yours as he tried to keep you warm. The scent of clean detergent and his sweat. The feel of his spandex shirt against your fingertips and your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder.

Had that all really happened? Or had you just fallen asleep on your couch and dreamt it?

Your attention shifted towards your coffee table and your sluggish brain processed the sight of your almost empty mug of tea, left abandoned all night, and an empty glass of water. Pushing yourself the rest of the way upright on the couch, your head turned over your shoulder. The lock on your living room window was undone.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really had been in your apartment last night. Which meant the pair of you really had cuddled together for warmth when your power had gone out. And you really did meet him. At least, somewhat.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out in awe. “He was really here.”

But just as the rush of excitement at meeting someone you’d always secretly admired filled you, it quickly vanished. Because you must have fallen asleep on him sometime last night when the pair of you were talking, and then he must’ve slipped out of your apartment before the sun came up, probably when the power had come back on. Which made sense, considering he wouldn’t want to be seen sneaking back to his own apartment in such a conspicuous outfit.

But what was upsetting you was the growing realization that it wasn’t just the first time you’d met him, but it would most likely be the last. And you’d gone and fallen asleep through part of that meeting.

Stupid stupid stupid.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock series #matt murdock #daredevil

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studentbyday · 3 months ago

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a september packed with purpose 🏵️ (goals for the 2024-2025 academic year)

an attempt to live a meaningful life even if it's really busy.

🎓 academic goals:

stay on top of my schoolwork. not feeling like i'm running after deadlines but staying organized, calm, and methodical, even if there's a lot.

change up my study strats! turn text into diagrams! shorter focus periods followed by an active break to ease myself into the semester!

study 8h per day or less if at all possible (for official schoolwork)

👩🏻‍🔬 career goals:

finish databases courses to increase my career capital (i sped read so good they can't ignore you this summer and it was both inspiring and practical - grateful for the feeling of having a roadmap...even if it's vague.)

do everything to become so good the lab i'm interested in joining can't ignore me (i have pretty much no current affiliation with them or their university so this is gonna be an uphill climb unless maybe i seem like a perfect fit...)

🌳 lifestyle and adulting goals:

develop a can-do attitude and work on my growth mindset

continue to practice driving at least 3x per week before it snows

become a 6AM girlie (or an 8PM girlie, if you're looking at the sleeping time lol) so i have a few hours of calm, focused silence in the morning which will minimize the amount of time i need to spend studying after dinner (planning to take advantage of the jet lag and the fact that the sun sets earlier in winter, making me sleepy sooner 😠)

re-gain some level of fitness to counter my couch potato summer habits and all the sitting i'll be doing this semester

🤸🏻‍♀️ more fun goals:

apply to volunteer with my local horticultural society and hopefully start volunteering soon (hoping to work on their newsletter as that's something i miss from my high school days! something familiar will also be good for easing into my "reintegration into society" era as a previously "studying hermit". perhaps once i get so comfortable i feel like i'm plateauing, i can branch into being a volunteer gardener! i have absolutely zero successful experience with plants, so it would be really nice to have some guidance from people who've made and maintained such pretty gardens in my community 💗)

make time for piano (ideally at least 1h 3-4 days of the week, but i will be happy if i even get to touch the keys for less than 1h of practice 3-4 days a week. if i can do this, then i can more reasonably justify getting a real acoustic piano at home and maybe even take lessons again when things get less busy...and i don't have to fear not making progress or even getting worse on the digital in the meantime because my fingers and brain get re-accustomed to the acoustic feel and sound options surprisingly, happily quickly even if i only get to play on one for a few days of a year, which is already quite a privilege 🥺🙏🏻 in the meantime, i need to maintain/improve my dexterity, sight-reading skills, and theory knowledge. i don't plan to read the theory book front to back anymore, i'll just read the bits i'm most interested in and maybe eventually that will mean covering the whole book but i won't start with that intention in mind 🤷🏻‍♀️)

sOmEhOw have the energy to comprehend even 1 duolingo lesson in japanese ~daily if only to one day get to a level where i can read more japanese books (and maybe even watch some animé without subs? no pressure tho since i'm very picky about animé 😂)

💭 nice to have but not pressing:

make it a habit to read a nerdy book or academic article that isn't directly for schoolwork to help me find my research interests, learn more about labs in my physical area, and/or re-ignite my passion for/sense of wonder with STEM and STEM-related issues 🔥

each week read something from suggested/recommended course reading lists if there are any

each month read a book completely unrelated to academics, something that distracts me or that feeds my soul or both (or if i can't do that, then just 1 such book each semester, i'm just after something rather than nothing)

🐝 productivity advice from one of my role models that i want to follow religiously this semester:

prioritize rest in order to think and act fast (10 hours of sleep! downtime! meditating! gentle exercise!)

schedule down to the minute but understand that as long as you're doing what you planned to do within the hour you planned to do it, you're good (that is assuming life doesn't happen and derail the entire day's plans but most days thankfully are not like that). give yourself lots of buffer (bigger, not smaller blocks of time in the calendar!).

understand that prioritizing means that you may fall behind in the unprioritized areas from time to time and have to catch up and that's completely expected and completely fine.

be selective about what you're "perfectionistic" with (it's not really about applying perfectionism, more like being picky about where you apply extreme conscientiousness). that is also part of prioritizing.

✏️ post schedule: 1-3x a week depending on time, energy, and what that means for my mental state 😅

#cottagecore aesthetic #cottage aesthetic #cozycore #stemblr #studyspo #studyblr #study motivation #med studyblr #goal setting #astudentslifebuoy #heydilli #heyfrithams #becoming that girl #100dop #100 days of productivity #100 days of studying #100 days of self discipline

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clarisse0o · 3 months ago

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 62

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5K

Masterlist

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Friday, February 26; 9:00 AM - Zoo.

"Come on, hurry up," my brother urges next to the car.

"Joan," I tease. "Stop it, please, and stay here."

"If you don't listen, we'll turn back," Lucy scolds him.

That threat earns a grumpy response from my brother. He turns his back on us, crossing his arms. I smile, keeping an eye on him in case he seriously considers walking away. Meanwhile, Lucy grabs our backpack, which we prepared last night while Joan was already asleep. Since we couldn't go yesterday, we rescheduled the zoo for today. Joan was over the moon once he figured it out. We didn’t talk about it at all yesterday. We were too busy. We ended up at a small fair with our friends after visiting the local market. My brother had completely forgotten about the zoo because of that, and in the evening, when he asked, we pretended we weren't going anymore to surprise him. It worked quite well. He's very excited now. I hope today will be better than the fair. We came home late, in the late afternoon. We offered to have our friends stay for the evening, but they politely declined, likely feeling awkward about being invited again. Perhaps it was for the best. Joan was so exhausted that he fell asleep right after dinner. We managed to get him to sleep in the guest room thanks to that. Sure, he woke up at the crack of dawn this morning and squeezed in between us, but we couldn't hold it against him. At least we almost got an entire night to ourselves. Joan sulked all morning, but it seems like his bad mood has vanished. Now he’s beaming with anticipation.

"Alright, we’re good to go," Lucy announces, shutting the trunk.

Joan spins around excitedly at the news. His smile brightens, and he looks at me, waiting for my go-ahead.

"Go ahead, but stay in front of us, okay? I don't want to lose you in the crowd."

He nods and takes the lead. I smile, following him with my hand in Lucy's. Lucy sighs softly, probably relieved that we’ve finally arrived. Joan was unbearable the whole ride. I've seen him impatient before, but never like this. It felt like he was deliberately trying to annoy Lucy, and he succeeded. I had to keep him entertained, or else Lucy would have lost her mind.

"I hope today goes smoothly," she says.

"There’s no reason it shouldn’t. Though, there are more people here than I expected," I remark. "I didn't think it’d be this busy."

"It's Friday, the last day of school vacation before the weekend. Of course, it’s packed," Lucy replies. "At least the weather is warming up a bit. It’ll be more pleasant."

I nod. It’s still a bit chilly, but unlike what one of Lucy’s neighbors told us earlier this week, the icy wind has finally died down. The snow has also melted, and in a few weeks, the temperature should finally rise. I can’t wait for that. In Barcelona, we rarely experience bad weather, if ever. It’s the complete opposite here. It’ll be tough at first, but I think I can get used to it. There are perks to the snow and cold. First, you can have fun in different ways, and with the cold, you get way more cuddles. Not that we don’t cuddle in Barcelona, but it’s much more enjoyable here, under a blanket. We reach the ticket booths. We wait a bit before it’s our turn. I handle the tickets, not giving Lucy a chance to argue. It’s about time she lets me contribute financially, even though I’m not working yet.

"I could have paid," she says once we pass the security gates.

"No," I reply cheerfully.

"Yes."

"No, and that’s the end of it. Today, it’s on me."

She rolls her eyes with a small smile before Joan reminds us of his presence by tugging on my jacket sleeve.

"Come on, Ona! We need to keep moving!"

"The animals aren’t going anywhere, you know," I say with a small laugh. "Come on, give me your hand. There are a lot of people here."

"I'm not a little kid anymore," she complains.

"That’s not the point. I just said there’s a crowd, and I don’t want to lose you."

I accompany my words with a stern look. He’s been arguing nonstop since we got here, and I’m starting to lose patience. He sighs and eventually gives me his hand. In the meantime, I turn toward Lucy, but I notice she’s no longer beside me. A brief moment of panic sets in until I spot her at a nearby map stand. I sigh in relief before dragging us over to her.

"Hey, if I tell Joan to give me his hand so I don’t lose him, it’s not an excuse for you to run off."

She laughs softly, leaning her head toward me.

"Sorry. I saw the maps and thought they might be useful."

"Haven’t you done the zoo before?" I ask, surprised.

"No. It’s a first for both of us," she says with a little smile.

I return her smile. She finally takes a map and stops when she sees my hand extended toward her. She laughs but takes it without protest.

"Alright, let’s go."

"What should we start with?" Joan asks, looking around with excitement gleaming in his eyes.

"Well, let’s check the map."

As I speak, Lucy unfolds the map. Everything is super organized. They’ve laid it out by zones based on the animals’ origins. My attention lingers on the penguins. Knowing Joan, that’s what he’ll enjoy the most.

"I’d save that for last," I say, pointing to that part of the map.

"Okay, well, let’s start here then," she points to the opposite direction.

"Should we join a tour group?" I ask, noticing one gathering beside us with a guide.

"No, that’s boring," my brother groans.

"Looks like you’ve got your answer," Lucy says.

"Alright, alright," I reply with amusement. "Just us, then."

"Can we start with the lions?" he asks.

"That’s actually over that way. Let’s go."

We move forward through the crowd to start with the African animals. Joan might be excited, but so am I. I love these kinds of outings, just the three of us. I also love animals. We linger at some exhibits and pass by others more quickly. It’s our first time here, but the layout is really well done. I’m sure we’ll come back, just Lucy and me. The zoo is organized like small villages at various points along the path. They’re often animated by staff, and they even offer activities in certain spots. We managed to get Joan to participate in one of them. He didn’t really want to at first, but in the end, he seemed to enjoy it. Then, we had the chance to feed the zebras. We were lucky to arrive at the right time. That was definitely Joan’s favorite part. Of course, the activity was supervised by staff, but they weren’t obligated to involve the visitors. The African section ends with the lions, which he kept talking about the entire time, even after all the things he got to do. I mentally note that my brother is becoming more and more spoiled and that I need to talk to our mom about it. I’m not the one responsible for his upbringing, but it’d be good for her to keep an eye on this not-so-pleasant change.

"What’s the next section?" I take advantage of my brother’s distraction to ask Lucy.

"The Asian animals. Then the Australian ones. But I think it’d be a good idea to grab lunch before that since we’ll be near a restaurant."

"Okay, that works for me," I reply with a smile.

We’ve been walking for two hours now, so that sounds like a good idea. By the time we finish the next section, I imagine we’ll be ready for lunch just before noon. It seems less busy than the one we just completed, according to the map. That’s good news, considering the crowd around us. Lucy was right earlier. The weather is mild, and it’s the end of vacation, so people are making the most of it. We’ll have to consider these factors next time if we want a more peaceful visit. Lucy kisses me and then wraps her arm around my shoulders. I keep an eye on my brother, who’s been ahead of us for a while now. He’s captivated by the lions. He’s holding onto the railing, looking down as if he never wants to leave this spot. Unfortunately, I have to burst his bubble if we want to see everything.

"Come on, Jo, let’s go."

"A little longer, please," she pleads, pouting.

"No, we’re moving on," Lucy jumps in. "Otherwise, you won’t be able to see everything. There are other animals like leopards and jaguars."

"Tigers too?" she asks excitedly.

"Of course. We’re getting to them soon, but we need to keep moving. »

Finally, without further resistance, he complied. He walked ahead of us. From the start, he had been negotiating to stop holding my hand. It must have been torture for her to see the other children running around while he couldn't. I agreed on the condition that he stayed in front, didn't run, and didn't stray too far. I also didn’t want to spend my day holding his back. So far, he had respected my terms, which was a first since this morning. Lucy had gotten so fed up with his behavior in certain situations that she left him to me to handle. She was probably right. I had noticed that the more Lucy got involved, the worse his behavior became. I imagine it will take some time for him to adjust to having someone else in my life. After all, he had never really seen me with anyone before. When I was with Mapi, he was too young to remember, which was for the best. He would probably have made a fuss about us no longer being together, given how much he adores my best friend.

With these thoughts in mind, we continued along, taking our time to observe everything. The scenery was beautiful, a peaceful place where you almost forget the disrespectful kids shouting everywhere. Almost. Lucy might complain, but at least we didn't have to deal with that with my brother. As someone who dislikes drawing attention, I appreciated this.

Finally, it was time to eat. As planned, we arrived just before noon. There was a bit of a wait, but not as bad as it could have been.

“I’m not hungry,” my brother mumbled. “Do we have to stop?”

“Yes,” I replied. “You’re not alone, and knowing you, you'll be hungry as soon as we leave.”

“But there’s still so much to see!”

“And we’ll have time to see it all.”

“But—"

“Joan, that’s enough,” my girlfriend interjected with a stern look. “My threat from this morning still stands.”

“Oh, stop. He’s been good all morning.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow at me, and I pressed my lips together. Last night, she’d told me it would be a good idea to support her when she said something to Joan, to avoid making her look like the bad guy. Admittedly, apart from a few grumpy remarks, which I had managed so far, Joan had behaved well this morning. My girlfriend sighed softly and turned back to Joan.

“We’re eating now. If you’re not hungry, you don’t have to eat, but don’t complain later.”

In response, my brother groaned, crossing his arms and puffing out his cheeks. It seemed like his favorite thing to do since he arrived, and it was pretty funny to watch.

“Come on, move along,” I guided him with a hand on his head as we advanced in line.

“But I’m really not hungry,” he insisted, looking up at me. “My stomach hurts,” he added, rubbing his belly.

“Really?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, eyes filling with tears. I sighed and glanced at Lucy, who shrugged. I knew she was aware, just like me, that this was probably a lie.

“Well, I suppose you can take some medicine beforehand. We brought those dissolvable sachets, just in case.”

In reality, we only had tablets. I would have crushed one if she truly needed it, as he can’t swallow them whole. It’s not like I don’t know how to do that. I also knew he hated it, which was clear when he grimaced at the idea.

“No!” he whined.

“Well, what? You’re feeling unwell, aren’t you?”

“I-I think I feel better now.”

A small laugh escaped me. I shook my head. So the negotiations were working after all. Lucy wasn’t wrong to have me handle this. It seemed effective. We finally reached the buffet, which reminded me a lot of a school cafeteria. I grabbed a tray for Joan and myself, while Lucy took care of hers. We helped ourselves to the food. Lucy and I got chicken cutlets with fries and a green salad, while Joan chose spaghetti Bolognese. For dessert, we picked cookies. I think I also slipped a few snacks into the bag in case we got hungry later. We finished with drinks—iced tea for Joan and me, and water for Lucy. Once everything was ready, I paid, and we found a table. The place was somewhat crowded but not so much that we had to wait for a table to free up.

The meal passed peacefully, with Joan chattering nonstop. It was the first time he’d talked so much, so we let him. He had just started his first year of primary school, and since I no longer lived at home, the change was pretty drastic. Not just in personality, but intellectually as well. This morning, he had fun reading all the signs to me, showing that he could read now.

“And then Paul got a new dog. It’s so cute! I wanted to go to his house to see it, but Mom wouldn’t let me.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded with her mouth full. “I wanted to have a sleepover, but we already had plans that day.”

“I see,” I chuckled. “Maybe next time.”

“When are you guys going to get a dog?”

Lucy, who had been silent until now, nearly choked. I stifled a laugh. That question caught me off guard too. I’d forgotten how unfiltered Joan could be. If anything, he talks more now than before.

“Why do you think we’d get a dog?” I asked, once I composed myself.

“Well, I already asked Mom, but she said no. So now I’m asking you guys. It’d be great! I could take care of it when I visit.”

This time, I laughed out loud. It wasn’t like he would be spending half the year with us. Besides, knowing him, even if we had a dog, he wouldn’t actually take care of it when he was here.

“We’re not getting a dog, Jo, I’m sorry.”

“But why?” she pouted.

“Well, we’re hardly ever home right now. It just wouldn’t work.”

"Home." The word slipped out before I realized it. It didn’t seem to bother Lucy, though, as she kept watching us with a faint smile. I cleared my throat and continued, giving a more realistic explanation that Joan could understand.

“Don’t you think a dog would be miserable, locked up in an apartment all alone? And dogs require care, which we wouldn’t be around to give since we don’t live in the apartment during the week.”

“Or on weekends when you don’t have leave,” Lucy teased, continuing to eat as if nothing happened.

I stuck my tongue out at her in response. She had said that on purpose. The worst part was that she was the one who enforced this “punishment.” It was funny, though, and I appreciated that she still saw me as the person I was before we got together. It meant she hadn’t labeled our relationship or changed how she viewed me. Now that I think about it, our behavior toward each other hadn’t changed either. Joan’s voice brought my attention back to her.

“But yeah, not now, duh! You could get a dog once you’ve finished school and have a house. You said you love Lucy, so that’s what will happen, right? You could have a dog then, and you wouldn’t even need a baby!”

Lucy burst into laughter—literally. Meanwhile, I died of embarrassment, hiding my flushed face behind my hands. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to say that in front of my girlfriend. I could feel Lucy’s eyes on me from across the table, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I forced myself to, though, and saw her smiling at me with amusement, clearly expecting me to respond.

“You’re really talking nonsense. We don’t know yet. And who says we won’t have a baby, huh?”

“Well, I’m already here. You don’t need one. And besides, you can’t have one anyway. I’ll just move in with you.”

Once again, Lucy snickered softly. Joan, who seemed very sure of what he was saying, pouted and crossed his arms. I bit my lip to hold back my amusement. He was definitely giving me plenty of stories to remind him of later.

“All that, huh?” I asked.

“Isn’t it a good idea?”

He was sulking. I recognized the tone in his voice when he did that.

“Where did you get all these ideas, huh?”

“Well, my friends say two girls together can’t have a baby.”

I ran a hand through my hair. He must have talked to them about me. I knew he often mentioned me to them, so it wasn’t impossible. Poor thing must have a lot of questions if he’s already discussing this with his friends—or anyone else, for that matter. It must be tough for him to understand everything at his age. I couldn’t wait for him to grow up, if only to understand this better.

“They’re right,” Lucy said. “But there are other ways.”

“That’s true,” I confirmed. “Like adoption, for example.”

I gave him the simplest version of the truth, something he could grasp. Lucy and I hadn’t had the chance to talk about it yet; it was way too early for that. But if I were to give my opinion, adoption wasn’t something I’d want to prioritize. Joan seemed to latch onto the idea instantly, and his reaction caught me off guard.

“Then you can adopt me!”

I rolled my eyes playfully and grabbed a napkin to wipe the tomato sauce covering his face. A few more seconds, and it would have dripped onto his clothes.

“And why would we adopt you, huh? You have a home with two parents. Adoption is for children who don’t have that, you know?”

I can see through his eyes that all the hopes he had thought so much about have evaporated. I don't like seeing that glimmer. I feel bad for him.

“So, you don't want me?”

“We didn’t say that,” Lucy responds. “You can come see us as often as you want, and we’ll visit you in Barcelona too.”

“But… I want to stay with you! You’re way too far from home, and Mom and Dad aren’t around much anyway.”

I give him a sad smile. I know what that’s like, unfortunately. I run my hand through his hair before pulling him into a hug. He lets himself go without any fuss.

“I know, sweetheart, but we can’t do any better. It’s not that we don’t want you, but you can’t just leave home like that. Besides, Lucy and I will probably have another busy year ahead. Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t take you in permanently.”

I think about the opportunity at the Art school for me and the opening of the gym for Lucy. This upcoming year will be just as busy and complicated as this one, if not more. I dread it as much as I’m excited to see what the future holds. I’m still waiting on a phone call, and I’m starting to worry that I haven’t heard back yet. Lucy says it’s normal, and I hope she’s right.

“Hmm… I would have preferred to live with you anyway,” he admits.

I don’t know what’s going on at home, but there’s clearly something wrong. I think I’ll call my mom when I get the chance. If Joan isn’t feeling comfortable there anymore, I need to know so I can get my mom to react. There’s no way I’ll let him go through what I went through. I know how that ends, and if we don’t find the right person to help, things can go very wrong.

“Alright,” Lucy interrupts. “We should finish up quickly if we still want to do everything.”

This news brings a small smile to my brother’s face before he quickly resumes where he left off before our conversation.

“Slow down, please. Otherwise, you’ll really get a stomach ache.”

He nods but doesn’t slow down, which makes Lucy and me laugh as we exchange a glance. She may not have said much at the table, but I know she heard everything. I’ll ask her what she thinks about it all when we’re alone. We finish dessert, then head off to explore another area. Even though Joan claimed he wasn’t hungry, he still ate well. The day goes on, and surprisingly, Joan has become calmer than before, which delights my girlfriend. It’s understandable. As much as he pushes her limits, it’s annoying to have to constantly put him back in his place when we’re supposed to be having a good time. He must have realized that his tantrums don’t work with us. Maybe I should call Sofia as well to see how she reacts to his. Unlike my mom, I don’t doubt Lucy knows how to manage him as I do. It’s just that my mom doesn’t have patience for this sort of thing, so it’s very hard for her to react calmly. She loses her temper rather than defuse the situation.

“Hey,” Lucy calls out after a while. “Stop worrying. It can’t be that bad.”

“I don’t know,” I admit with a small, anxious smile. “We’ll see. I’ll call my mom tonight. I need to know what’s going on.”

She nods understandingly before giving me a soft kiss. Unfortunately, it’s the moment Joan turns around. His new habit is to let out disgusted noises whenever he sees us. But it seems he didn’t hear the rest. We change the subject as we finish this park, which Joan seems particularly fond of. It’s true—it’s very well done. We’ll definitely come back.

Friday, February 26th; 9:00 PM – Lucy’s apartment.

We’re back home. Everything is peaceful. It was six o'clock when we got back. The day was good. We all enjoyed it, especially Joan, who has already showered, eaten, and even gone to bed. He fell asleep in the guest room without even protesting. In fact, he went there on his own with his new penguin plush. We managed to finish the park, and it seems I was right—Joan loved it, and I couldn’t resist buying him a plush when he asked for it. He earned it with how well he behaved in the afternoon. As for Lucy and me, I had just settled on the couch with Netflix on in the background. I had already showered, and Lucy should be joining me soon. I hadn’t heard the water running in the bathroom for about five minutes. Now that everything is calm, I wanted to call my mom. Joan’s behavior wasn’t normal. I knew he had behavioral issues, but now we needed to figure out why. Nothing ever happens for no reason. It seems like everyone’s already forgotten what happened with me. I’m not going to let them forget. Just as I was about to call, an unknown number appeared on my screen. I don’t recognize it, but it seems to be from here, from Manchester. I frown, intrigued by the late call. Could it be Feli? Would she really come here? How would she even know where I am? The thought makes my stomach knot. I inhale slowly, glancing behind me to check if Lucy is around. Not yet. She’s still in the bathroom. After the fifth ring, I force myself to pick up.

“Hello?” I answer cautiously, my voice uncertain.

“Miss Batlle?” a voice asks.

“Yes...?”

“Hello, this is Bennett Fields! I’m sorry to call so late. I lost track of time,” he says with a small laugh. “Am I disturbing you?”

Bennett Fields, Bennett Fields... Oh! He’s the gallery director. I immediately sit up straighter on the couch, as if he could see me from afar.

“No, no! I’m at home,” I tell him.

“Good.”

If he were in front of me, I’m sure I’d be able to see his smile. It’s amazing how you can read him so well.

“How are you?”

“Well, I’m pretty nervous now that you’re on the line,” I admit, which makes him chuckle. “And you?”

“I’m well, thank you. I apologize for not contacting you sooner. I had a rather busy week. I know I said I would get in touch with the person who sent me your drawings, but I preferred to speak with you directly.”

“No problem.”

In any case, I would’ve gotten the answer tonight since the other person is also in this apartment. I now understand why he asked for my number at the end of our meeting. He seems to like dealing with people directly, which is completely normal.

“I’m calling to follow up on our meeting.”

“I figured,” I reply with amusement.

I like the way we talk. I should be stressed, but he puts me at ease. His laugh is contagious.

“You impressed me a lot, Ona. Certainly not by your lack of experience, but by your undeniable talent.”

Blushing, I feel flattered to hear that from a professional.

“So, here’s the thing. I have a proposal for you. Of course, as we discussed, it would mean going back to school. Are you still okay with that?”

“Of course!”

We haven’t discussed next year much with Lucy yet, but we both kind of know what to expect.

“Good. However, the offer wouldn’t be for the Manchester gallery…”

“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling a bit worried.

“Well, here’s the thing. My gallery is expanding. I’m developing new locations in the region. I’m about to open one in Cardiff, and I’m putting together a team. I think you’d be a great fit there, under the direction of my new manager.”

Cardiff? The news leaves me speechless. What should I say to that? I definitely can’t accept such an offer on the spot. My lack of response prompts him to speak.

“I know it’s a big decision to think about. You’ve already traveled a lot, but this would be an excellent opportunity for you.”

“It definitely requires some thought…” I murmur.

“I didn’t expect an immediate answer. I’ll give you time to think it over. Just so you know, there’s also an Art school there, and the program can last two to three years, depending on the student’s choice.”

Two to three years? My vision blurs. There’s no way I’m staying away from Lucy for that long!

“If you’d like, we can schedule another meeting in two weeks. Do you think you could get some time off from school for a weekday meeting?”

“I-I’ll have to check.”

“Well, call me when you know. That way, we can set up a time to meet and talk face-to-face. Can we do that?”

“Yes, we can do that. I’ll call you then.”

“Great! Well, I wish you a good evening. Talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soon, Mr. Fields.”

I hang up, completely overwhelmed by the conversation. Damn it! I think I’d have preferred if he’d just rejected me rather than making me face such a decision!

“Who was it?”

I jump, not having noticed Lucy’s presence. I turn toward her as she slowly approaches to sit beside me.

“Ona?” she calls gently. “Is everything alright?”

“I think we need to talk…”

Concern flashes across her eyes. Oh yes, she has reason to be worried. If she only knew how I’m feeling inside right now... I almost feel like crying.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #lionesses #woso soccer #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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eddiediaaz · 11 months ago

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hellooooo! i read a lot of buck/eddie fics, literally everyday, and earlier this december i thought "why not share some of my favorites that i have read this month?" so here we are! i couldn't include everything i've read and enjoyed, the list would be really long. but i've picked a few fanfics that i've read (for the first time) in december that were really huge favorites and stayed with me for a little while these past days/weeks. i will try to make these on a monthly basis, because fanfic authors deserve all of the recognition! oh, and happy new year!

both blades and branch by @cal-daisies-and-briars 62k | mature | canon divergence | completed: december 2023

The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

this fic is absolutely incredible. i couldn't put it down once i started. it's extremely well written and brilliantly planned out. the angst is heavy but so is the reward: this is an amazing story. easily an all-time favorite!

my blood on your skin (my rose on your snow) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels 80k | explicit | alternate universe | posted: october 2023

When Eddie needs cash and fast to take care of Christopher, his LAFD Academy buddy suggests a job as a bouncer at Elysium - an exclusive sex club in downtown Los Angeles. Eddie doesn't care what goes on there, so long as he's paid, but he finds he cares a lot bout the club's enigmatic owner, Evan Buckley, and it's not long before the two of them are violating every boss-employee rule in the book. But there's something different about Buck and the club, something not quite... human. If Eddie wants to keep Buck, he's going to have to delve into the world of immortals, and all the risks that implies.

another exquisite fic from this author. they never miss!! this one explores a dynamic i don't read that often (sub eddie) but it works SO well here. extremely well done, as usual. i also absolutely love this buck here.

burn a bridge, learn how to swim [series] by watermelonshorts 34k | mature/explicit | canon verse | completed: july 2021

In which there is some unexpected making out, some pining, one third of an existential crisis and a lot of unhelpful advice. Not necessarily in that order.

they are GIANT disasters in here! really loved the humoristic tone of this whole thing. i just wanna shake them and yell learn how to communicate properly damn it!

dead reckoning by euadnes 28k | mature | canon verse | posted: december 2022

In which a tragedy on the edge of a firestorm leaves part of the 118 stranded and struggling to survive in the wilderness. Left entirely to their own devices, the survivors fight to come home, alive.

buck, eddie, and ravi survive a plane crash, and it's amazing. incredibly well written, i was hooked from the very start and couldn't put it down until i was done.

here comes the jackpot question in advance by @lamardeuse 4k | teen+ | canon verse | posted: december 2023

Buck is determined to start the new year right.

this is very very very cute!!! i always love a cute holiday themed get together story. as always, this author nailed the characterization!

being eddie by @cal-daisies-and-briars 79k | teen+ | canon divergence | completed: august 2023

When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica

incredible concept!!! all the moments chosen for eddie to revisit are perfect and make so much sense for his character. this was such a great read and an absolutely amazing character exploration fic.

a blaze in the dark by @woodchoc-magnum 117k | explicit | canon verse | published: december 2023

Set post-Season 6, where Buck has inadvertently sacrificed his friendship with Eddie in order to focus on his new relationship with Natalia, and is shocked when Eddie comes out to the team and subsequently reveals that he is dating a guy.

okay so i literally read this in one sitting and went to bed at 7am to finish it. i couldn't put it down. the angst is SO good and frustrating and delicious and painful. but the payoff is so worth it!! this is really really really good. i loved all the dynamics, especially eddie and karen's friendship.

#buddie #911 #9-1-1 #911 abc #911 fox #fanfic #ficrec #buddie fic #alie's monthly faves #if anyone wants to be tagged in any future posts like this please let me know!#userabs #*ficrecs

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violetsaffron5 · 1 year ago

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NSFW Gojo Week (3)

Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

Pairing: Gojo x f!Reader

Satoru has always had a fantasy about fucking you in his office in nothing but a barely there lingerie set. Today, you make his dreams come true.

cw: established relationship, lingerie, body worship, semi-public sex, oral sex, face-fucking, getting walked in on

an: it's my birthday y'all 🥳

words: 2.1k

Masterlist • Day 2 • Day 4

Walking down the halls of Jujutsu Tech, your white heels click against the hardwood floor. You texted your husband this morning to see if he had time to get lunch with you later today, telling him there were some things you wanted to discuss and that you would meet him in his office before heading out.

Satoru has always had this fantasy, of you coming to see him at work with nothing but a little, silk lingerie set, letting him fuck you until you’re both sore in his office.

Today, you decided to be a nice, loving, and gracious wife because when you were shopping in Tokyo the other day, you saw a gorgeous silky, soft, snow-white lingerie set on a mannequin in the window of a lingerie store, and you just knew Satoru would love it.

Despite the price you bought two sets, knowing how your husband is. Wild, brazen, and unabashed when you wear something new for him, especially when it’s a surprise. The first one would be torn off, the barely there fabric ripped into scraps and discarded on the floor. The second might make it through the night when you inevitably wear it for him again.

You knock on his office door before opening it and peeking in, Hey, I’m here.”

He looks up from his desk, and to your surprise, he actually appears to be working on something. Knowing him, he probably got up to something with the students earlier in the day and heard an earful from Principal Yaga.

Satoru smiles when he sees you before quirking an eyebrow at your attire, “A little warm for a trench coat, don’t you think?”

Of course, you didn’t want to walk through the halls of the school almost completely naked, so before you left the penthouse you threw on the longest coat you could find in an effort to cover yourself until you were in the safety of his office. When you’re finished with your little surprise, he can just bring you back home in a heartbeat.

“I was cold, plus we won’t be out long anyway.”

He nods slowly with furrowed brows before shaking his head slightly, “Alright. Let me finish what I’m doing and then we can head out.”

You watch quietly as Satoru turns his attention to the cabinets behind his desk to file a few of his reports away, grabbing another folder and turning back around.

“So what were you wanting to disc-”

Satoru stares at you with wide eyes, mouth agape as the papers from the folder he just grabbed fall to the floor, “holy shit…”

When Satoru turned around, you removed the coat and locked his office door. Now you stand in front of him in a white lacy cage bra and thong set with matching stockings held up by garters. He looks you up and down as you slowly make your way toward him, hips swaying with each step.

You’re sure this is the quietest Satoru has ever been in his entire life as you place your legs on either side of his hips, straddling him to the best of your abilities. As you place a few kisses along his jaw and nibble his ear, your heart sinks a little, wondering if you somehow got it wrong, and this isn’t what he envisioned.

“Is this okay? I can change if-”

“No. No, no, no, no,” He says quickly, breathlessly, “This is amazing. You just took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting… this.” He gestures to your outfit.

Biting your lip, you giggle, “I just got it the other day, but I’ve wanted to show it to you so many times.”

“Jesus… Stand up, I need to just look at you for a minute. Fuck.”

You can sense he’s having a hard time holding back his excitement as you move off his lap. He removes his blindfold before closing the blinds of his office while you make your way to the center of the room.

He licks his lips and snakes his lip between his teeth as he moves slowly around you, taking in the sight of the outfit you’re wearing just for him. He had mentioned a few times that he found strappy lingerie almost intoxicating when you discussed your fantasies, and there was no way you could pass this one up.

As he makes his way around, he gently bites one of his knuckles in anticipation which makes you laugh before he cups your face, giving you several gentle kisses before whispering, “We’re not making it to lunch.”

“It’s crazy how lunch was never on the menu.”

“For you. I plan on eating out,” He grins salaciously making you scrunch your nose and roll your eyes.

“Don’t be gross.” You smack his chest playfully.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I’m just excited…”

You chuckle, rubbing your hand on the front of Satoru’s slacks feeling how already painfully hard he is just by looking at you. He lets out a few soft groans as you push him back to where his chair is, “I can tell.”

Satoru watches as you swiftly unbuckle his belt before cupping your face, giving several deep kisses where your tongues dance together as his slacks fall to the floor, and his briefs will soon follow suit.

He moves his licks and kisses across your jaw, whispering, “You look perfect,” causing your cheeks to flush, and look away from him shyly. He chuckles as you clear your throat, biting your lower lip and pushing him down onto his chair.

“Sit back and relax. This is all about you.”

“And why is this all about me?”

You shrug, “Felt like it. Wanted to show you appreciation for being such an amazing-”

“Hm.” He hums in affirmation as you kiss his lips between words.

“Caring-”

“Mhm.”

“Loving, husband.”

You give him a deep, sensual kiss, tugging on his lower lip as you pull away, and trail several kisses down his neck until you meet the fabric of his uniform. Lowering to your knees, you lift his shirt and tell him to hold it up, he does with a grin.

Satoru shudders in anticipation as you kiss along his abdominal muscles, making your way to the ‘v’ at his hips, giving one side a gentle lick. Moving one hand to his balls, you caress them, eliciting a soft moan from Satoru as he leans his head back in the chair, eyes still intently watching your every move.

On his thigh, you bite down, sucking a small red mark to his surprise, making him gasp. He chuckles quietly, knowing you just did that to him because of all the times he’s done it when he’s teasing you to no end.

He sighs, moving one hand to stroke your hair as you grab the base of his cock and stroke gently before putting the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around.

Normally, you would take some extra time and tease him a little longer, but you’re not really sure how much time you’re realistically going to get here in his office.

“Baby?” Satoru mutters, watching as you hollow your cheeks, flicking your tongue over the tip of his cock before giving a few short, shallow bobs, “Think you can take it all?”

He sounds desperate, voice huskier than usual, almost pleading for you to say yes.

You hum, working slowly to take him deeper into the warmth of your mouth, towards the back of your throat.

He places his hand on the back of your head, guiding you, gently, deeper and deeper until your pretty throat is bulging from taking all of him, and your nose is pressed neatly to his groin.

“Goddamn, you look so good,” he moans, throwing his head back as you pull back and swirl your tongue on the tip again.

You stare up at him through your long lashes, humming against him, sending vibrations along the underside of his cock, feeling it twitch in your mouth as you do so.

“R-Relax your throat, baby, relax your throat,” he says hurriedly, “Wanna f-fuck your face. Just for a second.”

You have just enough time to do so before he pushes your head further onto his cock, bucking his hips into you wildly. You choke and gag with each thrust, every time he forces you to take the length of his cock, but you love it.

He’s close, you can tell, with the way his cock twitches at the back of your throat and the way his thighs are shaking on either side of you. Satoru lets go of the back of your head, with your insistence, allowing you to release his cock with a ‘pop’, working on catching your breath.

His hips seem to have a mind of their own, following you as you sit back, his ass off the seat whimpering at the loss of your warmth.

Slowly, you start to lower yourself on his length again. He sucks in a breath between his teeth just as there’s a knock at his office door, startling you both.

“Shit,” He whispers, helping you move under his desk, hoping whoever it is doesn’t notice your shoes underneath.

He rolls his chair in enough so whoever it is doesn’t catch him with his pants down, literally.

“Yeah?” He says breathlessly, leaning forward slightly as you continue to slowly stroke his cock gently.

“Satoru, where are those reports I asked for?” Yaga opens the door, immediately chastising him. You chuckle quietly under the desk and feel him move his leg, as a way to tell you to quiet down.

“I’m working on them,” He answers taking a deep breath. Just to be a brat, you move deeper between his legs and kiss the sensitive tip of his cock, making it twitch.

As you lick the underside of his cock, he moves a hand under his desk, cupping your face. You know he’s wanting you to stop, but you’re not going to. So you kiss the palm of his hand and go back to licking the tip of his cock gently.

Yaga grunts at Satoru’s answer before pointing out, “There are papers on the floor.”

“And my blinds are closed. I have a headache. I’ll have them finished by the end of the day.”

Yaga is quiet for a moment, but grunts and goes to leave the room.

“Close the door, p-please,” Satoru says in a higher pitch than he likely meant, as you take him to the back of your throat once again.

You can hear Yaga’s footsteps stop and you can imagine he’s scrutinizing Satoru before nodding, stepping out of the room, and closing the door behind him.

“Jesus,” Satoru sighs, leaning back as you swallow around him. His dick twitches in your mouth and you know if you keep this up, he’s not going to last much longer. He’s too worked up about this outfit and having fun in his office.

“That…” He chuckles, running his hand through his hair, “That was not fair.”

He’s watching you with parted lips, running his hand through your hair while lifting his shirt again, so it’s not in the way.

“Baby,” You say with a quiet saccharine voice, “Show me how you like it again.”

His eyes grow wide and bright, quickly digging his hands back into your hair and forcing you down to the hilt as you moan around him.

Satoru’s cock is slick with saliva and you know the sounds you’re making are driving him wild because the grip on your hair has tightened and he’s picked up the pace, moaning alongside you.

Looking up through your lashes, you can see his pink cheeks, parted lips, and so much enjoyment in his eyes as he thrusts his hips up to your mouth.

“I’m close, baby, so c-close,” He mumbles as you hollow your cheeks again and he forces your head down his length, holding you in this position until he releases his warm seed down your throat with a loud groan; white hot ropes spurting out as you swallow, making sure not to waste even a drop.

Once he’s done, and loosens his grip, you lick against him, cleaning him off before standing up. You watch as his chest rises and falls with half-lidded eyes like he just sprinted a very long, very dirty marathon.

“Love that the strongest sorcerer is putty in my hands… well, mouth, really,” You tease, leaning over and giving him a deep kiss where he’s sure to taste himself on your tongue, “See you tonight, babe.”

Your original plan was to have Satoru warp you back home quickly, but with the way he’s not saying anything and still breathing heavily, you’ll let him relax and spend the rest of his day thinking about the events that just took place in his office.

#jjk fanfic #violetsaffronfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #nsfwgojoweek2023

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years ago

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When you say “Eat me” and King Steve is like… “Okay.”

And it ends up with you in the boy’s bathroom, Steve on his knees for you in those tight jeans, your back against the stall wall, one leg over his shoulder. He edges you, then drags you to different places all over the school, not letting you cum, just getting you right there with his disgustingly sinful mouth. There’s the boys’ locker room, your abandoned home room, behind the bleachers in the gym, maybe even during a spontaneous pep rally like when he’d made you cum on his fingers once during the cheerleaders senior spirit week, no one even aware. Or it’s another random supply closet, like the one where you’d lost an earring earlier in the week when you were choking on his big fat cock until you were hoarse the rest of the school day. During lunch hour he takes you into his fancy car in the parking lot, windows steamed up due to winter’s condensation, both legs over those shoulders, your hands messing up his quaffed hair, toes curling across his baby blue sweater, bunching the material, knowing what’s underneath.

Maybe he’ll let you orgasm this time, maybe not? He’ll watch you through hooded eyes, a thin ring of hazel, blown pupils like shattered glass that leave fragments of cinnamon behind. Then he’ll push in two fingers, with the sole purpose of hearing how wet you are for him. He takes it slow, just to hear that squelch inside your soaked cunt, that smirk on his diabolical, spit-slick mouth. He’s on his knees on the floorboard in the backseat as he rises, your knees nearly pressing to your chest when he rocks forward to mumble, “Yeah? You thinkin’ about coming for me, baby?”

“Steve…” And you’d beg, because you always fucking beg him.

“I’d quit talking if I were you, honey.”

He doesn’t let you cum this time, not until he’s got you at his house later that night, spread out on his bedspread, back arched, tits out, legs squeezing around his head and neck. When you’re so overstimulated and cursing him out from not being able to reach your high, he levels you on your knees and makes you suck him off until your throat is burning, your resolve faltering. Only when you consider tapping out (but you won’t, you never do, you both know this), he will manhandle you up and onto his mattress, pull you to the edge of the bed, and lift your legs back over his naked shoulders, telling you that you need to “remember your place”. And when he finally does give you permission, it’s so fucking messy that he has to punish you.

“Look at you. Made a fucking mess on my chest, my bed, even the carpet.”

You didn’t mean to, you really didn’t. But as you come back down to your senses and see his chest hair drenched in your squirt, his mouth shiny and smirking, cheeks flushed and body bound for more, you know King Steve is gonna rail you. He works his back against the headboard, bending his hairy thighs a little, beckoning you in a command, never a question. “C’mhere. Sit on me, I think you’re wet enough to take me, slut.”

“You can think whatever you want, but we both know who you belong to. And whenever the next pathetic sucker is inside you, you’ll remember me. You’ll remember… this.”

And he pushes his hips up as you gather yourself over his lap, splitting you open, that overwhelming sting causing tears to gather at your lash line. He takes you so hard that night, that you can’t walk without a limp for hours, and sitting? It becomes a task that takes special effort for the next week.

Years later, when you find him in the Family Video, wiping the snow flakes off your forehead, dusting the mixed rain drops off your coat, you end up catching those beautiful eyes. He’s munching on a Twizzler, his milky white teeth pausing on a sink down as he drinks you in.

“Hey, you.” His voice is soft, softer than you remember in the previous years. But there’s an undercurrent that’s stirring on the surface.

“Steve.” You greet politely, stepping forward and leaning over the counter with your cleavage spilling out of the dark black V neck sweater you wear, biting into the opposite end of candy rope, fascinated by the saliva that coats his lips in a shine when you manage to pull the candy out to take your bite.

He raises a thick brow, leaning forward on clasped fist, knuckles protruding, helping to showcase the veins that run along his forearms and into his hands. You miss those giant pleasure patters. Despite his changed reputation, you flip his switch, still.

“Didn’t I tell you to remember your place, honey? You that stupid that you’re forgetting this quick?”

Finishing off the candy, you shrug. He grips your throat and has you tugged onto the tip toes of your boots in seconds flat. “Get your ass into the back and take your fucking underwear off.”

Smirking, you nod. “Yes, King Steve.”

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mrs-kodzuken · 10 months ago

Text

Christmas Magic ♡

Pairing: Aged up!Kenma Kozume x fem!reader

WC: 1.6k

Genre: mostly fluff, marriage, sexual tension

CW: fem!reader, lots of sexual tension at the end, long haired!reader

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

I scrolled on my phone looking through a baking app, skimming across it for new recipes to try out. I wanted to bake something for Kenma and I even though it was only one in the morning.

Currently, I was sitting on the counter in our beautiful kitchen. The bar stools were always an obvious choice to sit in but alas I loved our granite counter. I screenshotted three recipes for three different types of cookies to try out.

Gingerbread sandwich cookies, Peppermint patty-stuffed chocolate cookies, and some DIY YouTube emoticon cookies, those were for Kenma.

Speaking of my husband, he had told me about thirty minutes earlier that he was going to stream live. Which is most likely what he was doing right now.

I looked through the ingredients on the list and quietly headed upstairs to the second floor. Even though Kenma was an entire floor above, in his gaming room, of our three story house, I still tried to be as quiet as possible.

I mean, it was one am after all. Time didn't really bother Kenma and I because of our schedules.

Entering our bedroom, I grabbed a measure of clothing. Hat, scarf, winter jacket, sweatpants, and warm socks. Grabbing my snow boots from the closet floor I headed back downstairs to the door.

I looked up at the snowy sky and took a deep breath in of the sharp icy air, which felt like needles poking my lungs. Winter is here and it's my favorite time of the year.

Smiling at the decorative lights flashing on our house that we put up a couple of weeks ago. I started my walk to the closest market, I didn't want to travel too far just for some cookie ingredients.

Some of them we didn't have either. Hopefully, they'd be open because I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. And I needed something to busy me whilst my husband was streaming.

I headed in and heard the bell ding as the warm air from the small convenience store heated me up.

Immediately, I went to the baking and ingredients section. I tried to balance the objects in my arms while walking up to the front counter because I didn't think to grab a cart.

"Hello." I spoke to the cashier and carefully set my items down.

"Hi Mrs.Kozume, do you plan on making something this late?" The old lady had asked with a light laugh. The crinkles by her eyes creased and shown her age.

"Yes ma'am, I wanted to bake for my husband. He's working right now and probably won't be sleep for a couple more hours." I laughed with her.

Since I would always come here for plenty of household things, at any time of day or night, I knew most of all the workers.

"Ah, well I hope the two of you have a good night." She placed my ingredients in two plastic bags then held them out for me.

"You too. Thank you." I waved at her and opened the door, leaving as the cold air from the chill night surrounded me once again.

Not after hearing a mumble of 'such cute youngens.' I had quietly laughed to myself and continued my short walk home. Eager to bake and be in warmth again.

Passing all the colorful decorations of houses, I stared in awe. Small snow flurries had began to fall as well. Christmas is such a wonderful time, isn't it?

Finally coming close to a familiar decor, I quickly got inside. The coldness nipping at my nose and body as I shivered from it.

"Baby? Are you back?" I heard a deep voice fill the air as I took off my winter boots and continued to strip until I was in my regular house clothes.

"Yes hon, I went out to get some things." I answered my husband while hanging my big coat on the rack and leaving my snow boots by the door.

"Did you finish your streaming?" I questioned, tilting my head as he rounded the corner from the kitchen.

"Yeah, it was a short one." He muttered, his eyes focused on the bags in my hands.

I walked into the kitchen, setting them down on the counter before heading upstairs, kenma following my every move.

"What'd you get?"

"Just a few ingredients for baking." I opened our closet and picked out my pink Christmas pj's that Kenma bought me. They had small green Christmas trees on them and were very soft.

As well as reaching for some big fuzzy socks to warm up my cold feet.

I took off my house clothes and slipped that on, not bothering to cover up my body. It's not like Kenma hasn't seen any of this glorious body before.

I watched as Kenma's eyes trailed down my body and gawked at my every move.

"My love, do you wanna your Christmas jammie's on to match me?" I asked, silently begging so we could be cute together.

He came from behind me as I reached into the drawers to pull out his set. Ken hugged me from the back, his arms wrapping around my waist and his head on my shoulder.

"Sure baby, I'll be right down." Kissing the nape of my neck, I sighed peacefully and broke our hug.

Heading down, I waltzed kitchen, pulling my hair up and started with the basics.

I could basically feel his eyes staring at me while I started getting the bowls and utensils out as well as my ingredients I had bought.

"Yes, my love?" I turned around to face him, getting ready to start whisking the batter.

"Can I help?"

I smiled softly at him, my heart bursting into flames full of love. Especially since he looked so precious in his pajamas that matched mine.

"Of course you can, here." I gave him the batter I was just about to whisk and started on a new task.

"What kind of cookies are these." He sniffed the batter, his nose twitching.

"These are gingerbread sandwich cookies. I have two others that i wanted to bake too. I'm gonna start on the peppermint patty-stuffed chocolate ones." I gave him my phone that had all the instructions on how to bake the Gingerbread cookies.

He set the bowl down and his eyes skimmed down the phone to the last one. I saw a soft smile grace his handsome features.

"Can we make the last one next?"

"Sure, let me finish with this chocolate first and you put those in oven." I directed, happy that we were bonding.

Baking with Kenma was always nice, even if we stopped a few times here and there because he wanted to make out for some unknown reason.

"Are they done?" I asked him, peering back while he opened the oven. I cleaned the last couple of dishes that we used for baking.

"Yeah, but they're hot so be careful." He warned me as some of his two toned hair fell into his face. Ken put the cookies on a platter and set them on our granite counter, waiting for them to cool.

I grabbed my step stool and set it where I could fix his hair, as per usual. I, unfortunately, had to stand on my tippy toes from how short I am.

Lightly taking his hair out of the messy back bun I had put it in earlier, and changed it to a ponytail.

"Your hair is so soft and long baby." I gently racked my hands through his hair.

"Oh please, your hair goes down to your ass baby." He retorted as if I meant it as a bad thing.

"It's not a bad thing honey, most guys don't wear it long. It looks sexy on you." My face flushed and I stepped down, putting the step stool away to where it goes.

I didn't hear an answer from him as I made my way towards the cookies. They should be cool enough by now to eat.

Gently, I touched one before picking it up just to see if it would burn my hand or not.

Seeing as I could pick it up I turned to Kenma with it.

"Say ahh." I broke the cookie in half so I could feed it to him.

He stared down at me with watchful eyes and an eyebrow raised like I was dumb. Nevertheless he did as I asked.

"Good boy, does it taste good?" I could have sworn that he almost choked when I said that. I was just proud that the cookies we made came out looking so good.

"That's new. It's usually Daddy." He smirked, his cheeks flushing bit red, watching my expression.

My face burned a bright red because I knew what he was talking about. And it was, in fact, true.

"How does it taste?" My voice high pitched because of his response, I cleared my throat to fix it.

"Eh, you taste better."

I could have died right then and there.

"You're such a horny person, Kenma." I laughed at him, feeling the sexual tension in the air.

I thought this was supposed to be wholesome and yet here my erratic husband is, trying to be sexy.

"You're one to talk.." He trailed off, analyzing my face.

"Anyway! Do you want to watch home alone? I'll bring the cookies up while they're still warm?" I said getting a glass of milk for us to dip our cookies in.

"Sure baby," He kissed my jaw in the same place of where he had set a mark he made a couple nights ago.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I can't believe I married a horny tornado." I muttered and focused on the sweets in front of me.

Knowing damn well that later I would be getting some Christmas magic.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺��₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my “Haikyuu x Reader Oneshots” on Wattpad! I hoped you enjoyed and let me know if you want more!

the header is from lena!! on Pinterest

#kenma kozume #kenma fluff #hq kenma #kenma x reader #haikyuu kenma #aged up au #haikyuu fluff #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #kenma x fem reader #hq fluff #hq imagines #hq x reader

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soaringeag1e · 11 months ago

Text

Christmas Boredom

Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language?, A Mix of Sadness and Fluffiness

Words: 782

Main Masterlist - Patreon

A light dusting of snow was leftover from a bit of snowfall earlier in the week, but nothing that jeopardized the roads too much. Christmas was right around the corner and honestly, it felt different this year. In a good way though. A really good way.

Needing some things for dinner and just a few things to stock up the cabinets at home, you had run out to the store along with a trip to the post office and stopping for gas plus a few other things that came to mind while you were out. Needless to say, instead of spending just a couple hours out and about, you were gone for more than five hours. But you felt accomplished, your to-do list was now crossed off.

Once you pulled down your street, you admired all the decorations that your neighbors have been putting up over the past few weeks, loving how creative a lot of them were. It’s only when your eyes catch a certain batch of new decor that you become a bit shocked.

Pulling into your driveway, you can’t take your eyes off the roof as you put your car in park. Leaving the groceries for the moment, you climb out, your eyes glued to the top of your house as you walk a little closer. Your smile slowly comes back along with an excitement within you as you look over the string of lights that somehow just decided to blanket your house for the season.

“I can’t tell if you’re in the Christmas spirit or if you’re just bored!” Those gorgeous green eyes you love so much eventually pop out from behind a large snowflake decoration that’s standing tall on the shingles and then something else you love joins them. That damn smirk of his.

“Uh…both!” The man admits before securing the snowflake for good and then he turns to climb off the roof. You know he’s perfectly capable of doing such a task, but the thought of him falling still makes you nervous.

When his boots land on solid ground, he turns, his smile growing as he leans down and kisses you sweetly, melting your heart and probably even the snow around you.

“Hi.” his gruff voice sends shivers down your spine and always has. You love it just as much as you love him.

“Hi.” When your eyes go to scan his handy work, his green orbs drop to the snow at your feet before he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Do you know how hard it’s been to not look up weird things or to check the news for suspicious activity?” Your expression softens. “I mean…I am trying so hard but it’s just…” he huffs, slapping a hand to his thigh as he scans the neighborhood.

Feeling his struggle, you step forward and place your hands on his cheeks. He seems too ashamed to look you in the eye at first, but eventually he does. But you can see how bad he’s beating himself up for all this.

“I want this.” he admits, his voice coming off crackly. “I really do. I want you to know that.”

“I do know that.” you tell him, your voice as soft as your touch. But he still hates himself for struggling with the normal life.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you tell him, a little more firmly. Your hands press a little tighter on his face as you force him to look at you once again. “It’s hard. I know it is and I am so proud of you.” he scoffs, not because he doesn’t believe you but because you know that he doesn’t think there’s anything for you to be proud of. “Hey. You’re doing better than you think.” He tries to hide his eye roll, but you know him too well. “One day at a time.”

“I just don’t want to let you down.” Hearing that hits you hard. Your chest starts to hurt and tears instantly fill your eyes.

“You’re not.” you tell him as strongly as you can, but your voice is weaker than you want it to be. “I swear to you that you’re not.” With tears in both your eyes, Dean leans in again, kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in years. “Now…” you get out when he takes a second to breathe, getting him to hold off on another kiss. “If you end up going on a hunt and lie to me about it? That’s a different story.” That’s what brings his grin back.

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Damn straight you won’t. Because you’ll be taking me with you.” Dean’s smile grows before he captures your lips again.

“That’s my girl.”

#Christmas Boredom #Merry Christmas #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader christmas #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural dean #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine

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goldengleams · 1 year ago

Note

Omg I need some Jack Hughes fluffff (please)

You tugged the black New Jersey Devils hoodie over your head as a chill ran through your body. It was lightly snowing outside, the temperature dropping to signify that it was truly winter time.

The television in front of you now played the late night news, the hockey game having just ended. The Devils had a home game but you had decided to stay at the apartment due to a bug you were just getting over. You hadn’t wanted to get Jack sick, so you stayed away, cooped up in your apartment when you weren’t at work. Jack had all but forced you to stay over at his and Luke’s place since you were feeling better so he could finally see you.

Looking at the clock, you knew the boys would be home soon. The Devils had won and Luke had scored the only goal of the game, so you knew he would have to do some media interviews after.

You curled up onto the large couch, promising to only close your eyes for a moment so you could greet the boys when they got home, but it was too good to be true. The next thing you heard was the click of a lock and the door was opening.

You sat up from the couch just in time to see Jack push open the door, bags in hand. He flipped on the light and you could practically see his pupils dilate as he discarded his things and rushed over to you.

“Hi babe,” you said, voice still raspy. He embraced you in a tight hug, mumbling how cute you looked in his sweatshirt.

“Good nap, eh?” He joked, taking your face in his hands. You tried to laugh, but it ended up as a cough, and you quickly turned away so you wouldn’t spread your germs.

“Damn, you really were sick,” he teased. You pushed his chest, mumbling out an insult back to him.

“You’re just the nicest boyfriend, aren’t you, J?”

“Yeah, well I did stop at that deli you like near the rink and I bought you soup earlier, so I’d like to think I am the best,” Jack said, giving you his classic cheesy smile.

“And what if I’m not hungry, Hughes?” You said. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to look tough even though you knew your hair was sticking up.

“You are, I know you.”

He moved towards the kitchen to take some out for you, knowing your sleep schedule had been off and that you had been up most nights coughing. You followed behind him and entered the kitchen where Luke was sitting at a barstool, scrolling on his phone.

“Luke, you did awesome tonight!” You said, smiling in pride for the youngest Hughes brother. “I’d hug you but, y’know…”

“I know,” he laughed. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Luke was always a little shy when it came to compliments, but you always made sure that he knew how great he was. He asked you how you were feeling and you chatted while Jack went to change.

“I’m honestly so glad you’re here, Y/N he’s been driving me nuts all week,” Luke said once you asked how the week had been. “I think I probably know the whole trajectory of your illness because he’s talked about you so much.”

You rolled your eyes at that. Jack didn’t like to show it, but you knew that he was a worrier deep down. Whether it was before big games or things dealing with family, he always cared.

“Well I promise that I’m feeling better and I’ll be around more to relieve you of your roommate and brother duties,” you said, fake saluting him.

Jack walked back into the kitchen, now in a t-shirt and some flannel pajama pants. He gave you a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“Want me to heat some up?” He asked you, already moving to get you a bowl.

“Yeah J,” you said back. Jack moved around the kitchen easily, grabbing everything he needed to heat some soup up for you.

The microwave hummed in the background as Jack caught you staring at him.

“Like what you see?” He joked, swaying his hips a little. You giggled as he made his way over to you.

“Missed you,” you mumbled, pressing your head to his chest.

“Missed you more,” he whispered. “Can’t wait until you’re better and then we can-”

“Alright, I’m leaving you lovebirds alone before I see anything that would make me sick,” Luke joked, walking out of the kitchen and dodging Jack’s attempt to slap him on the shoulder.

He turned back to you, about to finish whatever his thought was when the microwave beeped. He groaned but went to go get your bowl.

“Thanks, grumpy,” you laughed. Once he set the bowl down in front of you, he sat on the barstool across from you.

You waited for it to cool before taking a bite and moaning in delight. “Jack, it’s so good, oh my god.”

“I’m glad, babe,” he watched you in admiration as you seemed to feel better immediately as you ate. It had been almost a year since you had met Jack and you never failed to make him smile.

“Thank you, by the way. I think I started eating before I said it,” you chuckled.

“You don’t have to thank me, you did the same for me when I was sick,” he replied, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, when you thought had the man-flu,” you said, giggling as you recounted the last time he was sick.

“Hey, I had a fever,” he countered.

“You were sick from the flu shot, Jack, and it lasted for two days!”

You both started laughing, then, remembering how dramatic he had acted. Your laugh turned into a cough and Jack came over to rub your back.

“Need some medicine?” He asked you. You nodded, trying to swallow some water to help. Jack returned quickly with some pills you had been prescribed to help for you to take.

A few minutes later, once everything had been cleaned up, Jack took your hand and led you to his bedroom. You climbed into bed together and felt his arms wrap around your waist.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, babe,” he muttered, already closing his eyes.

“Love you, Jack,” you said, sinking into his warm embrace.

“Love you too, Y/N.”

———————————————————————

I wrote something!!! Trying my hardest to get to my requests, I promise! Hope you enjoyed this little bit of Jack Hughes fluff!

#jack hughes #nhl hockey #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes #hat trick hotties 🏒🧢#nhl

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crepesuzette2023 · 1 year ago

Text

from The Beatles Book Monthly, No 23, June 1965.

JOHN: This month, Beatle People, I would like to give you an unbiased lecture about a truly sensational new book to be published, price ten and sixpence, on 24th June by Jonathan Cape, who are very good publishers as everybody knows.

PAUL: Hey! Wait a minute. He said an informal conversation not a flippin' commercial. We're both supposed to discuss things. Like the film frinstance.

JOHN: You discuss the film, frinstance, and I'll discuss this book. It's called "A Spaniard In The Works", folks, and it would be cheap at half the price.

PAUL: Don't you mean twice the price?

JOHN: You see, Beatle People, my learned colleague agrees that it's worth twice the price. Printed throughout in two glorious colours. Brown and green. Printed on real paper too, Beatle People. You can't lose, can you?

PAUL: Don't forget what John says. 24th June. Jonathan Cape. Ten and six-pence. "A Spaniel In The Circs.”

JOHN: "A Spaniard In The Works." Good grief, you'll have a Rolling Stone rushing out a book called "A Spaniel In The Circs" and all my good work will be undone. I say again, sir, undone with a capital UN.

PAUL: As I was about to say before I was Beatled, we've finished filming "Help!". Actually the last scenes were done at Twickenham a couple of weeks back but we've been called into the studios several times since for overdubbing. That means, well, you know when you see an outdoor scene in a film and the actors are miles away from the camera. Well, they can't use microphones or you'd notice them growing out of bushes or sticking round the corner of buildings. So if there is any dialogue in scenes like this they have to put it on the soundtrack afterwards. That's called overdubbing.

JOHN: There is no overdubbing in “A Spaniard In The Works" folks. No cheating and miming like that. A Spaniard If The Works" is live, LIVE, L-I-V-E. All Live. The book was written indoors using only close-range microphones, typewriters, ciggie-packets and green and brown ballpoint pens for the drawings. Remember, folks, only "A Spaniard In The Works" comes to you completely free from skin-irritating overdub.

PAUL: In Nassau we had to keep out of the sun because the scenes we did out there come at the very end of “Help!" and it would look funny if we were all brown and tanned in the snow sequence which you see earlier on and then pale and unhealthy in the Bahamas bit. All sorts of odd people that you'll know play parts in "Help!". Roy Kinnear, Frankie Howerd. The Queen Mother was nearly in one scene—but that was unintentional. She was driving by the film location in Nassau on her way to the airport after touring Jamaica.

JOHN: Pity she didn't stop and join us.

PAUL: We had a fabulous time down on Salisbury Plain a couple of weeks back. We did four days of location filming there with tanks and troops which were on loan from the Army. Bit chilly after Nassau with lots of rain showers and a cold wind but, without giving away any production secrets, I think the Salisbury scene is one of the funniest of the lot!

JOHN: Fun, fun, fun, with them chasing us, and us chasing them, and me chasing you and where's the tea Mal.

PAUL: One of the greatest free evenings we had during the making of the film was at Obertauern in the Austrian Alps. There isn't a great deal of night life but we made some of our own. It was the assistant director's birthday and we were at the Marietta Hotel. Dick Lester found an old piano in the hotel and we all had this gear sing-along session.

JOHN: It's a new craze. Yes, folks, it's all the rage. Have your own read-along session at home! A complete do-it-yourself read-along kit comes free inside every brown and green copy of "A Spaniard In The Works" PAUL: There's not much more I can say about the film without giving away very hush-hush secrets about the story. There's going to be a Royal Premiere in London on 29th July. At the Pavilion in Piccadilly Circus where "A Hard Day's Night" opened last summer. Then the film will start going the rounds in August and there's a New York premiere a week later. We do a European tour in June but we'll be back home long before the premiere. All I can say is I hope everyone enjoys the film. In a lot of ways we're all sorry the production is finished 'cos we had a great time making it.

JOHN: Is that all you've got to say?

PAUL: Yes, I think so.

JOHN: Well, if you've quite finished, perhaps you don't mind me having a quick word with Beatle People about this book.

PAUL: Which book is that, John? it says on this ciggie paper you've just handed me.

JOHN: I don't like talking about it really. People will think l'm plugging.

PAUL: Ah, go on, John, nobody'll think that.

JOHN: No, I can't. I'm bashful.

PAUL: Please…

JOHN: All right. Read all about "The National Health Cow" and "Cassandle" (on different pages). Read all about “Silly Norman" and "Benjamin Distasteful" (both in glowing green and beatle brown). These and fourteen other unbelievable fables before your very mouth in "A Spaniard In The Works”

PAUL: Aren't there drawings too, John? you asked me to say when you stopped the tape recorder just now.

JOHN: Yes, yes. Well, sort of. One of them (in brown and green which are very artistic colours and especially cheap to print, you see) is a full-page drawing of a fat budgie. Beatle People will be interested to know that I ate nothing but SWILL, the new deodorant bird seed, for six weeks in order to get into the right mood to draw this particular picture.

PAUL: What happened?

JOHN: I fell asleep on my perch but the picture came out O.K. I drew it in two minutes flat. Flat on my face at the foot of he perch.

PAUL: And what is the title of this new book of yours, John?

JOHN: Oh, I'm so sorry. Didn't I mention it?…

#Beatles Book Monthly #The Beatles #I cannot deal with Paul explaining what overdubbing is #but John can...Oh yes he can #Happy times #1965 #john lennon #paul mccartney #interviews

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unhinged-summer-fun · 2 months ago

Text

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 17

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: dividers by me, mwahhhh and thank u once more to @desertbcrnnobody for the beta <3

series masterlist

chapter 17: remote work

Qimir was usually at home by this hour on a weekday like this. Osha shifted from foot to foot on his doorstep, knocking again like it would yield any different result than when she knocked five minutes ago. She remembered this hallway being warmer the last time she walked down it—but that was perhaps due to the space heater of a man accompanying her. Right now, the breezeway was absolutely freezing.

Freezeway, she thought to herself. Shit, I’ve been out here long enough that I’m making puns.

She gave up on hoping Qimir was secretly home and tried calling his phone again, but it went to his voicemail—where she couldn’t even leave a message, because his inbox was full. She dialed a different number, hoping it’d bring her answers, if not relief.

“City College Athletics Department, this is Cam.”

Oh, hell yes. “Cam! Hi, this is Osha. We met last week. I was wondering if Coach Lo was in.”

“Osha!” Cam greeted, warming her up just from the joy in their voice. “Let me check his schedule for you… hm. Well, I don’t remember him having this in there yesterday, he must have submitted this PTO this morning. The notes say he’ll be out of town for a few days. Did he not tell you?”

The chill returned to her veins. “Oh! That’s right. Man, my day has been so mixed up,” she laughed. “I totally thought today was—” shit, shit, pick a day. “Tuesday.” She laughed again awkwardly, pacing out to the parking lot and scouring the snow-dusted cars for a flash of dented silver. “My bad.”

“That’s alright. Thinking it’s Tuesday is absolutely a Thursday vibe. Well, I hope you see him soon!”

“Thanks, Cam. You have a good one.” She hung up, continuing to search for signs of Qimir even though she knew she’d find nothing.

She opened her texts to him. The last thing he sent was the good-morning text, and that was almost twelve hours ago. All of her texts had gone unanswered, so she was certain a paranoid question about where he was wouldn’t be apprec—

Someone was calling her. The unknown number came from Khofar County, according to her caller ID. Khofar was in the middle of nowhere, about five hours south of where she stood. The county mostly covered a nature preserve. She knew Kelnacca lived there for a while after the Torbin incident, but something told her she knew who was calling.

“Hello?” she answered, heading downstairs to her building.

“Hi, I’m so sorry I haven’t returned your messages. My cellphone broke earlier today.”

“That’s… it’s okay.”

“Cam told me you called the college?”

Shit. Osha cringed. “Yeah, I was… well, I was at your apartment just now, but you weren’t answering. I didn’t know you were out of town. Wait, how did Cam call you if…?”

“Work phone.”

“Oh. Is this that number?”

“No, I’m calling from a payphone.”

“Oh,” she said again.

“Cam scolded me for not telling you ahead of time. But something just came up,” he sighed. “That’s been taking up my whole day.”

“Where are you?” she asked, voice a little softer. “My phone said the call’s coming from Khofar.”

She thought she heard him curse a little on his end. “Yes, I’m in Khofar.”

Five seconds passed between them where they could have either asked or said more, but Osha wasn’t brave enough to make the first move. Her actions until then had been borne of panic and rage, from not knowing where he was and the memory of Idise at the Temple in the forefront of her mind. “There’s uh. Something I. Well, a lot happened at the evaluation.” Her face fell as she avoided the subject.

“Are you alright?” he asked instantly.

“I’m fine, I just—is this a bad time? I can call back later. Or I can wait until I see you tonight.” It was pool day. But he’s five hours away, you wouldn’t be swimming until almost midnight.

He cursed again, but didn’t hide it. “I’m so sorry, Osha. I won’t make it back tonight. I’ll send you the workout from my new number.”

What possible business did he have in Khofar that couldn’t have warranted at least a text to let her know? Nothing ever just came up for Qimir; he was never scatterbrained, nor was he this impulsive. His life was kept strictly in order, and any deviation from that order was anomalous. And a new phone number on top of that?

Something told her that his actions weren’t running on logic. They were running on the same thing hers were: fear and wrath.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” she asked.

“Probably not. The earliest I’ll be back is Saturday afternoon, if I do what I need to get done by tomorrow night. I wouldn’t forget your birthday.”

The warm-and-fuzzy feeling she would have gotten from the sentiment instead felt sticky and uncomfortable. He’s keeping secrets. Secrets he won’t tell you.

You’re keeping secrets—secrets you won’t tell him.

“Oh, that’s. Good.”

Another five seconds of silence where neither said what they wanted.

“What happened at the evaluation?”

“I can just tell you on Saturday, it’s not that important. Maybe you can—”

“You are important, Osha. And if something worried you, I’d like to know.”

It made her feel wretched to lie, but she winced and said, “I was probably just overreacting. She made some digs at Sol’s parenting being the reason I’m so… well, I’m so me.”

A scoff. “That’s rich. You’re the only one with any personality in that whole gym.”

“Well, me and Huyang.”

Another five seconds, passed in awkward silence.

“I’ve gotta take care of some more things here, I’m—”

“No, no, that’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’ll um. Will you send me tomorrow’s workout as well? If you can.”

“You want to go to Unplan by yourself?”

“I mean, I already do for shifts…”

“Okay,” he said. “Just don’t let any of those jerks try and tell you anything—teach you anything. That’s my job.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I’m glad you know it. I’ll see you sooner than you think, baby.”

He hung up before she could even gasp.

“Bastard!” Osha whispered to the phone in her hand, her reflection grinning back at her.

?: Let me know when you’re at the gym.

O: Here

?: Warmup: (on a heavy bag) 50 knee strikes, 40 elbow strikes, 30 turn-kicks, 20sec punches, 10 burpees (not on the bag)

O: NOOOOO

O: BURPEES??

?: Workout: 4 sets of to-failure chin-ups (no kipping), deep lunge around the edge of the gym, to-failure squat hold

?: Yes, burpees.

O: Two to-failure exercises

O: Four times

O: U hate me

?: Take 3 min rest between sets.

?: I do not hate you.

O: U literally want me to fail

?: Failure is the greatest teacher.

O: That’s so rude to say about yourself

O: I can’t believe ur making me do burpees

O: See if I kiss u now

?: I suppose I will.

?: Cooldown: head home and wait for further instructions.

O: What does that mean

O: Qimir, what does that mean?

O: WHATDOUMEANNNNNN?

?: Don’t you have a warmup to do?

“Fucking asshole,” Osha grumbled, jamming in her earbuds and attempting not to throw a tantrum. He’d held back from telling her the workout until she confirmed she was at the gym, and now that she saw it, it was probably so she wouldn’t turn around and leave, refusing to do it. They’d done much worse workouts together, but the mental grit to go through it alone felt significantly out of her reach.

The music helped, until it didn’t. Because the workout sucked.

While she didn’t trust his taste in music (because of the iPod) he had shown her quite a few songs that made themselves at home on her workout playlist. It made the warmup go by quickly, even with as much focus as she had on keeping excellent form.

The memory of his voice kept her company through her warmup, even if he himself did not.

Keeping good form will ensure you can rely on your instincts when you need them.

Osha’s mind drifted as she kicked the hell out of the heavy bag she��d chosen.

Her search engine deep dive into Khofar hadn’t come up with any good possibilities for why he could have gone there. Instead of getting frustrated, she told herself that this was a good thing—if she couldn’t find any answers, then neither could Vernestra.

Or Idise.

She’d toiled over her decision not to tell Qimir about seeing her at the gym. She could have just chickened out and sent a text, hey I just saw ur pseudo-quasi-maybe-ex at the Temple talking to Vernestra about working together—want me to kill her for you?

Okay. Too much.

She had to talk to him about this in person—his reaction to the memory of her nominating him to the cage had been strange, as had his nonchalance at her getting dragged out of the brawl, unconscious. Kana had implied they were close, close enough that Qimir would go toe-to-toe with her attacker ten years after the matter had settled. Everything new she learned felt in conflict with itself, like there was a way of reading between the lines that she just hadn’t learned yet.

If she had the story right, then Idise was most definitely the person Vernestra hired to keep an eye on Qimir. What had she betrayed about him in that time? Qimir wasn’t tight-lipped about his feelings toward Vernestra, and she got the feeling from the zero overlap between Unknown Planet and the Temple that everyone at the former felt similarly about the latter.

Osha wondered, throwing punches as hard as she could, if Idise had gone to Vernestra because of his disappearance in recent months. Regardless of Idise’s door-handle proclamation that said otherwise, she’d been betrayed by her willingness to see the good in others too many times to offer that same courtesy to someone who previously (may have) betrayed Qimir.

At the same time that Osha recontextualized the fighter into a villain, she couldn’t deny that without Idise’s warning—don’t sign anything—she would have been totally fucked by the employee evaluation.

The fine print at the bottom of the page read like a horror novel. It would have waived her right to legal action taken against the gym for any reason, including personal injury, harassment, and on behalf of another party. Retaliatory legal recourse would come on swift wings, so it implied: a defamation suit for up to $100,000 in damages.

There was no possible way Vernestra could back up those legal clauses, but Osha was no lawyer—she’d barely scraped herself across the graduation stage.

But still, all that on just an employee evaluation? What was on the more formal NDAs signed by Indara? Or even Sol?

She couldn’t decide if she wanted to show Qimir what she found. He seemed like he’d put his past well behind him, and that the process of trying to expose Vernestra’s evil deeds was as fruitless as an orchard in winter. Perhaps she could bring it up on Saturday—or during the cooldown phone call.

Curiosity surrounding said phone call kept her company during the first set. Between chin-ups, she wondered what he had planned for her. She’d done the cooldown routine they were used to over a dozen times by now, and he hadn’t told her to call him yesterday at the pool. He’d simply texted her from his new number, Don’t forget your cooldown. Take your time.

As if Osha had anything else but time, without Qimir around to take up all of hers.

Her arms gave out around the chin up number 40, so she dropped to the floor in a lunge, starting her circuit around the gym. Most people were just wrapped up in their own thing, but a few of them waved as she lunged by. She waved back, but didn’t break her focus. She was more aware of her body than ever these days. It wasn’t a painful awareness, but an I’m overrotating, I need to lunge lower kind of awareness. She kept her arms moving as she made her way around, keeping them warm for the next round of chin-ups she had to endure.

She lunged by the locker rooms on the final stretch to the pull-up bars. The scent and feel of steam from the showers hit her in a humid wall. She hadn’t been able to use the Smiley dressing room tonight, which was a shame—she would have liked to use the lidocaine spray he kept in his dresser drawers.

The moment she got back, she stood a little ways away from the bars out of courtesy for the exactly zero people doing pull-ups tonight—besides her, of course. The squat hold made her sweat. Osha had a great appreciation for her thigh strength—it had made learning to grapple a breeze, and it also had the added benefit of knowing Qimir was watching whenever she did a squat.

Too bad he was missing this.

The issue was her stamina. She could hold this squat all day, and he knew it. This workout was going to kill her, mentally. Failure was always the limit she struggled with most; the very idea of it repulsed her. She supposed it was easier to fail knowing he was there to tell her it was alright, but like this, she had to face herself alone—again and again.

Failure came for her, though. The feeling started in her bones, the minute creakiness in her ankle and knee rippling outward as her quads protested the static flexion. She didn’t collapse, but it was a near thing as she stood upright again. Osha frowned, bracing for the wave of self-loathing that would come with giving up.

But it never came. Instead, a sense of accomplishment simmered beneath her skin. There was some kind of metaphor there—something about the jaws of victory and defeat. Winning by losing, that was the lesson here. Her body felt good, buzzing with energy even after she’d given the set her all.

She wanted to do it again.

The next round, she kept her music off while she worked. Only her churning thoughts about Idise and Qimir and Khofar kept her distracted while the burn built in her arms through each chin-up. When she couldn’t go another rep, she still tried, eking out one, two—and then her grip failed, fingertips brushing the diamond grip on the bar as she fell. The lunges went faster the second time around, treated like an obstacle between her and her next glorious failure. Pass the showers, feel the—ooh, someone’s shower gel smells nice—whoops, wobbly leg. Now squaaaat.

The third round was where she started to feel her body protest, her balance nearly sending her flat on her ass the moment she got into her squat hold. Her inner monologue halted, changed directions to panicked observations. Fuck. Don’t break your teeth on the bar, Osha. Quit fidgeting on your grip. Commit to the mo—no kipping. Fuck, fuck, I can’t do this—

She dropped into a dead-arm hang, glaring ahead and stamping out every single distraction around her until her mind went quiet.

The goal was chin-ups. There was no finish line.

So she did her chin-ups, noting the burn of pain in her shoulders and letting that feeling sit, wrap around her like a robe. Sweat dripped off her nose and landed in her mouth—salt wet effort win—and she forced in breaths through her nose. Bumbumbum…ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump. Bump. Bump.

Her body no longer wailed its signals at her now that she paid attention to them. Her heart rate no longer rocketed her toward panic, even when a sliver of icy fear told her that her arms had reached their limit. She gave it one last push, pulling herself through another seven reps before she gave in, dropping to the gym floor on panther-light feet. Her lunges went further, every step landing sure and deep. The ache in her body unspooled through every vein like a drug. That fighter’s high threatened to buff the focus from her eyes, but she denied herself the euphoria as she reached the end of her track. She allowed herself one deep breath before she fell into her squat stance.

Was this how Qimir felt in the cage, giving himself over to his senses to let his sharpened instincts drive? Osha couldn’t imagine fighting like this, almost dissociating out of her body if she wasn’t careful to stay grounded. When failure came, she accepted it—as easily as she accepted fear, or accepted her anger.

Round four. She fought to keep herself from getting too excited about the prospect of Qimir’s phone call later, shaking her head of all thoughts of reward.

The goal was chin-ups. There was no finish line.

She couldn’t recognize the pattern of her breathing with the music distracting her, nor with her thoughts gone hundreds of miles away. But like this, locked in, she felt hyperaware of everything around her. The sound of sparring, the rhythmic percussion of fists against bags—

The steps approaching her.

“Can we talk?”

Idise.

Osha didn’t flinch. The goal was chin-ups. The finish line wouldn’t come just because Idise wanted to talk. There was no finish line. But she did look down.

Idise stood a little to the side, wearing her usual workout gear with her hair pulled back into a braided bun. She looked stoic and statuesque, giving nothing away. The black eye had faded some more, yellows and greens across her olive skin. Osha didn’t have any bruises, but she probably looked like a hot mess next to Idise. “No,” Osha panted, never once stopping her exercise. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

It was the most chin-ups she’d done so far—possibly the most chin-ups she’d ever done in her life. Idise was still waiting by the time she dropped. Osha instantly started her lunges, intent on ignoring her.

Idise sighed. “Osha.”

“I told you, I’m busy.”

“What you saw, whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

“Don’t care, I’m busy.”

“Let me—”

“I’m lunging away from you now.” Traitor.

Idise was still at the racks when Osha returned, her arms crossed. She looked displeased to be kept waiting, but a little nervous, too. “I’m guessing you’re still busy?” she deadpanned.

“Yep. Squat hold.” Osha kept her shoulders back with her hands clasped tight in front of her chest, staring straight through Idise.

“I’m not working for her,” she said in a lower voice.

Don’t look so upset, I didn’t say no. I told you I’d have to think about it.

Osha said nothing, focused on performing long enough that Idise would grow bored and leave. Damn it, thighs, don’t fail me now. She couldn’t grasp that perfect, trance-like focus from the previous round—not when the object of her ire stood in front of her, insistent on talking about this.

“I wouldn’t do that to him.”

I have some concerns about your contract.

It’s essentially the same one as last time.

“Because you already did it—once, right?” She hated giving in to the bait, but she supposed a private investigator knew how to get people to give up information.

Idise shifted from foot to foot. “You don’t know the whole story, Osha. There’s a lot more you should probably know.”

She couldn’t react, as much as she wanted to. This wasn’t Vernestra, holding power over her in exchange for a bit of play-acting at despair. Idise had nothing to offer her, only irritation.

“Forgive me if I don’t trust what you tell me, man.”

Idise shrugged. “I forgive you.”

Osha thought several very mean words very loudly, but the only noise past Osha’s lips was the sound of her shuddering breaths, fighting the burn of her muscles. Another few moments passed like that before her irritation spurred her to speak again. “You’re still here? I just said I don’t want to hear it, Idise.”

“Just—” Idise huffed in frustration, that cool composure flickering off for a moment. She balled her hands into fists at her side. Her voice was even and measured when she asked, “Do you know where he is?”

The audacity—

Osha broke the squat hold. She wouldn’t fail in front of this woman. No fucking way. Osha stood to her full height, though she was still almost a head shorter than Idise. “Why would I tell you? Why on earth would I tell you that?”

Having grown accustomed to it over the last hour, Osha recognized the failure that settled into in Idise’s expression. She’d come to realize that Osha wouldn’t talk to her even if all the walls fell down around them and trapped them together. Osha grabbed her things, wiping down the pull-up bar—

Idise grabbed her by the arm. Not bruisingly, but just firm enough to keep her in place. Osha glared down at her hand before looking up at her.

Her eyes had the same intensity as they did the other day, when they passed one another on the stairs. Her voice came out just as soft, a contradiction to her strength. “You think I would give Vernestra the time of day if I suspected she wanted to stalk him again?”

“I think you give your time to whoever pays for it,” Osha hissed, but didn’t pull herself away. Idise’s eyes communicated so much, but Osha couldn’t decipher what it was.

“She didn’t want me to find and follow him.” Osha ripped herself away, and made herself walk to the locker room at a steady pace. She wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t run from Idise—not when there were others watching.

And they were watching, and now talking amongst themselves as she strutted by. She regretted being so dramatic, but was proud for standing her ground.

Still, a wiggling sense of unease followed her from the locker room to her apartment, sounding a lot like the strange emphasis Idise had put on something she said.

She didn’t want me to find and follow him.

If she didn’t want to stalk Qimir, then who?

O: Alright, mister mystery. What’s the cooldown?

?work: Shower first.

She held herself back from making a lewd remark and did as she was told. She held onto the near-manic curiosity about his cooldown plan to avoid thinking about the quandary from before. I can just ask him about this shady shit when he’s home. No use distracting him now.

When she was done with her shower, she got herself into some comfy lounge clothes and took a seat on her bed.

O: This Osha is compliant. :)

Incoming call: UNKNOWN NUMBER

She’d expected him to call her from his work phone, but she answered anyway. “Hello?”

“Hello.” Qimir’s voice was a balm to her fiery soul, a breath of fresh air after holding her breath for so long.

“Hi!” She leaned back, grinning up at the ceiling.

“Hi,” he sighed. She could practically picture his smile in her mind’s eye—he sounded a little tired, too, so his eyes would have all those pretty little crinkles in the corner that made her heart stutter. It was a happy thought.

“Is this your new number?” she asked, switching to speakerphone as she added it to her contacts.

“It is. How’d your workout go?”

She wanted to scream.

She did not scream.

“Better than expected,” she said, making herself laugh a little to bury the lede. “I felt it get easier with every round. Is that weird?”

“Not weird. Just a testament to your grit. Just starting is difficult for a lot of people, but once they’re in the groove of it, it sucks a lot less.”

She hummed, still smiling. She added a random photo of him to his contact listing, just a candid shot of his slightly-surprised face. ?? was his new name in her phone—and it sat right at the top of her contact list. Satisfied, she returned her phone to her ear. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.”

“I like hearing that.” She wished she could see the sparkle of fondness in his eyes, but her imagination would have to do. “I missed talking to you yesterday.”

A million questions sat on the tip of her tongue, jumping at the chance to be asked. But Osha didn’t want to ruin the tenderness of the moment by asking what he was doing in Khofar, if he knew Idise worked for Vernestra, or why he was changing his number. So she stayed quiet, just listening to him breathe on the other end.

At long last, he broke the silence.

“Talk me through your cooldown,” he said softly. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

She blushed, but grinned to herself. “You trying to christen your new phone, stranger?”

A darker chuckle purred through the phone. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he teased.

“You want me to believe you actually want to listen to me going through my cooldown? Nothing else?”

“Humor me.”

She slid to the floor and put her earbuds in. She didn’t want to risk Mae overhearing their conversation—platonic as it may have been.

“I’m, uh. Starting with my neck,” she said awkwardly.

“Top-down is a good place to start.”

Good wasn’t what she would have called it. She must have tweaked something when looking up at the ceiling on that last round of chin-ups—or perhaps Idise had stressed her out into muscle strain.

Sure, Osha.

When she moved too quickly rolling her neck forward and backward, her headphones perfectly conveyed the hitch in her breath—and her pained gasp.

“Osha? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine, neck’s just weird. That sucked. Moving on—”

“Would it help if I talked you through it?”

Okay, he had to be doing this on purpose now. She wanted him to talk her through all sorts of things. Her pointed pause probably told him that, but he didn’t speak again until she hummed an affirmative.

“Alright…” Fuck. His voice had gotten deeper. The headphones (and her overeager imagination) made it sound like he was right beside her, guiding her in that playful instructional tone he favored when they were alone. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the two of them in the privacy of his dressing room at Unplan.

So she closed her eyes, and imagined it while he spoke.

“Breathe in. Bring your chest out, like you’re pointing with your heart across the room.”

“Okay,” she whispered, straightening her back before arching her spine just a little. It felt obscene, with how deep his voice had gone and how raspy it sounded across the telephone line. But she could breathe a little easier when she held the position, her neck pain dispersing like a breath over a dusty shelf.

“Out.” She pretended that the brush of one of her locs against her ear was his lips dragging over her skin in a tease. She had to grip tightly to her self-control in order to keep her shit together. “Again.”

The guided breathing helped calm her down from where pain had hitched her breath and spiked her heart rate. (It didn’t calm down anything else.) He guided her through a few more positions to practice her breathing.

“Feeling alright?” he asked. She imagined he brushed his fingertips over the shell of her ear, dancing his touch down over her neck and shoulders in a tickling cascade that carried her pain down and out of her body.

“Yeah…” Fuck, she sounded all breathy. Was it weird to be turned on by this? They had so much more of her cooldown to get through, and here she was—turned on by the sound of his voice.

“Good girl.” Oh, dear god. “Move slowly, but I want you to wrap your arms around yourself, rest your hands on your shoulders so your arms make a vee across your chest.”

“Like a hug?” she asked, bringing up one arm and then the other. She fantasized about his arms doing this for her, leading her into the positions he wanted and tracing his hands over wherever he liked.

Perhaps fondness isn’t the growing feeling from his absence.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “Like a hug. Now gently tuck your chin down to your chest. Be gentle with your body.” I hope he’s not this gentle with me in bed.

His words felt whispered along the back of her neck, a cool shiver of thunder-soft syllables over burning muscles. It soothed the heat, but the burning quickly grew unmanageable as she tried to deepen the stretch.

She tried to breathe through it, but he saw right through it.

“Don’t go too deep the first time, Osha.”

“I can handle it,” she said, her voice shaking.

“I know you can handle it, baby, but I want you to go slow,” he insisted. “You can take—you can do the full stretch, but you have to ease into it. Don’t force it.”

Osha lifted her head back by a few inches until the ache wasn’t so sharp. She shuddered, a soft noise escaping her lips involuntarily.

He suddenly held the phone away from him, and Osha was pretty sure he was swearing as far from the receiver as he could. The flinch in his composure sent a flush of heat through her body, collecting in a very specific place between her legs that she couldn’t think about right now—

Her focus returned from the war, and she managed to follow the rest of his instructions without overextending herself—and, somehow, without accidentally moaning his name.

“…you don’t need to grab your face, just rest your palm over your ear. Your fingers shouldn’t reach past your pulse.”

As if acting on his orders, Osha’s pulse quickened beneath her fingertips as she gently stretched her neck to the right.

“Try pushing your head against your hand—gently. Just for a two-count, then relax back into the stretch.”

She tried it, and was surprised when her neck allowed her a deeper stretch without discomfort. “Whoa.”

A soft, breathy laugh. “Resistance,” he purred, always a teacher, even in moments like this. She traced her fingers over her jaw, wishing instead for the callouses she knew were on his hands. “Other side now, baby.”

Baby.

She was starting to get the appeal of being known by other names.

He’d lost a little of that sensual tone from before when they got to the knee and ankle maintenance part of her routine. He was always quite serious about her injury areas—serious, but not overwhelmingly concerned the way Sol could be. It set an example for Osha, she realized. When Sol would fret and treat her like glass, she treated herself like glass. When Qimir imparted caution but confidence, she reflected the same faith in herself.

“Osha?”

“What?” she spoke directly to her shins, not coming out of the hold.

“You cut off in the middle of what you were saying.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t remember what she was saying—something about the ice on the ride home, maybe—but he wanted to hear it. Osha was used to crowds of people—her friends—growing annoyed or simply forgetting about her when she spoke for too long. It was novel for someone to listen to every word she said and still want more. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything you like.”

A dangerous offer.

She released the stretch and brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Her eyes caught on the small glass butterfly on her windowsill.

She had bought it with money from the first birthday she spent with Sol. He didn’t know how to buy gifts for her and Mae—still didn’t—so he’d handed each of them a hundred dollars and turned them loose in the mall. Osha had wandered into a little crystal shop on her own, pulled in by the scent of incense and coconut oil.

It had reminded her of home—a home that no longer existed. The glittering crystals around the shop reminded her of Sundays with her mama, golden light scattering through sun catchers in the window while she sat at her vanity doing her hair. The light would pass through the glass and gold beads on the tabletop, casting strange shapes in the shadows that always drew Osha’s eye more than the glittering refractions.

When she saw the glittering purple butterfly figurine in the shop, it suddenly bore the weight of all that lost comfort upon its fragile wings. It served as a constant reminder of that peaceful life—fluttering out of reach with every sunset.

“...Osha?”

“Do you have any fond memories of the FDO? It’s okay if you don’t.”

His breath hitched, and she got the feeling he was laying back in bed until then—her question had made him sit up. “I have a few. It’s difficult to remember a lot of it, though.”

“Did you grow up with any of the Loharnes at Unplan? You were right; there’s a lot of you around here.”

“Kana,” he said instantly, a fond warmth to his voice. “I’ve known him since we were six. I kind of grew up with Medora, but we only got close after I was injured. She kept me company while I was still in traction.” He hummed to himself, thinking. “Not really anyone else. I mean, Eltara and I were there around the same time as each other, but we were never that close.”

“Just Kana and Medora?” Not Idise? She wondered if Idise wasn’t an FDO kid like the others. It would explain why Kana didn’t know the real relationship between her and Qimir.

His voice was playful as he teased, “Just because someone’s an orphan doesn’t mean I automatically know them, Osha.”

“You know me,” she said.

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

Osha smiled. “Do you consider Kana and Medora more friends or siblings? Is that terrible to ask?”

He chuckled. “No, it’s not terrible. I suppose they are siblings. My idea of a family dynamic is probably much different from yours, though.”

“My idea is much different than the normal one, too. I had two mothers and was raised in an off-the-grid compound until I was 10.”

“Fair point. But your relationship to Mae is different than my relationship to Kana and Medora, though that’s a given.”

“Did you ever look for your parents?” she asked, feeling a little bolder in her questions.

“Some kids are brought to the FDO by way of tragedy.” Didn’t she know it. “I was left at the orphanage. Whoever my parents were, or whoever my guardian was, they weren’t and aren’t worth looking for. But… every kid dreams about finding them. About being picked up by your real parents, getting swept off into a brighter and better place than you could have imagined.”

She leaned her head on her knee, looking away from the butterfly. “I dreamed of that, too. Even though I knew it’d never happen.”

“Death is difficult thing to process for anybody, let alone children.”

“Or children who witness it firsthand,” Osha mumbled.

A pause. “You saw them die?”

She winced. Shit. Well, they were going to have this conversation someday. She tried to downplay it and shrug it off. “I mean, I probably saw too much. I couldn’t talk about it for a long time, even to Mae.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t want to spoil her last memories of the happy life we had. I envy her, sometimes. She was unconscious for the whole thing. She just woke up and poof, orphan. I…” I had to watch it happen, she couldn’t bring herself to say.

Qimir was so quiet for so long that she regretted saying anything.

“Why are you out of town?” she asked suddenly, panic masquerading as bravery. She didn’t want to dwell on watching her parents’ deaths right before bed.

His answer sounded a little too rehearsed. “I had to pick up some of my things—I forgot I had a place out here until the rent check sucked out of my checking account, so I’m handling that. Crossing my I’s, dotting my T’s.

“You said your phone broke? I thought that thing was indestructible.”

“Yeah, so did I…” he sighed.

“May it rest in peace,” Osha said after an awkward beat.

“Pieces, actually. It broke in half right in my hands.” His light tone felt a little too unsettling for what he was saying. Had it broken, or had he broken it? “I didn’t get any of your messages, but I guessed you were sending them. Especially when Cam called me.”

Three questions formed on Osha’s tongue: why were you renting a place in Khofar? Was that where you disappeared for two months? And why did you come back?

And a fourth, but this one came whispered, and only to her: was it because Idise wouldn’t find you out there?

“Hey, Osha.”

“Hm?” she said, blinking the sudden wave of sleepiness out of her eyes. Damn, that workout fucked her up.

“Look at a clock.”

“What—?” Her head snapped to her side table, where her alarm clock ticked over from 11:59 to 12:00. She gasped in delight. “Oh shit!”

“Haaappy biiiiirthday toooo youuuu—”

“Oh my god, stop,” she laughed, stifling it with a hand over her mouth. He powered through the entire song despite her bashful protest.

“…tooooo youuuu…”

She clapped, though she doubted he could hear it from her headphones. “Excellent performance. I’ll expect another serenade in person when I see you.”

“Anything you want, birthday girl.”

Mae passed Osha on the way into the kitchen.

“Birthday,” Osha said with a nod.

“Birthday,” Mae said, nodding back.

The smile they shared was tentative, but it shone with something like hope.

Sol had put up… what technically qualified as decorations.

“Are these from our thirteenth birthday?” Osha asked out of the side of her mouth.

“Twelfth. Thirteenth was the roller rink.”

“Ah. I couldn’t even participate in that one because Sol was worried about my ankle.”

“Oh, that’s right. The whole place smelled like feet, anyway.”

They shared a look of mischief. “Happy twelfth birthday, Osha.”

“Happy twelfth birthday, Mae. You look so mature for your age.”

They dissolved into girlish giggles, until Sol snapped off the lights in their living room. He entered from the kitchen, bearing a small cake burdened with a concerning number of small sparkler candles stabbed into the top. His off-key rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ left much to be desired. But he was their dad, and their dad was ridiculous, so they let him be.

Mae probably wished for happiness.

Osha wished… for justice.

The dinner itself was as awkward as Osha had thought it would be. Like she thought they would, they fell back into their uncomfortable, but familiar dinner habits: long stretches of silence, surface-level conversation topics, vague answers to vaguer questions. Osha felt like the fourth wheel on a tricycle—interfering with Sol, Mae, and the silence.

Mae had made a large pot of her famous mulled wine, which Osha indulged in with caution. She was well used to Mae’s heavyhanded pour and paced herself accordingly. Perhaps it’s for the best that I’m the twin who works at a bar, and she’s the one who works at a cafe.

Sol was an inveterate drinker—though reluctantly. He disliked alcohol, and had none in his apartment, which was good for Osha’s impulsivity growing up. But it wasn’t for his daughters’ benefit.

She had quite a few memories of Sol overdoing it in social settings, not knowing his limit when it slapped him in the face. It didn’t help that the others encouraged him—other Temple members they regularly trained with. The shame of having to scoop her dad up and drag him home always made her breath catch when she thought of it too long.

Like their mothers, like Osha’s injury, this was something they didn’t talk about.

Maybe that can change, a hopeful thought whispered.

Tonight was looking to be something one of those ‘overdoing it’ nights. Osha shared a look with Mae, and they stepped into the hall when Sol used the restroom.

“I hate this. I don’t want to babysit him,” Osha said, wrapping her arms around herself.

Mae’s response spilled out of her, relieved that Osha said something first. “Gosh, I hate it too. And I’ve got plans.”

“So do I,” Osha said. It was exceptionally vague, but she’d been keeping such tight control over knowledge of Qimir and his secrets that admitting this simple thing felt like saying too much.

But Mae didn’t grill her for more information like Osha feared. They shared a look, heavyweight emotions battling in their eyes as they struggled with what to say next.

“Mae, I—”

“Can we—”

They stopped, laughing nervously at the blunder.

“I’m sorry, too,” Mae said first.

Osha smiled sadly. “And yes, we can definitely talk when you come back.”

They’d been so dysfunctional for the last few months since Osha learned about her deception with Qimir. Despite the hurt feelings and the deep disappointment she felt toward Mae, Osha missed her sister profoundly. She’d been telling the truth. I want to make up with Mae, but she betrayed my trust, and it’s hard to get over that.

“Hey,” Mae said, a hesitant smile on her lips. “You are with me.”

Tears shone in Osha’s eyes as she smiled back. “I am with you.”

They quietly recited the rest of the verse, their secret birthday tradition that was once celebrated among their family at the compound. Sol found it a little disturbing, so they’d hidden it from him that very first birthday, reciting it in the mall food court over frozen yogurt.

“We’ll be okay,” Osha said. It didn’t feel like a lie. It felt like wishful thinking.

“I’ll babysit drunk Sol until I gotta leave,” Mae offered. “Consider it a birthday present. Go have fun.”

“Does that mean I have to babysit hungover Sol for it to be fair?” Osha said. “You know what? Happy birthday, Mae. I’ll deal with hungover Sol just because it’s your birthday.” Hopefully, he would be out of their apartment by the time she got back with Qimir.

They shook hands, giggling like girls again.

Osha received a text from ?? just then.

??: Are you still at dinner?

??: I can pull the car around for a hot exit if needed.

O: SUPER done. Save meeee

??: Bring your jacket.

O: Headed your way <3

With a birthday just past the middle of winter, Osha was used to storms tearing down her birthday plans, freezing the fun in its tracks before it ever begun. But tonight wasn’t stormy. In fact, things seemed sedate and… fresh. For the first time in all her birthdays, Osha felt like the weather dreamed of spring. It meant hope and renewal, or so the wizened witchy women in the compound had told her.

Bracing against the sudden chill of the evening, Osha stepped out into the parking lot with her eyes cast about for Qimir’s car. She didn’t see him waiting where he usually did, nor was his car idling in front of her building. She pouted, too excited to see him.

Sudden steps crunched through the ice headed toward her. Her heart leaped into her chest as she turned to face whoever was coming. In the dusk-dark lot, the lights hadn’t yet turned on, which made the approaching figure that much more frightening.

And then a split second where she froze—hands coming up to her cheeks and lips she’d dreamed about ceaselessly coming to meet hers. Qimir radiated heat, contrasting sharply with the icy chill of the brick wall he’d pressed her up against.

Why were there always walls conveniently nearby? Osha wasn’t complaining, however.

She remembered to kiss him back, adrenaline going out and oxytocin rushing in. She felt him shudder through an exhale, and he melted against her body, one hand releasing her so he could wrap an arm around her shoulders. He drew her in closer, and in that moment he felt sturdier than the brick behind her, than any wall he’d pinned her to so far.

“Osha,” he breathed, enraptured. In the soft light from the hallways, his eyes looked glassy, almost misty. But she had no chance to examine them further because he was claiming her lips in another demanding, hungry kiss. The first kiss had been a desperate, formless surge. This was exacting and precise. This was how she wanted to be kissed for the rest of her entire life.

She embraced him at long last. Her hands fisted in his quilted black jacket, holding onto him as if there were any world where he’d try to pull away from her. Osha had no idea where all this emotionally charged behavior was coming from; maybe it was a symptom of the distance, two sudden days apart. Perhaps it was a desperation borne of stifling her emotions in front of Sol for two hours.

Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Qimir pulled back to place kisses on her eyelids, forehead, and cheeks. She giggled at the playfulness, squirming in his arms to try to escape the ticklish onslaught.

“Welcome home,” she gasped, panting from the sudden exertion. She leaned back to look up at him.

His glasses had gone a bit askew, and the ties he used to keep his hair back had gone a little wonky—when had her hand gone to his hair? Was that a ponytail? Had they been apart so long that his hair had grown to unrecognizable lengths?

“I couldn’t wait to see you. I knew you were walking down, and I couldn’t—I had to see you.” He shook his head, trying to free himself from the madness overtaking him, but the madness continued to speak. “I couldn’t wait. Not a second longer.”

She hushed him up with another half-dozen kisses. The angle cranked at her neck a little, but he kept one hand at the base of her skull, supporting her like this was any of their usual mobility exercises. She traced her thumb over the contour of his neck, his muscles somewhat strained. “I missed you too,” she said softly.

He broke, making a noise better suited to a wounded man. Before she could react in concern, Qimir folded his arms into an iron-strong embrace around her, tugging her in with all the intent of a besotted boa constrictor. Osha squeaked, not expecting him to initiate a hug—let alone one that left her seeing black spots in the corners of her vision. The pressure left almost as quickly as it came, and Osha wheezed like a bellows.

Yet, she was the one asking, “Are you alright?” Her hands framed his face—that was cold, too, for as flushed as his cheeks were. Shit, had he run here?

He nodded, taking hold of her wrist and kissing the delicate veins on the inside. She shivered for a reason completely unrelated to the cold. “Kinda lost my mind for a second there,” he said, trying to play it off coolly. Secrets, something whispered in her mind.

“Just a little,” Osha teased instead of pressing further. “I’m not complaining.” She didn’t see his composure crack too often, but when it did, it seemed to always end with her pressed against a wall beneath him.

A small, victorious noise from waist height made them turn away from one another. Bazil was already pretty strange looking, between his diminutive stature and enormous beard. Wrapped in possibly five coats at once, he looked even more ridiculous. But his eyes sparkled with mirth, pointing between them as he chattered in Tynnan.

Whatever he said made Qimir laugh, a sharp, breathy noise that felt illegal to behold from close up, for as lethal as it was proving to Osha’s sense of self-control. His teeth glinted in the low light, white and sharp and hidden for lips just for her to kiss. He replied to Bazil, but Osha still had no idea what was being said. She could only stare at the wide grin on Qimir’s face.

Maybe ‘Smiley’ is a good name for him, after all.

He eventually let her go when he realized Bazil wasn’t going to simply move on and let them make out. She straightened her coat, and then impulsively reached her hands up to straighten his collar from where she’d crumpled it a little bit. His eyes flashed to her from the side, and the unfiltered heat behind the gaze almost had her shying away. Damn. He likes preening, I guess.

“Bazil says happy birthday, by the way.”

Osha jolted, her mind having gone to much dirtier, darker places than this. “Oh! Thank you, Bazil.”

He said something slowly in Tynnan. “Thank you,” Qimir said after.

Always the teacher.

Osha repeated the phrase to Bazil, who was delighted to hear her speaking his language. He chattered a little more, clearly asking a question. She looked to Qimir to translate.

“He’s asking if you’d like to come to bingo next week. You don’t have a shift then.”

“Yes,” Osha said instantly. Qimir smiled again, leaning down to kiss her cheek. He relayed the news to Bazil, who made another cheerful noise before wishing them farewell and plodding up the stairs.

He scooped her up again to kiss her cheek before spinning her out in front of him, like they were dancing. She laughed, wrapped in his joy. “You’re nuts,” she said, taking his hand as they walked all the way back to building 8.

“Can you blame me?”

No, she really couldn’t.

CHAPTER 18

#unhingery #common grounds #osha x qimir #oshamir #star wars fanfiction #oshamir fanfiction #the acolyte #the acolyte fanfiction #qimir x osha

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crystalgastles · 2 months ago

Text

After the flesh

This is a very rough draft of the first chapter of my Jeff the killer fanfiction please spare me if you find any grammar mistakes

Trigger warning for normal Jeff the killer stuff

Rain pattered outside my window, the cold grey of the morning stinging my eyes as the dull feeling of a headache began to brew at the bottom of my temples. My teeth felt sore.

The remnants of last nights events began slowly moving to the forefront of my mind and the reminder that I had to work a nine hour shift was threatening to make my hangover worse.

The coffee in my hand was bitter and the cigarette that graced my lips as I pulled from its burning embers was hot on my lungs. I should have stolen more sugar packets from work.

I could work up the courage to call out, use an excuse that no one wanted to ask more about but I need the money, rent was over due and I’m two weeks away from having the water and electricity cut out. Another drag out the cracked window, another sip of the coffee I don’t have cream or enough sugar to make bearable.

——————————————————————————

Another sip from the bottle, and a shit attempt at washing off my clothes in the river behind the house of a well off family. Father was a Lawyer I think mother was an accountant or receptionist or insurance broker?

I never know anymore. Lines blur the faces are warped, people look like animals the more I do this. Man sins he runs to church, monster sins he runs to the bottle, and I am no man.

Thunder rumbles in the distance as lightning crashes a little too close to my position than I’d like. I’ll just steal from the slaughterhouse I’ve created behind me, all that’s not covered in blood.

I rummage through the teenage boys things, never bothered to learn his name even though he was the one to wake up, he doomed the entire family. The soft white of the fabric made me wince. The clean white of the oversized material falling over my frame with ease.

——————————————————————————

The diners bright lights practically blinded me as I tried to get through the day. Zombies had more energy than I did at this point and tips were slow. I couldn’t blame the customers, but it would put a spring in my step if I got more than a five percent tip for large groups I mean, Can seven business men not afford more than five dollars to spare between all of them?

Cold ice water spilled down the front of my uniform as the clatter of glass hit the ground in a sharp ear piercing crack. I had tripped on one of their feet, made to look like an accident but it was because I forgot more creamer. I was sure if it. Fabric uncomfortably clung to my skin as one of them giggled like a school girl. “Jesus” I whispered harshly under my breath and didn’t turn back to face them before I ran to the back room.

Someone else could clean it.

My entire front was covered in water, the tips of my hair soaked and freezing, I couldn’t help but let out hard and choked sobs, my body shaking with each breath while I stood in the freezer in the kitchen trying to compose myself.

The end of my shift and I could even hold it together. I removed my apron and clocked out without telling anyone.

Mascara ran down my cheeks,my nose and cheeks flushed while I clung to my winter coat, it was cold enough to be uncomfortable but not enough for it to snow, the puddles from the earlier rain squelched as I worked on my walk to my car from the parking lot. 98 days since I had been kicked out from my family home, 26 days I had been couch surfing and 72 had been living in my friends apartment, barley being able to split rent. It was almost December. I missed my mom.

——————————————————————————-

I liked to watch the news, between the mundane and the weather the bright face of the news anchor would fall, sharing the details of the family I had ever so kindly turned into my art project. Three people, five people, an extended family of eight on vacation, only the dog was left. All me across different states, yet I wasn’t suspected for any except my own family’s. Dogs, animals can’t tell the police what you’ve done and sometimes they don’t care. I don’t leave witnesses that can speak.

The diner was mostly quiet, bright droning lights almost drowned out the sound of the box television hanging over the booth in front of me that displayed the news. The chief of police was speaking at a press conference, the bright white hoodie suddenly making me feel too visible for my comfort.

Politician. I killed a local politicians whole entire family.

Not that I particularly care about politics, quite a distaste for them actually. Police tend to work harder to find the people who harm them even at the local level.

My attention was drawn from the problem I was facing on the screen in front of me as I watched the guy in the booth across from my table in a group of suited fraternity brothers who barely graduated college stick his foot out and trip the server that was waiting on him. Making them drop the tray of half full ice water they were carrying.

The crash of glass and silverware clattered to the floor as the seven giggled, mockingly saying sorry and throwing their half crumpled napkins at her in feigned support of helping them clean up. Tears welled in their eyes as they stood up straight and ran to the back.

It’s easy to pick targets. Some people might as well paint giant red circles on their foreheads. I don’t usually pick people for their behavior on a whim, but I missed my portion of the news because the accident they caused. Not the server.

I don’t discriminate when it comes to what I do. I watch people, I study them, some more than others. Sometimes I don’t, admittedly I should be more careful but when you need a place to stay for the night you can’t be picky especially if they have a McMansion on the side of town people don’t expect murder in and you really need a shower.

I watched the seven, not pay walk out and to their respective gaudy cars, lifted trucks and one lime green hummer, but two, the one who tripped the server and the one who laughed the loudest, made the detrimental mistake of walking home.

I followed at a distance, hood up. The cloudy cold weather allowed me to have it that way without suspicion. I just wanted to see where they lived. I’d deal with it later.

———————————————————————————

My keys clinked on the glass of the entry way table into my shared apartment. My roommate wasn’t home yet but I saw the mess of papers, boxes, a box cutter, fake skin for practice and a half drunk Red Bull on the coffee table and knew she hadn’t been gone long. They’d never learn to pick up after themselves.

They were a night shift worker at a gas station who had a dream of being a tattoo artist, something I also wanted to do but apprenticeships were not in the cards for me, I needed to eat and a place to shield me from the rain. The clock I could barely see from the kitchen, a glowing green glob that i could barely make out read 9:15.

I shivered, my front still wet from the water spilled on my brightly colored and obnoxiously 50s themed uniform. I needed a shower and to change.

Warm water cascaded down my back while I sat with my knees to my chest, focusing my eyes on the vinyl coating on the shower wall that’s been slowly starting to peel. I hate the mundane, I wish for just once , something different would grace my life. Something that’s not wake up, go to work, smoke a cigarette, shower, watch tv, check the landline for messages that my mother still sent me, begging me to come home. I can’t.

I watched the remainder of my hair dye fall down the drain as I turned the water off, I would keep it on forever if it stayed warm. The rough material of an old towel wrapped around my body while I brushed my wet hair and then my teeth, got dressed in an old South Park t shirt I had from high school that my dad gave me, one of the only things we ever bonded over was that show. I swallowed the guilty feeling that overcame my senses as I pulled on my sweatpants and clipped my hair back so my wet hair wouldn’t stain my shirt. Perks of having dye that never seems to fully Rinse out.

The yellow glow of our singular lamp bathed the living room in a warm light, the couch seemed to sink in on me while the tv played some sitcom I wasn’t too invested in.

Tap tap tap

The unmistakable sound of fingers on glass made me turn my head towards our sliding door, I grabbed the box cutter sitting on the coffee table. Something my roommate left out after she had finished opening a package, her forgetfulness becoming something I was grateful for in this moment.

I could see a figure. My own reflection in the glass obscuring my late night visitor’s appearance as I approached the door. Seeing it was unlocked as the glass slowly started to slide open.

She forgot to lock the door.

A large black boot slapped onto the linoleum, wet with rain. The white hoodie the intruder was wearing, covered in red. The rain that had seeped into the fabric had turned the large splotches pink around the edges of what i could only assume was blood. And I didn’t want mine on there next.

Exposing the box cutters blade I ran at him, yelling obscenities as I hopped onto his back, a low grunt escaping his lips as he tried to pull me off and throw me onto my own kitchen floor,

Large calloused hands tried to grab at my arms as I wildly slashed without really looking. blood dripped onto my hands when I sliced his arm with the box cutter.

He grabbed my wrist and pried me off of his back, grabbing my shoulders and slamming me against the ground.

The wind was knocked out of me when the cold kitchen floor hit my back, the blood from his arm now dripping onto my face while he had me pinned to the floor, grabbing my wrist and wrestling my one and only weapon out of my hands.

Kicking, screaming, and biting I eventually got out from under him after I bit down his palm hard enough to draw blood and to feel his skin rupture between my teeth. I ran to my room, grabbing my flip phone off the living room table as he was preoccupied,clutching his hand where I had bit him and tried to shut the door but a steel toed boot stood in my way.

A deep gravely voice barely loud enough to hear came from the other side of the flimsy wood that was cracking in between my non stop pushing and the leather and steel on the other side

“I don’t want to hurt you. I need a place to sleep.”

What the fuck.

I tried to think, of something anything that would make him scared enough of me to leave but I kept drawing blanks. My lungs still trying to catch up with me.

“I have a roommate! He’s big and will be home in ten minutes, I have a shotgun in my closet if you don’t get out right now I’m blowing a hole through your stomach”

I lied. All I had was a box cutter that he now had, and a scrawny caffeine addict who was not a he who wouldn’t be home until six in the morning.

“You should go get it then, cause I’d rather have a hole in my stomach than be in a jail cell for the rest of my life”

I didn’t know what to say, my hands were shaking and I was covered in sweat and blood, my bangs stuck to my forehead and I pushed the door harder and harder, trying to push him out of the way so i could have some semblance of safety.

The crunching of the door reminded me of what was between me and this man, who was determined on staying in my home for the night, the sirens passing by my house one after the other, catching my attention. I made the connection that, that’s what he was hiding from pretty quickly.

The creaking from the door opening further brought me back down to earth, his foot swiping mine off balance causing me to fall back and balance myself on the wall, allowing the door to fully open as he stepped through, hands up as a show of surrender.

——————————————————————————

I returned to the townhouse three hours later, crouching behind a large bush right while I waited for one of the men from the diner to step out the back door and onto the patio, bong in hand.

I overheard on their walk home about a new strain they had gotten from a dealer in the city, something about how it was supposed to be smoother than a generic? I couldn’t give a shit I hope it was laced.

As if on queue I heard the glass back door open, to my surprise both of them stepped out, one carrying a small bag and the other carrying the large glass bong shaped like a family guy character.

Assholes. Stereotype defining assholes.

The water sloshed inside of the bowl when one of the men stood up, both backs turned to me as I lunged at one of them from the bush, large Bowie knife clutched.

Sharp Metal pierced between skin muscle and bone, the squelch of blood and raw screaming disturbed the peace of the quiet neighborhood, the glass bong shattering as it hit the concrete. The sound wasn’t as funny I guess when you’re being stabbed through the spinal cord.

The first one was swift. The man fell to the ground and was sobbing while his friend, the one who tripped the server stood dumbly off to the side.

I lifted his head by his shortly cropped and gelled hair, the crunchy pompous locks making me want to vomit.

“Open your mouth.”

“W-what?” The cracked voice of the man annoyed me. Once so proud and full of arrogance reduced to a babbling child

“Are you deaf I said open your fucking mouth.”

He did as I said, and as I placed his front teeth on the metal feet of the patio stable and kicked down. The sickening crunch of his teeth and skull satisfied me. He’d finally stop laughing.

I turned to the other man, who was now holding a wooden board.

I pulled my knife out of his friend’s back, looking him in the eye and slowly wiping the carnage off on the paper white of my sweatshirt, lightly laughing to myself.

“What was your friends name?”

The man swallowed, Lowering the board and taking a shaking breath before looking back at me

“Look man if I owe you money or something, I don’t make the Coke I just deal it, I can give you the guys number or-“

I shook my head. This guy watched his friend get curb stomped and he was worried that he owed me money

“Do none of you listen? It’s like you can only hear yourselves, what was your friends name sweetheart”

I was wasting time. The neighbors definitely heard and or seen what had happened. I would be hearing sirens soon enough. I needed to get this over with.

“Ronnie, um his name was Ronnie”

He finally answered my question and I let out a breath as I took a slow and deliberate step forward, tilting my head so I’d be at eye level with him. Keeping quiet while he just stood there as if waiting for me to make a move instead of actually doing anything to stop me or using that wooden board he had so lovingly clutched.

I stopped, tracing the blade along my fingertip. His unwillingness to fight back making me want him to just smack me square in the face with that wood just to prove to me that he wasn’t all talk, and that he didn’t only like to pick on people he deemed lower than him.

“It’s harder for a rich man to get into heaven than it is for a camel to travel through the eye of a needle”

Tears ran down his face as he let the board fall on the concrete, sniffling when he twisted his face to try and figure out what I meant “What does that even mean”

“I’ll see you where we both belong”

The knife slipped through the fabric of his shirt as his blood dripped onto the front of my jacket, the friction of flesh similar to when you slice an orange in half. One after the other after the other until his body resembled hamburger meat. I only stopped when i could hear sirens in the distance, my anger finally subsiding in a dull guilt.

I hopped the fence of the small back yard, running into back alley ways and parts of the city that were abandoned at night, only resuming when the sun came over the trees.

My lungs burned as I coughed, and sprinted through the streets. Hardly being able to catch a breath as sirens grew closer, reminding me I had to keep running.

I made my way to an apartment building, scanning the downstairs units until I found one tucked away at the end of the tree line, with a sliding glass door leading to the outside of the back yard that was connected to the other tenants.

I saw the tv on from the other side but couldn’t quite make out who was watching it from the other side, the light from a street lamp casting a glare on the glass. They probably weren’t even home.

I searched for the door handle, my fingers accidentally tapping on the glass when I finally found it, unlocked. I pulled on the door the loud scraping sound surely alerting whoever was home if there was anyone there at all of my presence.

I didn’t have time to react when screaming ensued, weight suddenly on my shoulders as whoever was sitting on the living room couch was on me, yelling at me to get out and waving around a box cutter wildly.

I reached up, grabbing this persons wrist and also thrashing, whoever this was was hell bent on staying on my back, getting me out, or stabbing me.

There was a sharp sting in my forearm as they sliced me in an upward motion that i could only hope didn’t hit any major arteries, can’t go to the hospital when you’re wanted in all fifty states.

I managed to grab their shoulders flipping them so they were facing me , then pushed and fell with them to the ground, using the time they couldn’t breathe to pin their wrists to the linoleum, clamping down so hard they had to open their palm so that the box cutter would fall out of that iron grip. I stopped for a moment, recognizing their face and hair. It was the server. The server that was tripped, the server I saw run away from broken water glasses and the men I turned into New York strip steaks was now tussling with me.

A few kicks to the stomach I can deal with, wiggling is easy to endure, teeth tearing through my fingers is not something I ever want to feel again.

I let go, but not before I kicked the makeshift weapon where they couldn’t reach and cradled my now bleeding hand and arm while they skittered to the living room, and to a room down the hall. Probably to call the police. I ran, my longer legs carrying me to the room right before they could close the door, and stuck my foot in between the frame and the wooden board.

“I don’t want to hurt you I just need a place to sleep”

#fanfiction #creepypasta #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x oc #jeff the killer x reader #eyeless jack #jane the killer #nina the killer #slenderman #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta fanfic

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