#also I use hair sticks so it takes me like 4-5 seconds to tie it all up

[shamera]

if anyone wants to write any Long Hair Problems(tm), here are some common complaints from me, someone who has had long hair most of my life.

have on more than one occasion risen from bed only to yank myself down because my elbow was on my hair

walked to the table for food while carrying something, leaned over to eat and started screaming because my hair was dropping into the soup

can and HAVE used my own hair as a scarf before.

it's not that long anymore but I have sat on my hair by accident before and leaning forward DOES yank it

I sleep with my hair loose and move it up over my pillow but bc it's so long and I don't want it to hang off the bed, I pull my hair back toward me on the pillow and sometimes I will turn around and startle myself because there is a mass of black right next to my face.

MUST tie up hair before doing anything. washing dishes? brushing teeth? cleaning toilet? lean forward a little bit and suddenly all your hair is falling right into the target direction you don't want it to go. and it will fall over your shoulders.

[akaashisupremacy]

Yours Truly

Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with Gojo, your relationship is in shreds. As you and Gojo try to pick up the pieces, he wonders if you can still give him a second chance. Will you? 

Notes: Broke my heart in half to write this fic for Gojo ✌️😩

Gojo Satoru  x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: ANGST AND PINING, exes to friends to ??, commitment issues lol, some fluff if you wink (wc: 1.1k) 

“What are you doing here?” you exclaim in the dark, stumbling back at the shadow that looms in front of you.

You’ve bumped into Gojo Satoru in the kitchen commons. He’s fresh out of the shower, hair still dripping. His presence is definitely visible because it’s past midnight and all you can hear up to this point are the crickets.

“What are you doing here?” he looks accusingly at you with his eyes wide, “I live and work here!”

He has one hand on his hip and another on a mug of coffee. His reply irks you. He supposedly asked you out on a date tonight and he cancelled last minute for what you thought was a job that was just taking longer than expected again. Was he home all this time?

You were wary of Gojo when he asked you out recently. Not only was he your ex-fiancee, he also has a playboy reputation.

“I’m here to make myself dinner after a long day of working on the school barriers.” you sniff, “And I’m also here to ask why you couldn't  meet up with me. Again.”

You glare. He shifts uncomfortably on the doorway.

“Can you make up your mind about me? I know you want to fix things, but if you’re going to keep cancelling, might as well stop. We don’t have to date or hang out.” you scowl.

He pulls out a chair for you to sit down. “Let me make things up to you. I’ll make dinner for the both of us. I haven’t eaten either. Just got home.”

“Oh,” you remark. Ok, maybe he hasn’t been home all this time.

You quietly sit as he prepares a quick dinner for the both of you. He’s never cooked for you before. It was always you who did the cooking, granted you were arranged to be married when you were kids and you stopped talking as teenagers. It’s complicated.

You watch him put pots on the stove and chop vegetables up on your old school kitchen counter. It’s too quiet, too late, too dark in here. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” you murmur.

He shakes his head.

“Your instincts aren’t wrong. Part of me wishes that us trying to date would end badly to prove that I was right all along, that there was no way this could work. But part of me wants to be wrong for once. I think you would like to grow old with me and all that stuff.” he admits, throwing vegetables into a pan without looking at you.

“This isn’t going to work if you’re just doing this for me.” you reply.

The sizzling of the vegetables almost covers up his next words, “It’s just difficult for me to admit that I have feelings for you, ok?”

“You’re endlessly kind to me and I’m the type to take advantage of kindness. I don’t want to drain you.”

You scoff, “I’m not 15 anymore. I have more boundaries. Give me some credit. You overestimate my compassion.”

As he continues to cook, his bandages start coming loose. His usual black cover for his eyes is gone. It must be laundry day. You stand to tie them for him. Your fingers are nimble, deftly untying the sloppy knots he put up in a rush and retying them firmly.

“You still remember.” he notes with surprise.

“You taught me. How could I forget?” you remark softly, returning to your seat and crossing your arms.

While he plates the food, he asks another question. The kitchen is barely lit. A single light bulb above the table is all the light there is. His shadow follows him as he moves.

“How could you still treat me like this?” he finally sits across you, words peeling with intense sentiment.

“Like what?” you ask curiously.

“Like I’m worth a second chance.”

You smile drily, trying to hide the pain beneath your eyes. You too wonder if he's worth another shot. Although your head knows that maybe he isn't, your heart says otherwise.

“I’ve accepted my lot in life, that I’m not going to deserve everything I get. Sometimes it’s just arbitrary.“ you sigh, “It sucks sometimes. I did get the short end of the stick, but I don’t want to shut you out of my life because of that.”

Gojo pauses with his chopsticks midway between his mouth and his food. He puts them down.

“You’re too much of a saint for me.”

“And you’re a sucker for that apparently.” you half-snort, half-roll your eyes. He can’t help chuckling.

His pauses then his face is serious all of a sudden.

“You know how Ieiri-san always jokes that I’m always a little in love with you? Well it’s true. I’m still a little in love with you and I grow more in love with you every time I see you. I don’t really know why.” His voice is a mix of bitterness, heartbreak and confusion.

You put your utensils down and reach out from under the table to grasp his fingers.

“I haven’t changed.” he hesitates to take your hand, his face ridden with guilt. He pulls away, “Don’t do this.”

You gently shake your head and indignantly keep your hands out.

“This isn’t about that. This is about being here for you, even if I'm not your fiancée. I’m here as just me.”

“How can you be so kind after I’ve hurt you all these years?” he asks, completely stupefied. 

“I came to the conclusion that you didn’t intend to hurt me.” you shrug,  “When you chose to be with other people, it wasn’t because you didn’t like me or wanted to spite me. It was because of things outside of our relationship: the familial pressure, the control and so on.”

“If it was just the two of us, you wouldn’t spite me. You have no reason to.” you add softly. He finally reaches out to hold you. His hands are not too warm or calloused. His fingers are slender and his grip firm.

Gojo is moved beyond words. He’s used to receiving attention and affection, but always in exchange for something: his time, his body, his power. You’ve never asked any of that. You give yourself unconditionally with all the tenderness you could spare, asking nothing in return.

What is this feeling? Hope? Redemption? Vindication? Whatever it is, it pushed him to look at you, quelling the sob rising in his chest.

How far you’ve both come. How far you have left to go.

After the meal, he insists on cleaning up. He turns to you when he’s done. You’ve passed out with your hand on the table. It’s been a long day.

Gojo shuffles through the nearby rooms for some clean blankets. He drapes one over your shoulders and readies to turn off the light in the kitchen. Right before he leaves, he catches a glance at you. He goes back to get another blanket and pulls out the chair in front of you and closes his eyes. He has a lot of time to make up for.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. This is 3 out 4 so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the rest of the releases! 😊

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

Comment or message to be added to the taglist! :D

Series Taglist: @shamelessdonutsludgebanana @kageyamakock @shirostrbl @luvang3l @cloudsinthecosmos @httpjungoo @saturnki  @itstheee-ha-chan @gucci-froggy @cherryonigiri

[your-eternal-muse]

Kinda Wish She Were Dead

Heather Series Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Bonus! Readers Card Confession Series Playlist 

Summery: During a night out on the town with the girls, Reader see’s something she wasn’t supposed to.

Words: 3.7k (my longest yet!)

Warnings: Swearing, a few sexual innuendos, Cheating, Mentions of Alcohol, and a fabulous right hook.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Heather Carmichael, Spencer Reid x eventual Female!Reader 

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one....turn it up! Also, the song that inspired this chapter. For the meaning of the song, not that fucking boat scene.

~~~~

It’s hot.

Like “laying naked in the middle of your apartment with the air cranked and every fan blowing on you” hot.

I’m one of the lucky ones.

My old apartment was renovated to include central air a few years before I moved in.

Still, the humidity was smothering.

So why was I putting a full face of makeup on, knowing damn well I’m gonna sweat it off before the end of the night?

Because why the hell not?

It’s the first time I’ve made plans with the girls in months, and I deserve to feel pretty, even if only for an hour or two.

My therapist tells me I’m making progress.

And it finally feels like I am.

I don’t hate the day before it even starts when I wake up.

I hardly close my curtains anymore.

I’d like to say that with her help, everything went back to normal.

I go to work and come home. I hang out with my friends, water my potted plants. Talk to Spencer like I never confessed my love for him.

But it didn’t.

I haven’t really spoken to Spencer since the day I left.

I’ve wanted to.

I’ve wanted to tell him that I’m here. I’m still here. That I’m always going to be here.

That I care about him more than probably life itself.

Ever since I came back, we’ve had to work together, and we’ve had a few small conversations, but nothing like what we used to have.

I crave those conversations.

How we would bounce back and forth from idea to idea, topic to topic without so much as breaking a sweat.

The late night conversations about the probability of aliens, and life on the opposite side of the universe.

I crave him, and the intimacy he brought.

Lately though, he’s been coming to work with a sullen look on his face.

He shows up earlier, and stays later, drowning himself in his paperwork.

When her calls interrupt a caseload, he no longer eagerly picks up to hear what she has to say.

All I want to do is walk over and ask him how he’s doing. How the married life is treating him. If there’s anything I can do to help lift his spirits.

But I can’t.

I’d be overstepping a boundary I didn’t even know I created that night out on the balcony.

Knocking on my door snaps me out of my daze, and I quickly cap my lipstick, making my way towards my front door where my night stands, waiting.

JJ, Emily, and Penelope are waiting, big smiles and laughter bubbling from their lips.

I let the smile spread across my face.

“I just need to grab my shoes and then I’ll be ready.” I usher them into my hallway, running back to my bedroom to grab the pair of heels resting by my closet.

I sit on my bed, slipping them on with ease and grabbing my bag on my way out.

They all ooh and ahh when I step into the light of my kitchen, and JJ grabs my hand, twirling me in place so they can get a better look at my outfit.

“I almost forgot you had party attire, y/n.” 

“God, I wish I had an ass like that. I’m older than you. That’s not fair.” Emily says, landing a playful slap against the fabric of my skirt. 

“Oh stop it, you flatter me.” Once upon a time, the attention would have made me antsy. The voice in my head would whisper that they were lying to me, that they really thought I was the ugliest thing in existence. 

That was then, and this is now. Now the confidence shines off of me like a spotlight.

“You deserve to be flattered, you beautiful goddess you.” Penelope says, her hands waving in the air.

I take a look in the new mirror that hangs in my hallway, and I can’t help but agree. The tight black skirt accentuates my curves, the low cut golden crop top that sticks to me like another skin puts the girls on display, and my heels give me legs for days.

I look damn good.

“Okay okay okay, pre-game selfie!” Penelope grabs her phone and holds up in front of her while we gather around. 

She snaps the picture and within a few quick taps, a buzzing emits from my bag. 

I dig my phone out, seeing the picture pop up in my notifications. 

JJ has her arms wrapped around me, and I’m pressed to Penelope's side. Emily stands over us, one hand on JJ’s shoulder, the other on Penelopes. 

I don’t think I could fake a smile like the one on my face even if I wanted to. 

I save it to my phone.

~~~

If I thought being in my house, alone, with air conditioning was bad, then I shouldn't have even bothered coming out.

The bar, albeit small, was packed. 

Even if there was a breeze, or any airflow at all, the combined body heat of the crowd would have swallowed it up.

I couldn’t really bring it in me to care all that much, though.

The dim lights and heat left my skin with a sexy shine, bringing attention to all the right places. 

I could feel the eyes on me. 

The ones belonging to men wanting to drown their sorrows in a woman like me, one who appears vulnerable, willing to go along for the ride.

It’s been a while, since I’ve had the attention of the opposite gender, especially this very specific kind of attention.

It feels good, in a way. To be wanted so openly. But it doesn’t mean jack to me, not if it’s not the pair of eyes I’ve been desperate to catch.

I should stop thinking about him.

It’s a girls night out. I don’t have to think, or worry about anything. 

Besides, he’s probably busy doing other things. Thinking about me is the last thing on his mind.

I laugh and take a sip from the Shirley temple sitting in front of me, laughing as JJ recounts a story about will and a botched attempt at breakfast in bed.

I pick a cherry up from the fizzy drink, and bite the end off, relishing in the sweet flavor. I pop the stem in my mouth, twirling it around my tongue as I listen to the conversation, pulling it between my teeth and setting it down on the table in a knot.

“Oh my god. Did you just tie a cherry stem with your tongue?” Penelope is cheesing from the other side of the table, the bright pink straw of her margarita almost to her lips.

I laugh, holding it up for them to inspect. 

“You know what that means.” Emily says, taking a sip from her own drink, before continuing her thought. “You, my friend, can give great head.”

A blush covers my cheek, but I cock an eyebrow. “Who told you?”

The three women burst into high pitched laughter, and I see Pen pull out her phone. She holds it up to me. 

“Do it again. The internet needs to be blessed with this knowledge.”

I chuckle again, the spirit of the night enough to get me drunk off the energy. I grab another cherry from my drink, sucking the end into my mouth before popping it off, and swallowing it. 

“Alright, we have one, untied cherry stem before us.” I hold out the stem for the camera to see. “Now watch as I tie it with no hands.”  I stick out my tongue, placing it in the middle before closing my mouth. 

I rest my elbows on the table, working my tongue around the stem, forcing it into submission to do exactly what I want. 

Within 15 seconds, I pull it through my teeth, and hold up a tied cherry stem. 

“Ta-da! Magic.” I place it on the table as they clap, smiles wide and goofy from their own alcoholic concoctions. 

“She’s single people. And there’s a line forming so shoot your shot.” JJ is the one to speak to the camera, and I giggle, taking another sip. 

Penelope brings her phone down, and within a minute my phone buzzes again, this time with the notification of the video being posted. 

There are worse things to be posted on the internet about me.

“I never knew you could do that, y/n/n.” Pen says, taking a sip from her drink. 

I run a hand through my hair, shrugging. “Didn’t think I needed to put it on my resume. It’s mostly a party trick I use when I like someone. I haven’t used it in years though.”

The unspoken question lingers on the air. 

“No, I never showed Spencer. But I’m sure it’d blow his mind. The way that man applies math and logic to everything he does just solidifies the fact that I know he wouldn’t be able to do it.”

It’s been a while since I’ve joked about him openly, but it wasn’t forced. It didn’t hurt. 

It was just a natural statement.

“Have you guys noticed that something’s up with him? He seems distant lately.” JJ says, leaning in closer so she doesn’t have to talk over the crowd. 

“Okay, so it’s not just me.” I reply, playing with the straw in my drink.

“It’s gotta be something at home. I mean, he doesn’t even remotely act the way that he did when him and Heather first got together.” Emily's eyes look me up and down, reading my body language, but I’m done hiding. 

I let the building anger ripple through me.

“He seems...sad. And not like, normal Reid sad where it has to do with his mom or something, no this is like..” she stops herself from continuing the sentence.

I finish it for her. “It’s like, me, sad.”

JJ sighs. “I hate to say it, but do you think it has anything to do with Heather?”

A glass shatters across the room, and like the red sea, the crowd parts.

Everything happens in no more than a couple seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. 

Through the empty space, I see two people standing at the bar. The woman has her hands wound into the man's shirt, her body turned as she laughs at someone behind her, I’m assuming the one who dropped the glass. 

The man has his hands gripped on her hips, smiling into her hair, before she turns back around, connecting their lips in the most disgusting kiss I have had the displeasure of witnessing.

The rage builds swiftly in my stomach and it pulses from my soul outward. The world’s tint changes and I see red.

“Even if it doesn’t right now, it will.” 

When the hell did I stand up?

They stand with me, and I’m about to argue my point when Emily speaks. “You want something to record, Garcia?” She moves by me, fixing my hair, handing me her glass which holds a swig of her drink left. “Record this.” 

I take it, downing it for a little liquid luck, and start for the bar, the three of them on my heels.

I profile him as best I can in the 20 seconds it takes to get through the now reforming crowd. 

There’s a gold ring on his hand. His pants and shirt are dirty, and his boots are thick. He works in something having to do with construction, which means he’s probably done around 5 every night, and I know for a fact that it is way past that.

I walk up to them, grabbing her shoulder and pulling them apart, stepping in between them, getting face to face to him.

“Before you even think about laying a hand on me, my name is SSA Y/L/N of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the F.B.I. From the look of your clothes and the ring on your finger, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that your wife is waiting for you at home.” 

His hand instinctively falls to his back pocket.

“And since you just reached for what I’m assuming is your phone, she’s called you multiple times tonight. She knows. Now, fuck off and maybe you can salvage things with her, but believe me when I say this,” His breath smells sour. “You aren’t even half the man that she’s married to.” 

He opens his mouth to say something, looking from me, to Heather, to the three women surrounding her, keeping her from leaving, and the camera pointed directly at his face.

He looks back down to me, and huffs, stepping back and walking in the other direction.

For a moment, I stare at where he stood. 

And then a fire ignites in my stomach and it takes everything in me to not beat the girl standing behind me.

I turn, and lightning strikes behind her eyes. 

“You’re not gonna tell him.”

“Like hell I’m not!” I take a step forward, and she takes one back, bumping into Emily who has her arms crossed, and her shoulders raised. “You know, I tried so hard to give you the benefit of the doubt, Heather. You made him happy and I honestly thought you loved him, but I realize now that he deserves someone so much better than you.” 

“Oh what, someone like you?” She’s snide, her demeanor defensive and cocky at the same time. She thinks she’s gonna come out on top of this.

“You know what? Yes. Someone like me. Someone who wouldn’t even think about doing this to him, because the amount of pain that he is about to go through doesn’t even come close to the stupid fucking reward. Oh, so you slept with some douchebag because what? You’re not getting enough attention?” The words are cathartic, leaving my belly with the venom that has been brewing there for the past 2 and half years.

“I found your letter. I was right about you.”

That would have stopped me in my tracks 6 months ago. Now I don’t even flinch.

“Oh honey, it’s not a fucking secret anymore. You want to hear me say it? I love him. I am in love with Spencer fucking Reid, and the only reason that he is with you, is because I was a decent human being and could see that you made him happy, so I kept my mouth shut. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t give a flying fuck what happens now, because whatever it is, it has to be better than being with a lying, cheating bitch like you.”

“You think he’s gonna run to you? Is that what you’re hoping for? He’s not gonna believe you. And even if he did, I’d turn on the water works and make him believe it was just this one time.”

She doesn’t know she’s being filmed. 

I turn to the bartender. “Excuse me, is she a regular here?”

The bartender smirks, wiping down the wood. “Yep. She comes in at least a couple times a week with that dude you kicked to the curb. They almost always leave together.”

Heather scoffs, crossing her arms. “Again, he’ll never believe you.” 

“You sure about that hot stuff?” Penelope steps forward, shoving the camera in her face. “Smile for the camera.”

Heather's eyes go wide, before turning to me. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“I would do it for a fucking corn chip.” 

I place my hands on my hips, getting so close to her our noses almost touch. My voice is dangerously low when I speak. “Either you tell him everything or I will. And trust me. I have my ways of finding out if you did.”

I step back, wishing the daggers in my eyes could inflict actual pain, as I turn to walk away. 

I hear her shout in frustration before I feel her hands on my back, pushing me forward into the mass of people. 

A couple people unaware of the confrontation help me back up with a smile, thinking I’ve just drunkenly tripped over myself.

Emily and JJ each hold one of my arms, making sure I’m stable, while Penelope keeps filming a look of shock on her face.

A wicked smile forms on my face.

I was hoping she’d do something like that.

I turn and my fist connects with her face, a nice cracking noise satisfying the lust building in my chest, as a thin coat of blood covers my knuckles. 

Though, it’s not my blood. 

She’s holding her nose in pain as she falls to the floor, taking down a bar stool with her, and I swear I see the bartender laugh.

I grab a napkin off the bar, wiping my knuckles before throwing it on the floor by her feet. 

“C’mon girls. The night is still young.” 

I see them cover their own smiles with their hands, and Penelope starts to giggle the shock away. 

I know I should feel bad. It was unprofessional of me. 

But she shoved me first. 

It is, legally, self-defense. 

Is it sick that I wish she would have punched me?

It doesn’t matter anyway. I know she won’t press charges. She’s smart enough to know she just dug her grave.

And now she has to lie in it.

~~~~

The atmosphere is different when I walk into the office the next morning. 

It’s tense. 

And one look from JJ and an inhale of air tells me why. 

Spencer’s here. 

I barely have time to set my bag down on my desk, before he grabs me suddenly by the arm, dragging me into a nearby conference room.

The anger is rolling off of him in waves, and I can see by the way he clenches and unclenches his fists, he is pissed.

He almost throws me into the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“You want to tell me why the fuck you punched Heather in the face for no damn reason?”

Stupid, stupid girl. 

Did she not think, that the way I would find out, would be from Spencer himself?

I can’t help but shake my head and laugh. “She didn’t tell you.”

“She told me that she was having a drink with a girlfriend of hers when you came up drunk, yelling at her, until you just punched her. Can you explain that to me?”

He’s finally yelling at me. After months of begging for him to yell at me, he finally is. 

It doesn’t feel as good as I had hoped it would.

I don’t say anything, just pull out my phone to find the video that Garcia sent me.

“Are you serious right now, Y/N? Put your fucking phone down and explain to me why you broke my wife's nose!”

I sit in a chair, setting the phone on the table and sliding it towards him. I lean back and cross my hands over my stomach.

“Watch the video, Spencer.”

“Why? Why should I listen to anything you tell me?”

I lean forward, onto my elbow, annunciating every syllable. “Watch the damn video.”

He stands, and I watch as he fights with himself, before huffing in defeat, sitting in a chair and pulling my phone towards him.

He presses play.

I watch as his anger flows away with each passing second, despair taking its place. 

This is what I wasn’t looking forward to. Seeing him see it for the first time.

Watching him break. 

It wasn’t pretty.

I watch as tears form in his eyes and silently drop down his cheeks. 

He clenches his jaw as he watches her shove me, and the punch that followed. 

The room is dead quite when the video ends.

I’m the one who speaks first, my voice soft. 

“I punched her, because she had the audacity to do this. She had the audacity to hurt you, and flaunt that fact publicly.” 

I swallow, taking a breath before speaking. 

“I meant everything I said in that video, Spence.” 

He looks up at the nickname, his anger no longer directed at me.

“She hurt you, and I saw red. I didn’t think about what I was doing, and frankly, I’m glad I didn’t. I don’t regret standing up for you. I never have, and I never will.”  I clasp my hands together, forcing myself to continue. 

“I love you Spencer. I don’t think that’s ever going to change. I’m going to have to live with you finding other people and falling in love, and I promise you, I will support you in that. But not with her. Not after that. You deserve so much better than a girl who thinks she can get away with this just because she’s pretty and jealous.”

He taps a couple things on my phone, before turning the screen off and sliding it back over to me. 

He stands. 

I don’t. I continue talking as he walks over to me.

“You mean everything to me, Spence. If I know you’re happy, truly happy, then I’m satisfied. I will defend you until the end of the universe comes. You are my best friend, and I love you. And I’m sorry I was never upfront about it before, but I am now.”

I look up at him as he stands in front of me. “I’m done hiding from you.”

He’s still for a moment. 

He reaches down and grabs my hands, pulling me up before he wraps his arms around my waist and buries himself into my neck. 

I pause, but only for a moment, before wrapping my arms around him and holding him tight against me. 

I can feel the wet spots on my neck as he cries, and his hands wind themselves into the fabric of my shirt.

When was the last time he was held like this?

I don’t count the time until he loosens his grip, stepping back from me and wiping his face. 

I would hold him until the end of time if he let me.

“Thank you.” He whispers, before moving towards the door. 

He opens it and walks out, and I grab my phone, running after him.

I stop in the doorway. 

“Hey!” 

He stops and turns, and the rest of the team is watching over their files. 

My heart is pounding, and I feel out of breath.

“I don’t have a choice,” I let him remember. “But I still choose you.”

A small smile flutters across his face, before he turns and walks away.

I look down at my phone.

Spence xp

[Video]

    Sent, 9:06 a.m.

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[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 1.8k words   ➷Humor, awkwardness, lots of swearing, more d*ck talk but mild mild nothing goes on, just very uncomfy, the secondhand embarrassment is real in there (like every part honestly)   ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, ✈Part 4, Part 5

“Uh, this… isn’t what it looks like?” 

Come’s your kneejerk response to Tooru’s exaggeratedly disgusted expression, you can tell he’s about 0.2 seconds away from throwing a fit.

“I went out of my way to wait for you, because I’m that good of a friend, you’re welcome. But you were taking so long, I figured I’d come in and drag you guys out. So. can someone please explain,” he shoots you (Hajime in his perception) a hard look, “What the hell is this?!”

Tooru is flushed in the face, and though his stellar performance and comical gestures were entertaining, you balk a bit at his outburst.

It’s a bit intense, and you feel a nervous sweat down your back. You can seldom say you’ve been on the receiving end of Tooru’s anger, and your struggling to come up with the right words to save face.

“I can explain?”

And what you came up with turned out to be excruciatingly underwhelming, and the baffled look Hajime sends you tells you that he also found your response pathetic.

Being in Hajime’s body with your hands clutched at his skirt, pulling away as if the garment was crafted using hot coals the second Tooru made an entrance, You’ll admit... it looked highly incriminating, and you’re going have some painful explaining to do.

“Well it looks like you’ve got your dirty hands on my bestfriend,” Tooru opts to refer to your actual self as his bestfriend, “What, Iwa-chan, can’t get any action? Trying to cop a feel before school? I didn’t think you were like that!”

He finishes the first segment of his rant with a huff. Under normal circumstances, you’d be appreciative of the rank up on his bestfriend list. Currently though, Tooru is getting under your skin, and as young man, you’re a little offended that he’s talking to you like that.

Tooru takes two strides (curse his long legs) across the threshold of your house, eyes narrowing in on you.

You glances to Hajime to ease the situation, he’s the only one that can say anything to help alleviate the situation.

Tooru follows your gaze, eyeing skeptically for an explanation. Hajime clears his throat, and you think you just might be saved. He’s always been quick to resolve altercations, whether its verbally or physically.

“....Hajime wanted me to wear my skirt shorter, but I said it was against school dress code.”

Hajime states as a matter of fact, and you gasp, what the fuck Hajime, but Tooru’s absolutely scandalized gasp overshadows your own.

“You asshole, that’s not—” 

Tooru is quick to interrupt you,

“You absolute heathen Iwa-chan! Who knew you’d turn out to be such a dog!”

Tooru snags your collar with a tight fist, and you instinctively wrap your hand around his.

Uh... you’re not gonna have to fight Tooru, are you? It’s Hajime’s body, so you’d gladly let him get bruised up as retribution for that comment, but you’re not too keen on getting punched in the face by Tooru protecting your own dignity.

“It’s not like that!”

You scramble for a way to dig yourself out of this one. Tooru’s locked his glare on you, exuding pressure.

“Then what is it like Iwa-chan?”

You glance from Tooru’s scowl to see Hajime’s smug expression behind him, your brow ticks at the sight of it. 

‘That little...’

Weren’t you just saying last night how excellent of an actress you were? Time to put that to the test.

You forcefully remove Tooru’s fist from your collar, adjusting your tie. Tooru allows you to gather yourself for a moment, scorn still etched across his features.

Averting your eyes to the side with a serious, contemplative gaze, you muster all the dramatics you can to pull off your next line. Internally, you think smugly that you must appear picture perfect for a drama noir film. If only it were raining too, that would set the atmosphere ideally. But an actress must work with what she’s got. 

Tooru seems decently invested in your dramatics, and Hajime is looking at you with contempt, as if he drank sour milk. Now that a pregnant pause has settled in and you’ve garnered the crowd’s interest, you sigh, long and wistfully,

“She never wears her skirt like that... I thought she might be struggling with her self confidence, so I was just trying to make her feel comfortable with herself. I’m such a brute though, I guess I got carried away.”

You cast your gaze sheepishly to Tooru, rapping your knuckles lightly against the top of your head to emphasize your point.

Tooru blinks at the explanation, takes in the information, considers the evidence in his mind.

His eyes begin to water, as expected, tears brimming at his long lashes as he spins around to pull Hajime (AKA you) into a bone crushing hug. He’s got a suffocating grip on him, all the while crying about ‘Hajime’s’ reasoning.

“I didn’t even notice! Forgive your stupid bestfriend, I should’ve said something too! How did I miss that?!” his dramatics always seem to up yours, Tooru is currently stealing best-in-show from you, “Waaaah, I’m sorry, you’re perfect the way you are!”

He cries into what he thinks is your shoulder, no doubt using the fabric to wipe his face, much to Hajime’s disdain. Meanwhile, Hajime is glaring hard and venomously at you for that bullshit display.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

He mouths, and you stick your tongue out, giving him the cheekiest expression he’d never want to see on his own face.

“Whew, alright,” Tooru straightens, clearing his throat and flicking his last tear off with the swipe of a hand, “Now we really have to go. Hike that skirt up and let’s get on with our day.”

He’s back to picture perfect Oikawa Tooru, no evidence of his outburst to be seen (asides from the wet spot on Hajime’s shoulder).

You try to grunt in agreement as casual and Hajime-like as you can.

For the sake of getting to school on time without any further incidents, Hajime pulls the uniform skirt up a tad higher, vowing to lower it when you fucking nuisances are out of the picture.

Your final class is almost over, and you’re feeling.... extremely uncomfortable.

Not because the school day went bad, no, you found it easy to converse with his classmates and teachers. Notetaking was relatively simple, you’re learning the same material as Hajime anyways.

You’re physically uncomfortable, and the pressure of your bladder about to burst is driving you crazy.

‘I can’t take it any more!’

You shoot your hand up, and your teacher gives you an odd look before you excuse yourself to the restroom.

You head to the furthest end of the building, the women’s restroom is generally vacant so the men’s should be the same, yeah? And you definitely don’t want to be caught in the women’s, despite how empty it could possibly be. So with a heavy sense of shame, you waddle into the men’s room.

If someone’s in there, it’ll be fine. Just be in, and out. No big deal.

Oh. 

Oh fuck no.

“Iwaizumi, hey.”

Matsukawa fucking Issei glances up to the door you just waltzed through. Matsukawa Issei, middle for the Seijou men’s team, tall and messy haired flirt, the same Matsukawa Issei that helps you with your blocks and techniques, friend of Tooru and Hajime... and he’s staring straight at you with a casual nod of his head. 

You try to return it as casually as possible, despite your bones and every being shaking in you. 

‘Fuck, I forgot men I actually know use the men’s room.’

“...Mattsu–” nope not Mattsun (so much for being casual, you almost fucked up the way Hajime refers to Matsukawa), “–kawa.”

He raises an eyebrow for the briefest second, before returning his attention to the urinal, unzipping his pants. Un. Zipping. His. Pants.

He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on the slip up, already entering conversation about how your day is, to which you give short response to, trying not to shuffle your feet to the urinal. You really don’t want him to catch on to your discomfort.

You heavily contemplate just going into a stall, but you think that might be weird for guys to do. Now that you think about it, isn’t it weird to piss in the urinal directly next to the other guy? If you chose one spaced out would he get offended? Goddamnit, you never learned men’s room etiquette. Screw this whole situation, and screw Matsukawa Issei for needing to relieve himself at this exact time. 

Well, it’s too late now, you’re already standing at the one directly next to Mattsun. You can’t exactly take your sweet time picking another urinal and shuffling about while Mattsun is here engaging you in conversation about his fucking math class.

If it was weird to choose the spot beside him, Mattsun doesn’t say anything about it, going about his business. 

Thankfully, if you could even be thankful for a situation like this, you’re so overwhelmed by Mattsun’s unexpected presence that it’s keeping your mind off the having-Hajime’s-dick thing. The discomfort is still there, but you have to pee so badly, you’re not too bothered by it at the moment. You’re also intently focusing on not blushing, willing the blood flow to your cheeks to cooperate with you for once.

Simultaneously, you’re concentrating on not looking at Matsukawa fucking Issei’s junk. You’re getting good at multitasking.

But apparently, not good enough. Your willpower wasn’t as strong as you thought, and your focus slips for a moment as you gaze down and–was someone going to tell you that Matsukawa fucking Issei was HUNG?

“Is there something wrong with my dick?”

You shoot your eyes back up to Mattsun, who’s tilting his head with a thick brow raised. 

‘Hajime, if you hear about this, I am so sorry.’

“Nope, it’s perfectly fine,” you respond curtly, before coming to the realization that Hajime probably wouldn’t like you telling his friends that their dicks are ‘perfectly fine’, “I mean, no. It’s seriously ugly.”

You cringe at your save, if you could call it that, and Mattsun (finally) zips up. He casts a momentarily offended look at you.

“I think you mean ‘seriously huge’.” 

He laughs deeply, heading to the sink. You completely agree with that sentiment, and you’re glad he knows he’s well endowed, but it’s best to keep those thoughts to yourself.

You follow suit, laughing as sarcastically as you can without letting your voice crack. 

“Whatever, man.”

You proceed to have awkward sink talk with Mattsun, and upon exiting the restroom you thank the gods when you see his class is the opposite way to yours. 

“See you at practice.”

He waves, and when Mattsun is out of sight, you sigh in immense relief. 

Just how many dicks are you going to see before you swap back? You sob internally, returning to your class.

But that does bring up a point, Men’s Volleyball Practice. 

You’re marginally grateful for that encounter with Mattsun, because now you’re acutely aware of the locker room changing time before and after practice. 

You bury your face in your arms, taking note to sprint like hell and get to practice early. You’ll be damned if you have to spend any amount of time struggling to avoid eye contact with your friends’ abs, as well as Hajime’s other teammates'.

A/N: AHAHA the CHAOS. Anyways, we all know Matsukawa got that horsec*ck. Thanks for tuning in for this week’s episode of y/n’s awkward panic. Iwaizumi Is So Done. 

taglist: @cybergovl​ @thatoneoddgirl8 @keijikunn 

Masterlist, Part 5

[prettyboyjackhughes]

-Draft Day- |J. Hughes|

“Char, you know as soon as they announce his name, you’re the first person he’ll try to find.” Trev says, messing with his tie. Tonight was the 1st night of the NHL draft. Jack is expected to go number one, Trev and Alex not far after. I was super excited for all of them but I wasn’t able to be in 3 places to sit with all of them. Trev and I had shared every little thing since we were born, might as well share this too.

“Well good thing he’s not that far away.” Jack says, turning around and smiling at me. Alex and Madi are in the row behind us. Madi and I had gone shopping for draft dresses a few weeks ago. I had bought a gray, short, off the shoulder sweater body con dress. Madi’s dress was a black, short body con dress with puff sleeves. She had paired her’s with nude heels and I had worn mine with black knee high heeled boots that made me almost as tall as Jack. Jack was wearing a blue suit with red stripes and a red and blue checkered tie. Trev had on a black suit with a light blue tie. Alex’s suit is my favorite. It’s light gray with a navy blue tie. Jack turns around and looks at me again.

“Trev’s right though. You’re the first one I’m looking for. So you’d better be ready to kiss me.” I laugh and lean in to kiss him.

“Baby baby! Not yet! I don’t want lipstick on my face when I get called up!” I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat, crossing my legs, my dress sliding up apparently too far for Jack and my brother’s comfort.

“Seriously Char? Pull it down!” Jack says loudly. Luke laughs and looks back at me.

“For real Charlie! No one wants to see that!” Trev says, pulling my skirt down for me. I roll my eyes and Madi laughs. The announcer comes on and asks everyone to take their seats and I reach over, taking Trev’s hand.

“Welcome to the 2019 National Hockey League Draft. Our first draft will be from the New Jersey Devils.” Jack shifts anxiously in his seat and Trev reaches down with his free hand to pat his shoulder.

“With the first pick overall, The New Jersey Devils are proud to select, from the U.S. program, Jack Hughes.” Jack stands up, the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on his face. He immediately turns around and almost falls over the chairs, reaching for me. I stand up and step towards him. Our lips connect and I can feel the smile on his face. After a few seconds, he pulls away. He hugs the whole Hughes family, Turcs, Trev, and Madi, and then makes his way to the stage. He had left his suit jacket on the back of his chair; leaving him in just his button up shirt. It hugs his upper body and arms in all the right places and shows off the muscles he’s worked extremely hard to get.

“Damn, he looks good in red.” I say, leaning back and patting Madi’s knee as Jack pulls the number 19 Devils jersey over his head, his hair sticking up adorably. She laughs and we all sit, waiting for Alex’s and Trev’s names to be called. We politely clap for every guy drafted but all I can focus my mind on is the fact that my boyfriend got drafted number one overall and was gonna be playing in the NHL alongside my brother and his best friend. Along with what will happen after all this is over, what Jack and I will do when we get home. Jack’s parents and Dukes were all staying at Quinn’s apartment in downtown Vancouver. My parents and Alex’s parents were all at a hotel about 20 minutes away from Quinn’s apartment. But since this is a big couple weeks for the boys and they would be coming and going so frequently, the parents all pitched in and booked the 5 of us an Airbnb for the next 2 weeks. While Trev was the third wheel to both couples, I’ve been woken up by him sneaking a few girls out at 4 in the morning before he thinks we’re all awake.

“You’re gonna get hell from all the girls in love with him.” Trev says as they announce the 3rd pick. I shrug, not worried about it.

“They’re not the ones sleeping with him at night. I am.” I say, smirking and laughing. Madi high fives me and I flip my hair.

“Wow, real humble aren’t we, Char?” Alex says, shifting in his seat and putting his arm around Madi’s waist. I smile and Alex gently tugs a chunk of my hair. .

“And with the fifth overall pick, the Los Angeles Kings select, from the U.S. National Development Program, Alex Turcotte.” Alex stands up and pulls Madi up with him. He pecks her on the cheek, not locking lips like Jack and I did. He hugs Trev, his parents and then reaches for me. I stand up, hug him and whisper in his ear.

“I’m so proud of you Turcs, love you.” He smiles and heads down to the stage.

“Madi that’s your boy!” I laugh as she snaps pictures of him.

“I feel like a proud mom!” She says, smiling. Trev’s gotten quiet during the last few minutes. I nudge him, waiting for a response as he stares at his phone.

“Huh? Oh I’m okay. Just, taking it all in.” I can see in his eyes he’s off but I’m not sure why. The management at the Anaheim Ducks had talked to him a while back and had mentioned if he was still there when it came their turn to pick, they’d take him. He was happy about that, since that meant he and Alex would both be out in California, but it also meant he didn’t really have anything to worry about. He’d be getting picked in the first round no matter what.

“And with the ninth overall pick, the Anaheim Ducks are proud to select, from the U.S. National Program, Trevor Zegras.” Trev looks up, almost shocked to hear his own name. He stands up, a goofy grin on his face. I stand with him, pulling him into a hug.

“Trev, I’m so proud of you! This is our dream! Now go!” He pulls away and goes to Mom and Dad, pulling them both into a hug. He finally escapes the row and heads down the stairs to the stage, the big grin never leaving his face. I take a Snapchat of him pulling the Anaheim jersey over his head and shaking hands with the general manager. I caption it ‘Proud of my Bubs❤️’ and post it. Soon, after what seems like hours of watching boy after boy get called up, teammate after teammate of the boys getting drafted, we are finally dismissed and get to go meet up with the boys. We head to the family waiting area and see the boys, all huddled in a group, waiting for us. Madi and I take turns hugging each of them. Jack suddenly pulls me away and kisses me. He kisses me, tongue automatically slipping into my mouth. After what seemed like no time, he pulled away.

“Sorry, I had to finish that from earlier. But anyways, the boys wanna go out. But we don’t have to. I know we had...plans.” He says, very obviously squeezing my ass as his arm sneaks around my waist. I smirk as I see Trev’s face, who obviously saw what Jack did. Surprisingly, he doesn’t come to say anything.

“I’d rather go home. I’m kinda tired plus, I really want it.” I say, “accidentally” brushing my hand against the inside of Jack’s thigh as I turn around to face him. Trev sees that too and finally does come over.

“Seriously you two! What is your deal? Our parents are literally right there! Why not just walk over and tell them you’re leaving to go have sex?” He says, attempting to keep his voice quiet but Madi and Alex still hear and excuse themselves from Alex’s parents, making their way over to us.

“Good lord Trev, keep your voice down! Besides, we all know you’ve been texting some girl all night trying to get her to come hook up with you when y’all go out.” Alex says, elbowing Trev. His face flames red and I almost want to put an end to the embarrassment he’s suffering on his big night but after what he said, I decide not to.

“Okay no need to expose me like that and it was one, okay two girls. So leave me alone.” He says, crossing his arms. We all laugh and Trev’s signature grin returns to his face.

“Okay kids, I need pictures.” Alex’s mom says, coming over and bursting our little bubble. Jack’s hand, which was safely in mine somehow escapes and travels back down to its original place. I roll my eyes and elbow him in the side. His hand goes away and instead, he wraps his arms around my shoulders. He’s going through a phase where he always has to be touching me, no matter how. From his hand in mine to playing with my hair, he’s always touching me. And I’m 100% okay with it.

“I want the boys first then we can do the couples and Charlie and Trev.” Turcs’ mom is a family photographer and really successful in Island Lake, where they’re from. Jack is in the middle, Alex on his left, Trev on his right. They all have the most genuine smiles on their faces. I pull Madi over to the giant NHL draft logo on the wall and we take a few selfies in front of it.

“Charlie, you know that boy is in love with you, right?” She says, glancing up at Jack and nudging me. I look up and catch him staring. I smile and he winks. My stomach drops and I get butterflies.

“Yeah I know, Mads. And I’m in love with him.” I say, smiling and hugging my best friend.

[rataltouille]

BONFIRE, BONFIRE!: A COLLECTION OF FLASH FICTION + POETRY

so i’ve decided to compile all twenty [these will be split into two so that the post isn’t super long] of the writing pieces i’ve done for my random celebration into one post so that it’s easier to read / access share!! you can also find it here, all put into one work, on wattpad, because i feel nostalgic about that website and decided to just post it!!

NOTE: i know that this shouldn't need to be said, but these 20 pieces belong to me so please don’t copy/repurpose it for your writing!! i plan on using these somewhere in my own writing and either way they’re stuff i’ve written so don’t use them!!

1. cooking + destructive + purple from @andiwriteunderthemoon [also i kind of cheated with this prompt and asked my sis @dreamscanbenightmarestoo for ideas and so the base idea’s from her!!]

I didn’t mean to set my house on fire, alright?

Let me set the scene: I’m sitting in my room, watching the infomercials that blur together, and suddenly there’s a bright purple flash on the glitching screen: /grapes/. They’re shiny, plump, and oh? A recipe for fine wine? Don’t mind if I do. So I pop into my kitchen and cut the grapes, dice them up, finally using the knife after years of not cooking— /mother, are you proud of me now?/— and stick the soft, luminescent fluid into a glass bottle. Following each step of the recipe.

The recipe didn’t mention an explosion.

Destruction rained around my house like a meteor shower. The bubbles from the fluid, frisking up at contact with metal, swam across my shoes and into the living room. It touched the TV, which still flashed the recipe, which I was still cursing at. And then, you know, it burnt up. The couch scorched first, I think. So that was fun. I later realised that I’d used my reserve of petroleum, which I’d put in my kitchen cabinet, instead of vinegar. I think I’ve got to move back in with my mother again.

2. running + quiet + sky blue from @kryskakikomi [i have no idea what this is i drafted this in a fever dream state]

Summer crawled up his skin like a worm. He was seated at his dining table, crosswording his way through the sticky morning, when it struck him that the humidity was new. He’d been caught in summer before, of course, but this year was different. His parents had whisked away to their hometown, and he still didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to go. He loved their home— he could have been running on beach sand and waves could have cruised over his feet, and his face would reflect sky blue under palm trees. Instead he sat doodling and scratching at cement walls in a quiet that nagged at his ears, grappling his flesh like a fishing hook, reeling him in. Boredom, him sister told him, before she also left for someone’s home. What would you know? he whispered once the door latched from the outside. Maybe /she’d/ like to sit on the same wooden chair, all the pink paint worn out, and scratch out squares of empty text until the pen poked through the other hand. He scoffed. At least he knew the number of scars on the wood; he could hold that over her when his parents returned.

3. hallucinate + hazy + violet from @chloeswords [i wanted to write something dreamy and ethereal but everytime i look at your url i’m reminded of church mud and indirectly my religious trauma so here we are 🤡]

We hold the book in our arms and chant for God. We don’t know what he looks like. They say that he’s sharp, never pixelating or blurring or showing through, like a hazy image would. No, children, our family says, he will come clothed in gold and velvet— the colour a deep and rich crimson, or chartreuse. And of course, he weaves a violet into his hair. Because he is just that humble. Just that gentle. Loving.

We’ve almost understood now. Pray, clasp our palms together into a transient equinox, and pray. Maybe he will shine down on us. Maybe we will speak so loud and chant so long that our lips will chap. Maybe we’ll simply hallucinate him to salve our bones. Our family says, he will bless you. And so he will.

4. halcyon + pluviophile + beige from anon [i was yearning for cats i am a cat person i love cats]

I remember my life before I moved to London,

Those halcyon days that I spent scooping up cat litter and brushing warm fur,

Being a mother to beige and white and black little felines.

They keep better company than humans.

Now I’m a self-proclaimed businesswoman, artist, influencer, pluviophile,

Even when I’ve barely stepped foot outside during the rain,

[But it needs to be said that when it rains in London, it pours].

I think I’d like to open a cat cafe;

I’m rich enough to pull it off.

5. sing + vulnerable + olive green from @occiidens [this was actually super fun to write because it’s a break from the typically unhinged stories i gravitate towards]

You watch from the highest hill of your town, hand wrapped around the serrated wood of a red oak tree. The bark pokes into your flesh, drawing blood that shouldn’t have been taken from you. You scowl. Just another thing that lives to cause you pain.

Three storeys down is a young man, short and smiling and lovely. He has dark skin and darker hair, walking with the stride of a deer, and he’s smiling; the joy reflects onto your face, even though you can’t hear him. He wears a cotton shirt, the olive green stark against the fire-blue sky. You call out, sing his name, three times in a row.

When he finally looks up, squinting as you silhouette under the sun, the smile widens. A wave. You’re suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Your palm digs into the bark until the wound is freshly dug again, the skin supple and vulnerable. You want to wave, but your hands would look so awkward, and the blood wouldn't help. So you turn on your heel and run— why are you so awkward?— and the grass around you is brighter. This is now a tomorrow issue, you conclude. You’re still smiling.

6. dislocate + ostentatious + blood red from @oasis-of-you [this got really unhinged really fast. TW: body horror]

If you take a turn at Finn Avenue,

Rogue your way down a blood red river,

[It’s not actual blood, do not worry. The colour’s a pigment and it’s saturated enough to give you the texture, the touch, the taste of blood, but I repeat, it isn’t true blood. You might think that it’s ostentatious of us to make you cross a river like that, but you’ll understand why.]

And if can stick your fingers inside the fluid,

You’ll find a bone.

Don’t pull it out fully! Only observe.

[This is a real bone, most likely animal. We may be ominous, but we don’t hurt humans. Not yet.]

So what do you do now? You want passage into a better world.

You came here because you saw the brochure, the flyer,

Radiant Idyll, home for love, but you also saw the jutting anatomy that leads to the city. The pictures were rather clear.

Why do you look so surprised? We’ve put this on the brochure— don’t you ever read the fine print?— to avoid this exact situation. That you would cross a body, a skeleton, pooled over in a fluid that we don’t name, but it’s probably alive.

It’s watching you right now.

So what do you do now?

Hurry up, unhinge your arm, dislocate the elbow, drop it into the blood, forgive me, false blood, and pay for your passage.

Oh! Excellent; that’s record time. We do hope you enjoy your stay!

1. @noteaboy [i’ve interpreted your url as ”note, a boy”]

There’s an orange tree. It’s spring, and there’s an orange tree, and it brims with fruit and citrus perfume. Point your lens flare downwards, and note, a boy. A young man, perhaps, because he combs his hair, uptight and firm, and he wears a tie. A long suit. He doesn’t look up, because his hand holds a book. /He/ holds the book, not the hands— tenderness doesn’t translate through anatomy, I’ve taught you this before. He’s waiting for someone. There’s only the rustle of leaves. He drops the book onto the lap of the tree, crushing the apple that had fallen down. Orange, not apple. Take note better. You only have one chance to get this right.

2. @eatingjupiter [your url is so beautiful omg]

The goddess had said this before she died: you need to watch over him. He needs your sentry to survive. The goddess’ words weren’t heeded. Little baby Jupiter tottered on lava as him parents small-talked with their kingdom. Well, it must have been small talk, because nothing seemed to happen afterwards other than his mother’s face collapsing in agony, anger, annoyance. He knew not to touch them then. He’d fly off into the sun one day, but if his hands were but and charred, he wouldn’t survive even a third of the journey.

The prophecy was simple: the firstborn to the kingdom will metamorph into a celestial, purify themselves so that only stardust remains. Live in the sky forever. The astrologers were baffled; you don’t just become a star. They should have heeded the goddess.

Jupiter was sixteen when he expanded and collapsed all at once. He still lives, they say, and the astrologers /were/ right, in a way: people just don’t become stars. They become almost empty space. Nobody knows if his hands were burnt when they left earth’s orbit forever.

3. @laughtracksonata [your name gave me slight horror vibes idk why!!]

Hahaha. The Horror Movie (don’t ask me for a name, I’m not good with those), with its cymbal crashing and plastic sounds, it’s so loud and scary that it hurts, father. Please turn it off.

Father doesn't listen. I shiver on the couch. The screen flickers like radio static and reflects off our wide eyes. What kind of a home is this anyway? I don’t want to fucking listen to a laugh track or a horror VHS tape or watch the bass crescendo as the serial killer jumpscares the watcher. I don’t think that having hour pupils glued to the same blood-splattered movie, with the same recording looping in his eardrums will help him. He laughs along, sometimes. It’s scary. Father needs a new hobby.

PART TWO COMING SOON!!

anyway this got REALLY long so i’m posting the third prompt group, the one based on songs, as a second part in some time. i hope you enjoy this, and PLEASE do boost!! i spent a lot of time writing these pieces and am pretty proud of them :’)

general taglist: @lovingyou-is @guulabjamuns @andiwriteunderthemoon @coffeeandcalligraphy @melonmilk @silentlylostwriter @charles-joseph-writes @eklavvya @eowynandfaramir @bitterwitchwrites @laughtracksonata @whatwordsdidnttouch @indeliblewrites @thenataliawrites @summersguilt @illimani-gibberish @sarahkelsiwrites @writing-in-delirium @shaelinwrites @sienna-writes @chewingthescenery @jennawritesstories @chloeswords @aelenko @keira-is-writing @cherylinanika @infinitely-empty-pages @jmtwrites @august-iswriting @freedelusionbanana @beetleblue88 @mistercaleb @iwannawritepls @hanwatchingmovies @mortallynuttyqueen @idratherliveinnarnia @maisulli @thegreyboywrites @ahowlinwolf @ravens-and-rivers @oasis-of-you @yanittawrites @chazza-writes-sometimes @skyfirewrites @lovebenders @treybriggsthewriter @themidnxghtwriter @ash-karter @queen-devasena @a-procrastination-addict @gaymityblight @beyondthebracken @madmaxst26 @adielwrites @moonpixxel @hollow-knight-dnd @keep-looking-here @overlap @ashleygarciawrites @ryns-ramblings​ @wordsbynathan @novaemlynlewis​ @sophiewritingstuff​ @howdy-writes​ @occiidens​ @nsanelyawkward​ @viawrites-andacts​

[ellaintrigue]

"ABUSIVE TYPES HIDE THE FACT THEY'RE ABUSIVE, WEAR THEIR VICTIMS DOWN AND ISOLATE THEM, SO THEY NO LONGER HAVE ANY SUPPORT BUT THE ABUSER, THEN START THE ABUSE, MAKING THE VICTIM BELIEVE THEY DESERVE IT AND EVEN HAVE THE VICTIM DEFEND THE ACTIONS OF THE ABUSER. YOU NEVER KNOW SOMEONE IS ABUSIVE UNTIL IT'S TOO LATE."

Growing up I knew what abuse was. It was when someone called you bad names and made fun of you, or it was when someone hit you or was otherwise physical. But those are the basics, I had no idea. It was the 90s and early 00s. No one had cellphones, let alone internet in our rural community. Mom raised me well but we didn't know what we know now. Abuse, even simple harassment, is being talked about now on a level it never was and the internet alone is in an uproar. It's a good thing.

It just passed the anniversary of my grandmother's death and the 1 year anniversary of when I first met up with the last guy (no abuse). That stings a little. But now it is about to be the 5 year anniversary of when I became a victim of domestic violence. It haunts me and I used to talk way too much about it to people, a trauma effect. But it's one of those things that will stick with you.

I never considered myself a victim until the day he got physical, which is when I left him. That is when something clicked in my head: THIS IS NOT OKAY. I was in a stupor after the assaults but I knew to escape. I'm going to approach this topic from the standpoint of a cis female, because let's face it, this is a huge issue with men against women in particular. Let's not candy-coat that. That said, remember no one, male, female, or otherwise has the right to put you down, control you, or put hands on you!

It all starts somewhere. Like the person above says, everyone is nice at first. Forget the bad boys versus nice guys shit. Nice guys are creeps (Google Nice Guy Syndrome). Women sense outward creepiness right away especially with all the whining, but the rest of mankind is a gamble. You never know what you're going to get into.

The standard list of an abusive partner is pretty clean cut, describing fear, a lot of control, and violence: https://www.webmd.com/mental-health/mental-domestic-abuse-signs

I could never be fully controlled and ended up punching him several times in fact, which was wrong and made me an abuser. I should have left. DO NOT BE AFRAID TO LEAVE OVER THE THOUGHT OF HEARTBREAK OR BEING ALONE. THERE ARE ZILLIONS OF PEOPLE OUT THERE EVEN IF DATING IS A BITCH.

There were good times and he did things for me but there's always a bright side to an abuser, that's what makes you stay. There was never any name calling or put-downs. He had mental illness breakdowns and was worried about me cheating mainly.

Here is my self-compiled list of abuse warning signs that happened to me:

1 Your partner dislikes and doesn't trust your family and close friends, encouraging you to distance yourself from them. He says they are abusing you.

2 Your family and friends nearly all dislike your partner, saying he's not acting right or something doesn't feel right.

3 Your partner is worried about you cheating. He worries about your boss, your coworkers, and customers at your job. He doesn't like you being anywhere without him.

4 Your partner is always calling or texting you, even if it's "just to talk." Normal relationships have space, you should be able to go a few hours without chatting or being around each other.

5 Untreated mental illness. I WOULD NEVER CLICHE OR BASH ANYONE WITH MENTAL PROBLEMS CLEARLY I HAVE THEM MYSELF. But when someone chooses to refuse treatment and starts victimizing those around them, being ill is NOT an excuse. Never ever feel sorry for an abuser because they are bipolar or have schizophrenia, etc. NEVER let them use their health as an excuse.

6 Establishing a relationship right away and wanting to have kids soon, even if there is no financial stability. They want to tie you to them.

7 They need reassurance that the relationship is "forever" and that you will never leave.

8 While ignoring all the red flags due to inexperience, previous abusive relationships, or whatever reason, you are still nervous and feel the need to ask the person if they would act out if you ever did have to leave them.

9 They threaten to kill themselves if you do try to leave or have any sort of space from them.

10 They can't hold a job. That's not a moral failing, it's a sign of instability that is not healthy for anyone. It will often fall on you to provide for them. That should be consensual, not forced, like when a man or woman stays home and cares for children while their partner agrees to work and is okay with that.

11 They destroy your belongings in fits of rage. YOU ARE NEXT, NO JOKE THERE...

12 They tell others that you are controlling and abusing them. They tell people that you did things that they actually did, like smashing a vase for example.

13 They threaten to call the police and tell them you assaulted them (these are times I was not hitting him although I admit I was wrong when I did that). They threaten to have you taken to the mental ward. They hit or cut themselves to threaten to tell the police you did it to them.

14 They steal from you. That's a pretty obvious one but yeah it happens anyway, and of course you don't want to press charges because they are still your partner. Some was paid back but it's still not okay.

15 They say their meltdowns and actions were never as bad as how you saw them (gaslighting).

Don't put up with any of this shit. Last week I went to the grocery store and this angry man was huffing through the isles talking to himself. He grabbed some things and piled them on his woman, who wasn't walking too fast and acted nervous. The man bitched at her and she moved towards the checkout line as I was walking up with a big cart full of shit. She told me to go ahead and I said, "no, you go ahead, you only have a few things." She was also in her work scrubs, a healthcare worker. She turned to me and said in this small nervous voice, "I also need to buy gas, will that be a problem?" I didn't really process what she said at first because it didn't make sense but said yes, of course. That would only take seconds after she paid for her 3 items.

This woman seemed timid and worn-down. This couple appeared to be in their early 50s, her with her hair done and clean, and him in dirty clothes with wild eyes. He demanded money from her and then shoved past me and another woman to go into the alcohol section of the building. As I left, he came out of another exit and cut close to me, babbling to himself while carrying a 6 pack of beer. He was yelling to himself that he got the wrong beer. She exited with the food and he huffed after her. This was 9 AM.

Don't let yourself be that woman. And if you are that woman, it's never too late, especially if you work and support that man. Save up, get support, bail. Please run before he kills you.

[gentlyquietly]

I love Your Everything

1.）

Aesop likes Joseph's smile, liking how those sapphire blue eyes look when they reflect the sun as he smiles, it's beautiful. Sapphire blue eyes are like the azure sky, and also like the mysterious ocean, yet at the same time, it was one of a kind, filled with gentle and passionate love for Aesop.

Joseph likes Aesop's smile, he likes the smile that only blossoms for him. Aesop's expressions are a bit cold, most of the time having a neutral expression. Only when next to Joseph, does he smile happily, those round gray eyes slightly squinting, only watching him, only looking at him. As if he were his everything, his world.

2.）

Aesop likes hugs, he likes holding hands with Joseph. Joseph has a habit, when he sees Aesop he subconsciously raises his hand, reaching towards Aesop. Although Aesop never mentions it, he thinks that Joseph is cute like that, a bit like a child who wants hugs. Over time, Aesop also developed a habit of giving Joseph his hand as soon as he sees him, of course, this was harshly scolded by the singles in the Manor, and they were forbidden to show affection in public spaces.

Joseph likes physical contact, he likes leaning on his little lover, sticking to him every second and minute of the day. Everyone in the manor knew, if Aesop was somewhere, then Joseph couldn't possibly be too far away. If you can't find Joseph, look for Aesop, it was an unspoken rule in the Manor.

3.）

Aesop likes Joseph's milky white long hair, after confirming their relationship, every day he would spend large amounts of time and energy to help Joseph style his hair, combing through Joseph's messy bedhead. Using the yellow silk ribbon to tie a perfect bow on his pretty hair. Joseph gladly allowed his lover to take care of his hair, using the time that Aesop spent focused on his hair to sneak some little benefits for himself, kissing and touching (Aesop yells at him of course).

Joseph likes Aesop's gray hair, he likes the unique color of it. Aesop doesn't like to blowdry his hair, disliking the loud noise the blowdryer makes. He also doesn't like to blowdry his own hair, unlike the way he treats Joseph's hair, Aesop always hastily dries it and calls it a day. Every time Aesop takes a shower, Joseph spontaneously reaches for the blowdryer, slowly helping Aesop dry his hair. After drying his hair, Joseph quietly looks at Aesop, awaiting his much-deserved reward, no kiss, no leave.

4.）

Aesop likes Joseph's unique voice, outside the camera world, it's hoarse and deep, not really good sounding, but Aesop likes it. Inside the camera world, Joseph's voice is kept at when he was young, magnetic, and yet at the same time laced with a hint of laze. Joseph likes to softly whisper french words of love next to Aesop's ear, the hoarseness of his throat painting Aesop's ear a pretty red. Although Aesop thinks that it's really sexy when Joseph does that, he would never in a million years admit it to him. Revealed by an unknown person, Joseph himself is already aware of this knowledge and uses it to his liking very thoroughly.

Joseph likes Aesop's clear and cold voice. Aesop's voice is very pleasant to the year, he's one of those people who speaks clearly and has a round tone. Much like Aesop's cold temperament, his voice is also light, giving others the feeling that he's a cold person. Of course, Aesop isn't always talking in a cold tone, soft and sticky whimpers, low cries, or high-pitched and sweet moans, Joseph likes them all.

5.）

Aesop likes Joseph's elegant and noble temperament. He likes watching him slowly strike the survivors, calmly placing them onto the chair. Joseph was always calm and collected, Aesop had never seen Joseph in a panicked state. Yet when Aesop saw Joseph looking for him that had been left to bleed out in such a frantic, his hair and clothes were not even properly done, Aesop realized, even if Joseph was disheveled and frantic, he still liked him.

Joseph likes Aesop's indifferent temperament, he likes seeing different expressions fill his face. His pretending to act calm after being teased face is just too cute, it makes Joseph want to make him cry. Aesop's calm and cold face in front of others simply doesn't exist when he's with Joseph. Is that person with a super flushed face, so embarrassed to the point he wants to bury himself really the same Embalmer that is usually indifferent and stays away from people?

6.）

Aesop likes Joseph, he likes everything about him. Aesop likes how Joseph looks when he warmly gazes at him and likes how he acts like a child just for hugs. Aesop likes that look Joseph had for him, the look that says he can never say no to him, without any bottom line. He likes that even when Joseph is so angry to the point his eyes are red, he never let his anger out on him. Even more so, Aesop likes the way Joseph opens his arms, happily calling out his name.

Joseph likes Aesop, he likes how even though he has a sharp tongue he always softens for him, even after saying that he won't let him hug, he would still tug lightly on his sleeve and offer his hug a couple of seconds later. He likes how quiet and calm Aesop looks when he's focused on his job, he likes how Aesop's lips curl up and eyes squint together when he eats desserts, and also how he looks when he's angry, yet doesn't have the guts to tell him so he can only glare at him. Even more so, Joseph likes how Aesop pulls off his mask to reveal his beautiful and radiant smile when he sees him.

7.）

He likes his unbearable past, his sadness, and his glory, his everything and anything. Because it's him, so he's willing to accept it.

After falling in love with Aesop, the originally dull and borning gray in Joseph's eyes changed, it became gentle, cute, soft, it became the color of everything beautiful.

Blue always reminds Aesop of Joseph's coat, milky white the color of gentleness and elegance, yellow is happiness, surrounded by a sea of yellow roses.

Not knowing when it started, the world reminds me every day, to think of you every moment, every minute every second, indefinitely.

[mldrgrl]

prompt: Mulder and Scully being competitive with each other over silly things - Jeopardy? solving the case before the end of an episode of some sort of forensic crime show? how many slices of pizza they can eat? a board game? etc.

Loved this one, Anon, thank you so much.  And I was in the mood to whip up something humorous.  Went to sleep last night thinking about it.

Half and Half

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG

“I’m dying to get out of this suit,” Scully says.  “Give me ten minutes and then we can go through the report?”

“I’ll leave the connecting door unlocked,” Mulder says as they exit their rental car and head to the doors to their rooms.  “Come over when you’re done and we’ll order in.”

She sighs in relief as she kicks off her heels at the door.  She tosses her blazer to the side, unbuttons her shirt, and loosens her skirt.  She clips her hair back, washes her face, and changes into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

File folders under her arm, she taps lightly on the connecting door before she pushes it open.  Mulder is sitting at the edge of the bed, tie off and buttons undone at the neck.  His shirtsleeves are rolled up and he’s yelling at the TV.

“What is Mork & Mindy!” he yells.  “Mork and Mindy, you idiots.  Everyone knows ‘nanu nanu.’”

“We were looking for, ‘What is Mork & Mindy?’” Alex Trebeck says.

“Obviously,” Mulder says.  “How did you people even get on the show?”

“What are you doing?” Scully asks.

“Playing Jeopardy.”

“TV Catchphrases for $400, Alex.”

“Book ‘em, Danno.”

“What is Hawaii 5-0,” Mulder yells, just as Scully says, “Hawaii 5-0.”

Mulder makes the sound of a buzzer.  “You have to answer in the form of a question, Scully, or it doesn’t count.”

“I still knew the answer.”

“You mean, the question.”

“Do you want to debate the semantics of Jeopardy or go over the reports?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Let’s try Shakespeare Who Said it? for $200.”

“Double double, toil and trouble.”

“Who are the witches?” Mulder answers.

“Who are the three witches of Macbeth,” Scully says at the same time.

“Who is Macbeth?” answers the first contestant to ring in.

“Oh, come on,” Scully says.  “You can’t be that dumb.”

“Right?”

“Not quite what we’re looking for,” Alex answers.  Finally, the second contestant answers correctly.

“Shakespeare Who Said It for $300.”

“I prithee daughter do not make me mad.”

“Baptista, maybe,” Mulder answers.  “Who is Baptista?”

“No, who is King Lear?” Scully disagrees.

“Who is King Lear?”

“Who is, King Lear.  Act 2, scene 4, referring to Goneril.  And that will lead us to our first commercial break.  More to come after these words from our sponsors.”

“I should’ve known that one,” Mulder says, scooting over to make room for Scully on the bed.  “$600 to $500, I’m winning.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You lost Hawaii 5-0 to incorrect phrasing.”

“You didn’t establish the rules.  $600 to $900, I’m winning.”

“I didn’t have to establish anything, those are the inherent rules of Jeopardy.  Everybody knows that.”

“Mulder, I’m here to go over these reports,” Scully answers, holding up the file folders that have been tucked under her arm the whole time.  She is still standing.

“How about a little wager?”

“On what?”

“Winner orders the pizza of their choice, loser pays.”

“Come on, Mulder.”

“You don’t think you can beat me?”

“No, I know I can beat you.  I just want to get this review done so I can go to bed.”

“Scully, it’s 7 o’clock.  The review can wait.  Unless you’re just chicken.”

“Very mature.”

“Triple dog dare you?”

Scully held her hand out as though to shake Mulder’s.  “We start with a clean slate going in from the commercial and we make our own wagers on Double Jeopardy questions.”

“I’ll keep score!”  Mulder leaves Scully’s handshake hanging in the breeze and jumps up to grab the complimentary pad of paper and pen on the motel desk, which she snatches from him as soon as he comes back to sit down.

“I’ll keep score,” she says.

“You are the math geek.”

They sit through contestant bios and Alex Trebek’s vaguely sarcastic comments on the tidbits they’ve chosen to share with the audience.  When the game starts back up again, there are two answers left in Shakespeare Who Said It? and every answer available in Civil War Nicknames, The Old West, and American Folklore.

Unsurprisingly, Mulder dominates the folklore category, but they tie for two answers.  They both struggle with The Old West more than Civil War Nicknames, but the answers there are easier to decipher within the clues.  Mulder is up $700 when the first Daily Double comes up in The Old West.

“$200,” Scully says.  “I already don’t even want to know the answer.”

“$500,” Mulder answers.  

“Suffering from tuberculosis and alcoholism, this dentist turned gunslinger died in a sanitarium at the age of 36.”

“Who is Doc Holliday,” Scully answers.

“Who is Bat Master..dammit!” Mulder replies just a beat behind her.

“You should’ve known that one.”

“It was the first thing that popped into my head.  What’s the damage?”

“We’re tied.”

“All right, next round, it’s getting serious.”

“Prepare to pay for a large vegetarian with extra olives.”

“Ugh, vegetables on pizza is the antithesis to the point of pizza.”

“And what is the point of pizza?”

“All the pepperoni you can handle and then add in some sausage for good measure.”

“You’re a heart attack waiting to happen, Mulder.  When was the last time you had your cholesterol checked?”

“In May, actually.  Fit as a fiddle.  Here we go, round 2.”

“...categories are: Before & After, Science, Word Origins, Potpourri, The Body Human, and finally, Astronomy. ”

The contestants seem fixated on Potpourri and Before & After, to Mulder’s relief.  He isn’t ready for Scully to completely smoke him in the Science and The Body Human categories.  He figures if he can do well enough in the first two, he might be able to hold firm and maybe they might get to Astronomy where he can make a comeback.  Sure enough, she responds so quickly in the first two Science answers he can’t even get a word out.

“Born this year, a sheep named this introduced the world to cloning.”

“Dolly!” Mulder yells, too excited about knowing a Science question he forgets to phrase it properly.

“Who is Dolly,” Scully corrects.

“Dammit!”

“Your rules.”

“I know, I know.  Still, dammit.”

Blessedly, the contestants leave Science and migrate to Astronomy and since the first answer is the planet nicknamed The Red Planet, a Jeopardy equivalent of low-hanging fruit, they stick with it.  The first Daily Double of the 2nd round hits them at the $800 question in Astronomy.

“I’m up by $1,600,” Scully says.  “You have $3,900.”

“I’m going to make it a true Daily Double.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“$600,” Scully says, after a few moments hesitation.

Mulder worries his bottom lip with his teeth and waits for the answer to come.

“This spiral galaxy is named for an Ethiopian princess in Greek Mythology.”

“What is Andromeda!” They both yell.

Mulder realizes he’s sweating after the last question and even though it paid off, he vows not to make that kind of gamble again.  Scully berates herself for not being more confident in her astronomy knowledge as she now trails Mulder by $1,700, which may or may not be easy to recover from.

Time runs out before all the clues are revealed and the 2nd Daily Double is never found.  By final Jeopardy, they’re nearly neck and neck, with Mulder at $9,100 and Scully at $8,500.

“The final category is: Computers.”

“Good thing The Gunmen aren’t here,” Mulder says.  “Gimme one of those sheets of paper and we can write our wagers and guesses like the others.”

Scully rips off a piece of paper and they both take nearly all of the commercial break to come up with their wagers.  Scully folds her paper in half with the wager face down.  Mulder turns his over and places it on the bed.

“And here we go with the final answer.  Born in 1815, this daughter of a famous poet published an algorithm for a mechanical calculator and is believed by some to be the first ever computer programmer.”

Mulder writes his answer immediately and Scully taps her pen against her teeth as the final Jeopardy music winds down.  She finally picks up her paper and memorializes her guess before the final note.

“Whatcha got?” Mulder asks.

“I want to see their answers first,” Scully replies.

Mulder bounces his knee in anticipation.  The contestant in 3rd place answers incorrectly with Dora Wordsworth, but only wagered $1.

“I hate when they do that,” Scully says.  “It’s not The Price is Right.”

“Listen, if the category was Nuclear Physics, I might only be waging $1 as well.”

“Too bad it wasn’t.”

The contestant in 2nd place also answers incorrectly with “Who is ____?” and ends up with $4500.  Mulder shakes his head.

“At least put something,” he says.

“Seriously,” Scully agrees.

“And now Judith, our three day champion, currently in the lead with $13,800.  What did she guess?  Who is Ada Lovelace?  Daughter of Lord Byron, known for her work on Charles Babbage’s Analytical Engine, August Ada King, Countess of Lovelace, or Ada Lovelace.  And how much did Judith wager?  $7,000, bringing her three day total to $65,941.”

“Alright, Scully, moment of truth.”

“Count of three?” she asks.

“Is that one, two, reveal?  Or one, two, three, reveal?”

“One, two, reveal.”

“Okay.  One, two…”  

They both turn their papers around.  Both answered Who is Ada Lovelace?  They both grin.

“Frohike would be so tickled with your familiarity with the mother of computer programming,” Mulder says.  

“Yeah?  How does he feel about your familiarity with her?”

“Pretty jealous, actually.”

“What was your wager?”

Mulder turns over the paper again to show her.  “$3,000.  You?”

Scully bites her lip a little and then flips the fold of her paper for Mulder to see.  “$8,000.”

“$8,000!”

“Go big or go home, right?”

“Damn, Scully.  You’re a monster.  In a good way, obviously.  But, damn.  So, I guess that vegetarian is on me.”

“Extra olives.”

“With extra olives.”  He grimaces and gets up to grab the Yellow Pages in the nightstand.  

Scully opens up her file folders and begins sorting the reports for review across the end of Mulder’s bed as he searches for a pizza parlor.  He’s on the phone fairly quickly after browsing the phone book.

“Yes, I’d like to place an order for delivery,” Mulder says.  “A large.  Vegetarian.”

“Half vegetarian,” Scully interrupts without looking up.  “Half pepperoni and sausage.”

“Sorry, half vegetarian, half pepperoni and sausage.  Extra olives on the vegetarian side, please.  Yeah, I’ll hold.”  Mulder drops the phone to his shoulder while hold music plays and smiles slightly.  “Scully, you interested in a rematch tomorrow night?”

“Depends on how interested you are in buying another pizza.”

The End

[unstoppableforcce]

the fight — part one

pairing: Poe Dameron x CMO! reader

how wonderful 1 2 3 4 5 | next part | masterlist

a/n: a short little series that I’ve had written for a while and will be posting in place of my regular posting this week bc of finals. as we all know, I love my how wonderful babies!!

“She’s not going to like it.”

As if he needed someone to tell him that. Especially, he glanced to his side to find the head of engineering, especially from people who had absolutely no business in his relationship. He scoffed louder than he intended to, just in case he didn’t already know he was overstepping, making sure to collide his shoulder with his as he moved around him.

“I mean you heard how she argued against the mission in the last strategy session—“

Poe kept walking, hoping he could avoid the conversation if he moved fast enough but clearly there was more vested determination in the boots of those who wanted in on his relationship than he anticipated as the head of engineering continued out of the council room right on his heels.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re right. Your girlfriend is just going to have to accept that—“

He stopped in his attempted escape, turning on his heel and placing his hands on his hips, stubbornly blocking the engineering head from following any closer. “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s the chief medical officer and whatever your problem is, I have no idea why you’re talking to me about it.”

The man scoffed, using the few inches he had on Poe to try his hand at intimidation, “she sleeps in your room, Dameron, the two of you aren’t fooling anyone—“

It didn’t work. “This conversation is over—“

“Good luck telling her about the mission you just approved.”

Poe considered punching him right there and then, but he glanced to his watch and saw he only had a few hours left before the mission was going to take place, until he needed to be in his X wing flying the mission. He couldn’t waste his time trying to mediate with someone he didn’t owe an explanation to, he needed to find you, even if that someone was right.

‘Not going to like it’ was the favorable reaction from you, something else was much more likely.

He continued down the hall into the greater command center and grabbed the first communications officer he could find and asked them to find out where you were.

“She just checked out of the med bay, I can check down at the mess for her or—“

“No, that’s okay, thank you.” He nodded, he knew you where you were if not in the med bay, and he headed there quickly.

But once he got the door, he hesitated. It was the door to his own room, and he was stuck outside of it, unable to type in his code as the sentiment of the previous meeting lingered in his mind. All morning the council had been locked in strategy meetings, trying to figure out what the best way was to do something that no one in the entire resistance wanted to do.

Intelligence said there was a First Order hold out on a moon on the other side of the galaxy. Intelligence said it had weapons, it had food supplies, and it had medical supplies, all the things a dwindling resistance desperately needed, but the intelligence was shaky at best and the resistance wasn’t in good enough shape for such a leap of faith like this.

The strategy meetings had two very distinct sides, Leia’s direct decision council split perfectly down the middle of the conference table. Half arguing that maintaining their current course was going to get them obliterated by the First Order, they needed supplies and they needed them now if they wanted any hope of keeping themselves alive to even see the next battle. Poe was unsurprisingly on that side. But the other side, not necessarily spearheaded by you, still had you arguing a little bit louder than the rest of the side. That side, your side, arguing that risking lives at this very vulnerable point for the resistance was idiotic at best, negligent at worst.

It only got worse when the argument was made that if a mission was happening, there would need to be medical staff on the mission to help figure out what supplies on this fantastical base were needed back home and which weren’t. That wasn’t where your issue was though, your issue was when they told you it couldn’t be you.

When he told you it couldn’t be you...

He typed in the code quickly, sliding the door open and stepping in to hear the sound of the shower running in the refresher off to the side, your clothes strewn around the floor of the room like you had stripped them off the second you got through the door. It was tempting to do the same, but he managed to just pull off his jacket, sling it over the back of the chair and move, still clothed, to the refresher.

Sliding open that door, he settled on the sink, considering speaking up to let you know he was there, but he was also pretty sure you already knew.

The sound of the water shutting off almost as soon as he entered was signal enough for that.

“Pass me my towel?” You asked, sticking your hand over the door and he quickly complied, grabbing it off the rack and passing it to you, allowing the silence to flood over the two of you easily as you dried yourself off, still separated by the shower door.

Your hair was stuck damp to your head, clinging to your skin as you stepped out, releasing a wave of steam alongside you, flooding the small room and fogging up the mirror behind him immediately. His stare traced down in tandem with the beads of water running down your face and arms, but eventually diverted away entirely, falling to the floor at your feet.

“The council decided?” You asked, reaching past him for your moisturizing cream and rubbing your hands together with it as you stood directly in front of him in the cramped space, towel wrapped tight around your body.

All he could do was nod until he settled his breath and raised his stare to meet yours, “we leave in a few hours.”

“Taking Rep for medical?” He nodded again and you released a sigh with more heat than the steam that still hung around in the small room. “This is a mistake.”

“You made that clear earlier.”

Now it was your turn to scoff, echoing your distaste around the room, “yeah, and then I got pulled out and a decision got made without me—“

“It would’ve been the same decision if you had been there, Ify and Ain switched sides once you left.”

You scoffed again, reaching past him to slide open the door but he caught your arm and held you in place in front of him. And you let him, sticking your face right in his, “I should be going.”

“You can’t—“

“But you can—“

“It’s different and you know it’s different—���

Moving out of his grip, you emerged back onto the main room and he quickly followed, moving to the bed while you moved to the drawers for fresh clothes. He wasn’t necessarily watching you get dressed just for the kriff of it, he was just waiting for you to fight back and so far, you were just pulling on your pants as if you hadn’t just raised you voice to him.

“Babe—“

You held up a hand, telling him no without so much as looking him way as you dug your hand into the drawer, reaching for a uniform shirt and pulling it on over your head. So he did as he was told, and he waited until you were dressed and turned back to him.

“Tell me you didn’t say no because of this,” you gestured between the two of you, taking a step up to him as he reluctantly stood from the bed.

“Because of us?” He had to stop himself from scoffing directly in your face.

“Tell me it’s not because of us—“

“It’s not.” He argued back, “tell me you know it’s not, you know that I would never make work about us—“

“Then tell me why I have to send my second in command in my place?” You took another step forward, pushing your finger into his chest and definitely pulling a scoff from his lips this time around.

“Because you’re important.” He threw his hands up from his sides, chuckling directly into your face, “because you’re chief medical officer and your second isn’t you.”

“You’re Commander Poe Dameron, head of all pilots, you’re not exactly replaceable but you get to lead the mission and I get benched—“ the sarcasm weaved it’s way into your tone and you made no attempt to stop it.

He couldn’t exactly say he minded however, he was shooting back just as aggressively. “You don’t want us going on the mission anyways—“

“Yeah because it’s a suicide mission—“

“One you’re so eager to be on even if—“

“You’re going to get yourself killed—“

“I’m a good pilot—“

“You’re one of our only pilots, we have dwindling forces—“

“And overworked medical staff—“

Your communicator beeped on the desk behind you and you both stopped your aggressive argument and pulled back. Your hands moved to brush you damp hair back away from your face and his hands went to do the exact same with his as he tried to get his breath back.

Grabbing the communicator, you read the message and let another exhausted sigh take over your body as you sat back on the desk and he sat back on the bed across from you, neither of you wanting to break the silence yet again.

The worst part was that you were probably right, he was 90% sure that leading the mission was the right thing for him to do, but he was also pretty sure you were right to be so cautious and he could never call you wrong when you were practically begging for your life to be the one on the line instead of your second... it was complicated, it was all too complicated. And he hated shouting at you, he hated arguing with you, he hated being on the opposite side of.

He wanted to be next you you.

“There’s a problem in surgery, they need me back.” You set your communicator down and grabbed a tie to throw your hair up and away from your face.

“Okay.” He nodded, rubbing over his mouth and huffing out a breath.

“How long until you leave?”

He glanced back to his watch, “a little over three hours, I need to get out to the hanger and begin pre-flight.”

You nodded, snapping the communicator onto your belt and stepping back into your boots. He watched you carefully as you did, trying to think of something to say, some way to not leave it like this but he had nothing and you could see that as you turned back to face him, your hands on your hips.

“Will you come and find me before you leave?” You asked with barely a breath above a whisper, rubbing over your eyes again.

He nodded, getting up and walking the few steps towards you, reaching out for you hand. “You’ll be in surgery?”

“I don’t know, maybe, they can pull me out if I am—“

“Yeah.”

Even as the heat boiled between the two of you, you stepped through it and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, “come find me.”

He gave one last nod and you moved towards the door, but not before he could reach out and stop you one more time, his hand, rough callouses and all, catching yours and holding you in the threshold. His eyes searched yours for something, he wasn’t even sure what, but he held your stare anyways.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here.” He sighed. “I don’t like this.”

“We’re both on the council, it was bound to happen at some point...”

“I know.” He just didn’t think it would happen like this, he thought it would be a fight, one of you would win and that would be that. He didn’t think he’d be leaving on a mission that you didn’t want to happen in the first place or a mission that you wanted to be on just to make sure no one else was there instead... he wanted it to be easy. He had no reason to ever think it would be in the time of war, but he didn’t like this.

He pressed a real kiss to your lips as you hesitated in front of him and lingered with his nose pressed to yours as neither of you wanted to move.

“We couldn’t send you, you know that...”

“I don’t want anyone to go at all...”

He nodded against you and you pressed another kiss to his lips before pulling back and opening the door.

“Come find me.”

“Yeah.”

He wanted to be mad, but all he felt was pain, a burning pain in his heart as he watched you heard down the hall and checked his watch again.

Three hours.

[devil-in-those-eyes]

Duchess of the Kooks- JJ Maybank

Okay, so if i’m really honest, I had tried doing this imagine different ways and i’m worried you guys wouldn't like it. It’s turning into maybe 2 or 3 parts, depends on if you guys enjoy it. I’m really hoping you do though. 

This part is taking over episodes like 4 and 5 just for reference. Pls be nice, i’m taking a risk with this and again, super worried and nervous. 

Warnings: Uh... some cursing, I think? 2.9k, she’s a long one.

~

           “Listen, when I agreed to coming to this movie night, I didn’t agree to Little Topper joining us.” JJ said after you and Kiara walked out of her dad’s restaurant and saw the two boys hanging around the back.

           Kiara groaned while you glared at JJ, “I have a name, jackass.”

           JJ faked a sarcastic smile and tilted his head while his hands hung on his hips. “I think Little Topper fits you perfectly. You are the baby sister, after all.”

           “JJ, seriously?” Kiara said. “Why can’t you be friendly for once?”

           You watched JJ as he looked at Kiara. For a split second, you saw his shoulders waver in the tension but then he remembered that you were there and stared at you. Hatred was a bit strong for the emotion that filled his eyes, but it was close to it and sadly, you couldn’t really blame him. Your older brother had been nothing but an asshole to JJ and his friends and tensions were only getting worse since the Boneyards, except JJ had a problem with differentiating between you and Topper. To JJ, you were still Topper’s little sister. You were nothing like him but because you shared the same last name and dirty blonde hair, you were classified as shitty as him. And it angered you, to no end.

           “Let’s just get through tonight without murdering one another,” Kiara said, waving her hands downwards, in attempt to motion keeping peace. She stared at JJ, “but if you’re gonna continue being rude, then see ya.”

           Your eyebrows lifted, a small smirk touching your face and waiting for JJ to back down and walk away. Your dream for tonight was for him to get lost, but he’d never give you that satisfaction. It was a nasty game between the two of you, stare long enough to see who would back down first. This little competition always gave you butterflies, not the ones that gave you delicious swarms of nerves but butterflies that flew around with red hot wings. It was rare JJ ever backed down and neither did you. Keeping his light blue eyes on you, he held up his hands. “Whatever you say, Kie.”

           “Can we go now?” Pope asked.

           “Yes,” Kiara answered and moved around you. She shoved JJ’s shoulder and knocked his focus off of you, “get in the freaking jeep.”

           JJ grumbled something, earning a smack from Kiara as you guys put the foldable chairs in the back of your jeep, along with the blankets you had put in there this morning. You got into the drivers seat with Kiara in the passenger seat and the boys in the back, you could feel JJ’s heated gaze drilling a hole into the back of your head but you ignored it and started driving to where the island was hosting their weekly movie night.

           Kiara went on to talk to the boys, turning in her seat to look back at them. You didn’t blame JJ and the boys for being hesitant around you, you just wished that they gave you a chance to prove that you were nothing like Topper. You hated your last name, nothing good came out of being known as the duchess of the kooks because it put you up there with the kook king, Topper and kook princess, Sarah Cameron. It was solely because of your last name, not because you were friends with Sarah or hung out with her and Topper’s friends. You were actually a loner, not hanging around anyone because your haven’t found your place on the island. Kiara had tried getting you to hangout with her and her three guy friends, but it was hard. JJ with his stupid blue eyes, mop of blonde hair and snarky comments, Pope was just hesitant to say anything around you. John B was more neutral, didn’t dislike you but wasn’t the biggest fan and you chalked it up to him being friendly to everyone that smiled his way.

           The only reason behind you going to the summer movie night with Kiara was because she begged, did the whole round eyes, jutted out bottom lip until you finally agreed. You needed to get out anyways, avoiding home by hanging out at the beach was getting a little boring. You knew that home was about to be less stressful because your Uncle Mac was flying in tonight and your uncle made it all better. He left the kook and pogue life when he was in his early twenties, he dropped the whole suit and tie and country club for his surf board and ripped up jean shorts. Your dad thought of your uncle as the black sheep of the family, whereas you thought he was the best person to walk the earth.

           “Yo, what happened to your face?” Kiara asked Pope, pushing his hat up after you pulled into a parking spot and got out of your car, grabbing the blanket and beach chairs for you and Kiara, Pope and JJ grabbing theirs.

           “Nothing,” Pope said, “knocked my head on dad’s boat.”

           You looked up at Pope and felt guilt fill your stomach. That was a blatant lie. You didn’t officially know what happened between the boys, but this morning you watched someone pull Topper’s Malibu from the water. It had sunk over night and right before you left for work you heard Topper and Rafe talk about how it was all Pope’s fault.

           “You beat his ass and he sunk my boat.” Topper hissed.

           “You didn’t exactly sit there and twiddle your thumbs, now did you.”

           Rafe and your brother jumped Pope and Pope fought back. If Topper hadn’t of nearly killed John B and Topper and Rafe hadn’t of jumped Pope, then Pope wouldn’t have taken matters into his own hands. You just prayed that the two boys and Kelce went to a party tonight instead of come here, looking for Pope.

           “Clutz.” Kiara commented as we all headed to the lawn where people were getting ready for the movie. You caught the eyes of JJ and could see it in his eyes, your brother bashed my friends face in and your heart plummeted. This was exactly why you didn’t like being a Thornton.

           “Aren’t you glad I made you guys come?” Kiara asked as she found the spot she wanted, right in the middle, not too close to the front but also not right in the back.

           “Ecstatic,” Pope said sarcastically, making a small smile touch your face as you and Kiara laid the blanket and set up your chairs.

           JJ cleared his throat, “my couch was pretty comfy, I’ll be honest.”

           “Wanna grab sodas, Kie?” I asked her, nodding my head to the small concessions stand near the back entrance of the country club.

           Kiara nodded, “We’ll be back.”

           The boys were in their own world, talking to each other, that they didn’t bother answering her. Kiara turned to me and rolled her dark eyes, “morons,” she muttered as we headed to the concessions stand but then an older woman called out to her. She grumbled unhappily but smiled while saying through gritted teeth, “I’ll be back.”

           I huffed with a laugh and walked up to the stand. The guy smiled at me so I returned it, “three Pepsi’s please.”

           He dished out the amount and I fished through my back pocket for my cash. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the kook duchess,” Rafe said, coming up to you. Your heart stilled in your chest as you realized that the only reason why Rafe would come here would be to cause trouble with Pope and JJ.

           Disgust rolled through you as he smiled, but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile back. As soon as Topper started seeing Sarah, your mom got it in her head that you being with Rafe would be this amazing thing. You nearly vomited right then and there.

           “Rafe,” you answered, accepting your change while the guy went to grab three sodas for you.

           “How are you?” He asked, still smiling while ignoring the look on your face. “been a while.”

           “Fine,” you said, happy to see the guy returning with your drinks. You grabbed them and gave one last look to Rafe, “bye.”

           “Not so fast,” Rafe said, gripping your forearm and pulling you back to face him. He leaned down an inch or so and searched your eyes, “I see you came with the pogues, why don’t you come back and sit with me and your bro, where you belong?”

           You didn’t belong anywhere. You didn’t think you belonged on this island, let alone with your brother and his friends. You tried to shake off his arm but he held on tighter, “what would your mom think? Hanging out with the bottom feeders?”

           “The hell does it matter to you?” You asked.

           “Hey, what’s going on, let her go, Rafe.” Kiara said, coming out of nowhere and grabbing a hold of Rafe’s arm that was still holding onto you.

           Rafe slowly let go of me and smirked darkly at Kiara and I, “good, you’re here too.”

           “Get lost, Rafe.” Kiara said, rolling her eyes and touching my elbow.

           “Tell your boy that we know what he did,” Rafe said as you two took a step away. Your face paled but Kiara’s played neutral.

           “Sorry, what boy are you talking about?”

           “He’ll know.” He answered, his jaw clenching.

           Kiara scoffed and turned us. We began walking away as Rafe called out behind us, “bye!”

           “Douche,” Kiara called back where as I flipped him off. “What the fuck was that about?”

           Kiara had no idea that Rafe and Topper jumped Pope, or about sinking Topper’s boat. I hadn’t said anything because it wasn’t my place and if I did tell her and she went to the boys, JJ would claim I was sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.

           “I can’t believe your mom wants to marry you off to that douche.” Kiara grumbled unhappily as we walked quickly back to our seats. When we reached the boys, I sat down and handed Pope and JJ their drinks. “Just saw Rafe,” Kiara said and Pope’s eyes went wide. “he said, and I quote, tell your boy we know what he did. What is that?”

           “Um,” JJ drawled out as Kiara sat between me and Pope. “Where is he?”

           Kiara looked over her shoulder, “there.”

           Pope whirled around and JJ casually followed. I looked over my shoulder to see Rafe standing with Topper and Kelce, drinking from plastic cups. “Great, the whole death squad.” Pope said, his voice going a bit higher than normal.

           “Don’t stare,” JJ said.

           Rafe blew a kiss my way. I gave a pretty fake smile and flipped him off while mouthing, fuck yourself. His eyes instantly hardened as I turned around but as I did, I noticed JJ watching me with narrowed eyes. I gave him a what the hell you looking at shake of my head and he looked down at Pope.

           JJ started talking to Pope about if they corner him, he was coming out swinging. Pope agreed but JJ lifted his tan backpack, “if that doesn’t work, I got this right here.”

           “Oh, my god,” Kiara whispered as Pope rambled on, something about staying in school? “Please, tell me you did not bring a gun here, JJ, there are kids here.”

           “No, I didn’t bring the gun, everything’s fine, Kie.” JJ answered, playing cool.

           “Wow, thank you. That’s really convincing. I love that, JJ.”

           “Wait,” I held up my hand, shaking my head. “When did you buy a gun?”

           “You’ve missed a lot,” Pope whispered.

           “None of your business, Y/N.” JJ answered swiftly.

           I scoffed, licking my bottom lip and facing forward. Kiara ignored him and leaned closer to her two friends, “Founding principle, you guys. No secrets amongst Pogues. What is Rafe talking about?”

           “Kie,” Pope leaned in, “it might go down tonight.”

           “might go down tonight? What did you all do?”

           JJ whispered something, but I was too annoyed with him to listen. Kiara faced forward and I could feel the anger rolling off of her, still having no idea what the hell Rafe was really talking about. As the sun started to set and the night took over, the announcer said in ten minutes they’d start the film.

           Kiara looked over at me, “Why do I have the feeling you know?”

           My eyes ripped towards her as Pope and JJ looked at us as well, “I don’t.”

           “You’ve been acting weird all day,” Kiara said, turning to shield the boys from me. “What do you know?”

           “Nothing,” I exclaimed. I motioned to JJ, “he’s been a dick all night, sorry if I’m sick of his crap.”

           I mean… it wasn’t a total lie but Kiara bought it and faced forward. When she did, I caught the eyes of Pope, who slowly faced the white screen as well, but then JJ’s eyes stayed on me. Yes my mind screamed I know what happened and I just lied for you.

           For the first time, his eyes softened but your face stayed neutral and faced forward. You weren’t even really paying attention to the movie, too be honest you didn’t even know what movie was playing because all you could think about was how Topper would get his revenge on Pope and JJ. Maybe if they made a run for it now, they could run to her jeep and peel before Topper and Rafe realizes.

           “Excuse me,” Kiara hissed and I looked at the two boys as they stood up. “where are you going?”

           “To wring it out,” JJ answered.

           “What’re you gonna do, hold it for each other?” Kiara asked, making me laugh softly, hiding it behind my hand when someone shushed me.

           The boys walked away but I turned my head to see Topper, Rafe and Kelce watching JJ and Pope. I turned my eyes back to the boys as they disappeared behind a tree, away from the mass of people. My stomach clenched.

           Did I tell Kiara? Topper and Rafe wouldn’t do anything now, it was still too populated. People would see. My breathing quickened as I looked back and saw the three talking amongst themselves.

           Oh, no. I reached over Kiara’s lap and grabbed the backpack. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

           “My brother and Rafe jumped Pope, so Pope sunk Topper’s boat.” I whispered, putting the backpack in my lap.

           Kiara’s head shook, surprised. “Wait, what?”

           I stared at Kiara and felt something heavy settled on my chest, “I think Topper and Rafe are going to hurt JJ and Pope.”

           “Y/N,” Kiara started, still trying to comprehend it all. “How come you knew this?”

           “I heard Rafe and Topper this morning,” I answered. “I would’ve said something but I didn’t want to hear JJ’s voice.”

           I glanced back and didn’t see my brother and his friends. “Oh, fuck, come on.” I told Kiara and we headed for the side. We ran to the back of the movie screen and heard grunting and yelling.

           Topper was beating the shit out of Pope while Kelce was holding JJ wide open for Rafe to keep beating. “Let go of him, Topper!” Kiara yelled, running for Topper while I ran for Rafe.

           “Rafe, stop!” I yelled, grabbing his arm before he landed another punch on JJ.

           Rafe didn’t listen, he twisted his arm out of my grasp and pushed me back, I went stumbling back and watched as he punched JJ in the stomach. Topper was yelling at Pope and Kiara was trying to stop Topper from hurting Pope. I was quick to jump onto Rafe’s back and wrap my arm around his neck, putting all my weight back.

           “Get the fuck off,” Rafe grunted.

           “Leave him alone!” I yelled, digging my nails into the skin of his neck.

           Kelce dropped JJ to the floor and came for me. He threw me off of Rafe and I tumbled to the floor. I bashed my head against the soil and heard JJ call out, “Y/N!” but then Kelce came for him and landed a few punches. I turned my head to see Rafe grabbing Kiara off of Topper and tossing her to the ground.

           “Stay out of this, Kiara!”

           I got to my feet as Kiara scrambled to the bag. My heart was beating out of my chest as Rafe and Kelce continued to beat up JJ but Topper wrapped his arm around Pope’s neck and started choking him, telling him to just admit it. “Kie, do something!” I cried, rushing to Topper and pulling on him.

           “Admit it, Pogue, just admit it.” Topper grunted as Pope struggled to breathe.

           “Topper, let him go!” I begged and suddenly a warm flame ignited on the movie screen. As the fire filled the screen, Topper let go of Pope and he went to the floor coughing and trying to breathe.

           “Kelce, let go of him!” Kiara called out and I turned to see Kelce shoving JJ away as Rafe ran up to Topper.

           Topper grabbed my arm as flames floated up the movie screen. “You picked the wrong side, sis.”

           I glared at him, “You nearly killed him, Topper. I didn’t pick a side.”

           Topper shook his head slowly, the red flames lighting up his features. “You’ll regret hanging around them.”

           I shoved his chest and ran up to JJ as he spit out blood. “Are you okay?”

           JJ grabbed his hat and put it back on, he tilted his head to see and I could see the busted lip. “I’m fine.”

           My chin wobbled at the sight, “come on, we need to leave.”

           “Guys, let’s go!” Kiara called out. JJ walked slowly beside me as we made our way back to my jeep, walking the opposite way of my brother and his friends.

[thran-duils]

Watch Me Burn (P.7)

Title: Watch Me Burn (Part Seven) Summary: Fem!Reader x AU!Cas. Fem!Reader x AU!Sam. This fic was inspired by both parts of “Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem & Rihanna. Castiel and the reader are toxic for each other and keep falling back together until the reader moved away. It’s been years and now she is back home, waltzing back into Castiel’s life. She is determined to do better this time, to make them work, but outside forces as well as the scars the two have left on each other weave their way into their reconciliation. Will they be able to overcome the past and new threats to their sustainability? Words: 3,076 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Extreme angst, domestic violence, smut, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM trust breaking, fluff, language, alcohol abuse, !!! eventual !!! happiness

Chap 6 || Chap 8 || Fanfic masterpost || Masterpost (mobile)

Sam walked in with Dean and you locked eyes only briefly before turning your gaze back to Castiel.

“He’s here. Longer hair,” you said quietly, barely audible above the music. Castiel threw a glance in his general direction and cocked an eyebrow. “I know, I know.”

“He’s coming,” Castiel warned you quietly, before saying at a normal volume to not arise suspicion, “This should be a fun night though for you guys.”

Suddenly, Sam was at your side. He had switched his jacket out for a button up cardigan over his dress shirt, his tie gone. It made him stick out in this bar, but you knew that was his attempt at dressing down.

“What are you ordering?” he asked you, leaning in close. You guessed he was purposely ignoring Castiel; he was good at making people feel invisible.

Castiel was staring at Sam, a piqued expression that only you would be able to recognize. It was not exactly a tight-lipped smile but close to it.

“Uh, I haven’t yet. I was just talking to Cas,” you said, gesturing at him standing opposite the bar.

Turning his attention to Castiel, Sam gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Sam,” he said, holding out his hand. “Worked with Y/N back in Austin.”

Castiel, thankfully, knew to play it cool. He reached out, taking Sam’s hand in turn, giving it a shake. The two of them held on a couple seconds longer than necessary, eyes piercing the other.

“I’ve heard,” was all Castiel said calmly in return.

You did not miss the slight raised brow Sam displayed at Castiel’s comment, no doubt wondering how much Castiel knew. He brushed the comment off quickly though.

“What are you going to order then, Y/N?”

“Probably a double whiskey with diet,” Castiel answered for you, throwing you a small smirk. He picked up the glass and went to work without waiting for you to confirm. It was your go to, that was correct. But you knew he was trying to prove a point to Sam by not even asking you. He knew you better, he wanted Sam to know that.

“Hmm. Whiskey,” Sam said surprised, rising his brows in surprise. “Far different than all the Paloma’s I’ve seen you down. Too many too count.”

Castiel snorted, drawing Sam’s attention. “What? Was she trying to get wasted? Y/N can’t handle her tequila very well.” He placed your whiskey in front of you.

Giving a small nervous laugh at their surreptitious shots at the other, you said, “Yeah, that’s true. But I paced myself.”

“Sometimes,” Sam quipped. You narrowed your eyes slightly at him and he chuckled. “Sorry. Right, you never got drunk. Ever.” He winked at Castiel across the bar. “I’ll take a Tom Collins.” You made a disgusted face and Sam chided you, “Yeah, yeah. I know. You hate gin.”

“Thanks,” Sam told Castiel. “I’ll see you at the table then, Y/N.”

Sam turned and left your side. When you met Castiel’s eyes again, he cocked a brow.

“I have a lot of questions,” he told you before walking off to take someone else’s order. You waited for him to return after a few minutes and cut in quickly.

“I know, I know. He’s pretentious.”

“You could say that again. What is he even wearing?”

You laughed a little and said, “That is him – and Dean, to be honest – trying to be casual. I can assure you.”

“So… not what I would expect from you.”

“There’s probably a reason why it didn’t work out.”

“I can think of a couple reasons, actually,” Castiel responded, throwing a glance over at where your coworkers were sitting.

Snorting, you nodded in agreement, “I know.” You took a drink of your whiskey and raised your glass half heartedly to him. “Here goes nothing. I can’t promise he will behave himself, but I’ll do my damndest to stay away.”

“Don’t think that’s possible with the seating arrangement at the table now. Looks like the only empty seat is next to him,” Castiel said sounding sour.

“Of course,” you muttered, turning around, and seeing what he said was true. You forced yourself to walk towards the table.

Playing it cool, you thanked Sam when he pulled the chair out from beside him to allow you to sit down.

“I ordered a couple of baskets of fries for the table and some deep-fried pickles,” Charlie informed you. “I told everyone that the burger is solid but if they are looking to be adventurous, that tater tot pizza is also good.”

“How much did you eat last time you were here?” Dean asked jokingly.

“Oh, shove it. I’ve been here a couple times with Y/N. It wasn’t all in one shot,” Charlie returned. “Thankfully, they live upstairs and I was able to crash on the couch one time! Don’t judge me, Tara, it was on a Friday!”

Tara held up her hands, “I wasn’t going to. I know you’re responsible.”

“Upstairs?” Sam questioned you.

You nodded, “Yeah. The floor above. It’s convenient.”

“Very,” Tara agreed and then asked, “But, do you not get sleep sometimes?”

“It’s fine most of the week. Fridays and Saturdays are a little wild, but I’m used to it. It’s nothing new. I’ll finally fall asleep in the early morning and can sleep in.”

“I would indulge so much in bar food, I would probably gain fifty pounds,” Charlie joked.

“Same,” your coworker Sahir agreed, raising his glass to which him and Charlie took a quick drink.

“I make sure that doesn’t happen. I meal plan,” you assured her. “It’s one thing I had to set right when I moved in. He was eating like absolute shit. I told him no one really likes quinoa, but his body will thank him.”

“Ew, gross,” Charlie said, her nose scrunching. “I hate quinoa.”

“It’s a power food, Charlie,” Sam told her.

“Don’t care.”

“I gotta agree with Sam and Y/N. Although, still with you, Charlie. I don’t like it but sometimes you gotta suck it up and play chess, not checkers, with your health,” Tara chimed in.

“Exactly!” Sam agreed. He turned his attention to you and asked, “You still on that 5 on, 2 off?”

He was referring to the exercise program you had been on while in Austin. One that he had strongly encouraged to get yourself in shape, something that was extremely personally important to him. You knew you could never be as fit or healthy as him and had tried to please him for a while.

Shrugging, you said, “More like… 3 to 4 on… maybe one of those days being yoga only. To keep flexibility.” Charlie snorted into her drink and you cocked your head. Sahir and Jennifer laughed as well and you demanded, “What?”

“Just… I make everything sexual,” Charlie laughed.

“Jesus, Charlie,” Tara said, but smirking despite herself.

Charlie apologized whilst laughing.

The food was delivered, more drinks, and even more jokes shared. Sam was leaning in close the whole time, his eyes roaming freely and Castiel was most certainly keeping an eye on you across the bar. You tried to stay straight up, not leaning yourself towards Sam while still maintaining a calm demeanor. Sam, outwardly, was not seeming to notice.

Your attention was drawn to the door as you saw Aspen walk in and you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. All you needed tonight was her flaunting herself around Castiel when you were already high strung. You knew it was normal for her to go to the bar for a drink, but you knew it was Castiel she was aiming for.

Sam’s arm slipped around your shoulders, drawing your attention back.

<> <> <>

“Hey, Cas,” Aspen chirped, leaning on the bar.

Castiel greeted her and asked how she had been since he had not seen her since the first night Y/N had come back. He was not surprised considering the air in which she had left in.

Holding out her credit card, Aspen said, “My regular, I think, to start out.”

When she looked back was the moment Sam’s arm slipped around Y/N’s shoulders. He pulled her towards him, close in proximity. Aspen rose her brows in surprise and looked back at Castiel who was placing her drink down in front of her.

“Wow, uh, who’s with Y/N?”

Castiel’s gaze moved over to the table and his jaw tightened when he saw Sam’s arm around her. Y/N was forcing a smile as she spoke to him.

“Coworker,” Castiel answered tightly.

“Oh…” Aspen trailed off, throwing another look over her shoulder. “All of them coworkers?”

“Yes.”

“They close…?”

Castiel pierced her with a stare and said, “I’m assuming you want your tab open?”

Aspen switched gears, nodding. “Yep. I’ll be here awhile. Maureen agreed to drive me home… if need be.”

“How kind of her,” Castiel chuckled lightly, purposely ignoring her insinuation.

<> <> <>

“Remember when Larson fell down those stairs outside The Outlook?” Sam asked you, his fingers pressing into your shoulder.

“Unfortunately,” you answered, smiling, trying to keep yourself from jerking away from his embrace.

“You tried so hard to get him to stop drinking. I mean, we all did. But it did fuck all to stop it.”

“Was he injured?” Dean asked, raising his brows.

Sam laughed, “Surprisingly, no! I don’t know how he just tucked and rolled, like his body was reacting defensively even in his state. The man could barely order a new drink. And that’s when the bartender was like, ‘nope, no more’. And cut the whole group off because they were afraid someone else would order him a drink and give it to him. Ruined our whole night. Well, momentarily.”

You stiffened then. That night was the first night the two of you had hooked up. That was the sole reason he had brought it up.

“The night continued after that for the rest of us after we got his drunk ass to bed.”

You noticed Castiel approaching the table. Thinking he was going to table touch, you asked Charlie quickly, “You want a refill?”

“Duh,” she said and then noticed Castiel. “Oh, hey! Perfect! Can I get a refill?”

Castiel gave a curt laugh and said, “When I get back. I’m on break. Y/N? Wanna come outside with me?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said quickly. You saw Sam watching you out of the corner of your eye as you pushed your chair back, his arm leaving you, and grabbed your jacket. “Don’t you need your coat? It’s chilly.”

“I’ll grab it on the way out,” Castiel responded as you came up to him. His arm slipped around you, guiding you away from the table. His hand was tight on your waist, protective.

Castiel did not take you outside. Instead, he led you to the back room and you followed his lead, a weight pulling down inside. You knew he was not pleased with how he was acting. As soon as he closed the door behind the two of you and locked it, he turned to face you. Getting in your face, he did not miss a beat.

“He’s been laying his hands on you all night.”

Throwing your hands out in defeat, you said, “I’ve tried skirting away, Cas. I can’t do that too much without making a scene though.”

“You’re not trying hard enough.”

Your mouth fell open.

<> <> <>

“Charlie,” Maureen greeted approaching the table, two shots in hand as Tara, Sahir, and Jennifer went out for a smoke.

Charlie straightened up, a smile on her face. “Oh, hello! Maureen, right?”

Maureen nodded and said, “Just spotted you across the bar and thought I would pop by to say hi. We did have a good few rounds last time!”

Smirking, Charlie said, “I kind of remember.” This caused Maureen to laugh, as well as the other people at the table.

“I just thought I would bring this over for you. Rum, right?”

“Oh, yeah. You got that for me?” Charlie asked surprised.

Maureen nodded, “You bought me one last time and I did not reciprocate. I hold pretty strong convictions about that. Speaking of which, I saw Y/N and Cas leaving out the back. He’s not off work yet, is he? He still owes me a shot since someone spilled mine at last call last time I was here, and I won’t be able to cash in without him.”

Charlie shook her head, “No, he went on his break and asked Y/N to go with him.”

Maureen snorted, “I wouldn’t be surprised to see them come back flush.”

Sam’s jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“They always had their ways in the past.”

Charlie let out a laugh, “Oh, do tell.”

“Just leaving to go… relieve themselves.”

“Maybe we should not pry into our coworker’s business,” Sam advised Charlie sharply.

Charlie stumbled a little at his change in demeanor, “Oh… right.”

Maureen smirked at Sam and said, “It’s not quiet business in this bar. Castiel has owned this bar for years… him and Y/N are old news. Them being back together scared a lot of people. It was a nightmare half the time to be honest. But… they seem to have grown up. Sigh of relief there.”

Sam straightened up at this comment. “How do you mean?”

“Just drunken fights, a couple cop calls. Break up, break off. They were young and stupid. Can’t say I wasn’t the same myself.”

Charlie was the one now becoming uncomfortable for her friend. “Oh, well… I mean, the past is the past.”

“The past does inform the future,” Sam quipped, and Dean nodded in agreement.

<> <> <>

You snapped, “I told you what happened between us and where he stands in my company. He’s not just some… schmuck! He’s a junior partner!”

Shaking his head, Castiel said, “Junior partner or not…” He trailed off, beginning to walk forward, forcing you to go backwards. “He needs to know where you stand with me! You apparently need to be reminded too.”

Castiel turned you around in a swift movement and pushed you chest first into the wall, pinning an arm behind your back. You gasped his name, trying to look back at him but he kept you firmly in place.

“I am just reminding you who you belong to,” he growled into your ear.

Your breath shuddered, feeling his hands grasp the hem of your dress, yanking it up to your hips. Slipping his fingers into your underwear, he stroked your lips.

“I pay attention to you, Y/N. I treat you right,” Castiel breathed as he played with your sex. “I dote on you, angel. Don’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered.

You keened as he worked you up, fingers slipping inside to caress you. You pressed back against him, begging for more. His grip tightened on your wrist, holding you more firmly in place and you stilled your movement, following his direction. You stood there, letting him rile you up, biting your lip.

“Look at you… so needy,” he said breathlessly. You could hear the want in his voice, feel his fingers move more freely, coated in your arousal. He leaned forward to be closer to your face. “Are you needy, angel?”

“Yes, sir. Only for you,” you told him obediently, giving him pleading eyes.

Castiel kissed your temple and praised, “I know, baby.”

Pulling away, his fingers left you to pull your underwear down and you kicked them off in tandem. His cock slid in easily in your wet folds. He sighed in content, his hands gripping your waist as he fully seated inside you.

“That’s my girl,” he purred.

His fingers dug in as he drove into you, taking you against the wall. You stayed sturdy, holding on. He drove up sharply into you again and you bit down on your cheeks.

Kissing up your neck, Castiel demanded, “You gonna do better for me? Let them know who you belong to?”

“Yes,” you said.

“Angel, don’t make me have to work harder for this,” he warned, his breath hot on your neck.

“Yes, sir.”

“Mhm, you’re not saying that with too much conviction. You’re too quiet,” He squeezed your nipple hard, causing you to keen loudly before burying your face into the wall, fingers digging in beside you. “We can do better than that, can’t we?”

His fingers closed in around your jawline, pulling your head to the side, you following his movement obediently. He wanted your mouth exposed, your noises to be heard.

You nodded quickly, saying louder, “Yes, sir!”

Castiel drove deep and quick, bouncing you against the wall. “I know you can do better. You’re so beautiful. I love hearing you scream for me.”

“I belong to you!” you declared, knowing damn well anyone walking outside the room could hear the two of you. He was jeopardizing his place of work for this. What rumors would fly of people being railed in rooms in the bar. “Fuck me, please! Let me cum!”

Castiel laughed, nipping at your ear. “Angel, you can’t help yourself, can you?”

His speed increased, his hand falling from your face to come to your nub, circling fervently. He praised you, laying sloppy kisses along the side of your head. You whimpered as you came undone beneath his hand, your legs shaking with your orgasm. Castiel held you upright, allowing him access to finish himself.

Panting, you settled against the wall, basking in the coolness of it against your hot skin. Castiel pulled away eventually, leaving you exposed behind. The cool air was welcome, and you continued resting to regain your grounding.

When you had the strength, you reached for a roll of paper towels to clean yourself up. And then pulled your underwear back up, straightening out your clothes.

Turning to face him, you found him looking well put together again, beside his hair. He was trying to tame it, running his hands through it.

He eyed you and informed you, “I’m not losing my temper with him because I know how much you love your job and how important it is to you.”

You took this in, nodding. He was telling you this for a reason. In the past, he would not have hesitated to make a scene without care for consequence.

Coming closer, he cupped your face, pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. “Now that we’ve got that out of our system… we ready to go back out there?”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas @stixnstripesworld 

[im-fairly-whitty]

The Witcher Wolf: In Plain Sight

Two years have passed since Geralt was cursed with the ability to turn into a wolf whenever his medallion is removed, a curse that's turned into a blessing now that he and Jaskier are partners in everything they do.

It's no exception when they discover a Nilfgaardian army bearing down on Cintra, headed straight toward a certain child surprise. With Jaskier's help and Geralt's enchanted medallion they must find a way to get into the palace, make sure Princess Cirilla is safe, and get out with her in tow if needed, regardless of Queen Calanthe's orders.

[Chapter 1: Into the Fire]  [Chapter 2: Old Friend] [Chapter 3: Bad Luck] [Chapter 4: So Much for Being Smart] [Chapter 5: Secrets] [Chapter 6: The Beginning of the End]

Chapter 7: Out of Time

As night fell, Geralt could do nothing as the siege began on the castle of Cintra.

As Nilfgaardian troops swarmed the city, burning everything in sight he could only sit by quietly. When Ciri was brought to Queen Calanthe’s deathbed (because Geralt could smell the death on her, it would be her deathbed) he could only stick by Ciri’s side as the girl cried over the news of Eist’s death.

He likewise stayed with her as they watched Mousesack’s doomed attempt to hold the castle gates with a wall of magic by himself at the queen’s orders, listening attentively to every nervous story Ciri told him in an effort to distract them, her distressed over-petting of his fur getting nearly painful as the night crept by. Not that he made any effort to dissuade her. 

When Mousesack’s magic barrier finally fell in the dead of night and the three of them made their way back to the queen’s room Geralt was nearly shaking with furious impatience that they weren’t already all safely out of the city.  

So when only Ciri was let inside the queen’s room, leaving Geralt and Mousesack outside the closed door with Calanthe’s spymaster who was reeking of Jaskier’s fear scent, Geralt could perhaps be forgiven for bodily lunging at the man with a rabid snarl.

“Has the queen given her permission or not?” Mousesack asked shortly, barely managing to haul Geralt back by his collar rather than allowing the wolf to sink his teeth into the royal spymaster.

“She has. She is saying her goodbyes to the princess as we speak.” Wilhelm said, looking altogether far too calm for a man in a burning city, despite the clearly evident exhaustion in his eyes. “The queen has given her official approval to have Princess Cirilla taken by Geralt of Rivia of Rivia. Please tell me that he is in the castle Mousesack, I haven’t been able to find him anywhere and we don’t even have seconds to spare now.”

“He is.” Mousesack said, releasing Geralt’s collar with an ironic flourish, letting Geralt’s front paws hit the ground again.

Geralt shook himself hard, then huffed a sigh as he collected himself, stepping forward and looking up at the spymaster sans snarl. Wilhelm looked down at him for a long moment, then up at Mousesack.

“He’s the Wolf.” Wilhelm said, his voice full of the kind of flat irritated weariness that only comes from solving a particularly complicated pun. “Geralt of Rivia is the wolf that the princess has had at her side for a week now underneath my very nose. Which you of course knew, and kept from me.”

Mousesack grimaced, shrugging.

“Well...all things considered I suppose it ended up being for the best.” Wilhelm said, shaking his head as he looked down at Geralt, already recovering from his shock. “Bravo getting past me Sir Witcher, I only regret the fact that I don’t have the time to hear the story of how you managed it.” He looked back up to Mousesack. “Am I right in assuming his Witcher medallion is what changes him back? Jaskier indicated that keeping the medallion safe was of utmost importance if I were to rely on his help tonight.”

“It is, he’ll also need any gear you seized from the bard. He’s not a Doppler, he won’t already have his armor and swords when he shifts back.” Mousesack said.

“Now there’s a pity.” Wilhelm said, his gaze focusing past the druid, looking as if he were making several calculations in his head before he snapped back to the moment, looking at Geralt.

“The castle has already been breached, we have only minutes to react properly and we will only get one chance.” Wilhelm said, as calmly as if he were explaining the rules of a tournament. He took a key from a hidden pocket in his doublet and handed it to the druid. “Mousesack you will accompany Geralt, Cirilla and Captain Cordova to my office to retrieve everything that was taken from Jaskier when he was arrested. You will find it all in a basket beside my desk, medallion included.

“Once you have retrieved everything you need, get to the back gates of the castle. I will meet you there with Jaskier as soon as I have retrieved him from the dungeon. It’s on the other side of the castle and I am the only one authorized to remove him from his cell, so splitting up accordingly will save us the most time with the most safety for the princess.” Wilhelm said.

They all paused as a distant soldier’s scream echoed down the stone hallway of the castle. Wilhelm looked back to them, drawing his sword from its sheath, a steel beauty Geralt recognized as having igni runestones set in the hilt, a rare sight indeed outside of a witcher’s weapon kit.

“If Jaskier and I are not there when you arrive you are to continue on without us,” Wilhelm continued. “Follow the sewers out of the city and into the forests. Three horses and a handler will be waiting for you. If there are no further questions I suggest we split up immediately. The princess’s safety is the highest priority any of us have and all of us will act in a way that protects her first. Is that understood?”

Geralt nodded grimly, not liking it one bit but seeing no other choice. His ears pricked forward as the door was opened and Ciri was brought into the hallway by a soldier that was presumably Captain Cordova. The girl was crying and threw her arms around Geralt’s neck, burying her face in his fur. Geralt whined softly, knowing all too well the pain of being separated from a parent, despite his relief at Calanthe finally giving in to reason. He only had to hope that she hadn’t given in too late.

“Come princess, we must move quickly.” Mousesack said, nodding to Wilhelm as the spymaster took his leave, moving quickly down the hall in the opposite direction, sword at the ready. “We have to get Geralt’s things, we don’t have much time.”

 ***

 “This is the one.” Mousesack said when they’d reached the door Wilhelm had directed them to. “Captain Cordova, stand guard out here while we get what we need inside.”

The soldier nodded, allowed Mousesack, Ciri, and Geralt into the room behind him. Geralt was glad to hear the druid lock the office door behind them again after they were inside, the last thing they needed was an interruption by enemies halfway through his transformation.

Looking around Geralt saw that Wilhelm’s office was somehow full to the brim with enough fascinating artifacts to impress even Vesemir, while also being so strictly organized that it took only moments to find Jaskier’s packs in the basket by his desk, just like he’d promised. Jaskier’s lute in its case however sat on top of the desk, evidently where it would be safest, a detail that made Geralt dislike Wilhelm just a shred less.

Geralt grabbed the side of the basket in his teeth and knocked it over, spilling the loose contents of their packs onto the ground. He pawed through all his clothes and armor pieces checking if everything was still there, which they were. Even both his swords were still in their sheaths.

He huffed in relief when he found his Witcher medallion, snagged the silver chain in his teeth and bounding over to Mousesack with it. Bit of help, please?

“Ciri, turn away.” Mousesack instructed, checking to make sure the girl was obediently facing the corner before he slipped the medallion chain over Geralt’s head.

There was a flash of light and Geralt was sitting on the floor, restored to his regular form again after days spent otherwise. He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his human hands roughly across his human face as he tried to physically recalibrate to bipedal motion as quickly as he could, reaching for his clothing and armor almost before he was balanced. They didn’t have a second to lose.

“That really is an impressive piece of magic, isn’t it.” Mousesack said, whistling in appreciation as Geralt tugged on his socks and pants, helpfully tossing him his boots next. “When you transform can you actually feel your skeletal structure adjusting, or do-“

“Not the time, Mousesack.” Geralt said, pulling on his shirt. “Questions after escaping the burning city.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Mousesack relented, ducking around behind Geralt to help him with the buckles of his armor as Geralt started tugging all the pieces into place across his body as quickly as nearly a century of practice let him.

“Geralt?”

Geralt looked over to see Ciri staring at him, her eyes wide as she watched him buckle his double swords across his back once his armor was in place. He grimaced as he braced himself for whatever her reaction to his imposing Witcher form might be.

“You’ve still got your wolf eyes!” Ciri said, despite everything a bit of a smile making it through her worry and panic as she came right up to him, one hand absently taking hold of a strap on his armor as she craned her neck to look up at his face.

She wasn’t the least bit afraid of him at all. Utterly fascinated, if anything. Geralt couldn’t help the feeling of warmth and relief it kindled in his chest.

“Closer to a cat’s when I’m like this.” Geralt said, consciously narrowing his pupils a bit and smiling at the impressed gasp it got him as he pulled on his leather gauntlets and reached up to tie back his hair into its usual ponytail. “They’ll help me get us out of here in one piece, so stick right next to me, alright?”

Ciri nodded intently, her small hand latching onto his large one as he drew his steel sword with the other, the blade slipping out of its sheath with practiced ease.

“I’ll carry the rest.” Mousesack said, moving to pack up what was left of Jaskier and Geralt’s things scattered across the floor.

“Just take the lute case, leave the rest.” Geralt said, pulling Ciri along as he made for the door. “We’ve already used enough time. We have to move quickly to-”

He froze, pulling Ciri behind him as his hearing picked up commotion on the other side of the heavy soundproof door.

“What is it?” Mousesack whispered, following his stare, evidently unable to hear the sound of the struggle in the hallway, the clash of metal, or the unmistakable fall of a body.

Geralt shook his head, staying silent as he raised his sword.

He felt Ciri jump as the locked doorknob rattled, but she stayed quiet, even as a heavy armored fist pounded on the reinforced wood. There was some more fussing and slamming at the door for several heartstopping moments, but evidently the spymaster had spared no expense in security when his office had been made, the locked door not budging an inch. After a long minute whoever was on the other side seemed to grow bored and Geralt heard them moving on, doubtlessly in search of easier prey.

When the clanking footsteps were gone Geralt took a steadying breath.

“The castle has fallen.” Mousesack said soberly. “We’ll need to take the servant’s passages to the back gate, it will be our best chance at avoiding as many soldiers as we can.”

“Ciri I’m going to carry you so we can go as fast as possible.” Geralt said, crouching down to be at her eye level. “And I need you to keep your eyes closed, alright? We’re going to be moving quickly and passing a lot of things someone your age doesn’t need to be seeing.”

She was going to have nightmares aplenty for years to come after this, no use in adding more if they could help it. Certainly not starting with the sight of whatever was left of Captain Cordova on the other side of the door.

He half expected her to protest, but to his relief she instead threw her arms around his neck and hid her face against him as he picked her up, carrying her in one arm. He took a moment to marvel at how much she trusted him, a trust he would do everything in his power to deserve.

“Alright, to the back gates.” Geralt said, adjusting his grip on his sword and nodding for Mousesack to unlock the door. “We get Jaskier and then we get out of this blasted city.”

 ***

 The castle was already crawling with Nilfgaardian soldiers, but Mousesack had been right in guessing the servants passages would keep them mostly out of the way. They only encountered a few lone enemy soldiers on their way out, all of whom had all been more or less easily slain, even with Geralt fighting one handed.

But once they made it outside the castle and into the night air there was no spymaster or bard to be seen.

“Are you sure this is the back gate?” Geralt demanded, the dark pit in his stomach already knowing the answer as he looked around him.

“It is.” Mousesack said grimly, wiping at the blood that was trickling down his face, the result of a cut he’d gotten above his eye from the last soldier they’d run into. “Wilhelm said to keep going if he wasn’t here by now Geralt, I’m sorry but we can’t stay.”

Geralt felt a snarl rising in his chest as he hesitated, feeling helplessly torn and knowing he had only moments to decide.

The night air around them was dark with the smoke billowing from the burning city beyond the castle walls and yells and shrieks echoed through the night from all sides. The dark corner against the castle that the three were currently tucked into wouldn’t shield them for long from the eyes of the Nilfgaardian soldiers that were hurrying past.

They still had to cross the wrecked courtyard and get to the sewers that would lead them out of the city. The longer they waited the worse their chances got of getting Ciri to safety.

“We can wait for Jaskier.” Ciri said, loosening her terrified grip around Geralt’s neck just enough to look at him. The smell of her fear was nearly overwhelming, despite the brave face she was putting on. “We have to stay to make sure he’s okay too, right?”

Geralt looked at Mousesack but the druid merely looked back at him, waiting for him to decide.

In the near distance there was the booming crash of a battlement falling, followed by the piercing screams of both horses and men. The smoky sky lit up brighter for a moment, as if a burst of flame had grabbed on to new fuel on the other side of the castle wall.

“We’re going on.” Geralt decided, casting a shielding quen sign over himself and Ciri as he raised his sword. “Mousesack stay close, I’ll get you both out safely and then come back for Jaskier after.”

The druid looked as though he wanted to add something, but instead nodded silently, adjusting the strap of the lute case over his shoulder to keep his hands free, sparks of chaos shimmering over his fingertips as he looked warily across the courtyard.

“But what about Jaskier?” Ciri asked, voice shaking.

“He can handle himself.” Geralt said, gritting his teeth against the ill feeling inside him.

He shifted to hold her more securely against him as he started forward, ducking them behind an overturned supply cart, hiding momentarily in the deep shadow it cast in the light of the fires all around them. He grimaced as the sight of what used to be a Cintrian soldier at his feet.

“Ciri, close your eyes again until I say so, alright?” He said, rebalancing himself and checking for Mousesack beside them before moving again.

And she hadn’t closed her eyes a moment too soon, Geralt realized as he darted from behind the cart toward a shadowed corner along the city wall. He muffled a curse as he spotted the crumpled form of what could only be the queen of Cintra on the dusty ground. He glanced up. She must have flung herself from her own bedroom window when enemy soldiers got too close.

Geralt traded a hurried silent look with Mousesack who looked stricken, but to his credit stuck by Geralt as they pressed on. It couldn’t have taken them longer than a few minutes to weave their way across the courtyard—Geralt’s senses and timing keeping them hidden from the scattered troops left ranging about the courtyard, torching everything they could reach—but it was a relief unlike any other when they finally reached the dislodged sewer grate that would lead out of the city.

Geralt heaved the grate aside and nimbly dropped down into the darkness, quickly swapping his steel sword for silver to hold at the ready as he started down the tunnel. Cintra wasn’t known for having monster infested sewers, but for their own safety he had to assume they’d come across at least a few before they reached the outlet on the other side of the city.

“Lead the way.” Mousesack said, voice hoarse from smoke and grief as he rejoined them, conjuring a ball of light tonight their way down the tunnels.

Geralt nodded, trying his very best not to think about where Jaskier was at that very moment, afraid that if he did he’d go rushing right back into the flames after him before the others were safe.

 ***

 Wilhelm had promised three horses and a handler, but when they emerged from the sewers two easily slain drowners later there was only one saddled gelding to be seen. Geralt cast a hurried axii on the nervous animal to calm it, grimly noting the blood stains on its hocks. Human blood. There was no time to figure out exactly what had happened to its handler and the other horses, but Geralt had a pretty good guess.

“Mousesack, take Ciri and head due south for two miles.” Geralt said, grabbing the dazed gelding’s reins and setting Ciri down. “You‘ll hit a crossroads with a hanging tree on either side, and after that a clearing by a stream where I’ve hidden my mare. Get to the clearing and wait for me for twenty minutes. If I’m not there by then take Ciri and ride hard for the Morhen mountains, keep off the main roads and use false names at inns, the empire can’t know you’re heading to Kaer Morhen.”

The druid nodded. “I’ve only been up your mountain once years ago, but I should be able to track the path with summer weather instead of snows. What shall I tell Vesimir if we arrive without you?”

“Geralt, you can’t leave!” Ciri said, clinging to his side. “Please, don’t go back!”

“The truth.” Geralt said, giving the gelding’s tack a quick once over as Mousesack heaved himself up into the saddle. “Tell him everything starting with Pavetta, he can’t turn away a child surprise owed to the Wolf school.”

“Geralt! You can’t go, don’t leave me, please!” Ciri cried, her hands latching onto his armor. Geralt’s eyes widened as the desperation in the distressed girl’s voice edged with enough chaos to make his medallion shiver.

Geralt looked up at Mousesack as memories of Ciri’s mother flashed through his mind, of a scream laced with enough elder blood magic to level the very castle that was now burning in Nilfgaardian flame. Mousesack looked back with a grim silence.

Well, that would have to be discussed later. What mattered now was that Geralt had a twelve year old girl to protect and comfort in a situation that made comfort near impossible, and that he would still try anyway.

“Ciri, Mousesack will take care of you.” Geralt said, his voice softening just a bit as he dropped to one knee in front of her, gently loosening her grip on his armor. “I have to go back for Jaskier, but we’ll catch up with you as soon as we can.”

“Promise you’ll be okay?” Ciri demanded, wiping at the tears on her face.

“Witchers don’t make promises like that Ciri, but I can promise you I’ll do everything I can.” Geralt said solemnly, resting a steadying hand on her shoulder. “I need you to promise me that you’ll obey Mousesack so that he can protect you, alright?”

“I can try.” Ciri said, making a valiant effort to keep her voice from shaking as she threw her arms around Geralt’s neck, just like she did when he was a wolf.

This time however Geralt was able to hug her back, holding her just as tightly for a long moment while she buried her face against his neck. He could feel her trembling.

She had lost so much so quickly. Her grandparents, her home, her city. Of course she would be terrified of Geralt too disappearing forever in the smoke of Cintra if he went back into it, and just when she’d gotten him too. Geralt could still remember the pain of losing his mother and home centuries later, he couldn’t imagine how much worse it must be for Ciri in this moment, but he could guess.

Geralt pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, looking her in the eye, a gentle hand on the back of her head. “I’ll catch up to you as soon as I can, but you have to leave now. I need you to be strong and fast and brave, alright?”

Ciri swallowed and scrubbed tears from her eyes, but nodded.

“Good.” Geralt said, standing and helping her up into the saddle in front of Mousesack who had watched their exchange in sober silence. He knew as well as Geralt did that every passing second lowered the chance of him coming back alive, let alone with Jaskier.

The men nodded to each other and then Mousesack took the reins, pulling the horse around and digging his heels into its flanks. Geralt watched the horse disappear into the night, then turned back to the sewer entrance. He pulled a bottle of swallow and a vial of cat from his alchemy pouch, downing them both in quick succession as he dropped back into the darkness with his blade drawn. Without Mousesack’s enchanted light he’d have to see in the pitch darkness on his own.

He growled as he felt the toxins course through his veins, already sharpening his night vision and eating away at any fatigue he’d already collected that night as he started moving back toward the burning city as quickly as he could.

He’d gotten his child surprise to safety, but he wasn’t going any farther without Jaskier.

And if he didn’t find him alive and well, he was going to find out how to burn a city down twice.

-------------

For whatever reason my brain was really squirrelly getting this chapter written and decided to write the final chapter before this one, then made me hopscotch backward to write the rest out of order. Regardless of the chaotic approach it's gotten the job done, so I can't complain too much at having been broken out of my usual start-at-the-beginning-then-write-to-the-end writing style.

This also means that I will be publishing the final chapter one week from today, next Tuesday evening. I look forward to seeing you all then, and until then I look forward to reading your comments and tags! Re-reading them between chapters always helps me get back in the writing mood, so thank you all for every one of them. :)

[sickficsforthesoul]

here's a prompt ?(or whateverits called): not a request ! also  ، ¿ ¡ ૮₍ 𖦹 ˕ ×` ₎ა ! ?·＊·  anon or 🧛🏻‍♀️ anon(emoji form) .  : the sickie hates today so much. they had to go to school bc it was a important practice match they had to be in. but they got a stomach bug yay! good 4 them !! they woke up feeling like shit , they knew they were sick. they wanted to stay in bed . praying to any god that they weren't gonna be sick. they fell asleep again saying just to rest for a few more minutes (well it ended up being 30 minutes ) now they only had 30 minutes to get to school, they knew they actually had to wake up. running out of bed to get there clothes and change as fast as they could (they dont shower in the morning and they were to lazy to brush their teeth) rushing out of bed that fast made them all dizzy . great . now they're stomach hurts. yep they were gonna vomit. they knew they couldn't make it to the bathroom . so they found a place that could store it , they rushed finding something in their room . they searched their desk. feeling the vomit rising up. shutting their mouth bc they dont want their desk getting vomit on it. it was so strong it went in their nose. they couldnt hold it in anymore. throwing up in their desk  wetting all the papers. homeworks . they were gonna get in trouble at school. they had no hw anymore . well they were gonna be late to practice if they cleaned it up.so they ignored it. gagging at the smell of it. they finally finished their daily routine . they skipped breakfast (just like most of the times). they grabbed a mask and went to school . playing games on their phone to distract themselves.  sadly that didnt work . they got all dizzy , they put their phone. feeling too dizzy they nearly tripped . they countied waking to school. remembering they only had 5 minutes left they had to continue walking faster. they started running. while running they were thinking abt how they got sick. :: I prob  got sick from some1 in my class. yeah. they threw up in the classroom and they sat near me. they were probably coughing alot.. ew.. :: they arrived at school. going into the volleyball ball gym changing room. no1 was there . they were probably practicing.  suddenly they felt their stomach growl. it hurts so much. why today they ask. they wrapped their arms around them and it hurts so bad. when it kinda stop they had the courage to change into their volleyball club uniform and go to the gym. while walking there they started coughing.having a coughing fit made every1 look at them . they hated that . they really dont like  being the center of attention.  some1 from their team asked "hey you ok?" they just said yeah. the coach said to run 4 laps around the gym. uh how much they hated running. they only did 1 and a half.(END PT 1) they couldn't handle 4 laps. while some1 was running they saw them hiding (so no1 can see them slacking off) they asked "um?? what's wrong ? ud probably get in trouble if coach finds out.  I'm already on my 3rd lap . ig in  3 mins its over. r u just gonna stay here? and also if u act like this it the match . you'll get in big trouble. they just said "ok". when the coach said ok! they went back in the gym and prepared the net. they started a sneezing fit which caught som1 to give them tissue. they eventually stopped . they're nose is so stuffy they can barely breathe.  they really want 1 more tissue but they don't have any , they ended up using their arm as a tissue. well atleast only 1 person saw. every1 was practicing.  it was gonna end it 10 mins . they're shocked how they went so far. when they setted the ball they suddenly felt they're stomach grumble. they cant just suddenly go to the bathroom.  they had to wait. uh they started feeling nauseous and they silently stared gagging.  then came the wet coughs , they could feel the vomit loudly.  end . pt1

(contin.) they had to fake spike? idk . they didnt have the power to do so. obviously they looked like they were faking it. they're team lost, they honestly didnt care . then some1 hit then on their back saying to,work hard. some vomit came up . they swallowed it . they thought it tasted so bad. they started coughing really loudly.  every1 was looking (they had to rush to the bathroom but since every1 was looking they didn't want to make a scene so they didnt ) they waited till every1 wrnt to they changing room /club room.  finally every1 besides 1 person who was a benched player went to the toilet . oh no. they cant wait that there was vomit coming up they wanted to wait for at least 2 mins , but they couldn't only 36 seconds.  they started to vomit .  in their hands . dripping on the gyms floor. they couldn't make it into a stall so they threw up in the bathroom floor. threw up already half of what they had. they heard the doors unlocking from the bathroom (it was the benched player) they rushed into a stall so he couldn't see them  . they walked out and saw vomit.  they didnt care , they walked out like nothing happened. they were still vomiting , they didn't have enough strength to propt themselves up to puke inside the toilet,  they just ended  up throwing up on the floor . they thought they were done after dry heaving for 2 minutes.  getting up to go to the changing room to change into their uniform.  they didnt tie their tie properly but they dont care. going into their classroom late. like 10 minutes late. they got scolded for wearing their tie wrong and being late.also not bringing hw. yay good for them this class they didnt do anything. so they just fell asleep /WITH THEIR MASK ON!// pt2done

while waiting they double bagged the plastic bags to prevent in from seeping thru. one the bus came. the sickie regretted going on already feeling dizzy once they sat down , they sat at the back where no1 sits (although that would make them more dizzer, but they didnt know that) after 5 minutes of the ride (there was some traffic. normally itd take 10 minutes. but since there is traffic they didnt how long they'd have to wait.) "[caretakers name]...while wet coughing.mm candy." they rushed to give the candy. it soothed their throat for 5 minutes until making them dizzy . lying down on the caretaker,while they play with their hair. they fell asleep. after 20 minutes (still in traffic) they woke up to the bus driving. they woke up and asked for water. they drank the water in small sips. they didnt vomit. the they drank it quickly before spitting it out. then coughing. they nearly threw up. swallowing it . asking while coughing for the 'bag'. they grabbed it and held on it and tried getting it out bc they were very nauseous. they couldn't. until the bus continued moving. they're grip to it was very weak. the bus suddenly moving made their stomach growl. and letting of their bag to hold on their stomach. the care taker asked "what's wrong ???? you let go... r u gonna ..." "no. stop.u will make me.stop.talking abt it"(they hated vomit so much thinking abt it makes them gag) the sickie was shaking. they messed up dropping the bag and it flew away. they caretaker getting their jacket just incase yk they vomit. after the bus stops again. a couple and a 2 ppl (4 alltogether)decided to sit in the back. their stomach hurts so much... they started crying. the bus started moving more . 2 more stops till their stop. they gagged. letting go of their hand on their face. "I'm gonna-" the caretaker getting the jacket and hugging the sickie to cover them . they threw up on the caretaker. the couple moved away in disgust whilst the 2 other ppl stayed. just on their phone. "ppl r looking...." "I want to leave.. " "''dont worry , no1 is looking'' the care taker grabbed their bag looking for a (idk the word but it's like a towel but not , you stick it on some1 face and it cools them down) they place it on the sickie. they sickie just dry heaving at this point. they said "sorry.." it's ok. - ¿ ¡ ૮₍ 𖦹 ˕ ×` ₎ა ! ? / 🧛🏻‍♀️ , which haikyuu character do you think this is? also very bad prompt :). again,not a request.

This sounds a lot like Kunimi to me, but I'm also getting Kita, Ennoshita, and Jin (Soekawa) from this. Maybe Yamaguchi too.

For Kunimi, his primary caretaker is the sweet but helpless Kindaichi. Kindaichi really means well, but he's terrible at taking care of sick people, so he just makes everything worse for Kunimi in the end. The rest of Seijoh ends up helping eventually, but it's just Kindaichi for a while, and he does not handle that well. Kunimi basically takes care of himself while Kindaichi stands in a corner muttering apologies. After this incident, Kindaichi resolves to be a better caretaker and starts doing research and taking first aid classes later on.

Kita's primary caretaker is Aran. He's much more competent than Kindaichi and takes good care of Kita for as long as the captain needs it. There isn't much to say after the incident because Aran handles everything so well.

Ennoshita is stuck with the other benched 2nd years (Kinoshita and Narita). They're okay caregivers but nothing special. Ennoshita is the most nurturing of their trio, and with him out of commission, Kinoshita and Narita do their best to help their friend. Ennoshita still has to do some things for himself, but Kinoshita and Narita can at least know the basics of taking care of someone, so Ennoshita still has it better than Kunimi.

Jin gets two caretakers too because why not. His caretakers are Reon and Semi. Both are very experienced with taking care of others and are the unofficial team parents, so Jin has it very good. He recovers pretty quickly thanks to the excellent care he receives from Semi and Reon.

Yamaguchi's primary caretaker is obviously Tsukishima. Daichi and Suga try to help too, but Yamaguchi gets panicked by anyone who isn't Tsuki, so Tsuki has to deal with basically everything. Tsuki also ends up calling Akiteru for help because he's just so out of his depth caring for another person. Akiteru, on the other hand, took care of Tsuki for years and is a wonderful caregiver. Yamaguchi recovers well with the comforting presence of his best friend and the lovely caretaking of Akiteru.

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 10

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online. Day 271: Work was dominated by Qfiniti again, including a meeting with Jon and staff from the States, where I found my self taking control to get the next steps in process (and then, Dave Stewart, the SCCM engineer fucked off and put an OOO message on Teams telling me he’s off until Tuesday (it’s Thursday)...and I am off on Monday!) But, I have to say this project does float my boat. Got a text message and then a call from PCH for another laser eye appt this coming Monday at 12.30pm. I mentioned to the lady that phoned that I will have to square it with work (I won’t, but she doesn’t know that) as I can’t afford to lose my job - it just seems the hospital, while under pressue with the admin and the clinic availability - I get it! - just aren’t seeing the issues for the patients. Plus, Peterborough has been declared a Tier 3 from Sunday under the new lockdown scheme, the highest tier. Great...I really want to travel to a highly infected area! managed to find an online booze shop that does Gordon’s and Famous Grouse and will deliver beforee Chrimbo, so I’ve placed the order for dad and Rita’s gift. I spoke with Dad today, he hasn’t heard about his vaccination yet which is a surprise (he’s in the first draft being over 80)

Day 272: Typing on day 273. Work was that manic shit at the end of the dya when I’ve got time off. I am only off on Moday but still had to tie up loose ends, complictaed further by Jon being off next week and Sueanne off this week and the Qfiniti project! In the evening I only mamaged three beers. I ate too much. Plus my sugars were all over the place and way too high! I ordered a torch a couple of days ago (£17), it arrived today. It takes rechargeable batteries or 3 AAAs. Apparently, to get the best performance (i.e. brightness) you need the rechargeable batteries in it, so i charged ‘em. Fucking hell, I’m glad I did - it’s brighter than the sun. It opens up my late walks in winter, for sure.

Day 273: While it was a very late (but sober) night yesterday (gone 4am before lights out) I was up before midday. Usual walking etc. plus gave the bathroom a clean (albeit with wipes, but I did mop the floor - and used the water to also mop the kitchen). Now I am about to stick a pizza in the oven, plus wedges (to have with microwaveable chip shop curry sauce) and watch This Is 40 which is coincidentally on telly tonight - the coincidence being clips of it are on TikTok a lot right now. I am on my second beer and am going to have a smoke right now as well. Lastly for this entry, I have been using my AudioPro speaker today, it pisses me off it’s not WiFi capable but, thru Bt, it does sound fucking good - revisiting James works very well to demonstrate the speaker’s prowess.

Day 274: I have another Paypal a/c. I have been getting emails to my standard gmail account from Paypal saying they are going to charge me £9 for an inactive account which I have been largely ignoring since my paypal a/c has a specific email address. Anyway, I tried to log in, after a password reset and, hey presto, I do have another one, with £35 in it, having just been fleeced of £9 for the aforementioned inactivity, fuckers. It’s registered with the old Market Place address and phone. When I try to transfer the £35 to my card, it wants to confim it’s me by calling the phone, which I can’t amend. Oh, and you can’t contact Paypal direct. Fuck knows what to do! Other than that, usual Sunday, a tad more relaxed since I have tomorrow off, but not that much now I have an eye appointment in Tier 4 Peterborough (it’s been up’d from tier 3)! Up at 1.30 pm (I watched This is 40 and The Guvners last night with lots of beer), feeling worse for wear but, stair climb and a 6 miler acheived!

Day 275: I was at the hospital for 3 hours. The laser clinic didn’t start until 1.30pm so, why my appointment was at 12.20, not even the consultant could understand. 15 minutes of lasering - horrible but I am used to it. It took so long it pretty much fucked my day off up completely. I got a Christmas card from Karen, in the actual post, so, a mail shot. It’s depressing.

Day 276: Back to work and it’s definitely in wind down mode. I’ve decided to compile a list of things I have done this year. It will be on the postive side, such as all the steps I’ve walked and getting an article published about my photography, but it will also include randon facts like getting bitten by a dig twice and not having a haircut. I’ll get it done so I can post in at new year, hopefully be a little inspiring, a little silly and a lot of showing off!

Day 277: Work, again, was quiet. It’s fucking pissing down now, as I type at 21:50, and has been all day. It’s causing havoc and there’s flooding everywhere. I could walk down St. Peter’s Road tonight ‘cos of it (had to go up New Road, Springfield Road, down Latham Road). Soaked a lunhtime and tonight! With a new variant of Coronavirus, France stopped frieght crossing the border. That’s now been resolved but tyeh back log has/is affecting certain food stocks in the shops, of which, fresh veg might affect me for Christams dinner (I plan to do a chicken breast with stuffing, pigs in blankets, yorkshire pud and shed loads of veg. I’ll nip to Co-Op tomorrow morning and see what’s vaialble. It’s a half day at work ‘cos of Christmas Eve, so I can nip out somewhere in the car if need be, as ong as the flooding has subsided. Or I could just get shitfaced and have burgers and pizza.

Day 278: Christmas Eve. Sueanne let me finish at 11.00am so, very shortly thereafter, off for a walk I went; it turned out to be a stop/start affair - flooding as the Nene had burst its banks, ended up doing more of a circuit round town. Bumped into Andy Smith (and his son) and, after that, Ash and Denise. Ended up doing just under 11.5km in 2 and a half hours.Knackered! As I type, I have a chilli on the stove, beer on the go, all the veg and chicken breast bought with no shortages, as feared, for tomorrow’s lunch and looking forward to eating. getting drunk, smoking, listening to music, watching telly....all over the next two/three days.

Day 279: I don’t even remember going to bed last night. As a direct result I got out of bed at 2.30pm. I couldn’t even be bothered with Christmas dinner, let alone anything else like exercise. I’m just about to have chilli for dinner (it’s 8.10pm). Watch some telly then try an go to sleep before midnight. No booze! I did talk to dad earlier. Day 280: Typing on day 281. A better, more productive day. Up @11.00am exercise and walk as usual, although the walk was a different route due to flooding. In the evening I could hear ‘storm Bella’ raging, so windy! I cooked a christmas dinner of sorts, chicken breast with Thyme, all the veg, roasted spuds and parsnip, stuffing (a first for me, albeit co-op stuffing mix), Yorkshie and pigs in blankets. It was smashing! A few beers and The Hitman’s Bodyguard, alays a fun watch. A better day, as I say, but I am feeling particular deflated this Christmas. Day 281: Typing on day 282. I realised, about mid afternoon, that Monday (tomorrow) is a bank holiday so no work. It was a great realisation but, also, worrying that it dawned on my like I’m an old person! Nevertheless, a nice long walk - bumped into Baz & Kate and had a nice long chat, then El & Camila, Aaron and Eva for another, shorter chat. I also saw Denise & Ash along the way. Fog video called later in the evening for a chat too (he told me how he fell asleep at the dinner table, fuck he makes me laugh - unwittingly - when I need it most!) A regular social fest! A repeat of last night’s dinner and a few beers - it was a good day albeit I am in a proper low ebb.

Day 282: Up at midday after a 4am-er. A very long walk (1.75 hours) and a hodge podge dinner (remaining chilli, roasted spuds and peppers, steamed cauliflower and runner beans, grated cheese) - it’s nearly ready, I’ll type the review tomorrow. I realise that this is the first time in 21 Christmases that I have at least talked to K. Is that connected to my mood slump? I reckon so. So, as that fact dawned on me, I then considered, should it be the case next Christmas, it will not be the first in along time and, as such, more manageable....fuck knows how I manage to accentuate any little positive but, thank goodness I do. Day 283: Work was a sedate affair today, fuck all to do really. Sueanne is now follwing me on Insta...I shall invetsigate on how to exclude posts to individuals, methinks. Tea, last night, was fucking lovely. More of the same tonight-ish - currently I am roasting spuds, peppers, garlic, chillies, tomatoes - it’ll all go with left over pigs-in-blankets (5) and a burger. I’ll have bisto beef with mustard on it. I can’t wait! Day 284: Typing on day 285. That meal was fucking lush! Checked on the car todfay and it would not start. Something is draining the battery so I will have to give it a run every day until I can get Julian to sort it. So, I WhatsApp’d Karen to borrow the portable starter. She dropped it off for me. We had the briefest of chats at the doorstep, first time we’ve spoken in weeks. She mentioned my hair! Day 285: NYE. I have just got back from walking to Cottersock and back. I would not have been able to do so without my new torch! I finished and published my double letter quiz on FB, including to the Virtual Pub group and the Oundle Chatter. It’s had some good feedback, I’m rather proud of it. I am going to make chicken casserole now (with dumplings - a first for me, I even bought some flour), have some beers and get a bit stoned. Before that, I am going to finish off my list of things I’ve done this year, including steps wlaked and hours listening on Spotify. I am quite proud of that list too.

Day 286: I fucked the dumplings up, added too much water, so that didn’t happen but the chicken casserole was good, just about to finish it for tea tonight. I also had pizza last night and went to bed at 5am. I have had a lot of good feedback on my list of 2020 achievements. I proud of it. K sent a happy new WhatsApp last night, around 00.30.

Day 287: No booze last night, so I was up before the alarm today (about 10.00am) Two walks, one on my own, another with Fog with a couple of beers. I fucking loved it! Watching datrts (World champs semi finals - been texting Dan while the first one has been on). Going to watch The Aviator later...I’ve not seen it before which surprises me. Why it surprises me I do not know, since I know I haven’t seen it. How the fuck can I be surprised by a fact I’m completely aware of? Day 288: I didn’t watch The Aviator ‘cos Logan Luck was on at 11:55pm on ITV4. Great fildm...I can’t believe that I very nearly paid for it (rent from Sky or Amazon). A late one last night and quite pissed. Thinking about it, having afew beers with Fog in the afternoon made it quite a long sesh for me! Up at just gone midday today, nice long walk (Cotterstock) which was mde long by a painful right ankle - I must have turned or twiested slightly sometime. Still, it survived. Back to work tomorrow - Chrimbo and New Year all done and dusted for the 55th time in my life!

Day 289: First day back at work of 2021. Boris announces another full lockdown in England (there’s a new strain of Covid19 which is seeing huge numbers of infections every day, over 50,000 per day).

Day 290: Something is up with my right foot, the little toe pad. It’s bloody sore. If it gets any worse it’ll affect my walking and exercise. I phoned Anne Bennison to talk about it, she just wants me to go and see her which i donlt want to do if poss, pandemic and all that.

Day 291: Wearing my sandals instead of the M&S slippers and my foot/toepad is already feeling bteer. However, I did inspect my Merrell boots, just in case, and the sole on te right is really worn down, in just three months. I have sent a WhatsApp to CotswoldOutdoors, where I got them from....let’s see what they say! It’s all kicking off i  the US - pro Trump protestors have storm the Capitol Building, where congrees was being held. Only in ‘Merica.

Day 292: Busy at work with rolling out Qfiniti - all that project work was pretty much for fuck all since the SCCM package has to hand held. It’s feckin’ freezing today, below freezing, slippy af on my walks. I have been shopping tonight, £106 in Corby Tesco. That does include 8 cans of sapporo.

Day 293: The fracas at Capitol Hill on Wednesday left 5 dead, it looks like Trump will be impeached. He’s already said he’ll not attend Biden’s inauguration. In a fucking world gone mad, it’s another level of madness. It’s really cold -3℃ tonight, more of the same tomorrow. Makes for brisk walks. I’ve just had chicken balti pie and chips for tea. It was so nice that I burnt the roof of my fucking gob. I’m on the Sapporo and about to have a smoke then watch Jack Reacher. I’ve (kinda) earnt after the first 5 day week for a while.

Day 294: Well, last night saw another late one...5am by the time I :went to sleep. Up at 2pm today with no instention of any exercise or walking or housework or fuck all, really. But, I did my exercises and a 9 mile walk. While I walked I came across Banners, quick 15 min chat and listed to Stage by David Bowie. He’s all over the radio right now as it’s his death’s anniversary tomorrow and his birthday yesterday. It’s a fucking good live album. A few beers tonight, eating trash, watching FA Cup highlights then End of Watch later.  Posh played today (first time in a while due to Covid infections) drew away to (shitty) Lincoln 1-1. Good point as Posh were down to ten men after 67 mins for a second yellow for handball in the area. Lincoln missed the pen. Fucking funny. Chorley, the non leaguers who knocked Posh out in round 2 of the FA Cup, beat Derby in round 3 today (albeit derby fielded an academy side of 11 first timers due to Covid ) - a great day for them!

Day 295: Up at 2pm swearing blind I’d not walk or exercise (again!) but, of course I did. I’ve done over 25 miles this w/e! End of Watch was brilliant last night. Well worth a rewatch, so emotional. I am making butter chicken as I type. I’ve added extra onion, garlic and, of course, chillies. It’s the spiciest butter chicken I have ever tasted! 

Day 296: One of those frustrating days at work when no problem of request I try to resolve goes without a hitch. After a 7km walk in the evening, took the car for a spin and cleaned the bathroom. Fucking knackered. It’s 11:30pm and I’m in bed typing this on the iPad! despite getting up so late, I feel knackered. 11pm bedtime for me, I reckon.

Day 297: Fucking busy at work, the States rolled out a new Okta trust policy and it caused mayhem. Meant my evening walk didn’t start ‘til gone 6pm. When I got back, clened the hall and stairs, made chilli (which I am about to have for tea (gone 10.15pm!) and showered. I’m, again, fucking knackered! Posh played Portsmouth in the EFL Trophy 3rd round at home. Won 5-1. Nice.

Day 298: Had an electrician rouind for the EICR cetrt. He was here until 2pm and it was a pain in the arse, having to work upstairs plus, with having to cut the electricity, all the smart devices lost their settings. And it was freezing up there.

Day 299: Work was impossibly infuriating. Not one pc remote session went to plan! It was pissing down a lunchtime during my walk but, I have to say, the cheap TargetDry coat copes fine in heavy rain for short periods. Everywhere is flooding again even though the rain turned to sleet. By my evening walk, it was dry but bloody cold. Then, when I got in I cleaned the kitchen and mopped the floor and the bathroom’s as well. I fucking done in! Chatted to dad today - same as ever!

Day 300: What a fucking work at week! I am so glad it’s Friday. To celebrate, I ordered new walking boots: Scarpas £121!

[bettydice]

(Planning the Day) To Meet You

Wangxian, Modern AU, Slow Burn, E-Rated 

[Read on AO3]

Chapter 13

Wei Ying Good morning! Ah you’ve been awake for 4 hours by now right Haha

Lan Wangji Good morning.

Wei Ying Do you want to have a picnic today? I’ll bring a blanket So you don’t have to worry about your trousers getting dirty

Lan Wangji I'd love to.

Wei Ying And before you offer, I’ll prepare everything! Okay??? I’ll take care of the food! I can see you typing, you want to protest, right? Okay You can bring coffee, because yours tastes better And tea for yourself But other than that, only bring your beautiful self!

Lan Wangji … alright

Wei Ying Great!!! :) :) :) Should we say 5:30 pm? Won’t be as hot then Park in front of uni? I’ll find us a good spot

Lan Wangji That sounds good.

Wei Ying Alright! ❤❤❤❤

Lan Wangji finds it… a little challenging to stick to only bringing tea and coffee. But he doesn’t want Wei Ying to feel like he wants to undermine his efforts, so he does not even bring a cake.

Wei Ying has found them a nice spot under a large tree, a little away from any frolicking students. He’s spread out a colourful blanket, as promised, sitting cross-legged and barefoot, but jumps to his feet, as soon as he spots Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji realises he doesn’t know how to greet Wei Ying. Now that they’re boyfriends. He wants to kiss him, but they’re in public.

Wei Ying also hesitates once they’re standing in front of each other and for a few seconds, they just stand… and stare. Wei Ying has pulled his hair back with Lan Wangji’s hair tie, but as always, his hair can’t be fully tamed and a few loose strands frame his face, caressing his skin in the gentle breeze.

“Hello,” Lan Wangji finally says with a soft smile.

“Hi.” Wei Ying smiles, too.

Lan Wangji does cross the final distance then and presses a short, sweet kiss to Wei Ying’s lips.

When they part, Wei Ying sighs, almost relieved.

“Wei Ying?”

“Ah, I just get… nervous.”

“Every day, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji stresses, in case he forgot.

Wei Ying smiles at him, strokes his cheek, then drags him towards the blanket.

“Lan Zhan… I may have gone overboard. I can’t even tell anymore. How much do two grown people eat? I don’t know!”

There really is… a lot of food sitting on the blanket. Lan Wangji is someone who likes to overprepare… this beats even his best overpreparing efforts. All sorts of cut-up vegetables and fruits, baozi, tea eggs, milk bread...

“This is all for us?”

“Uhm… yep.”

“Well, it’s always nice to have leftovers.” Lan Wangji turns to Wei Ying and squeezes his hand. “A week’s worth of leftovers.”

“Hey, Lan Zahn! Stop teasing me!” But Wei Ying doesn’t sound insulted. He laughs, eyes sparkling, dimples showing and ah, he’s so beautiful.

“Thank you, truly. It all looks lovely.”

“Ha, hopefully it tastes good, too…”

“I have no doubt.”

Lan Wangji takes off his shoes and finds a free spot on the blanket. Wei Ying stares down at him, a little in awe, before he joins him.

Even though the variety of choices is overwhelming, Lan Wangji tries his best to taste everything that’s on offer. Wei Ying only starts eating once he’s satisfied Lan Wangji likes what he has prepared. It does taste good, so Lan Wangji makes sure to compliment everything well.

Once Wei Ying believes him that he can’t eat anything more, he packs everything back into the picnic cooler bag, except for a tupperware with cut-up watermelon.

“Lan Zhan, can I borrow your lap?”

“Of course.”

Wei Ying stretches out on the blanket, pillowing his head on Lan Wangji’s lap. Then he tells Lan Wangji to feed him the watermelon, which he happily does. Lan Wangji watches the shadows of the rustling tree play on Wei Ying’s face. Sometimes he lets his fingers linger after he’s fed Wei Ying another piece and Wei Ying will kiss or lick them. His other hand is intertwined with Wei Ying’s and resting on Wei Ying’s chest. It’s like a scene from a dream he hasn’t dreamed yet.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lan Wangji whips his head up, as does Wei Ying, as much as it is possible for him, without actually lifting his head.

Before them stands Nie Huaisang, signature fan in hand, staring down at them with a bemused expression.

“Nie Huaisang.” Lan Wangji nods. It’s not polite to not stand up, but his legs serve a greater purpose at the moment and are not available.

“A-Sang, what are you doing here?” Wei Ying laughs nervously.

“Feeling betrayed and hurt you didn’t tell me you finally stopped pining over Lan Wangji long enough to actually do something about it.”

“Hey!” Wei Ying does sit up now, to Lan Wangji’s disappointment, and points accusingly at Nie Huaisang. “I wasn’t pining!”

“Sure, sure.”

“Also… it’s… well it’s a recent development, so…”

Nie Huaisang only huffs, but Lan Wangji knows him well enough to know he’s hiding a grin behind his fan.

“Would you like some watermelon,” Lan Wangji offers, in a tone of voice Nie Huaisang should know means he wants him to fuck off.

“So sweet of you to offer, Lan Wangji. But no worries, I will leave you two alone so you can continue your disgusting display of whatever it was I just had to witness. I have a hot date to attend to.”

“Good for you! Have fun! Bye!” Wei Ying waves, or rather, shoos him away. Nie Huaisang ignores him.

“Ah, Wangji… you should maybe check in with your brother. Today he told me he was considering buying a whole ass palm tree for his balcony. Please stop him.”

“You saw Xichen?” It’s not unthinkable, but he’s never known them to spend time together without Nie Mingjue present as well.

“Well, for my appointment, right?” He winks. “Client #1.”

“...Right.” That makes more sense. “I had wanted to thank you for helping my brother, but I see it wasn’t entirely selfless.”

“You wound me!”

“I doubt it,” Lan Wangji replies dryly. Then adds: “Still… thank you. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure, obviously. And don’t worry, I’m working on finding him more clients! I have… ideas.” Nie Huaisang’s smile reminds him of one of Wei Ying’s wicked smiles, but this one fills him with nothing but concern.

“Huaisang…” Nie Huaisang having ideas is rarely a good thing, in Lan Wangji’s opinion.

“Gotta go! Have fun boys, but not too much, you’re in public!” He throws them a kiss and disappears.

Lan Wangji rolls his eyes, but can’t help a small smile, before pulling Wei Ying back down into his lap. Wei Ying immediately takes Lan Wangji’s hand and puts it back on his chest.

“It’s still so weird to me that you know Huaisang too!”

“Mn.”

“Lan Zhan… we could have met way earlier if you’d ever come to any of his parties!”

“Would you have liked me then? I’m better in libraries than at parties.” He tries to imagine himself at one of those gatherings… and can only see himself either leaving immediately or hiding away in an empty room or the bathroom. He does not think Wei Ying would’ve ever started talking to him under such circumstances.

“Lan Zhan, how could I ever not like you?” Wei Ying exclaims, indignant. “There’s no reality where I would not like you!”

Lan Wangji lifts their hands and presses a kiss to Wei Ying’s knuckles.

“Though, maybe it’s good we only met now… Teenage me was a fucking idiot and college before A-Yuan me was a bit of a mess…”

“I would have still liked you.” There’s also no reality where Lan Wangji would not like Wei Ying.

“Well, I was always very pretty, so…” Wei Ying winks up at him. It’s more like an aborted blink, but Lan Wangji appreciates it anyway.

“You’re very pretty,” he acknowledges, because it’s true. “Beautiful.”

“No need to flirt so hard, Lan Zhan! I’m already ready and willing!” Wei Ying emphasizes his statement by licking his lower lip and arching his neck, so Lan Wangji can see the slightly faded marks from yesterday.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji admonishes, though he feels heat crawling up his neck.

Wei Ying cackles, but doesn’t tease him further. He lifts his free hand to gently stroke Lan Wangji’s cheek, the movement a bit clumsy due to Wei Ying’s position.

“I’m glad I met you, Lan Zhan.”

“Me too.”

For a sweet moment they simply look at each other, smiling. Then…

“Can we go to your apartment so we can make out?”

“Yes.”

An hour later, Lan Wangji is sitting on his couch, and Wei Ying is straddling his lap, in the process of unbuttoning Lan Wangji’s shirt.

“I can’t believe you really look like this,” Wei Ying breathes against his lips, undoing the last button. “You’re ridiculous, Lan Zhan.”

“Want to see you, too.”

Wei Ying smirks and without further ado, he pulls his t-shirt over his head. It lands somewhere on the floor behind him.

“Beautiful,” is all Lan Wangji can say, running his hands reverently up Wei Ying’s sides, ghosting his fingers over his stomach.

He doesn’t get to enjoy this view much longer, because Wei Ying kisses him again. Lan Wangji hadn’t thought the act of kissing could be improved on, but being able to touch Wei Ying like this, the warmth of his skin, being able to feel the muscles move under his fingertips, feeling Wei Ying’s hands on his own skin… He’s so overwhelmed by it all, he doesn’t even notice he’s hard until Wei Ying very deliberately grinds down against him.

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying draws a line of kisses from Lan Wangji’s mouth to his ear. His fingers stroke the skin above his waistband. “I want to make you come. Can I?”

Lan Wangji almost comes right then, so Wei Ying certainly can.

“Yes.” Lan Wangji is surprised he manages to form even such a simple word, but feels like soon he might not be able to do that.

Wei Ying kisses him again, licks into his mouth, as his fingers deftly open Lan Wangji’s belt. Lan Wangji wants to keep kissing him, but he also… he doesn’t want to miss anything, so he gently pushes Wei Ying back.

“Too much?” Wei Ying immediately halts his movements.

“No. But… I want to see.” Lan Wangji expects to feel mortified about his boldness, but it never comes. The heat in Wei Ying’s eyes keeps it at bay. If Wei Ying looks at him like this, he can be bold.

“Oh?” Wei Ying leans back even further and grins. “Lan Zhan, look closely then.”

He slowly pulls out his belt, drops it on the floor, undoes the button, unzips his fly. His knuckles brush against Lan Wangji’s cock, only a thin layer of cloth between them. Lan Wangji’s heart is trying to burst out of his chest. He’s trying to see everything: Wei Ying’s face, his teeth digging into his lower lip, his pebbled nipples, his arm muscles moving as he’s unravelling Lan Wangji…

Then Wei Ying frees his cock, wraps his hand around it and squeezes. Lan Wangji has to close his eyes after all, throws his head back and breathes hard, trying not to come.

When he opens his eyes again, Wei Ying is staring at him, eyes dark and hungry.

“Fuck… Lan Zhan, you really are ridiculous.” Wei Ying wets his lips, stares at his cock. Fuck, Lan Wangji really is not going to last long. How could he?

“Wei Ying… want to see…” Lan Wangji has a hard time finding the right - or any - words, so he moves his hand until it rests on the waistband of Wei Ying’s shorts, a question in his eyes.

Wei Ying only gives him an eager nod and squeezes his cock again, as though that’s a good way to answer a question. Lan Wangji tries to not let that distract him from the feeling of touching Wei Ying’s cock for the first time.

He wants to take his time, see Wei Ying’s reactions and find out how he wants to be touched, but Wei Ying keeps touching him too, fingers playful yet determined at the same time, and he needs all his focus for feeling. Despite wanting to see, he ends up only looking at Wei Ying’s face, in awe at all the little signs of pleasure he finds there.

Suddenly, Wei Ying shimmies closer so their cocks touch, he can feel Wei Ying’s hand moving against his own and it’s too much, his body can’t contain the pleasure anymore, it’s too much, it’s… Lan Wangji squeezes his eyes shut and comes.

“Fuck. Fuck that’s so hot…”

Lan Wangji is still floating, not quite feeling in control of his body, because Wei Ying has that control right now and Lan Wangji doesn’t really want it back. But he wants to see Wei Ying come undone too, so he makes a weak attempt at moving his hand.

Wei Ying laughs, takes Lan Wangji’s hand off his cock, ignores his protesting whine, slicks his cock up with Lan Wangji’s spend, then wraps Lan Wangji’s hand back around his cock and keeps his hand on top of Lan Wangji’s. He shows Lan Wangji how to move, when to squeeze… The noises he makes, the way he moves his hips, so he can fuck up into their hands… Lan Wangji tries to take it all in, but he already knows he’ll need to do it again and again.

When Wei Ying comes, it’s beautiful. He gasps “Lan Zhan”, throws his head back, mouth open and groans, spilling hot over both of their hands. If Lan Wangji wasn’t already spent, he’d come just from seeing that.

“Fuck… that was…”

But Lan Wangji doesn’t get to hear what that was, because Wei Ying kisses him thoroughly, and for a little while, nothing else matters.

“We should get cleaned up.”

Lan Wangji, still in a daze, tries to move, or at least tell Wei Ying that there are wet wipes in the bathroom and in the bedroom (in the bedside drawer, next to his lube), but Wei Ying presses him back against the couch and shakes his head.

“Stay. I’ll take care of you.”

Wei Ying looks down at the mess, snorts a laugh, gets up and steps out of his shorts and boxers. He smirks at Lan Wangji, who suddenly has trouble breathing, turns around and walks off towards the bathroom.

Lan Wangji watches him leave, or rather, stares at his ass, then leans his head against the wall and tries to regain his senses.

Wei Ying returns after a while, cleaned up, a wet towel in his hand. He kneels down on the couch next to Lan Wangji and begins cleaning him. He gently moves the towel across his cock, his stomach, his hand. It’s terribly intimate and Lan Wangji doesn’t dare move or say anything. When he’s done, Wei Ying tucks Lan Wangji back into his boxers and closes his trousers. He pulls his own boxers and shorts back on, returns the towel to the bathroom, then drops down on the couch next to Lan Wangji, grinning up at him.

“So, Lan Zhan… did you like that?”

Lan Wangji stares at him, a little exasperated. ‘Like’’. What an inadequate word.

“Mhm? What’s that frown? A yes?”

“Of course.”

Lan Wangji takes Wei Ying’s hand and laces their fingers together.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you?” Wei Ying gives a startled laugh. “What for? The orgasm? Hopefully just the first of many, Lan Zhan!”

“Thank you for…” Lan Wangji doesn’t actually know what he’s grateful for, just that his heart is full and warm and… “... for being Wei Ying.”

“Ah… well…” Wei Ying seems at a loss for what to say, so he pulls Lan Wangji’s face towards him and presses a soft kiss to his lips. “Mhm… Lan Zhan, thank you, too.”

Wei Ying pulls him further until they’re lying down on the couch, then throws one arm and one leg over Lan Wangji’s body, snuggling against him. Lan Wangji enjoys simply being close to him for a while, almost falls asleep.

“Wei Ying.”

“Mhm?”

“Do you want to meet my brother?”

“What, now?!” Wei Ying lifts his head, aghast.

“No, of course not.” The last thing Lan Wangji wants to do right now is move. Or let go of Wei Ying. He also doesn’t particularly want to see his brother, so soon after… “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s… that’s… in one day!”

“Yes.”

“Uhm…”

“Too soon?”

“I… don’t think so? I just didn’t expect you to ask.” Wei Ying puffs out his cheeks, looks at Lan Wangji for a few seconds, clearly thinking about it, then finally smiles. “Of course. I’d love to meet your brother.”

“We can do it later, if you’re not comfortable yet.”

“Well, I’m just nervous! What if he doesn’t like me!”

“He already likes you.”

“Oh? Told him about me?” Wei Ying looks surprised again, but pleased and his shoulders relax a little.

“Yes.”

Wei Ying laughs, finally puts his head down again and Lan Wangji tightens his arm, pulling Wei Ying closer against him.

“You will meet the bunnies, too.”

“Oh? Yes! Cloud and Jade! Ah, I’ll get to see you snuggle them; you can recreate that picture for me!”

Wei Ying starts one of his little monologues, where he’ll ask Lan Wangji some questions but never actually expects an answer. He muses whether Lan Wangji or the bunnies are cuter, what he should wear to meet Xichen, whether they should get a pet for A-Yuan… Lan Wangji listens to it all, smile never leaving his face, blinking slowly, feeling the soft skin of Wei Ying’s back under his fingers.

“-maybe we’ll just buy a plant first, it’s not as tragic if that one dies, and-”

“Wei Ying.”

“Mhm?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t say anything, only deepens his smile. Wei Ying returns his smile, infinitely brighter, and strokes his cheek.

“Ah… Lan Zhan… me too.”