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tothosewholisten · 7 months ago

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Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 04

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Masterlist:

…

NOVEMBER 11, 2002

Two months flew by since I was first brought here and I started to form bonds with my supposed siblings, even if they would never truly be that to me. Klaus was the first person to talk to me, to ever make me feel like part of the group. Then came Ben because well he always came with Klaus. Then slowly everyone else. I'd call some of them my friends.

But dinner at the academy was one of those times when I felt most anxious. It wasn’t the fact that we were having “family meals” something that I never had growing up with a drunk and a scared woman. It was the fact that I had to be near Reginald, and everyone else without being allowed to leave.

He had made sure to catch up on the twelve years of training I missed, and it made my life a living hell. I missed the fun of childhood because of training, lessons with him and missions and I'd always ache from the torments of the day.

Meals were supposed to be a time to relax and chat with family but he once again made sure to take the fun out of that too.

I was upstairs when I heard the record player start, meaning that dinner was happening soon. Grace always turned it on at the same time. The record I've heard time and time again has been engraved in my mind. By seventeen I could repeat the whole thing by memory alone.

“During extreme weather conditions, a climber must possess the wisdom to determine when evacuation is inevitable.”

Grace rang a small bell which was the sign for us to rush downstairs. We ran down the main staircase single file as always and flooded into the dining room where dinner was waiting.

“A controlled alpine descent begins with the girding of one’s loins and the anchoring of the climbing rope to one's enemy, the mountain.”

Instead of sitting down and eating we were forced to stand behind our chairs and wait for the guest of honor to make his way down to the table. No matter how hungry we were.

The wood table had 10 chairs and a plethora of food on each plate. I still don’t understand the seating arrangements since it wasn't in number order. It was me, Luther, Diego and Five on the left. Alison, Klaus and Ben are on the right. Vanya in the middle stared directly at where Reginald would be sitting if he graced us with his presence.

I gotta hand it to her, looking into his eyes while eating seemed very scary. I should also know because I was the closest to him since he left a chair between him and Alison on the other side.

We waited there for him behind our chairs, as I distracted myself from the gross food on my plate. I was a very picky eater at the time, but there was no second option made for me. I remember Reginald telling me once, eat it or don’t eat at all. I took the second option.

Grace stood at the front of the archway waiting for the old man. After a minute he finally came down.

“The Dülfersitz rappel is the preferred method for descent when rope is the only available tool, but must be regarded as a last resort. Begin by looping the rope..”

He pushed out his seat and looked up at all of us and then Vanya at the other head of the table. “Sit” he commanded us.

We all graciously took our seats and everyone started to eat but me who poked at my food. I didn't like some of the slop made, but it wasn’t Grace's fault at all, I just missed my mom and the cultural foods she would make at home. But I doubt she missed me. I was given a look of concern by Luther, we weren't the closet but we did have our moments being Number One and Number Zero. I gave him a shake of the head which meant that I was fine not eating and continued to pick.

“A screen anchor must be used if the rope is to be successfully retrieved from the mountain. Tightly knot the ends of the rope. Once anchored, thread the double rope through the legs, front to back, and around the buttocks.”

But I wasn't the only person not eating. I looked up to see a few others doing more peculiar things than I was. Diego had one of his knives and was carving something into the table. And Klaus only at thirteen years old was rolling a blunt, to the side hoping nobody would notice. And Ben had a book in his right hand, reading away even though I'm sure that isn’t allowed.

I thought that this night was going to be like any other and suddenly I couldn’t wait to grow up. I didn't know it then but that wasn't true at all.

“It is of utmost importance that the rope be drawn under the gluteal muscles, not through the crevice between the gluteus.”

At first, I thought Five was staring at me but no he was staring hard at Reginald who didn't seem to notice. Just sipping his wine. Vanya looked at the thinking Five not sure what to make of his expression.

“Proceed by holding the rope diagonally-”

Five interrupts the background noise by sticking his knife directly into the wooden table. The children all look up from their plates at him, and so does Reginald.

“Number Five?” He bellows out.

“I have a question.” Five grit his teeth after taking the knife out.

“Knowledge is an admirable goal, but you know the rules. Not talking during mealtimes.” I noticed Grace standing behind him as he went on. “You are interrupting Herr Carlson.”

Five pushes his plate out of his way, it slams into the center of the table. I had no idea why he was so upset at the time and only knowing him for such as short time didn't help either.

“I want to time travel,” he says.

“No.”

“But I'm ready.” Five backs out of his chair. “I’ve been practicing my spatial jumps, just like you said.” He blinks next to Reginald on the other side of me to prove his point.

“See?”

Reginald puts down his fork, “A spatial jump is trivial when compared with the unknowns of time travel. One is like sliding along the ice, the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn.”

I could almost fall asleep at his words. He talked so monotone and slowly I don’t know why he wasn't talking instead of Herr Carlson.

“Well, I don’t get it.”

“Hence the reason why you’re not ready.” Everyone eats like they aren’t listening to this conversation except Vanya who shakes her head and mouths no at the almost twitching with anger Five. He looks at her and then back at him.

“I'm not afraid.”

“Fear isn’t the issue. The effects it might have on your body, even on your mind are far too unpredictable.” Reginald claims, going back to his food before dropping his utensils to give Five a look. “Now, I forbid you to talk about this anymore.”

As Reginald returns to eating again, Five storms out of the dining room pissed off. “Number Five! You haven’t been excused!”

We all looked worried, where was he going? By the looks of it not back to his room. And by the sound of the front door opening and shutting I knew where he was going.

“Come back here!” Reginald yelled.

The look on Vanya's face was heartbreaking. I could tell she wanted to go after him but was afraid of getting yelled at too. I on the other hand didn't know what reaction to have, he was nice to me, we shared a few conversations but seeing him leave didn't have the emotional weight to it as if I had been here all my life. But nobody knew that was the last time they were ever going to see Number Five ever again.

Well until now.

PRESENT DAY

“I survived on scraps. Canned foods, cockroaches, anything I could find.” Five tells us.

Vanya and I sit around him, trying to grasp the insane fact that the world is going to end. At times like this, I think of all the times people theorized the world ending at any time and then going out the next day confused but to have someone actually see it happen was a whole other thing. I didn't know what to do or how to prepare. Only having eight days to get my shit in order.

No one but us knew about this which made it even worse to think about..

“You know that rumor that Twinkies have an endless shelf life?” Five chuckles which I didn't think he could do. “Well, it's total bullshit.” Well, there goes my theory.

“I can’t even imagine,” says Vanya. One out of the two taking things more seriously.

“You do what it takes to survive, or you die. So we adapted. Whatever the world threw at us, we found a way to overcome it.”

“I'm sorry, who is this we that you keep bringing up?” I questioned. Just like Vanya was earlier, I was ignored by Five.

“You got anything stronger?” Five asked.

Vanya dumps out his coffee and pours in some whiskey instead. Five is handed the cup happily and takes a big gulp. We all stand up now near her kitchen, Vanya gives him an eye-opening look as I look at my feet still questioning the fact that we are all going to die even though I have a healing factor.

“You think I'm crazy.” He frowns.

Vanya stammers, “no it's just.. it's a lot to take in.”

“Exactly what don’t you understand?” Five whines.

“Well I wouldn't say I don't understand.” I put in, “It's just a crazy claim that all of us are dead in eight days, Five.”

But Vanya asks a question. “Why didn't you just time travel back?” Which I also wondered.

But Five scoffs at us. “Gee, wish I'd thought of that,” he says sarcastically to our statements. “Time travel is a crapshoot. I went into the ice and never acorn-ed.” He quoted what Reginald said years ago.

“You think I didn't try everything to get back to my family?” The sadness suddenly kicks in and I feel bad for the kid. Man..?

“If you grew old in the apocalypse, how come you're still a kid?” I tilt my head.

He scoffs again, strutting away from us to get more whiskey off the kitchen island. “I told you already. I must have gotten the equations wrong.”

Vanya goes on as he pours. “I mean, Dad always used to say that.. Time travel could mess up your mind. Well, maybe that's what is happening?”

Five slams down his glass. “This was a mistake, you're both too young..”

“No Five,” Vanya calls out

“Too naive to understand.” He walks to the door.

“Five just wait and listen to her.” I sighed.

But he listens and stops. He turns back to us, lips pursed into a scowl.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time, and I don't want to lose you again. That’s all.” She says. “You know it's getting late, I have lessons early, and I need to sleep and I'm sure you two need to too.”

She runs over to the couch and hands me a blanket and pillow. Uhm does she think I'm sharing with the teen?

“We’ll talk in the morning again. Okay? I promise. Night.” She begs us to stay as she gives us a shy smile and walks to her room.

“Goodnight Vanya.” I smile back before it leaves my face as I look back at the blanket and then Five. Her door opens and closes and I'm left alone with him.

Five moves to sit on the couch, and I do the same. “So what now?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer, instead he opens a piece of cloth. Inside that cloth is a large brown fake eye. Like the ones used when you lose yours. I stare at the eye thinking I'm losing my mind. Everything today makes me feel like I'm losing it.

He sighs as I'm about to question him on why he has a creepy fake eye, all he does is look at the back of it where it reads who produced the eye. Meritech, it says, never heard of it.

I finally look at him in his hopefully real eyes. “What is that?”

He quietly gets up and opens the door to leave.

I blocked him. “There's no way you brought me here and are about to leave without answering any of my questions. And leaving me on my own at god knows where.”

He looks confused.

“That means I'm coming with you, of course.”

Five dragged me along to what I'm guessing was Meritch’s office building. A spacious place with lots of windows and workers walking around in lab coats. How he was going to get private info about this eye I do not know. But if I know Five, I know he’s at least going to try to bullshit his way through this.

Another lab coat worker walked over to the front desk which was in front of where we were standing and gave us a strange look. He shares the look with the front desk lady and then at us.

“Uh, can I help you?” He says.

Five walks up to him menacingly. “I need to know who this belongs to.” He holds up the eye for him to see.

“Where did you get that?”

“Why do you care.”

I cough, interrupting the two's standoff. “Hello yes, he found it on a playground. It must’ve just popped out!” I forced a chuckle. “My sweet brother here just wants to return it to its.. rightful owner!” I end my lie.

“Ohh.. what a thoughtful young man” the front desk lady adds on.

“Yeah. Look up the name for me, will ya?” Five snaps completely breaking apart my well-crafted lie about his sweet nature.

The man and woman look wary. “I'm sorry but patient records are strictly confidential. That means I can’t tell you-“

“Yeah, I know what it means.” Five grumbles

“But I'll tell you what I can do. I will take the eye off your hands and return it to the owner myself. I'm sure he or she will be very grateful so if I can just-“ the man reaches out for the eye in Five's hands.

“Yeah, you’re not touching this eye.”

“Aidan! You don't mean that, apologize.” I grit my teeth trying to signal to Five that he doesn’t wanna make these people mad or everything is for nothing.

“Now, you listen here, young man-“ I was about to tell that ugly man not to mess with my kid brother like that. But Five beat me to it when he grabbed onto the man's collar and yanked him towards himself.

I sigh knowing now we officially fucked this up, and dropped my happy act.

In his squeaky voice Five yells. “No! You listen to me, asshole. I've come a long way for this, through some shit your pea brain couldn’t even comprehend.” I almost giggle at his attempt to seem tough.

“So just give me the information I need, and I'll be on my merry way. And if you call me ‘young man’ one more time, I'm gonna put your head through that damn wall.” He finishes with a smile.

“Oh dear.” The front desk lady says.

The man still in Five’s grip looks over at the front desk woman.

“Call security” he whispers even though we could all hear what he was saying.

“Yeah,” she replies, picking up the old-looking telephone right next to her and dialing.

“We need to go now.” I grab onto Five's shoulder.

He gives that man one last dirty look and lets go of his coat. Sending the man back a few centimeters. The worker fixes his coat and exhales like he is trying to pretend he didn't just let this preteen threaten his life

Five and I walked out of the building defeated. And move on to our next idea, reinforcements.

…

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

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unfortunate17 · 4 months ago

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wilmon✨ & "I'll do anything"

here’s a little university!AU that I’ve had in my head since the S1 days haha. again, not even going to pretend this is 5 sentences.

“I’ll do anything,” Simon groans, wiping down the last of the tables as Ayub laughs unhelpfully behind him. He rolls out his shoulders, sore from a long shift of carrying plates and trays. “Seriously, man, he won’t leave me alone. Every time I turn around, he’s right behind me - like take a fucking hint.”

“Is he still sitting next to you in lecture?”

“Yes,” Simon cries, throwing up his hands in frustration. He drops into a chair, watching the rhythmic motions of Ayub sweeping the floor. “Like - the room seats two hundred and there’s barely fifteen of us here - why the fuck do you want to sit right next to me?”

Ayub snorts, “I’m telling you, Simme, he’s into you.”

Simon makes a face, “Don’t start with this shit again. Please.”

“I don’t get why you hate him so much.”

Simon looks at him in deep disbelief. “Are we forgetting the fact that he disappeared during our sociology final last year and I had to present it by myself?” Simon tips his head back, groaning at the embarrassing memory. “I had to retake that class because of him - and he didn’t even fucking apologize.”

“Sara said he had a family emergency,” Ayub points out gently, “remember?”

“Yeah right, that’s just an excuse and you know it.” Simon rolls his eyes, slumping back into the chair in exhaustion, “I’d get it if like - oh I can’t miss work today or else I’m going to get fired and then I can’t pay my rent - but come on. I saw his apartment, bro - mama and papa definitely help him out. No way he’s paying for that place on his own.”

Ayub sighs, setting the broom down and emptying the dustpan in the trash. “Bro, you complain about him all the time - just tell him to get lost.”

It’s a testament to their years of friendship that Simon doesn’t cross the room and strangle him. “So now I can’t even complain?” He snaps, the slow simmer of irritation that’s been building up throughout the dinner rush finally catching up to him.

Ayub’s expression shifts then, his eyes suddenly going wide. “Uh, Simme, you might not want to - ”

Simon gets to his feet, crumpling the rag in his hand as he stalks towards the front. “He’s a fucking trust-fund baby,” he rants, moving to swipe aggressively across the counter. “You really think telling him to fuck off is going to work? Wilhelm is literally the single most insufferable human being I have ever fucking met and - ”

A loud clattering interrupts him, followed by the sound of rapidly shuffling footsteps. When Simon turns around, the first thing he sees is two empty coffee cups on their side, the contents of which are dripping out over the table he’d just finished wiping down. Then, his stomach sinks.

Wilhelm is standing in front of the door, looking adorably windswept in his expensive wool coat. His cheeks are flushed, his expression mortified. “Sorry,” his breathes, voice cracking as he scrambles for a stack of tissues, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to - ”

Thankfully, Ayub is the first speak. “Hey, man, it’s just a spill. don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll take care of it, let me just go grab a mop.”

Simon throws him a panicked look at being left alone, but Ayub only shrugs in return as he makes his way to the back.

“I need a mop,” he tells him simply, shouldering past Simon with a pat on his arm.

Simon watches him go, swallowing tightly. There’s a long moment of deep, uncomfortable silence. Finally, he forces himself to take a deep breath. “We close in four minutes, sorry,” he says, voice thin.

Wilhelm’s head is bowed, eyes trained on the floor. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “I know.”

Guilt churns in Simon’s stomach like acid. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” he offers then, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Wille’s tone is robotic. When his gaze finally flickers up to meet Simon’s, his eyes look like broken glass. “Sorry about the mess.” He runs an awkward hand through his hair, even as the strands tumble back into his face almost immediately “I’ll - I’ll just - ” he jabs a thumb at the door, turning to leave.

Simon’s feet carry him across the room before his mind can catch up with his actions. “Wille, wait,” he begs. “That was - I’m really sorry.”

Wille turns to look at him as he pulls the door open again, backlit by the setting sun. His eyes are dark and sad, “It’s fine, Simon.”

Simon wrings his hand, “We - we open at eleven tomorrow,” he offers nonsensically, “if you come back then - ”

The ghost of an unhappy smile flickers across Wilhelm’s face. “I wasn’t here for a sandwich,” he shoves his hands in his pockets as he leans back against the open door. “I just thought. You’re always drinking flat whites in class. And I thought - that I could, you know, bring you one and we could like - ”

Dimly, Simon thinks he’s going to be sick.

Wille looks away then, blinking rapidly like he’s fighting back tears. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “I got the message. I’ll leave you alone now,” he steps out onto the street, shooting him a last, small smile. “Have a good night, Simon.”

Simon opens his mouth to say - what exactly he doesn’t know. Maybe he means to apologize once more, to ask Wille to come back inside, to offer to buy him another coffee.

Instead, the door swings shut between them before he can decide and Simon watches through paned glass as Wille’s late evening silhouette disappears out into the crowd.

#ask #young royals #my writing #before you ask yes Wille’s family emergency is Erik’s death #and yes they live happily ever after - eventually

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tojiwrd · 1 year ago

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5: fate is fickle ; gojo satoru

pairing gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary when satoru breaks off your engagement, you understand and accept it. but when he marries someone else, you don't understand because he didn't want to be tied down.

content warnings mentions toxic family, mentions of forced marriage, emotional infidelity, bad friends (:((), and i think that's it! lmk if i missed anything

word count 3.7k

a/n i think this is my fav chapter so far lov you guys sm thank you so so much for the support on this!!

send thoughts ↞ prev next ↠ to be added to taglist

Spending more time with Suguru after months of occasional contact was easier than you assumed it would be. You, usually accompanied by Reina, would go to his art gallery in the evenings with a cup of coffee for yourself and him. It seemed too similar to old times, but you always chose to ignore the video reel of memories that pressed play as soon as you opened the glass doors to the gallery of how you and Satoru went there for the mere purpose of annoying Suguru.

This was one of the days your elbows were resting against one of the thin marble tables in the basement—which, you had to admit, was crafted to perfection to be Suguru’s space in his gallery—and mindlessly scrolling through your phone while he worked on his laptop.

“Yo.” You heard him call from his desk just a few feet away from you. “I have to run out to pick up a late shipment. I’ll be back in like—twenty minutes? You can stay here, we'll meet up with Nanami once I get back.”

Nanami Kento was another new addition into your life, and you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most exciting one. It wasn’t that you hadn’t heard about him before—you had, occasionally from Satoru who was his acquaintance back when they were classmates—but he was fresh and new which made it a lot easier to open up to him. You, Kento, and Suguru had plans for dinner tonight with Reina, too, who backed out a few hours ago because her mother had arrived from her month-long trip.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go ahead,” you replied, sending him a small smile over your shoulder as he gave you a short wave, gathered his car key, and went upstairs.

You just continued swiping through your phone, replying to some text messages from earlier this week that didn’t particularly mean much. You’d spent the past few days at home to only sleep, choosing to spend time with Reina, Suguru, and Nanami. You had been in touch with Shoko, too, but hadn’t found a time to meet up with her since she’d gone abroad for an internship for a couple months. Still, it had taken you a long time before you finally began talking to the friends you had that were connected to Satoru.

You heard the small ding of the sound the system made when the door before the basement unlocks through the keycard and furrowed your brows. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since Suguru left, there was no chance he was back. It was followed by heavy thumps of footsteps going down the stairs, and you only had to see the black lace-up shoes to know who it was.

You wanted to scramble for your things and hide underneath a table, but you didn’t have enough time because Satoru saw you the exact moment his face came into view when he stepped on the third-last step.

“O—Oh. I didn’t know you were here.”

You tried to clear your voice, to pretend that this situation was no big deal. Of course, running into your boyfriend of three years and fiance for a few more months who broke it off with you on a random Tuesday was, in one way or another, a big deal. “He left to get a shipment. I don’t think he’ll be back soon.”

For some reason, for some fucking reason he walked closer to you. You had said that Suguru would take a while because you wanted Satoru to take the hint and leave, not so he could step towards you—closer and closer till you could look into that sea in his eyes almost clearly— and take a seat three chairs down from you. No. You didn’t want him near you, especially not after the night on the balcony.

“Guess I’ll wait, then.” His voice was honey. It was so smooth, so soft that your ears would feel warm whenever he spoke.

“You can just call him.”

There was always something you believed when it came to Satoru ever since he began pursuing you before your relationship: he was persistent. He would leave little notes all over your room that you’d find in drawers days after they’d been placed, asking you to go on a date, to give him one chance. Some notes, you found days after you went on said date with him, and that was when you realized how he truly was persistent. It wasn’t just when it came to you, though. When you, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko went to a bar with an indoor mini golf area, it had taken all three of you to manipulate the ball’s trajectory when he wasn’t looking just so he could pass the hardest route. It was two in the morning and you were ridden with sleep—it wasn’t your fault. When Satoru put his mind to something, he almost always achieved it.

“No point. I’ll just wait—I haven’t seen him in a while.” Just as you knew, Satoru wasn’t backing down.

You didn’t know his motives, and you’d tried really hard to not dig deep into his actions to try to find out. Satoru always haunted all your questions, he was like a ghost within your body constantly testing you, trying to get you to question why he did what he did.

You remembered that you and Satoru were once a blank page, not an entire book that had come to a tragic, unfulfilling end. You tried to erase every word, but they were written in pen and the traces always lingered. So, the only thing you could do was close the book and keep it somewhere far from your sight, but you couldn’t do that when he showed up in front of you. Not as a ghost but as a person, reminding you he was still here, real and moving, and he had pieces of you that you would never get back.

“I’m leaving,” you murmured, deciding that you had the choice to leave it all behind. To leave him all behind. He could haunt you from within, but you couldn’t let him materialize once again into your life.

“Y/N, stop,” he said, arms reaching out to you when you walked past him to go to the staircase but stopping as though he realized it was wrong.

And you replied, “What?” because even though you knew you shouldn’t, a part—a big part—of you was still left in his car where he asked you for the engagement ring. A part of you still couldn’t let him go entirely because you were never good at leaving things behind.

“I want to… apologize,” he began, running his fingers through his unkempt hair. He lifted his hand when you opened your mouth, beginning to say something, and he said, “You don’t have to say anything, okay? Please, just give me five—two minutes of your time. I just need to talk to you.”

And like he told you to, you didn’t say anything because if Satoru wanted to talk for five—two minutes, then you would let him.

“I got married,” he said, as though he was in a daze within his own mind. You scoffed, but didn’t say anything. “And that… that was fucked up. You didn’t deserve hearing about the engagement three months after I ended ours.”

Although it was all true, although you had relived all those moments inside your head, hearing Satoru say them made them real. This wasn’t Reina helping you get over him, this was the him you tried to get over for months. It was humiliating knowing he knew exactly what he did, though there was no doubt he didn’t before this. He knew better than anyone how you felt without talking to you because he was there, holding your hand when a stray tear left your eye as if he was still yours.

You still didn’t say anything.

“I met Hana a month before I ended it with you.” You weren’t sure you could hear this. If somebody held a knife to your chest at that moment, you probably would still stand still, completely silent because there were no words left in your mouth. “I didn’t intend on getting engaged with her, Y/N. I meant it when I said I felt I couldn’t be tied down but—” He paused, as if he didn’t want to continue.

And he didn’t continue, at least for a few minutes that felt like long, grueling hours.

“But she was new, and I hadn’t felt that… newness for so long. Not since I’d met you. And she said things, Y/N, that made me think we couldn’t get married, that we couldn’t work.” His eyes looked at your face, and it was equivalent to a thousand needles piercing your skin because he waited for you to say something, to agree? But you couldn’t, not even after he had broken you completely and left you on the side of the road like you meant nothing. Because in your stupid, twisted head, you could have worked. If he wanted.

He continued, taking your silence as a cue. “When I ended it with you, I—I didn’t want to. I swear. You deserved better, and I realized that I didn’t deserve to be anywhere near you. I couldn’t look at you without feeling guilty about the second-thoughts I was having because another girl made me rethink.”

This wasn’t what you expected today, was the only thought swirling through the tendrils of your mind.

“You don’t have to say you understand because I don’t either. I’m not sorry for ending it with you, Y/N, because you didn’t deserve me after all I did, after all I thought about us. But I am sorry for lying to you and, in a way, making our relationship seem meaningless because you probably thought I moved on too quickly.”

“You did,” you said, surprising yourself with the finality of your words. But you couldn’t take it back now that you had made yourself an almost-coherent member of this conversation.

“What?”

“You did move on, Gojo. Too quickly. I don’t think that, I know that and you do, too.”

He tugged his lower lip between his teeth, and you looked anywhere but at his downcast face. It was hard to admit it to him because you couldn’t stop your words, not when he was piling on brick after brick preparing to tumble it all down with you on the other side. If you stayed there any longer—

“I liked Hana then, but the marriage wasn’t what I expected.” You leaned back against the wall, placing some more distance between the two of you. Satoru seemed as though he was clutching at the flimsiest of straws to keep you there, to let you let him talk. “My father—he pushed for it and after losing you, I didn’t fight against it. I thought a marriage like this would hurt less than us getting married and—”

“And what?” you prompted.

“And having to end. I don’t know—I didn’t want us to fail, Y/N.”

You smiled wryly, understanding there was nothing more left for him to explain. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s… it?”

“I didn’t question why you did what you did before, didn’t try to get answers. I’m not going to change after you’ve given me those answers I never asked for.” At that point, you were looking to find any words to make a swift exit, but you still remained rooted in your spot.

He sighed, fingers reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’re saying you would rather not know?”

Of course, you wanted to know, but you had kept yourself from looking for answers. You knew that whatever ran below the surface of Satoru’s flimsy, no-good, unbelievable reason to end your engagement would hurt, and you were always good at taking what he said at face-value. Obviously, you were right but that didn’t grant you the satisfaction of a person whose beliefs were just proven right would.

“I’m saying I’m over it, Satoru.” Your voice was convincing enough. "And if you want a successful marriage, maybe you should tell your wife that you got involved with her while you were engaged to me. I'm not the only one who you should be apologizing to."

As soon as you turned your back towards him and headed for the stairs, the door on top clicked open and Suguru gave you a wide smile and wave when he saw you on the other end.

It was funny, real fucking funny, how on a random Tuesday, every question that had plagued your mind like a ceaseless tornado over almost two years was answered by the harbinger of pain himself. You had been so deeply lost in your own soul, and even a person drowning felt uneasy when pulled back up into the air. Satoru pulled you out and now, he stared at you as if he was a friend who offered you a single piece of a chip because you were starving while he ate an entire packet of it. You weren’t sure how he felt but, with the way he looked at you, you were sure that some immature, adolescent part of him that’s growth stunted in middle school truly believed he had done you right. By telling you the truth two years later.

You didn’t notice Suguru had walked down the steps and taken notice of Satoru and was now flashing his eyes between the two of you as if you were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. You weren’t.

“Satoru, man. What the fuck are you doing here?” Suguru asked, and you should’ve made your way up the stairs and away from them but you stayed put. Your mind somersaulted, making excuses for yourself to yourself that you had plans with Suguru anyway, and you would leave with him once he makes Satoru leave.

“I just wanted to hang,” Satoru replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Suguru inhaled a deep breath and you could see the corners of his ears turning a dark, angry shade of red in annoyance as he stared his friend down. “Just leave for now, dude. I’ve got plans.”

You didn’t look at Satoru, but you felt his gaze on you as his footsteps reached closer to the stairs. You moved, not wanting to have any unnecessary contact with him. As he reached you, he halted his steps and looked at you and you could have buried yourself right then into a hole because you hated this.

“I know I’m not in the position to ask for anything but I want to tell you, again, that I really don’t want you to hate me. We don’t ever have to talk again, if you don’t want to, but please don’t hate me.”

You looked at his eyes, then stared at him for a moment longer. You laughed, it was bitter and held a certain form of venom you had never shown Satoru, at the sincerity in his features. “Say what you just said but slower, just so you can also comprehend how utterly senseless you sound.”

A hint of annoyance flashed across his features before he tamped it down and shook his head. He started heading up the stairs, not bidding Suguru or you a goodbye, and you sighed in relief.

“Y/N, I—” Suguru started, but you cut him off by pushing him by his shoulders in annoyance. “Woah, woah. What did I do?”

“You didn’t tell me!” you exclaimed, your voice finally coming back to you after whatever-that-was. “He cheated, Suguru! And you didn’t tell me.” You were saying your thoughts exactly as they leaped through your mind, barely comprehending that you had resorted to punching—albeit lightly—Suguru’s chest as you closed your eyes.

Everything was blank, and for a moment you were convinced you had lost a wire inside your brain throughout this entire ordeal.

“Hey, listen,” Suguru said, his arms reaching out to gently grab onto your shoulders. “You kept on saying you don’t wanna dig deeper and all that bullshit once the two of you broke up. And you were doing good, Y/N. You know how long it took you to start acting like yourself again? Four months. I didn’t want to ruin your process because you were healing.”

You gritted your teeth and said, “You had no right, Suguru. And you had no right to assume when I moved on because it didn’t take me just four months. If your—if your fiance cheated on you and didn’t tell you, I wouldn’t keep it from you.” Your voice trailed off as you stared into his eyes, and that was when you’d realized you truly couldn’t rely on him because he was Satoru’s friend first and yours second.

You had—in great fashion—run away from Suguru’s art gallery before he could even form a defense to your words. At that point, you were sure he wouldn’t be showing up to dinner with Nanami because that would not be a good moment for the three of you. You had dug for your phone and texted Nanami, telling him that you’ll be at the restaurant in ten minutes to which he’d instantly replied saying he’ll be there in five.

It didn’t take long for you to drive and reach the restaurant, which is why you were sitting across from Kento who looked more curious than anything. You tried to avoid his watchful gaze, though he didn’t say anything. That might have made it tenfold uncomfortable because he often came to his own conclusions, without asking any questions, and ran with them.

“Stop staring,” you muttered, fingers absentmindedly flipping through the menu. “And decide what you’re going to eat.”

“I already know,” he replied, unmoving with his stare.

“You and Geto fight?” he asked as soon as you’d both placed your order with the waiter. He raised a brow when you tilted your head, feigning confusion. “You can tell me, I don’t give a fuck.”

You laughed at the lightness of his words. “Why do you think we fought?”

He let out a chuckle, barely audible, and took his phone out. “Because he isn’t here? And because he texted me and said ‘sorry, can’t make it.’ And he said you two were coming together and his text was sent the same time you said you were on your way.”

“Okay, genius,” you drawl, resting your arms casually on the wooden table. “I guess it could be considered a fight,” you admitted.

His eyes flickered with the slightest hint of interest but it was gone the next second. “Oh, yeah? Lover’s quarrel?”

“God, shut up.”

“Don’t go thinking I’m God just yet,” he muttered, a smirk playing on his full lips.

You threw the napkin in front of you at his face which he, unfortunately, caught with his hand. “Me and Suguru aren’t even friends like that,” you said, almost believing it. Truth was, it was the heat of the moment and you wanted to clutch at every strand of dignity to make it seem like what Suguru did didn’t hurt, alongside with what you now knew Satoru did, too.

“Uh huh,” Kento sarcastically went along. “So what happened?”

You debated on whether or not you should tell him the entire story, knowing that he was friends with Suguru and sort-of knew Satoru. But there wasn’t anything wrong with confiding in a friend, right? You chose to give him bits and pieces from the day—about how Satoru, your ex-fiance wanted to talk and give you a whole rundown of how he pretty much fell in love with another girl while you were engaged—which slowly got you talking about the few months after the breakup and Satoru’s new engagement. By the time the two of you were about to order dessert, you had told him pretty much everything—not without being prompted though. As soon as the two of you moved on, he’d say something like that fucker’s so stupid. What did he say after that? It was almost like a conversation with Reina, but with Kento it felt different.

He’d look at you every so often while you talked, a glint present in his eye that usually wasn’t there. He’d run his fingers through his blond hair and slightly lift the direction of his eyes to meet your eye, and if you hadn’t been shit-talking your ex’s best friend, you would’ve felt the warmth radiating through your body under his gaze more.

“I meant it,” Kento started, chewing the last bit of the cake you forced him to order. “That Gojo kid is stupid for that shit.”

You laughed, biting your lip to contain the blush that crept up your cheeks. “Calm down, otherwise I might start to think you like me.”

He looked at you with a blank stare then tilted his head to the side, as if trying to read you. “You’re dumb.”

“What?”

“You actually think I’m not interested in you?” he asked, then laughed as if it was the most preposterous thing he had heard. You thought about it for a moment, and realized every attempt at flirting he made, you brushed off as a joke. That’s just Kento, you’d kept on saying to yourself. You’d ignored every attempt he made because the waters after a three-year-relationship were tumultuous, and it was never your first thought that Kento was truly interested everytime he made a comment slightly suggestive.

It took you a moment to realize you still had to reply to him, and in that moment you allowed yourself to feel the warmth underneath his gaze. “What?”

“I’m not saying I’m about to drop to one knee and propose or something. I’m just telling you there’s interest present.”

You weren’t surprised; only Kento could make something that people always shy away from saying seem so easy. You smiled. You weren’t sure if this could work, and you weren’t even sure if this conversation would ever lead to anything in the future, but it felt like a welcome recess from every other part of the random Tuesday. For a moment, it was easy to forget Satoru, Satoru’s betrayal, and Suguru’s behavior. Kento had come into your life during, what you’d consider, a limbo period where you were still navigating the almost-two-years-ago-breakup and its aftermath. He was fresh, and he was new. Perhaps that was the newness Satoru was talking about.

And maybe there was something innately weird about Kento, someone who was interested in you, to listen to you talk about your ex and then tell you he’s interested in you, but you’d always been a fan of the unexpected.

“Don’t go all quiet,” he murmured, twirling his glass of water around absentmindedly.

“There’s interest on my end, too.”

#nanamiiiiiiiii #kento ml #nanami x reader #hehe #gojo x reader #angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst

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shartletswritings · 26 days ago

Text

You've Dug Your Own Grave

CHAPTER 3: Fight Me

No TW!

Enjoy <333

Ekko happily agrees to get a small team together to take you back to your apartment to grab your stuff. You would prefer to go alone, but you relent when he reminds you that you don’t actually know how to get to and from the hideout considering you were blinded when you were brought in. He tells you the plan once you’re at dinner and feeling a lot better after a much-needed nap. You sit in a similar formation as earlier, besides Scar, who is completely absent from the mess hall. You’re happy about that, totally not slightly bummed you don’t have someone to poke fun at. Even if it means you need to behave like a mostly civilized person at the table.

“Malia and Geo are gonna go with you tomorrow night and you can get whatever you need, sound good?” Ekko’s voice is steady over the chatter of the crowded room. You still haven’t met Geo, but the time you’ve spent with Malia so far has been nice, so you really can’t complain.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Most of it is junk, but it would be nice to have some of it with me,” you admit.

“You shoulda seen how much crap Jordyn brought when they moved in. It took six of us just to bring it back,” Malia says, others nod in agreement, looking haggard just from the memory. You giggle.

A short, skinny man with long black hair tied in a tight bun sits down at the table across from you, “You’re the new girl, right? Good to meetcha, I’m Geo,” he says, eyes shifting between you and his meager plate of food made up of mostly meat, “I’ve heard a lot about ya.” He takes a mouthful of food and chews quickly, something about his behavior reminds you of a street cat. Before you can even answer you, he continues despite his mouth full of food, “You been on a hoverboard yet?”

“Hoverboard? Oh, those things you guys ride? No I haven’t.” You take another bite of food, the stewed fish in your bowl surprisingly palatable.

Geo cracks a wide, toothy smile, bits of rice stuck to his teeth, “I know what we’re doing after dinner.” You arch one eyebrow suspiciously.

“Geo, you’re gonna kill her,” a man at the table speaks up but Geo waves him off with a stray hand, bringing one foot up to his chair to half crouch on his seat.

“She’ll be fine, right new girl?”

You twist your lips in thought, how hard can it be? You’re pretty sure you saw a kid half your age on one this morning. “Yeah, sure, why not.”

You make it all the way outside with a long, black board in hand before you realize you are in deep over your head. The thing is easily taller than half your height, but it surprisingly only weighs a few pounds. Geo runs you through the basics of steering the board; lean where you want to go, press down on your heels to slow down, press on your toes to speed up. It sounds easy enough, right?

�� With the board laid flat on the ground, you gingerly step onto the grooves marked for your feet. Some mechanism close to the surface—exactly what you don’t know—locks your feet onto the hoverboard. “Alright, you wanna dig your toes in hard to get it started, like this,” Geo demonstrates and raises a few inches above the ground, but his voice is already feeling far away. Maybe it would be best if I didn’t do this, you think when you notice the small group of Firelights gathering nearby to watch your first attempt. You pick out Jordyn and Malia and silently pray to Jannah or whoever the hell is listening that you don’t embarrass yourself.

You take a deep breath and follow Geo’s instructions. As expected, the board glows green as it comes to life, the sound of fans whirring as it begins to slowly raise. Geo made it look significantly easier because as soon as the board leaves the ground you completely lose your balance, landing flat on your ass into the dirt—hitting the exact spot you landed on last night. Pain rockets down your legs and you can distantly here people snicker at your failure. The pain shifts to embarrassment, and you clench your jaw; fuck this.

Immediately you get back up, righting yourself on the board. You dig your toes in like Geo said but this time you’re prepared. Clenching your abs you manage to maintain your balance as you raise up slightly higher. Geo looks slightly surprised, and you smirk triumphantly. A few firelights behind you mumble their approval but you don’t risk turning to look at them; you’re pretty convinced that if you break concentration for even a second, you’ll fall back on your ass.

“Ok… pretty good,” Geo sounds nonplussed which only adds kindling to the fire burning at your feet. “Now try going around the tree, like this.” He takes off in a blur of green and black in the dying sunlight of the evening, curving around the base of the tree before rounding the corner a few moments later.

“Take it slow, newbie.” It’s Jordyn’s voice and you clench your jaw, everything in you screaming to ignore their advice; what’s the point of doing it if you can’t show off? Better to go slow then land on my ass again, you remind yourself.

Gently you press your toes into the board, gradually increasing speed. Its… not as hard as you expected? Seems like getting up was the hardest bit because you find moving to be pretty instinctual. As you begin to form a wide angle around the tree you have to fight the urge to speed up, instead keeping the hoverboard moving at a decently quick speed but just slow enough to still be able to focus on your surroundings, staying low to the ground just in case you fall again.

By the time you come back to Geo and the small group of Firelights a smug smile has spread on your face. It only grows wider when you slow down enough to see the looks of approval on their faces. “This supposed to be hard or something?” You can practically see Chross shaking his head in disappointment at your hubris. Good thing he isn’t here right now.

“I think a toddler could go faster than you,” Geo calls and you scowl.

Flipping him off, you dig your toes down, forcing the board faster. The next loop you make is easily twice as fast and your confidence begins to increase. You can’t believe you ever doubted yourself. You crouch down slightly, allowing the board to angle up to steadily climb higher. Soon you’re about level with Ekko’s balcony. You take a moment to float and take in the hideout as the sun continues to set—only losing your balance for one sickening, heart-dropping moment. It really is gorgeous; the golden lights strewn about make it seem as though the whole area is glowing. You think you could get used to a place like this. Somewhere full of life and love despite the horrors that wait just through the tunnels.

Feeling especially brave, you continue to climb, the board responding delightfully to even the smallest movements of your feet—Ekko must be a genius, you think. You continue to spiral up the tree and by the time you reach the top you have decided that, without a doubt, you made the right choice joining the Firelights this morning. You’ve never felt more free in your entire life, not when you made your first deal, not when you left the Company, not when you rented that shitty apartment. It is this moment, fifty feet above the ground, that you feel like a person again, for the first time in years.

A hum behind you catches your attention and you pivot slightly in the air to see Geo floating up towards you. You try not to feel too bad about yourself when you see how much confidence he has in his stance on the hoverboard compared to your awkward balancing act. He flashes you another toothy smile, “You aren’t half bad, girl.” It’s honestly shocking that one man can be both horrifically slimy and charming at the same time, “Thought for sure you’d fall on your ass at least a couple more times.”

As if on cue, your balance falters for a second and he laughs but you catch yourself much quicker this time, “Don’t flatter yourself, you may make it look easy but it sure as hell isn’t hard.” Assuming you have an insane amount of core strength. You aren’t in bad shape, far from it, but your abs are starting to burn the longer you stand and talk to him. You begin your descent, slower this time to take the chance to savor the wind rushing through your hair.

By the time you make it back to the ground a few of the Firelights have trickled away but a good chunk of the group looks at you approvingly as you make your clumsy dismount. Adjusting to walking on two legs takes a moment but you only stumble a couple times. Malia walks up to you, “You’re pretty good, have you done this before?”

You shake your head, still beaming, “It just felt… natural? I guess?” Honestly you aren’t quite sure, but as soon as you got over your initial embarrassment of failing, it wasn’t too difficult.

Jordyn, who had been leaning against Malia, nods their agreement and claps a hand onto your shoulder heavy enough to rattle your jaw. You wince but smile up at them, nonetheless. Something inside of you feels a bit apprehensive at the sudden rush of attention; like a coddled child, but you push it aside willing yourself to enjoy the moment.

You finally arrive back in your room and curl into your bed with a satisfied oof, happy to be off your feet and away from any public scrutiny. Thinking about tomorrow, a bitter-sweet pang hits your chest. Sure you’re happy to be here with the Firelights; if your mood this evening meant anything. But it feels strange at the same time: to even consider living a different life from the one you’ve known for so long. A natural distrust of strangers has been drilled into your head for years now and yet here is this community, welcoming you, a stranger, with open arms. And they’re thriving, better than anything you saw under Chross or on the streets by yourself. Could they really have a place for you here? Ekko and Malia seem to think so, although you can’t be quite sure how much of that is just due to loyalty to Ekko.

You continue to toss, mind wandering incessantly as you try to sleep. Is it that hard to let yourself be happy? For once? You sit up with a huff; this isn’t going to work. You need sleep, logically you know this, but it just won’t seem to come.

It doesn’t take long to make your way back to the courtyard and the moonlight provides a respite from the unnatural lights illuminating the hallways of the sleeping quarters. The air outside isn’t quite cool, but the dampness of the evening gives rise to goosebumps along your exposed arms; you don’t bother covering the branding now that most of the Firelights have gone to bed.

A small green light catches your eye as you walk further into the courtyard, and you initially think it’s a hoverboard in the distance but upon closer inspection you realize it’s a small lightning bug. You can’t recall ever seeing one that glows green, so you reach up to capture it gently in your hands. It’s larger than the ones you’ve seen in Piltover—the trenches are usually too polluted to see them and you aren’t even sure they normally exist down here—green light seeming to come from both its abdomen and wings. You un-cup your hand and watch it fly away, marveling at the sight of it. The longer you stand there, staring up at the night sky, the more of the little bugs you see flitting around the tree. It reminds you of your reason for coming outside in the first place.

It doesn’t take long to find a hoverboard leaning against the concrete wall. You look over your shoulder and, once satisfied no one is around to see you, place it down, fitting your shoes into the footholds. Just as you are about to press your toes in and wake it up, you hear a shuffle behind you. You turn to see Scar standing a few feet behind you, because of course you do.

“There a reason you’re using my board?” His arms are crossed.

Oops. You didn’t know this was his board, “Maybe you shouldn’t leave it lying around if you don’t want someone to take it.”

He narrows his green eyes, shining nearly the same color as the bugs flying around you, “Maybe you shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to you,” he echoes, rather too smugly for your liking.

You shrug your shoulders, “Come take it from me then.”

The board hums to life under your feet and you take off much faster than you had anticipated. Fuck fuckfuckfuck. You throw your arms out to your sides wildly for balance as you go careening towards the wall. Thankfully you manage to get your feet underneath you instead of to your side thus avoiding smashing Scar’s hoverboard. Unfortunately this means that your body takes the impact; scraping down the wall and onto the dirt, feet released from the board as it slides a few meters away from you.

By the time you finally open your eyes after having them clamped shut from both pain and humiliation, Scar is looking down at you with an annoyed sneer, hoverboard in hand. You think you hear him mumble “Idiot” as he walks away, but its hard to tell over the blood rushing through your ears. You sit up and rest your forehead on your bent knees, giving yourself a few more moments to wallow in the embarrassment you feel before standing back up. Just before he walks back into the hut he looks back at you over his shoulders and leaves his hoverboard on the wall. It’s hard to tell in the relative darkness, but you see a glint of something in his eyes. You smirk despite yourself.

Finally mustering up the courage you return to the board. It’s still warm in your hand as you place it back on the ground. This time, you make sure to start slow, gradually increasing speed until you feel confident enough to hold your balance. You spend the next… however many hours practicing.

You don’t stop zipping around until you see a couple people begin to trickle into the mess hall. Fuck, morning already? Sure enough, the sky is beginning its shift from gray-black into a deep purple. You sigh and return to the ground to leave Scar’s board close to where he left it and hobble back to your room to catch at least a couple hours of sleep until, inevitably, the movement of soldiers getting ready for the morning wakes you.

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes and drag yourself out of bed. The clothes from Eve have a bit of dirt on them from your fall, but you don’t really have any other options so you brush off what you can, push your hair out of your face, and walk to find some breakfast.

“You alright?” Malia asks as you sit down across from her, a bowl of steaming noodles in her hands, “You don’t look great.”

“Yeah I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep is all.” You take a sip of the spicy broth hoping it’ll jumpstart your sluggish brain.

“It’s not easy. Adjusting, I mean. Took me a while to settle in. Give yourself time.”

You give her a humph in acknowledgement before taking a long slurp of your own noodles. “Speaking of which,” you finally say with your mouth half full, “when are we heading out?”

She swallows her bite before answering, “As soon as Geo is up, really.” The door opens and Geo walks in. “As soon as Geo is ready,” she corrects. You smile and take another bite.

Behind him, Scar dips his head slightly in the low doorframe and walks in. He meets your eye for a second but doesn’t react.

Geo sits next to Malia with a mug of coffee, “Saw you zipping around last night,” he says as he takes a sip.

Malia lifts an eyebrow at you but says nothing. “Couldn’t sleep,” you answer, shrugging. Thinking back on it, perhaps flying around all night wasn’t the best idea with the way your legs and core burn with every movement you make. But you’ll be damned if you let yourself be a weak link to anyone, especially the Firelights.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three of you are sent off by Ekko who opens the stone door covering the main exit tunnel, “Come back in one piece,” he says, and you give him a small wave.

The tunnel out of the hideout is not as horrid as you were expecting. Clearly, all of the sewage tunnels around the base are inactive, but even still, certain… substances tend to stick around. The light from your three collective torches illuminates the curved space you walk through and so far, you haven’t seen anything too awful. Geo and Malia are maskless, to keep a low profile, she had said. It makes sense, this certainly isn’t “official” Firelight business.

The tunnel leads to the outskirts of a market you used to frequent when you were still working for the Company. It’s almost funny: how close you must have gotten to the life you find yourself living. You’re able to take up the lead and walk your small group to your apartment down in the sumps.

It isn’t nice, even by undercity standards, but you can still remember how fucking proud of yourself you were the day you moved in. Despite the mold, and the roaches, and the exorbitant rent, it was yours and no one besides your smarmy landlord could take it from you.

“The two of you can wait down here. It’s really not that much that I need to grab,” you offer to Malia and Geo at the door of the building.

Malia answers with a shake of her head, “It’s fine, we don’t mind.” Geo looks like he does, but says nothing.

The three of you are breathing heavily by the time you make it to the seventh floor and down the hall to your old apartment. You go to fumble in your pocket for your key before you realize that you must have lost it in the fire the other night. At least I don’t have to go to my landlord and beg for a new one, you think, gratefully. Just as you are about to kick the door in, you notice that the hinges are already bent. A gentle push to the door sends it swinging inwards. “Huh,” is all you say and the two behind you stay quiet.

The apartment itself is a wreck. Not that you are an exceptionally clean person, but you certainly didn’t leave it with drawers thrown around and piles of stuff littering the ground. “Shit, someone fuckin robbed you.” Geo’s voice makes it sound like he’s smiling.

You don’t turn back to him, still gazing at the mess in front of you, “Yeah… guess so.” A beat. “There wasn’t much to take, so they wasted their time.”

You take a step into the room and immediately walk to the fridge in the kitchen off to the side of the small studio style apartment. With a huff, you pull the fridge from the wall and sure enough, your pathetic stash of savings is still there. You smile and pocket it. “I’m just gonna grab some clothes and we can go,” you say.

You begin shoving handfuls of clothes into the empty bag you brought, not bothering to fold them from where they lay in piles on the floor. It is strange, you think, that the thieves didn’t take anything, at least nothing you can tell. Really, it’s their own fault, robbing an apartment in the sumps, no one down here has anything worth stealing.

Just before you’re about to leave, a piece of paper on your kitchen table catches your attention. It’s a… letter? You pick it up and turn it around in your hands. The blood rushes from your face when you see the insignia pressed into the wax seal matching the one branded into your arm. With shaking fingers you tear the envelope open and rip the paper out.

Start running

-C

Warm, sour spit gathers in your mouth and you swallow, trying to force your breakfast back down your throat. There is no mistaking exactly who this is from: Chross, head of the Hush Company.

“Hey, you alright?” It’s Malia behind you. You crumple the letter and shove it into your pocket, turning to look at her.

“Yeah. Fine. Sorry. We can go.” You feel lightheaded the longer you think about it, so you just…don’t.

“…Right,” she finally says. Geo looks bored as he leans against the wall, digging under his nails with a knife.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re silent the whole way back to the base, mind and stomach churning in a nauseating cycle. Scar is the one opening the door of the hideout for you once you make it back and you don’t even look at him.

It isn’t until you are back in your quarters and safely alone that you let the rising panic overtake you. You start by pacing back and forth in front of your bed until the fear clenching your heart becomes too painful and you crumple to the ground, folded over your legs. You can’t even form coherent thoughts, only a few words slip through the jumble forming in your mind screaming down at you like incessant crows.

And then the tears come. Horrible, chest splitting sobs leave your mouth and you shove your face in your hands in a desperate attempt to muffle yourself. How did they know where to find you? You’re supposed to be dead to them. Thoughts are beginning to form in your brain. You wish they wouldn’t, you wish you could just sit in stupid, heart clenching fear. But you’re stuck here, sobbing like a child as you clutch desperately at the floor, running nails down cement painfully. It’s the pain that breaks you out of your wailing enough to stop.

Until you stop breathing. Breathe, you tell yourself, but your throat feels smaller and smaller as you struggle to inhale. Why can’t I breathe? The little bit of air you manage to suck in does nothing to calm the pain bursting in your chest. Are you having a heart attack? God, you hope not. The last thing you need is a Firelight coming into your room to find you dead on the ground.

No. You need to get out of this room. Now. The walls feel like they’re closing in on you and it’s only suffocating you more.

You run down the halls and out into the courtyard. Maybe this was a mistake. Everyone is too loud and too happy. Children rush past laughing in a way that might have made you smile a few hours ago but now it only adds to… whatever you feel. Fear? Sadness? Rage? All of them, you decide as you stomp through the dirt.

In the blur of emotion that is your mind you remember Ekko showing you the training room on his tour yesterday. Yes. That’ll help. Punching things.

You retrace the steps you remember taking until you find yourself in a room full of makeshift gear weights and punching bags that is mercifully empty of other people. Distantly you think about the fact that wrapping your hands would be smart, but you don’t think you have the dexterity to deal with the fabric with the way your hands are shaking.

The firmness of the bag as you hit it helps. It helps a lot. You don’t worry about technique as much as you do about hitting it with as much force as you can muster. Soon, the only sounds you can hear are your own panting and your fists colliding with the bag. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yell in time with each punch before finishing with a kick to the bag. You lean against the wall to slide down onto the floor, head bent between your knees as you try and catch your breath.

“You’re doing that wrong.”

You whip your head up, squinting at Scar from the stinging of sweat in your eyes. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Your kick,” he clarifies, looking uninterested in this whole conversation despite being the one to start it, “your technique is shit; you have no balance and no power behind the hit. You’d be knocked on your ass if you tried that in a real fight.”

You stand up, walking towards him. “You think I can’t fight?”

He uncrosses his arms, revealing just a tank top instead of the usual semi-armored vest he wears, “I didn’t say that. I just don’t think you’d last long.” He shrugs his shoulders

“What?” You take another step towards him, rage burning up every other emotion in your system. “I’ll show you exactly how long I can fucking last.” The insinuation of what you say doesn’t even register in your mind. You pull your hands up in front of your face, widening your stance. “Well?”

Scar snarls, cracking his neck and matching your posture. “Fine.”

You don’t even wait for him to finish his response before you rush him, a flurry of punches hitting his forearm as he blocks your attack. You can tell he’s hesitating and that makes you even more angry. Does he not think you can handle it? “Fucking fight me.” You shove at his raised arms, leaving you vulnerable. He whips a fist down before you can react, clocking you right in the stomach.

You cough and stumble, fighting back a gag. It was a stupid mistake really, you deserved the punch. It takes you a breath to right yourself, but once you do, you attack.

You begin to feel more alive as the fight begins in earnest. It’s a flurry of jabs and almost all come from your own hands, half of them reach their target. Scar retaliates your barrage with his own, much more steady hits. Every movement he makes is calculated, you can tell, but he gives very few signals he is going to hit until he does. Scar may have the power to back himself up, but you’re easily faster than him.

A missed right hook to your jaw leaves him momentarily off balance. You take the chance as soon as you see it, ducking under his arm to land a fist to his kidney. It may feel like you’re hitting a brick wall with your knuckles, but from the sound he makes you can tell it hurts. His eyes narrow at you as he looks down at your crouched, attentive form beneath him.

Actually, you’re pretty proud of yourself, holding your own against a significantly stronger, taller man, for as long as you do. You may have talked a big game—as usual—but in all honesty, you didn’t know how long you could last against him. Sure, you’ve been in fights before, but they’ve always been with the intent to kill—or at least seriously injure the other person enough to get the hell away. This fight is… well, you aren’t exactly sure what the goal of this fight is. Proving a point?

Feeling particularly smug, you decide, as has often proved to be so dangerous, to test your luck. Hopping back, you crouch down low enough to gather enough power to rocket your leg up towards his chest. He grabs your heel in one clawed hand before it reaches its target and pulls, sending you falling to the ground and knocking the wind out of your chest. Before you can scramble back to your feet he presses a foot onto your chest, not quite hard enough to hurt, but enough to keep you pinned to the floor. “I told you, you can’t kick for shit,” he says with a triumphant smirk. He isn’t trying to hide it. This fucking asshole.

You scowl and bring your legs up, wrapping them around the leg that isn’t placed onto your chest and pulling, hard. He careens to the ground and lands on his back, and you don’t waste a moment before your scrambling over to him to straddle his chest and keep him pinned to the ground, he tries to fight you off but as soon as you are seated, he stops. You don’t even realize what you are doing until you are about three inches from his face.

The strangest thing is he doesn’t throw you off or spit in your face or anything else you expect him to do. He just… pants and stares. Not even a snarl.

You begin to notice parts of your body separately, not as a whole and you suspect it’s your mind’s way of keeping you sane. The way your thighs press into the sides of his stomach, his claws digging into the edges of your back as he grips your waist, his breath ghosting across your face. It makes you feel strange. His smell is the worst of all. Not that he smells bad, far from it. It’s that he smells good? A mix of something you couldn’t describe even if you weren’t inches from his face and in the middle of a fight. He smells like sweat and fire and… flowers. Why the fuck does he smell like flowers?

You finally move to get off and end whatever spell you two have been put under when you find yourself flipped onto your back with Scar looming over you. The studs in his ears glinting in the streams of sunlight that filter through the windows of the training room. He leans down and brings his face even closer to you. Wincing instinctually, your brain tells you to assume the worst. You’re pinned down by a stranger, of course you should assume the worst. And yet, you aren’t scared. You don’t quite know what you feel, but that knot forming in your gut isn’t fear.

Suddenly, like a rubber band snapping, the moment ends and he’s standing again. You don’t even get a chance to stand up before he is skulking out of the gym, slamming the door behind himself.

AHHHHH I hope y'all enjoyed!!! I do so love tension mwahahaha

TAG LIST: @kiannaf @awenthealchemist

#arcane #arcane x reader #fanfic #league of legends x reader #scar #scar x reader #scar arcane x reader #scar arcane

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vidavalor · 4 months ago

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Another image/scenario my brain gave me, submitted for examination...

Crowley, brooding like heck after TF15, is at GMC/GMD, or maybe some random cafe with outdoor seating, when Shax shows up looking horrendously smug. In a moment of petty, spiteful foolishness that's apparently strong enough to override her self-preservation instincts, she tosses a slightly heat-damaged ring and pocket-watch-and-chain onto the table and gloats to Crowley about how his ridiculous little angel is Satan's new favourite toy, so why shouldn't he (Crowley) take the opportunity to get an upgrade? [gestures to herself]

Crowley stands up, but otherwise goes very very quiet and very very still; Shax somehow fails to notice just how volcanically furious he is even though he's emitting rather a lot of smoke. She clues in somewhat when a red glow begins pulsing under his skin and he snarls, "An upgrade? YOU??? After ssssssix thousssssand yearsssss of Aziraphale?????" The penny really drops when Crowley smites her with lightning hard enough to outright discorporate her and leave the pavement where she was standing glowing white-hot.

Crowley flops back into his chair, picks up the ring and considers putting it on his finger, but then miracles up a chain to wear it around his neck instead, on the grounds that for anything involving rings and fingers, Aziraphale should be both physically present and lucid enough to provide input.

He turns his attention to the pocket watch, turning it in his hand and running his fingers over the so-familiar surface. He opens it, and receives rather a shock when he sees the photograph from 1941, miraculously shrunk down and fixed inside the lid! Once the emotions have worn off sufficiently, he closes the watch and attaches it to his own waistcoat, while planning a recklessly daring rescue mission.

---

Not sure how in character any of this might be for Crowley or Shax, but what the heck! I really like the idea that the photo's in Az's pocket watch -- hidden in plain sight, in possibly the safest place in all Creation :D (No-one's going to be taking that watch from Az easily!)

...And I literally only realised while typing this that the scenario parallels a certain other shenanigan involving important memory-related things hidden in a pocket watch, with DT in a lead role! :D

This was wild in a great way, @jotun-philosopher! Shax really needs some work on romantic overtures... 😂 I love the idea of the photo being in Aziraphale's pocket watch! I know some people think they destroyed it and I could see it both ways but I'm a sap and hope they still have it hidden somewhere. Love the idea of the magician having it hidden secretly on him this whole time.

Your post had me a bit 😭 though (in an angsty, good way lol) because I realized that while I have thought about the fact that I think that S3 Aziraphale might look a bit different in the present, I haven't been thinking that much about how him getting to that point means the clothes he's been wearing for over 200 years and his watch and his ring are going to be gone. I know we had a short taste of that a little in S1 when he's discorporated but then when Adam brought him back, the full Aziraphale starter kit came back with him. There is the possibility that Aziraphale remains in the same outfit but it seems more likely to me that it'll change for a bit.

I'm thinking maybe it won't be quite so dire as him never having the option of recovering any of it that he might like to have if only because I feel like we can't have been looking at that angel ring for the last two seasons without it being given to Crowley but I have the feeling that while we'll undoubtedly love whatever Aziraphale's look in the present is, when the flashbacks start, we'll be all THE TARTAN BOW TIE, THE VEST, THE WATCH 😭😭😭for a bit.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens speculation #shax good omens

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fastcardotmp3 · 9 months ago

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Ronance; childhood friends; Barb Holland haunts the narrative; S1-2 AU; grief/mourning; 3.4k Written for @strangerthingsfemslash week day 1: different first meeting read day 2: women over thirty read day 3: secret relationship

Nancy technically meets her before she meets Barb, but the two events are inseparable in her memory.

It all happens the same day, after all, five years old and being dropped off at a Summer day camp on the Hawkins High grounds because her mother is all ballooned up and wobbling with the little brother that’s already claimed the attention Nancy has gotten used to dominating.

The day camp itself isn’t big because Hawkins isn’t either, but Nancy gets put in a room with the other first-graders-to-be and some teenager who seems infinitely old and wise from behind Nancy’s big round eyes and it feels big. She’s never spent all that much time with kids her own age before, not having made any proper friends in kindergarten and living in a house where day care was considered shameful since it meant Karen Wheeler wasn’t doing her job as a stay at home mom.

This room is only kids her own age, though. A grand total of ten of them split into pairs of two and that’s when Nancy meets Robin, that’s why she technically meets her first.

They’re declared buddies by the teenage girl in charge and told to stick together for the whole week they’ll spend here doing activities and playing games, and Nancy doesn’t know how to talk to kids her same age, but Robin doesn’t seem to have the same issue.

She’s babbling about a book her mom is reading to her at bedtimes within the same second they’re turned loose with coloring pages and crayons, turning the leaves of a tree pink and orange and saving the green for the trunk.

She’s got dirty blonde hair tied into two pigtails hanging over her shoulders and with pieces sticking out at the sides, but Nancy’s smart enough to know that just because a little girl talks to you doesn’t mean she wants to be your friend.

It’s why she doesn’t talk much back, in those first five minutes before their lives are set on a path towards tragedy, because she isn’t sure how and she isn’t sure it’s worth it and she, generally speaking, isn’t sure.

Five minutes. Nancy meets Robin first, in all technicality, and they might not have even been friends if it weren’t for a little redhead coming in and disrupting the even numbers as her frazzled mother apologizes for their lateness and—

Nancy meets Robin first, but it’s Barb that makes them what they are.

She’s got these glasses that are too big for her face but just the right size for her attitude, all opinions and snark wrapped up in a little pink dress and white sneakers. They’re deemed the group of three in a class of pairs just by chance, just by the wave of a teenager’s hand making a decision that she’ll never think twice about but which will change all of their lives forever and which will— which will one day—

“Trees don’t look like that, you know,” Barb says as she peers over Robin’s shoulder, sitting up on her knees in the seat of the chair so she’s the tallest of them all.

“Yeah, but I like it,” Robin responds simply, not an ounce of self-consciousness and not even an inkling that her feelings are hurt.

“Okay,” Barb shrugs, like it’s easy as that, and then turns her attention across the small desk to Nancy. “Can I use your green?”

Nancy hasn’t ever spent much time around girls her own age. Mostly they call her weird because she stares too much with eyes too big for her little face; mostly they don’t notice her at all because she doesn’t speak unless spoken too; mostly it’s her and her mom, but even that won’t last much longer, will it?

Nancy stares at Barb across the table for a moment, so still in all this newness, but Barb doesn’t flinch. She just looks back at her expectantly, waiting for her question to be answered, waiting for Nancy to fill the empty space whenever she’s ready.

“Here you go,” Nancy passes over her green crayon and Barb smiles.

Robin tells them more about the book her mom is reading her at bedtimes.

By the time they reach middle school they’re not just inseparable, they’re impenetrable. A trio— no more and no less— and anyone who tries to break that down or build it up simply can’t.

There’s no space for anyone else, not in romps through the woods in search of fairies and not in their corner of the lunch room where they gossip and giggle and roll their eyes at each other as much as the world around them.

There’s no space for anyone but the three of them, and Nancy loves it. She loves being a part of this thing with these girls, not having to worry about relating to anyone but them and not having to be anyone other than herself.

Because they allow that of her, don’t they? They drag out the dorky bits of her that don’t read ladylike the way she’s supposed to be and when they tease her it is as wonderful as it is relentless.

Nancy chases Robin on their bikes down the road to the Holland house and they stay up all night watching movies and pretending that their laughter really is quiet enough to go unheard from upstairs.

They’re thirteen when Robin, sitting out on the rickety dock over Lover’s Lake, looks down at her two friends clinging to the edge and still panting from trying to push each other under, says that Gareth Watson wants to go to the movies with me.

And Nancy knows that something is off, even if she can’t tell what. Just because there’s no space for anyone else in their little world doesn’t mean she doesn’t still hear the way other girls their age talk.

Boys and crushes and getting asked to the Snow Ball, it’s not the galaxy the three of them make their homes within, but she hears it. She knows.

She senses the tension in Robin’s shoulders more than she even sees it, and she’s five years old and staring again. Staring to the point of eyes stinging and staring with ears burning as Robin and Barb go back and forth about it.

Do you want to go to the movies with Gareth?

He’s a nice guy.

But do you want to?

I want to go to the movies with you guys.

Nancy stares, and her breath comes in sharp at the admission. She pulls herself up out of the water and sits on the edge of the dock shoulder-to-shoulder with Robin.

“Then we’ll go to the movies,” she says, a nudge and a thought about plans for husbands and picket fences and babies and—

Her parents have been fighting a lot lately.

Her parents have always been fighting, in their perfect little house at the end of the cul-de-sac.

“We’ll all go to the movies, right, Barb?” she looks down, sees the way Barb looks up at her and feels that same itching at her skin, that sense of difference that’s chased her from childhood through to this moment and onwards forever.

“Right,” Barb says with a small smile.

Something goes loose in Robin’s posture.

Something else moves them closer to the tipping point.

Barb hates the idea of going to some party on a Tuesday night, but it’s Robin who hates the idea of Steve Harrington more specifically.

It’s all is he even nice to you? with her. It’s all he’s a douchebag and do you know how he talks about girls?

It’s all very vocal and it’s all very silly until it’s not and until it’s only two of them going to the Harrington house that night instead of all three.

Nancy’s never gotten mad at Robin before, not like this anyway, not enough for them to split up like this, not go through what Nancy considers one of those teenage experiences they should be checking off together.

“I could drive us to her place right now, you know,” Barb says from where they’re parked out on the street, Nancy changing out of one shirt and into a different, prettier one.

“She didn’t want to come, Barbara.”

“Yeah, I wonder why, Nance!”

Barb doesn’t want to be here, but Nancy drags her along anyway.

It’s Nancy who does it.

It’s all Nancy.

It will always have just been Nancy who brings Barb to that place and who lets all of her too-big feelings overflow past the flush of her skin and down the staircase to flatten her best friend for the second time in a day.

It will always just be Nancy, trying to shake off all that sense of difference for one night, to just be normal, to be young and stupid.

It will always be her fault, the blood that spills.

“Something is wrong, something is so wrong, and no one is listening— Robbie, no one hears me, I’m just trying, I know I— I made you so mad and I’m so sorry, but we have to— no one is listening to me—”

“Okay, come here, I hear you, I know,” Robin drags Nancy the rest of the way through her ground floor bedroom window, the whole trembling and hysterical mess of her, and grips her tight in her arms.

There’s no easy way to say it, that Nancy had taken her eyes off their best friend and now she’s gone. She’d taken her eyes off of her and let a boy touch her and now Barb is gone, Barb is gone and so is her car and nothing makes sense.

There’s no easy way to explain it except the string of half-coherent confessions that spill out of her and onto the shoulder of Robin’s shirt— my fault it’s my fault it’s my fault mine mine my fault mine—

Robin is still upset with her. She’s upset about all of it, but Nancy knows she’s upset with her, even as they stumble into Jonathan Byers’ orbit and through the woods and into Hell. There’s a set to Robin’s mouth in everything she says, to her shoulders in every move she makes, that tells Nancy she’s messed it all up.

She’s separated the inseparable, she’s broken the impenetrable.

She’s ruined everything and Barb is dead and she is shooting a gun and burning a monster alive and she is the worst person on the planet because when Will Byers comes home, there’s a not small part of her which hates him.

Someone took their eyes off of him too, but here he is.

Someone let him get lost, but they’ll never have to live with the burden of not finding him again.

Nancy ruined everything.

“I need to go home,” Robin tells her when it’s all said and done and the Feds have driven away and the battle is over.

Her voice cracks and her eyes dart everywhere except Nancy’s face and there are tears in her throat, Nancy hears them.

“I need to go,” she repeats, clears her throat, and snatches her bike off the ground.

They don’t speak for a year.

She breaks Steve Harrington’s heart on Halloween and it feels like she’s dying.

Her heart races too fast and her lungs don’t bring in enough air and she genuinely thinks this is the end, almost welcomes it, in fact.

She breaks Steve Harrington’s heart and then before she knows it, she’s climbing through Robin’s bedroom window again.

Crying again.

Throwing up in a trash can, all stained in red, and passing out on her bed.

It’s not that there hasn’t been space for words between them up until this point, but rather that there’s been too much of it. A whole person’s worth of emptiness too tender still to fill, but Nancy is drunk and she keeps hurting people in an effort to save herself and she doesn’t know that she can take it anymore— the unrelenting loneliness.

She says as much, if in fewer and less coherent words, and Robin washes her face with a warm, damp washcloth on the floor of the bathroom before guiding her to bed and tucking them both between the twin-sized sheets.

The space for words is massive, so impossible to breach. Nancy hopes that maybe the quiet and the dark and the surrealness of this moment might help cross that gap.

I’m sorry.

It’s not your fault, Nance.

You can’t even look at me.

I don’t know how.

To look at me?

To keep going. Without her. She didn’t even get a— a funeral, and I just. Don’t know how.

A funeral. We need to give her a funeral. Her parents still think— they still believe—

I know.

Robin, we have to give her a funeral. We have to prove that she’s…

Gone.

Okay.

Nancy’s never been one for mystery novels, never cared for the chasing of a puzzle like this.

It doesn’t come to her naturally, but because she chooses it. It comes to her in a desperate feat of searching, of putting herself in dangerous situations because it’s the only option left if they’re going to be able to lay Barb to rest and grieve her out loud.

Nancy scrambles through the mess of it, dragging them to the Lab for a long-shot attempt at catching them in a lie, dragging them to Illinois and a man who looks between the two of them with a knowing glint to his eye and a comment about oh, we liked Steve but he’s not really our type, is he?

She and Robin sleep in the same bed because they’re in a stranger’s house and because suddenly the gaping, wide-open space between them feels painful. A tender bruise they’re prodding at with watered-down justice for the girl who made them.

Because Barb did, didn’t she? In so many ways it was Barb who was the glue to their little trio. It was her house where they made their memories, it was her games they played, it was her confidence they chased through the creek on hot Summer days.

Who are they without her? For the past year they’ve been nothing, been separate, been lost, but now there’s a sense of newness here. The painful sort of realization that maybe they are their own thing without her. NancyAndRobin. An entity all its own in the wake of what’s been stolen from them.

They sleep in the same bed and then they return to Hawkins and another fight for humanity already in progress and by the time it’s all over for the second time around…

“I missed you,” Robin admits, sitting on the hood of Nancy’s station wagon because neither of them are ready to go home yet, even if neither of them has said as much.

The sun is rising out over Sattler’s Quarry where they’ve parked and the town feels heavy in its quiet, laden with more death and more hurt all over again. Bob Newby is dead and Nancy can’t really feel the weight of it. A whole lot of people at the Lab are dead and she can’t find it in herself to feel sorry for them.

They brought this to their town. They’re the only ones other than herself where she can push blame.

“Please don’t leave again,” Nancy croaks, no tears in her eyes but plenty of hoarse aftermath caught in her throat.

“What?”

“I can’t— After the funeral, if I lose you again—” she shakes her head, staring out at the rise of the sun, the fog hanging low atop the ground. “I can’t do it. I can’t keep—”

It gets stuck, the rest of the sentence, or maybe it’s just halted by the sudden drop of Robin’s hand above Nancy’s knee. Her fingers are so long, a spindly thing from the day they met, and Nancy has watched her grow into them with dexterous pressing of keys on her trumpet for so long.

The touch itself is small, a single point of contact, and yet catastrophic to Nancy’s psyche all the same. She thinks about the last time Robin touched her, about a year ago in the Byers’ living room and the smell of gunpowder clinging to her clothes.

It’s been a year.

Nancy is a collapsing star, curling in on herself with the force of it, and although Robin doesn’t say it with her words, she does stay.

She wraps her arms more fully around Nancy and she stays until the sun is in the sky again.

On the day they bury an empty casket in the Hawkins Cemetery, Nancy laughs for the first time in over a year.

A real laugh, no mask and no posturing, just genuine feeling spilling out of her body.

There’s no closure here, not really, not when they can’t tell Barb’s parents what actually happened to her and not when Barb’s body will be forever lost to that terrible place, but something in Nancy snaps.

In as good a way as snapping can go, probably.

It’s like a piece of her settles in knowing that she did what she could, even if the grief isn’t remotely sated by the prospect. It’s like sitting down after too many hours spent on your feet, like release of tension, but maybe that’s just what it feels like when Robin holds her hand.

They go out to Lover’s Lake when the service is done, when they’ve paid their respects and when they’ve had enough of curious and pitying looks shot at the girls who everyone knows knew her best.

They sit at the end of the dock and pull their coats close around them against the cold of December, and although temperatures aren’t low enough for the lake to freeze, the water is frigid where it touches the tips of her fingers as she sets a tea light out to float.

Nancy curls in close against Robin, sharing the warmth of bodies and watching orange flicker over the rippling surface of the water where they once made Summer days endless.

You know there are weeds at the bottom that will wrap around your ankle and drag you under, right? Barb would tease at Nancy when they were ten, eleven, twelve. Little tentacles that’ll grab you!

And then she’d push her weight against Nancy’s shoulders to dunk her in all of her squealing glory, Robin cackling from the dock before diving in to join.

They don’t speak now, don’t tease, but Nancy wonders if Robin is thinking about it too. All the little comments Barb would make about their melancholy, all the pride she’d take in being missed so deeply.

Nancy looks over, barely an inch between them, only to find Robin’s gaze already roaming across her curled-up form at the end of the dock. Her hands and wrists, her neck where her scarf comes loose, the undeniable pink of her nose and cheeks.

Nancy watches her back, watches her focus travel, watches the winter-faded freckles on her cheeks glisten in the orange glow of an early sunset.

She can’t help it, ultimately. Robin touches her again, but Nancy is greedy and Nancy needs more and she just needs to know, needs to test—

Robin tastes like the wind when Nancy kisses her, all cold and chapped. The surprised hum at the back of her throat is Nancy’s new favorite song and the fabric of her mitten where it comes up to cup at Nancy’s jaw is her favorite dance.

She tastes like salt and she tastes like the little cheese cubes that they served with crackers at the wake and she tastes like the stuttering breath on Nancy’s own tongue as she pulls away quick after too-short a time.

Robin looks at her still, watches her, but this time focused entirely on her eyes. Her lips are parted in stunned quiet and her eyebrows are pulled together all confused and sweet and wonderful.

Nancy is filled with a fondness she can’t carry and she is overflowing with a loss she still knows is her own fault, no matter how many times Robin tries to tell her otherwise nowadays.

Robin looks at her, still holding her face in one hand and hardly breathing.

“Will you help me cut my hair short?”

On the day of her best friend’s funeral, Nancy Wheeler laughs.

It doesn’t matter that she’s crying when she does.

#dot fic #femslash week #ronance #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #barb holland #nancy & barb #nancy & robin & barb #i've got a Proper Fic in the works for saturday but until then I've got ficlets! mwah!#did i decide to write these 2 days ago? did i make silly little cover art late last night? whatever!

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thefundisorderdiary · 6 months ago

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Guys, I need to rave about this chair. It’s not meant for disabled folks, it’s not even made for indoors, but it is so so helpful to my and my FND.

I am fully aware that size and price will make this not an option for many, but if you can I highly recommend it or something similar!

(I didn’t even get this as a medical chair, I just wanted the aesthetic ✨)

Let me introduce you to:

The Snugglepod

B&Q Goodhome Apolina black rattan Egg Chair

(I typed that from memory because of reasons mentioned at the end! 🙃)

£350

It’s in B&Q’s outdoor seating section because it is garden chair.

Let’s discuss; look at all that snuggle space! It’s got a really wide, mostly-circular seat. That black cushion it comes with is well padded, but it can be a bit protruding and takes up a lot of space, though if you do lie back it becomes a lovely back and neck support! I’m a curl-up-like-a-cat person though so it often falls on me and I have to push it back up.

You can fit lots of other cushions in there! That orange that’s poking up; this are my sleeping pillows from my bed, you definitely want two on top of one another because the slope of the sides leave a gap where the seat cushion ends. I’m thinking of getting some door draught excluders because I think they’ll be the right shape to fill the gap.

I will absolutely be getting a bunch of fairy lights to string up and around it! Try and stop me.

The really wide seat also means you’ve got plenty of space to get in and out; you can see how much space my little table is taking up in front of it, but I can still get in and out easily. Lots of space to get help from a carer!

So. Much. Grab space! This thing is sturdy. It’s got a few thick metal bars and in between is a mix of plastic fake wicker and some thinner metal bars. These thick metal ones are in a position you can grab and lift yourself, they’re excellent for when you need to pull yourself out of a curl-up.

That empty semi-circle bar is a little bit high, so you gotta do a bit of a push up before you can grab it, but then it’ll happily take your weight as you sit properly upright and I usually continue holding it while I stand up. You definitely need some arm flexibility if you use it to stand up though because it will end up behind you a bit.

Also discussing the wicker; you can squeeze a blanket between the bars and make a little den!

The side bars are also perfect for leaning up forearm crutches pretty securely so you don’t have to worry about struggling to get to your aids.

The seat cushion is T H I C K and pretty durable (again; it’s an outdoor chair). This means it’s so comfy on your bum, hips, shoulders, knees, and toes, whatever you want to put on it.

It’s the perfect height for my legs to reach the floor and I’m 5’5”. Meaning it’s nice and low enough for even small doggy companions to jump up next to you for extra snuggly snugglepod snuggles!

Feat. Rupert (below).

Finally; I do want to mention that while I absolutely recommend this chair I do not recommend B&Q.

They sent me a faulty chair in the first place that couldn’t be assembled and it took them 2 whole months and numerous phone calls/online chats (and I told them I was disabled and struggling to get around it since it was in pieces on my floor each time) to sort it out and even then the only reason they finally did something about it was because I had to get a letter about my rights from Citizens Advice and that’s when they actually got my new chair sorted!

I have cried so much to get this chair, but it’s one of my favourite things in my home and soothes me a lot when I’m struggling.

#chair #mobility #disabled #furniture #functional neurological disorder #spoonie #chronic illness #disability #chronically ill #disability aids #interior design #review

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guilty-pleasures21 · 1 year ago

Text

Yooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!! You SUCK!

One more chapter guys!

And then gates to Hell shall open! Mwahahahahaha! 😈

2. It NEEDS to be EVEN sssslllllooooweeeeerrrrrr.

Part 1 - the new recruit

Part 2 - the depression

Part 3 - the gelato

Warnings: none.

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It was already getting to ten, Miguel noticed, glancing at his watch quickly, but X continued to sit by him, refusing to go home yet.

“You aren't gonna go home?” he finally asked her, curious - the latest she'd stay was ten, on weekends. Otherwise she'd be out by nine on the weekdays, so that she could get enough sleep for work the next day. X swivelled back and forth in her chair, biting in her lip nervously.

“Um, no …?” She sounded worried, afraid, and his forehead creased with concern at the thought.

“¿Qué pasa, arañita? What's wrong?” He turned to face her, his voice so gentle whenever he spoke to her. She clenched her fists, hesitating.

“Mmm, I just …” she trailed off, her chest tightening at the very thought of having to go to bed that night. “I just get afraid to go to bed sometimes. That's all.”

She shrugged it off like it was no big deal, but it was an extremely big deal. Afraid to go to bed? What did that even mean? Was something bothering her? Or someone? He felt the rage start to bubble inside of him at the thought. “What? Is someone bothering you?”

“No!” she replied quickly, her stomach warming up at his agitation - at how quickly he was ready to fight to protect her. “I just … I get nightmare phases, sometimes. Like night terrors? I think? I wake up all panicked and breathless and ugh! It's terrifying!”

She shuddered at the memory, then turned to him with wide eyes. “Sometimes, I wake up with tears running down my face. It's horrible.”

Wow. It did sound horrible. Like some of the nightmares he had, sometimes. But … “Why do you get them? Did something … happen?”

She bit her lip, nervous. “Sometimes, it's about the people I miss, of course. But sometimes, it's just paranormal stuff. Those ones are insane. Maybe I should just take a pill.”

She sighed and leaned forward, resting her head on the table as she thought about it. Miguel tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking. But the longer he took to think about it, the faster his stomach began to churn. He shook his leg beneath the table.

“Do you …” he trailed off uncertainly, his voice a whisper. “You can sleep at my place. If it helps.” Because he made her feel safe - safe enough to fall into a deep, dreamless slumber, knowing he was right there by her side. He bit his lip, not looking at her as he waited for her response.

He was really offering her that? Miguel? Biting down on his luscious lower lip like he was more afraid of her answer than she'd been of falling asleep. She grinned, her insides bubbling in anticipation of whatever would come next. “Yes! Yes.”

He glanced over to check her reaction, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the happy smile on her face. He turned away, feeling his own lips curl in response, then he cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. “Do you … want to go now?”

“Can I go back and get my clothes first?” she suggested. “And then meet you there?” His lips stretched wider at the excitement in her voice; at how she went from being terrified to go to bed, to thrilled to get under the covers. With him. He nodded, still avoiding her gaze as he tried to hide his smile from her.

“Sure,” he agreed, remaining in his seat while she got up to leave. “Hasta pronto, arañita.” (See you soon, little spider.)

“See you later, Miguel!” She portaled back home and raced to her cupboard, tossing a pair of socks onto her bed before she began rifling through her clothes for her sexiest pyjamas. She normally just wore a long-sleeved top and matching pyjama bottoms, but there had to be something that would catch his attention more than the others. Her hand stopped on her red top, the one that hugged her figure nicely and paired well with the plaid bottoms that sat low on her hips. Plus, he'd be able to see her nipples get hard too, every time he looked at her. She giggled at her own naughtiness, then pulled it out, throwing it onto the bed. She already had a toothbrush there from the last time she'd slept over and she could just portal home in the morning to take a shower. She gathered her meagre belongings, satisfied, then opened up a portal to take her to Miguel's place.

He'd gone home right after she’d left, scrambling around his house to pick up the laundry he’d left lying around. He’d just managed to shove his last piece of underwear into the drawer when she’d called out to him, having arrived in his living room downstairs.

“Miguel?”

“¡Escalares arriba, arañita!” (I’m upstairs, little spider.) He shut the drawer and headed back down, his stomach fluttering at the sight of her standing in his living room, looking all too adorable as she gazed up at him, her pillow and clothes clutched to her chest.

“Hola, Miguel,” she greeted him softly. He grinned and lowered his head to hide his smile, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“Hola, arañita,” he responded. Then he looked up at her, eyes wide. “Do you want anything to eat? Or drink?”

X smiled as she made her way to the stairs, walking up to his bedroom to set her things down. She flashed him a mischievous smile as he followed after her. “Do you have anything to eat or drink?”

He paused, trying to remember the last time he’d gone to get groceries. “Uh, I can order something? If you want.”

X let out an amused huff and twisted her head back to glance at him quickly. “Should we go on another late night grocery run?”

She dumped her stuff on his bed, perfectly comfortable to navigate his large apartment, and his chest warmed at the casual familiarity. It was nice, imagining he shared a bedroom with her - a life. Like … Like they were … “Would that help you feel better?”

She smiled up at him, delighted by his question. It was so sweet how he cared about her. He could deny it all he wanted, pretend to act as cold and indifferent as he possibly could, but he’d still invited her over, was still willing to walk the streets at night in his pyjamas just so she’d feel calm enough to fall asleep. She considered his question, enjoying watching him squirm while she reminisced about how much fun she’d had with him the last time. “Hmm, do you have your phone?”

He raised an eyebrow, confused. “Why do you want my phone?”

“I just want to find a good dessert place,” she told him, shooting him an exasperated look. He started returning downstairs to grab his phone and she followed behind.

“You want to go get dessert in our pyjamas?” He really hoped she’d say no: because he knew he definitely wouldn’t - he knew he’d march right back up to his room and throw on his t-shirt and sweatpants if that was what she wanted; if that was what it would take to put that easy smile back on her face again. Because he was in love with her. His stomach roiled at the thought.

“No,” she assured him, allowing to relax. “I’ll go get some new clothes. Then we can go out.” He handed her his phone and she started typing on it. Then she paused, looking up at him in question.

“Or … is there anywhere you like to go?” she asked him “When you’re feeling kind of stressed out?” He narrowed his eyes in thought. He hadn’t really gone out in a while. Not since after … Not since he’d established the HQ. He glanced over at her, with her dark, almond-shaped eyes, her slender fingers curled around his phone as she waited for his response. ‘You’, he realised suddenly, the knot in his chest disappearing as he gazed at her, ‘I go to you, whenever I feel stressed. And even when I don’t.’ He pulled his gaze away from her, trying to remind himself not to take comfort in her presence.

“Uh, no.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m fine with whatever you want. Lo que quieras, arañita.” (Whatever you want, little spider.) She smiled at that, and continued tapping away at his phone. Finally, she clicked on something and held his phone up to show him.

“How about this one?” It was a gelato place - of course. About a ten minute walk from his place. He remembered having seen it in passing once or twice, but didn’t recall having ever been there before. He shrugged.

“Sure.”

“Great!” she exclaimed happily, setting his phone back down on the kitchen island. “I’m just gonna go take a shower first. See you in a bit, Miguel!”

“Sí, arañita,” he agreed, his own lips twitching at the excited smile on her face. She stepped through the portal to take her home and he went back up to his bedroom, opening his cupboard to pick out his clothes. The red shirt? Maybe not - he already wore red all the time when he was with her, in his suit. He pushed the hanger aside and studied the next option. The black one? It was plain, simple … but it might end up looking too gloomy if he paired it with his dark jeans. He’d come back to it later. The green one? It was more of a moss colour, dark enough not to draw too much attention to himself, but light enough that- He paused, freezing up all of a sudden. He was thinking way too hard about this. Almost like … like it was a date! His stomach flipped at the thought of going out on a date with her, with her pretty eyes and her cute smile and her curvy little body. Then it tightened, his body suddenly feeling like it had been doused with a bucket of ice water. Did she think it was a date? Was that what she’d had in mind when she’d suggested it? Mierda, had he just been asked out on a date without even realising it? He shook the thought away quickly. No, he was overthinking it. She wasn’t the kind of person to play vague games that would mess with his head. And based on what he knew about her - what he’d come to know about her - he didn’t think she was the kind of person to ask someone out on a date first either. She’d never even been on a date, after all, how would she even know where to start? He pulled the green shirt off the hanger, not wanting to think about it anymore, and went to the bathroom to shower.

She rifled through her closet for the second time that night, puzzling over what to wear for their outing. Something cute and sweet, something that would bring out that shy smile on his face that he always tried to hide from her whenever he felt it tugging on his lips. A skirt? Would that be too much? After all, it wasn’t like they were going on a date or- She froze, terrified. Did he think it was a date? Did he think she’d been brazen enough to ask him out on a date without even telling him? What if he thought she’d tricked him into it? Tricked him into inviting her over by ‘pretending’ to be afraid to fall asleep so that she could drag him on a date when he didn’t even- No. No. He knew her. He’d taken the time to get to know her. He knew she wouldn’t ever think of doing something like that. She took a few deep breaths, calming herself down. They were just hanging out together - as friends. She liked his friendship, valued the casual intimacy they’d cultivated, the way they’d worked on their relationship slowly and surely. Of course she wanted more though, wanted him to tell her that he liked her, that she was pretty and cute and … and that he was in love with her, just as she was with him. But she wouldn’t push him: he didn’t like being pushed. She’d just take it slow and easy, hopefully wearing him down over time with her gentle affection and careful attention. She could be patient - he was worth it. She grabbed the skirt, not wanting to second guess things anymore, and went to the bathroom to change.

He glanced at the fridge, adjusting his hair in his reflection before stopping himself for the hundredth time. It wasn’t a date, he kept having to remind himself. And anyway, she’d already seen him at his absolute worst, after a tough mission or another sleepless night. It didn’t really matter what he looked like. He grabbed his phone, stopping it from floating off the countertop as a portal opened up beside him, letting her through. He sighed internally. She was so f*cking cute! Unfairly so. She’d put on a little mascara and some lip gloss and it was all she really needed, her long lashes even darker than usual, her soft lips even rosier than normal. And her outfit? Mierda, he’d been right: it was just like what she’d worn when Peter had called her to HQ that time he’d been grumbling at Hobie and Pav. That same black skirt paired with the suede ankle boots and a skin-tight green top this time, one that stretched over her chest and hugged her- coño, he was doing it again. He dragged his eyes away from her, embarrassed by the direction his thoughts had been heading in. He cleared his throat. “Should we go now?”

Wow. He was so effing hot, in his soft green t-shirt that begged her to wrap her arms around him, and his dark blue jeans that fell over his muscular legs just so, and his wavy hair that curled at the ends now that he’d washed the gel out of it. Sure, he was … frickin’ sexy in his Spiderman suit, the nanobots sitting just on top of his skin, following every curve and line of his muscles. But this? This was boyfriend material: going on dates and holding hands and sweet and nervous first kisses. She sighed.

“¿Arañita?”

“Huh?” She looked up at him, suddenly realising that he’d been asking her something. What had he said? Should they go now? She shook her head quickly, bringing herself back to the present. Then she started making her way over to the door. “Uh, yeah. Yeah! Let’s go!”

¡Ay, mierda! The way she’d been looking at him? Her lips parting as her gaze travelled over his body hungrily, her heart picking up speed in her chest. Dios, she was … He pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing as he tried to gather his thoughts. She was going to be the death of him one day.

“Miguel?” He startled, turning around to join her.

“Coming!”

They'd been walking in silence for some time, the nervous energy pouring off of him in waves, suffocating her as well. She hated it. “So, what do you do in your free time?”

She looked up at him expectantly and he winced at how awkward he'd unconsciously made the whole situation. “Uh, I-”

“And don't say you don't have any free time!” she warned him quickly, knowing exactly what he'd been about to say. “You must have some hobbies - something you like doing outside of … everything.” She continued gazing up at him, her eyes wide and pretty, her lips soft and pillowy. Santo cielo, could he not stop thinking about her lips? For just one second?! He dragged his eyes away from her mouth.

“Uh, I … I used to play … video games.” He mumbled the last part, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. She turned her head and leaned closer to him so she could hear him better.

“What was that?”

He cleared his throat and repeated himself, a little louder this time, “video games. I used to play video games. When I had free time.”

Her eyes lit up with delight. “Ooh! What kind?”

“Um, shooter ones.” He shuffled his feet, embarrassed. “Strategy and teamwork and stuff like that.”

“You played with other people?” She asked, curious. "Did you have a gaming headset and a chair and everything?” His lips quirked at her enthusiasm.

“I had a headset, but nothing so fancy, arañita,” he replied. “Just … played with some friends, sometimes.” She nodded thoughtfully, turning her attention back to the sidewalk.

“That's nice.” She flashed him a soft smile. “I'm glad.” He returned her smile, his chest warming at her delight that he had a fond memory to look back on.

“What about you?” he turned the question back on her now. “What do you like to do in your free time?”

She pretended to think about it, her eyes flicking to the side as she hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm. Think of ways to tease you.”

She grinned up at him mischievously and he rolled his eyes, his lips curled at the ends. She laughed.

“I'm just kidding. I like to write,” she revealed. “Stories, music, that kind of stuff.”

“What kind of stories?” he asked, curious now. She winced, slightly embarrassed.

“Uh, fantasy? Mostly? I like fantasy,” she replied a little too quickly. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Mostly fantasy?” he repeated, bumping his arm against hers. “What else do you write, arañita?” He grinned as she squirmed uncomfortably, his stomach bubbling with pleasure at how easily he'd managed to fluster her.

“I like romance. Too. Uh, romance is nice.” Her eyes flickered up to his briefly before she lowered her gaze, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. He swallowed, her words running through his mind. Along with everything unsaid that went with it. “Is this the place?”

They stopped and he checked the storefront. “Looks like it.”

He held the door open as she walked in, her arm brushing against his chest, the sweet strawberry scent of her overwhelming all his senses. Then he followed her over to the display.

X studied the flavours, trying to decide which one she liked best. Then she looked up at the cashier, fluttering her eyelashes at him innocently.

“Could I get the dulce de leche, please?” she asked him sweetly. “A single scoop. Thank you!” The young man nodded early and dug out the creamy substance, adding a little extra and flashing her a smile that was a little too friendly before handing her her cup. She treated him to a sweet smile in return, then turned to Miguel, gazing up at him in question.

Mierda, it was worse than the way some of the Spiders would look at her in the weekly yoga classes Preethi had started - at least they knew that she was- He paused, repeating the thought. That she was … That she was not the one any of them were ever going to end up with. But this guy?! This guy giving her a playful wink as he handed her her dessert? He actually thought he might have had a chance with her. Even when she was standing right next to him. He frowned and moved to stand in front of X, pulling the server’s attention away from her.

“I'll have the Cioccolato all'Arancia,” he requested, pointing it out. It wasn't too sweet, so it would probably be more tolerable for him. “Single scoop.” He followed the server to the cash register and paid for their gelato whilst X went to go find them a seat. She slid his cup over to him when he sat down across from her, then took a bite of gelato and smiled, satisfied with her selection. He shot her an exasperated look.

“Are you happy now?” he asked.

“Extremely! Do you want to try?” She held her cup out to him and gestured to one side with her spoon. “You should take it from this side though.” She leaned over the table and made her eyes wide, whispering in a dramatic tone.

“I have Herpes. But not the serious kind!” she continued quickly, lowering herself back to her seat. "I just get cold sores around my mouth when the weather changes too quickly or when I get too stressed.” He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s fine!” she insisted. “I haven’t touched this side, so you can eat from there.” He took the cup from her and purposely scooped a bite out of the side she’d already touched, bringing it to his lips and eating it. He winced and groaned as he set it back down in front of her, trying so hard to ignore the big red message flashing in his mind: you’d get it anyway when you kissed her, you’d get it anyway when you kissed her, you’d get it anyway when you kissed her. And then, a tiny whisper in the back of his mind: and then when you do so much more to her.

“It’s so sickeningly sweet, arañita!” he complained. Her gaze stayed fixed on his mouth, her own lips parted in surprise at his brazenness. She swallowed hard, then looked up at him, trying to gather her thoughts.

“Um …” She tilted her head to the side, smiling mischievously. “Like me?” She picked up her cup and took another big bite. Coño, she was cute. Argh, he had to stop thinking that! He frowned and snatched her cup, taking another spoonful out of it.

“Hey!” She reached across the table and grabbed his cup, clutching it close to her chest so she could steal a scoop from it. Then she leaned across the table, maintaining eye contact with him as she brought the spoon to her lips. She pressed it down onto her tongue and closed her lips around it, twisting it around to suck the cream off before closing her eyes and letting out a satisfied moan. “Mmm.”

She opened her eyes and slammed the cup back down in front of him, fixing him with a challenging look. “Delicioso, Miguel.”

F**************ck. ¡¿Qué p*tas?! How the f*ck could she do that?! How the f*ck could she look him straight in the eyes while sucking on her spoon like that?! And then the way she’d moaned after? Telling him how delicious it was while adding his name to the end of her sentence like … like she’d been telling him how delicious he tasted. ¡Ay, p*ta madre! He was so. F*cking. Screwed. F*ck! He turned his head, following the sound of the muttered curse to a group of guys sitting at a nearby table, all of them having witnessed the entire exchange themselves. He frowned as he saw them jostle each other and gesture to X, smiling at her hungrily.

Had he just …? She grinned, having heard the curse fall from his own lips. “What? What did you just say, Miguel?”

He turned back to her, horrified. He hadn’t even realised that he’d said it out loud too! He hunched over the table quickly, avoiding her gaze as he focused all his attention on his gelato. “Nothing! Just … eat your ice cream, arañita.”

“Okay,” X relented softly, her lips still stretched wide in that delighted smile. Miguel barely noticed as he focused his hearing, picking up the whispered conversation of the group of young men. They kept talking about her, those cabrones - discussing how cute she was and arguing over whether or not she was with him and which one of them might stand the best chance with her. Like she’d ever let herself get pushed around by a group of immature little boys. She was a goddamned superhero, por amor de Dios! And anyway, it wasn’t like any of them would ever be able to take care of her in the way she needed - in the way she deserved. He moved his seat so that he was sitting beside her instead, his thigh pressing against hers, his large form blocking her from the view of those malditos cabrones.

“Miguel?” She smiled up at him, confused, then placed a gentle hand on his forearm. “¿Qué pasó, araña?”

Mierda, did she have to call him that? While her slender fingers were curled so tenderly around his forearm? He shook his head. “Nada. I just didn’t like the way those guys kept looking at you.”

He focused back on his food, trying not to let himself think about how it felt like home, speaking to her in Spanglish like this - how much effort she put into making herself seem like home. Somewhere he could return to, everyday, safe and sound.

She furrowed her brows at his statement, trying to sneak a peek over his brawny shoulder. “Which guys?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Miguel insisted, moving to block her view. He shoved his spoon back into his dessert, scooping up a bite and swallowing it down grumpily. She pressed her lips together at his actions, trying to suppress her smile. Was he … jealous?

“Are they good looking?” she asked, her voice dripping with fake innocence. He finally looked up from his gelato to frown at her, his thick brows set into a harsh line. Then he turned back to his dessert.

“No. They’re hideous.” X snickered softly at his brusque tone.

“Hmm. That’s too bad,” she lamented.

“Why is it too bad?” Miguel turned to her, thoroughly annoyed now by her constant curiosity about these other men who knew absolutely nothing about her, who’d never even talked to her let alone spent hours together with her, learning about her preferences, indulging in her company, looking after her when she was having a bad day.

He was starting to get frustrated - really frustrated, if the way he was shaking his leg beneath the table was any indication of how he was feeling right now. She shrugged, pretending not to notice how irritated he was becoming because of her. “Well, it’s always nice to know that a good looking guy thinks you’re pretty. It boosts your confidence.”

“You are pretty,” he scowled, unable to keep it in any longer. ‘You don’t need some useless cabron to tell you that’, is what he would have finished with had he not realised that he’d just called her pretty. Out loud. To her face. He tensed up, trying to figure out how to backtrack his statement - because how was he going to bring her back to his apartment and fall asleep next to her now that he’d told her how pretty he thought she was?!

Her cheeks burned as her lips curled into a smile and she avoided his gaze, knowing he was probably regretting letting the words slip out of his mouth like that. “Thanks, Miguel.”

She glanced up at him quickly, taking in the terrified expression on his face. God, he could be so cute sometimes. She scooped up the last bite of her gelato, then grinned up at him teasingly. “That’s going to last me at least a month.”

She swallowed the last bite of her gelato, then rested her elbow on the table, cupping her cheek in her hand as she gazed up at him. “And then I’m just going to have to find some other good looking guy to call me pretty after that.”

Santo cielo, how was it always so easy with her? How did she always know just what to say to put him at ease again? His shoulders relaxed as he turned away from her, finishing up his gelato as well.

“Estás loca, arañita,” he told her jokingly. She thought he was good looking?

She straightened, her expression softer now that she’d gotten him to ease up again. “I prefer the term ‘exciting’.”

He turned to her, flashing her that one expression that he saved just for her - a mixture of amusement and exasperation that made her heart start fluttering like crazy - then stood up, grabbing her cup to toss it in trash. He turned back around and clenched his fists in anger when he saw the guys at the other table going over to X to try to catch her attention. He marched back to her immediately, placing his hand on her lower back to guide her to the door. “Vamos, arañita.”

She didn’t miss the possessive tone of his voice, or the way he stopped to glare back at the guys before they walked out of the shop. So he really had been jealous then! Or, protective, maybe. But she didn’t dare bring it up as they strolled back to his apartment, using the moment instead to just enjoy his company.

“Yes!” X exclaimed, jumping onto the sofa and settling down to watch her new favourite television programme - a reality dating show set on the moon. Because it was so easy to just travel back and forth between the Earth and the moon - the freakin’ moon! - in the year 2099. “Miguel! It’s on! We didn’t miss it!”

Miguel walked over to her, having changed into his night clothes once they’d come back, and groaned when he saw what she’d put on the television. “Coño, arañita. ¿Esta mierda otra vez?” (This shit again?)

She grinned, ignoring the irritated twist of his lips, and patted the seat next to her. “¡Sí! It’s so trashy I love it!”

He rolled his eyes, but sat down next to her anyway, shooting a look of amusement her way before shaking his head fondly. “Estás loca, arañita.”

“¡Hola, hermano!” Miguel looked up from his laptop as his little brother strolled into his apartment, walking around like he owned the place. Gabe set two bags down on the table, then flashed Miguel a bright smile, glad to see his brother home for once. “You don’t have any missions today?”

“Do you ever knock?” Miguel asked him, his tone sarcastic.

“Why would I need to knock? I have the keys.” Gabe began to unpack the bags, pulling out different fruits and vegetables and other groceries. But he stopped suddenly when he noticed something new. “Hey! You’re not wearing your eye protectors anymore! What happened?” Miguel remained silent as he pulled a small bottle out of his pocket and set it down on the kitchen island. Gabe peered at the clear liquid within.

“What is this?” he asked, curious.

“They constrict my pupils so everything’s not so bright anymore,” Miguel explained nonchalantly. As if it wasn’t a big deal that he could finally walk around the world in the same way he had before.

“Did you make this?” Gabe asked, growing ever more curious by the second. Miguel hesitated, considering his response.

“No,” he replied finally, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Someone else made them for me.” Gabe leaned against the table, a knowing smile plastered across his face.

“Hmm, someone else, eh?” he repeated, trying to catch his brother’s gaze. “Is this the same ‘someone else’ you’ve been thinking about for the past few weeks?” Miguel raised his eyebrows, pretending to be both confused and offended by the question. Gabe rolled his eyes at the exaggerated response.

“Come on, hermano, it’s so obvious!” he insisted, unwilling to let the matter go. “There’s clearly someone on your mind! Do I know her? Have we met before?” Miguel glared at him in warning, his gleaming red eyes boring into his brother.

“There’s no one on my mind,” he lied, thoughts of her messy curls and her pretty smile and her curvy little body springing to his mind almost immediately. He turned back to his laptop, not wanting his brother to see the guilty look on his face. “And no, you don’t know her. We’re just friends.” Even though she’d told him she loved him. And they’d fallen asleep together, more than once now. And the very thought of her being with anyone else - anyone but him - made him sick to his stomach.

“Ah ha! So there is a ‘her’!” Gabe exclaimed victoriously, delighted by the revelation. He began transferring the groceries he’d brought along with him into the fridge and various kitchen cupboards. “When am I going to get to meet her?”

“I said she’s just a friend, Gabe,” his older brother repeated, letting out an exaggerated sigh. He really could be so dramatic sometimes. Gabe pulled open one of the cupboards by the fridge, then paused, confused.

“What is this?” he asked, pulling out a box of cereal he’d never seen before. Miguel didn’t eat cereal - not since he’d started bulking up anyway. Now, his diet consisted of a strict regimen of carbs and proteins that he prepared every weekend. Miguel’s eyes widened as they landed on the box and he shot out of his seat, grabbing it from Gabe and shoving it back into the cupboard quickly.

“It’s nothing!” he replied, his voice a little too loud when he said it. Then frowned. “Why are you even poking around in my stuff anyway?”

Gabe ignored his brother’s grumbling, thinking. If the cereal wasn’t Miguel’s, then that meant that he’d gotten it for ‘someone else’. And if ‘someone else’ was having breakfast at his place, then ‘someone else’ had probably slept over. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”

Gabe began making his way over to the downstairs bathroom, keeping his pace steady so that Miguel thought nothing of it and returned his attention to his laptop instead. Then he dashed up the stairs, not daring to look back at his brother for fear that he’d catch up to him when he realised what he was up to.

“Gabe!” Miguel exclaimed in panic, jumping out of his seat to start chasing after his younger brother. “¡¿Qué haces?!” But he was too late. Gabe stood in the middle of the bathroom, holding up two toothbrushes as he stared at the two towels drying on the rack.

“Just a friend?!” Gabe repeated incredulously. “Miguel! She’s slept over! This is serious! How could you not tell me?!” Miguel marched over to him and grabbed the brushes from his hands, shoving them back in the holder before steering his brother out of his bathroom.

“What’s she like?” Gabe continued, eager to find out more about this new girl who’d practically moved in with his brother without his knowledge! “Is she cute? Is she nice? I hope she’s, like, the total opposite of you - that would be hilarious.” Miguel gritted his teeth, trying not to think about how so very cute she was and so very sweet and how so completely in love with her was. Because he couldn’t be in love with her. Not when it only tear them - or the entire universe - apart.

“Stay out of my bedroom, Gabe,” he huffed, all the anger having left him now. Because it didn’t matter what he told himself, it didn’t matter how many times he repeated it. It still didn’t change the fact that he was in love with her.

“Okay! Okay!” Gabe raised his hands in surrender, turning back around to face his brother. His eyes trailed over the crease between his brows, the bags under his eyes, the disappointed twist of his lips. He reached up to pat his brother on the shoulder, trying to reassure him. “We don’t have to talk about it. But if you do, you know that I’m here for you.”

Miguel sighed, relaxing a little at the reminder that he’d always have his brother, no matter what happened. He ruffled his hair, causing Gabe to whine in protest about messing up his hairstyle or something. But Miguel just snorted in amusement and made his way back to the kitchen. “What do you want for lunch?”

Tags: @leahnicole1219 @heubstr

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foolondahill17 · 1 year ago

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Inevitably, when Dean wakes to find Cas gone from bed, he experiences a swift, dizzying rush of panic. Ice water shivers down his body from the crown of his head to his toes, as if someone broke a water balloon over his skull.

Sometimes it comes with the last vestiges of a nightmare, clinging to his skin like black sludge. Other times it’s merely his brain registering the absence before he’s even fully awake, attuned to Cas beside him like he used to be unflinchingly aware of Sam snoring softly in the bed parallel to his own in a motel room.

His left hand fists around the empty sheets beside him for several seconds, air rattling in his lungs as he breathes into the gray, filmy light coming into through the blinds in slats. The empty place on the bed is still warm, which means Cas hasn’t been gone long. Maybe he woke from his own nightmare or to get a glass of water or take a piss or maybe fetch a snack or because of some ache or pain; his human body wasn’t exactly reliable, delicate and unfamiliar to a being used to occupying a lightwave for untold millennia. Maybe he just couldn’t sleep.

Maybe it was the Empty. Come to renege on their deal.

Dean fumbles for his phone on the bedside table. The screen nearly blinds him, and he squints into through his lashes to see it’s later than he expected. Dean shuts his eyes, swallows, tries to ground himself back into his body.

When he’s finally calm enough, he tunes into the faint sounds from outside the door and down the hall. He can hear the coffeemaker sputtering and Miracle’s toes clacking on the tile.

Dean swings his legs over the side of the bed, spine twanging. He takes it slow: carefully presses the soles of his bare feet against the chilled floor, stretching for his cane hung on the bedpost, before he straightens himself out, gritting his teeth through the residual stiffness. He needs his cane more than ever in the morning, when sleep fuses his spine into an inflexible and painful rod, legs refusing to bend as they should after so many hours of inactivity.

He shuffles across the floor to find the bedroom door unlatched. His knuckles, swollen with arthritis from the cool morning air, are grateful. It’s hard enough just gripping his cane on mornings like this.

He feels old. He’s only forty-four years old, by all accounts a young man for a civilian. It’s not the years, honey. It’s the mileage. He grins at the quote. Years of untreated head trauma may have left his memory faulty in other ways, but Indy always lives at the forefront of his mind.

It’s brighter in the kitchen than the bedroom. The large sliding doors that lead to Dean’s garden in the backyard reveal dark gray, threatening clouds. The wind rustles the yellowing leaves of the large oak tree overhanging the garden, swiveling their lighter bellies to the sky.

Cas’s back is to Dean, fussing with the buttons on the coffeemaker, but he turns when Dean reaches his elbow. Dean uses his free arm to wrap it around Cas’s back, pulling himself into his angel’s space. Cas turns fully into Dean so they hold each other chest to chest. Cas’s hair tickles Dean’s nose. His large hand runs up and down Dean’s back, palm nearly scalding in the early autumn chill of the kitchen.

They don’t speak. Cas hates mornings and usually won’t talk until he’s had at least one mug of coffee. And Dean. Well, Dean hasn’t spoken for nearly two years.

Cas is the first to detach. The coffeemaker beeps, shrill in the silence of the kitchen. Cas fetches mugs, and Dean eases himself into a chair at the kitchen table. As soon as he’s seated, Miracle trots in from the living room, holding her favorite plastic green bone in her mouth.

She drops her toy at Dean’s feet and settles with her chin on his knee. Dean tangles his fingers into her hair, letting her warmth bleed into his aching hand.

Cas joins him at the table, sliding one mug in front of Dean before taking a long sip from his own. Dean watches Cas’s throat bob as he swallows his coffee, the pink, silvery scar taught across his neck moving in time with his Adam’s apple. Dean has a matching scar on his own throat. The price of the Empty to return Cas to him: Cas’s grace and Dean’s voice.

Dean pushes a pile of books and mail aside so he can get to his coffee. He’ll need to go to the post office today to mail Jack their book; they left it here over the weekend, but they need it for classes. Dean takes a sip of his coffee: scalding and deep black, just as he and Cas take it.

“It’s going to storm,” Cas finally breaks the silence after his coffee is half gone, and Dean bites back a smile. Cas’s becoming predictable in his humanity.

Dean agrees with a nod.

“Do you need to cover your plants?” Cas asks. Dean’s grateful for Cas’s concern; he knows there’s nothing on earth more boring to the angel than gardening.

Dean shakes his head, no. The only thing left in the ground this time of year is heartier root vegetables, potatoes and carrots, or the sprawling mess of his pumpkin patch that will withstand the hard rain.

Dean’s nearly done with his first cup of coffee and Cas already returned with his second when he pulls up his phone, squinting at the small screen. Cas nearly bit Dean’s head off the last time Dean dared suggest he get reading glasses.

Cas huffs through several article headlines, giving the list of alerts on Sam’s hunter algorithm a cursory glance. Later, he might go back to one or two, but, for now, nothing demands his immediate attention or needs to be redirected to one of Sam and Eileen’s hunter pairs. He sets his phone aside and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

Dean fishes for Cas’s hand across the table, weaving their fingers together. Cas drops his hand from his face and grips Dean’s with both of his own. Dean smiles at his angel, hair still mussed from bed, graying at his temples, and wrinkles carved like canyons around his eyes and lips.

I love you, Dean mouths, and Cas takes it with his own smile.

“I love you, Dean.”

Cas likely won’t notice if Dean’s a little clingier than usual today. He’s not very good at picking up those kinds of signals. But he’ll be patient enough with Dean’s lingering touches and shadowing him from room to room as Cas refuses to sit still, frenetic and antsy on days when they’re confined to the house.

Maybe Dean will make a warm soup and sandwiches for lunch. They could watch a movie, cuddled together on the couch, if he can manage to tie Cas down. Cas is liable to climb onto the roof if there’s a proper storm; likes to give Dean a damn heart attack by standing on the gable with his arms outstretched and eyes shut against the torrential rains and wind.

You don’t think you deserve to be saved? Cas asked Dean, all those years ago. Dean still isn’t so sure, some days, what he deserves. He’s been an unlucky bastard, by most reckoning. By Dean’s, he’s been damn lucky. If he’d known what was waiting for him, all these years later, he thinks he’d have spent less time thinking about what was and wasn’t deserved, and more time wondering if it was all worth it.

Mornings like this, he thinks it was.

Read on AO3 if you'd like

#Destiel #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural fanfiction #destiel fanfiction #my writing #ficlet

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cloudlessly-light · 2 years ago

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The muffin man

A/N: For the lovely @criminalmindsgonewrong who requested an explanation for the muffin man (Mentioned in this chapter). But since I am who I am this is also filthy filth. This will also be my 500th post which is insane to me!

Summary: Girl’s night usually always end up one in two ways, interrupted by a case or inappropriate story’s shared between friends over wine. Or, the muffin man needed explaining. (From my story Let it be all night, chapter 2). This still makes sense if you haven’t read the story though! Word Count: 2,8k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, consumption of alcohol

Emily laughed hard enough that tears were streaming down her face as Penelope told her another one of her disastrous sex stories. She knew that it shouldn’t be that funny, that the wine and the way the blonde told the story only made it that much funnier but she could feel her stomach ache as she laid back against the couch howling with laughter.

“It was not funny! He brought a Barney costume!” The blonde paced, almost spilling the wine in her glass as JJ and Emily only laughed harder. “I mean I’m all for role playing but that is just wrong?! Right? It’s wrong!?”

“It’s absolutely wrong.” JJ got out through her laughs, eyes bright as she looked up at her still pacing friend. “But it only makes this even funnier to us.” She doubled over on her spot on the couch next to Emily who joined her in another fit of laughter.

“Oh come on, like you haven’t had something like that happen to you?!” Penelope sat down in the plush chair and downed the rest of her wine, then immediately refilled her glass.

“A man bringing a purple dinosaur costume as a sex outfit? No I can safely say that that’s not happened to either of us.” JJ answered and Emily nodded along, the laughter slowing but not stopping as both of them imagined the scenario over and over again.

“Okay I’m done, you suck! It’s your turn spilling awkward sex details.” Penelope fell back against the chair, a pout on her face that only made Emily smile.

“I do have something.” JJ mumbled, her words a little slurred as she sat up straighter. “But this will not leave this room.” She looked from Emily to Penelope, the latter shaking her head.

“What happens at girl’s night, stays at girl’s night.” Emily recited, something that had become clear after their first girl’s night years ago when Penelope had accidentally told Derek about their drunken stories.

“Okay so,” JJ took a breath and Emily sat straighter, not knowing what to expect as the blonde took a long gulp of wine. “I was in college, I had met a guy and we had gone on a couple of dates…” She trailed off and Emily saw the way Penelope shuffled a little closer, almost sitting on the edge of the plush seat.

“And what? He was bad in bed?” Emily asked as she reached for her glass on the table.

“Oh I wish it had been only that.” JJ turned to Emily, her cheeks pink in embarrassment. “So he was nice and one night I brought him back to my dorm to you know…”

“Fuck?” Emily finished for her, her eyebrow raised as she took a sip of wine.

“Yes, thank you.” JJ rolled her eyes at the smirk the brunette sent her. “Anyways we got back to my room and we started to make out, things got heated.” She finished her wine and Penelope and Emily locked eyes, both excited because JJ usually never got flustered like this. “And he wanted to go down on me.”

“Well, that’s nice. Not all guys do that the first time, especially in college.” Penelope tried but JJ shot her a look and she quieted down.

“When he was down there, I could hear him mumbling and at first I wasn’t sure what he was saying.” JJ’s eyes closed tight and she shrugged slightly, like she was trying to rid herself of memories. “Then I realized that he was talking, not to me but to my…

“Pussy?” Emily added with a grin.

“Emily I swear if you interrupt me again you won’t get the rest of this story.” JJ chuckled and pushed lightly on the other woman’s shoulder.

“Okay sorry, sorry.” She conceded but her grin didn’t faulter, eyes gleaming as she looked at JJ.

“As you so eloquently put it, he was talking down there, saying things like,” she stopped for a moment and she could see Penelope almost shaking, never being good with waiting. “he called it ‘muffin’, saying things like do you like that muffin or this muffin is so good and my personal favorite I’m the muffin man.”

“He said what?!” Emily doubled over laughing while Penelope’s mouth dropped open in fascinated horror.

JJ shook her head before rubbing her face, eyes screwed widely shut.

“Yepp, and then he bought me a muffin for breakfast and I swear I haven’t eaten one since.”

“The muffin man?!” Emily wheezed and Penelope joined her, laughing hard enough to fall to the floor.

“I can’t breathe this is the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Penelope wiped under her eyes, make-up smeared as she tried to catch her breath.

“What kind of muffin did he bring you the day after?” Emily asked and JJ’s face got even redder.

“Vanilla.” She whispered and her friends burst out laughing again, this time she joined them. “I was mortified!”

Neither of the women hear the front door open, or the sound of shoes against the hardware floor until Aaron is standing in the living room.

“Seems like girl’s night is going well.” He interrupts their laughs, a smile on his face.

“Oh, hi honey.” Emily stands up, giggles that she’d never admit to still leaving her as she greets her husband, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips.

“Hotch!” Penelope greeted and JJ waved, still blushing.

“I hope you didn’t hear any of that.” She said and Aaron shook his head, arm wrapped around Emily’s waist.

“Not a word, only the laughs.” He kissed Emily’s temple. “I’ll be upstairs okay?”

“No no, we should get going anyways.” JJ jumped up and then helped Penelope from the floor. “It’s getting late.”

Emily nodded along with her friend’s words, easily taking the empty glasses and carrying them to the kitchen while Aaron excused himself to go upstairs and change. It was quick goodbyes and Emily watched as her friends got into a cab before she made her back to the living room to clean the last of the bottles and plates from the table. She chuckled to herself as she saw two muffins from the other day on the counter, knowing that she’d never look at a muffin the same way again.

When she was done loading the washer she climbed the stairs and headed towards the bedroom. She smiled at her timing, Aaron just coming out of the shower, hair wet and a towel around his waist.

“I’m so lucky.” She sighed and walked closer to him, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“You’re drunk.” He chuckled but didn’t stop her when she pulled him into a kiss, her tongue quickly pressing against his lips.

“No, tipsy, at best.” She said when they broke apart, her fingers pulling slightly at his short hair. “How was your night?”

“It was long. How was yours. Do I need to worry about the girls on Monday?” He shuddered as Emily trailed light kisses against his jaw, his hands tightening slightly on her hips.

“No we didn’t talk about you.” She mumbled between kisses and she felt Aaron pull back to look at her with a raised eyebrow. “We didn’t!” She promised, voice raising slightly in pitch.

“Then what did you talk about?”

“What happens at girl’s night…”

“Stays at girl’s night.” He finished for her, a laugh bubbling in his chest at the familiar words. “So what, you’re saying that you don’t have anything interesting to share?”

“Are you jealous honey? Do you want me to talk about you? About how well you fuck me?” She bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning when his jaw clenched and he swallowed harder. “Guess you’re just going to have to remind me.”

The words were barely out before he was pulling her back against him, claiming her lips in a bruising kiss that stole the air from her lungs.

“You become such a brat when you drink.” He teased between kisses, his rough fingers grabbing at her before he pulled her shirt over her head. She helped him out of her jeans, her own hands ripping the towel from his hips before he pushed her back on the bed.

“Aaron.” She gasped when his lips wrapped around her nipple through her bra, his tongue wetting the fabric. She quickly unhooked her bra and threw it on the floor before falling back against the bed, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his heated lips on her skin as he kissed down her body. When he stopped she opened her eyes and just barely caught his smirk before he ripped her underwear from her, the sound of fabric tearing making her whimper.

Aaron threw the ruined scraps of fabric somewhere behind him, eyes dark as he leaned back over her body, his thigh pressing between hers. He licked up the column of her throat, feeling her moan vibrate against his tongue when his thigh pressed against her clit. She was wet and hot and he smirked against her neck when she grinded down, searching for more friction.

“Do you think you could come like this?” He whispered against her ear and her fingers tightened on his hip and upper arm. “Think you can come by humping my thigh like a good girl? That would be a good story to tell huh?”

Emily’s mouth fell open in a moan as his dirty words fell in hushed tones against her ear, her body heating up from them. She pushed up against him, dragged her clit over his strong muscle. No one had ever been able to make her fall apart like Aaron had, she knew that he took pride in that, took pride in the fact that he could drive her insane with want with as little as a look.

“I think you could.” He met her dark eyes, hooded and filled with want and he moved his thigh against her. “I think you could come just like this, straining and desperate underneath me.”

“Baby,” She gasped against his lips, her nails no doubt breaking the skin of his back as she tried to get him closer. “I need you.” She widened her legs and the way he smirks at her obvious desperation should make her embarrassed but it only makes her want him more.

“You need me?” He coos and moves one hand between their bodies, easily pushing two fingers inside of her. The sound that falls from her makes his cock jerk against her hip, precum already leaking from him and staining her skin. He curls his fingers, pushes them in and out and Emily’s head falls back against the pillows, jaw slacked.

“Fuck, yes I need you.” She gets out, breathy and whiny as his palm presses against her clit. She knows how much he loves watching her, isn’t surprised that the look on his face is close to feral as he builds up her pleasure with each sure movement of his hand. She can feel the tension in her belly, the heat of it making her moan and muscles twitch.

“You’ll get me soon enough.” He looks as her eyes cloud over and the flush in her cheeks spread down to her chest, he’d never get tired of watching her fall apart. “So pretty.” He groans as her walls clamp down around his fingers and her thighs tremble.

“Kiss me.” She doesn’t give him much choice, pulls him down into a needy kiss only moments before she comes, the pleasure making her entire body tense under his. Her mind is numb from pleasure as he continues to move his fingers inside of her, dragging it out until she’s heaving for breath and she can hear him mutter words of encouragement against her ear.

Aaron gives her a few moments to come down, removes his hand and licks his fingers clean with a groan. When her eyelids flutter open and her breathing has slowed he’s still tasting her on his fingers.

“Aaron, I swear if you don’t fuck me I’ll…” Her words die in her throat at the sudden stretch of him, his entire length inside of her with one thrust and she swear the air has been knocked out of her lungs.

“So impatient.” He chastises her with a smile but his voice is thick with want, his hips moving against her immediately.

Her legs wrap high around his waist, making him hit deep inside of her and she hears his groan of pleasure against her shoulder. She can feel his desperation, knows that he needs her just as much as she needs him and when he whispered her name somewhere close to her heart she smiles. She pulls him up by a grip on his hair, licks over his jaw before kissing him again.

They move together, thrusts and pushes and it’s not long until she’s coming again with a moan muffled against his shoulder. He doesn’t give her time to come down this time, only continues to fuck into her with strong hips as he continues to mutter dirty words in her ear.

“You feel so good when you come on my cock.” He grunts and Emily whines in response. She knows that his back and waist would be littered with scratches from her nails, her teeth will bruise his shoulder and secretly she loved the fact that under his suit, her marks on him would linger, reminding him of this for days to come.

She manages to flip them, grins winningly when she straightens above him and clenches hard around him to keep him from turning them right back over. She lifts her hips, lets her hands fall to his knees behind her as she leans back slightly, giving him a view of her body as she starts to move. She rolls her hips and it’s Aaron’s turn to fall back against the bed, mouth open as he pants desperately.

“Fuck you’re good at that, gorgeous thing.” He mumbles through blurred pleasure. His hands hold on to her hips, help her move up and down, side to side, his eyes darting from where he’s disappearing inside of her to her chest, to her face, her pupils blown wide as she gives pleasure to them both.

“You feel so fucking good.” She pants as her head falls back. She doesn’t expect him to sit up, to wrap his arms around her waist and suck on a nipple and the sound that leaves her is a mix of surprise and desire. Her fingers rake through his hair, keeps him in place as he licks and sucks over swollen nipples.

“Jesus Christ, Em.” He grunts when she grinds harder into him, his orgasm building by each roll of her hips. He jerks up against her, his fingers bruising her skin as they tighten against her ribs. “Keep going.” He urges her and she only seems to move faster above him.

“Come with me.” She pleads, muscles burning as she chases her own pleasure, her body moving desperately against his. “I’m so close, please come with me baby.”

Aaron didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He thrust up against her the best he could, waited until Emily was writhing and moaning on top of him, her center fluttering wildly and then he let go with a deep growl. All he could feel was Emily and blinding pleasure, the power of his orgasm knocking the air out of him until he was empty, falling down against the bed and pulling her with him.

Emily panted against his chest, sweaty and exhausted and she felt his large, warm hands change from grabbing and rough, to soft and careful.

“We’re too good at this.” She muttered, her voice slightly muffled against his neck and he chuckled.

“I think that’s a great thing.” He stroked a finger along her spine, saw the goosebumps along her skin at the feeling.

“Promise to always give me stories for girl’s night? Even when we’re old and grey?” She lifted her head to look at him, a smile on her lips.

“I guess I can agree to those terms.” He stroked her cheek and pulled her into another kiss. When they broke apart she was still smiling, content to stay like that for the rest of the night. But he had other plans and easily maneuvered them on the bed until she was laying face down against the soft mattrass and he was hovering above her. He licked along her spine and she gasped.

“What are you doing?” She turned her head to look back at him as he made his way down her body.

“Making sure you have even more material for the next girl’s night.” He whispered somewhere close to her lower back, then sunk his teeth into one of her butt cheeks.

Whatever she wanted to say quickly changed into a strangled moan when his tongue dipped between her legs, licking them both from her wet skin.

“I can’t really argue with that now can?”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron x emily #hotch x emily #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut

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garbinge · 1 year ago

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Believe it or not

Ezekiel Reyes x Nestor Oceteva From these August Prompts: "Believe it or not I'm not always in the mood to murder people." A/N: This is for @drabbles-mc because she saw this potential before canon even hinted at it.

Warnings: Cursing. Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie

As EZ walked into the clubhouse he was met with silence. Things lately were tense with the club, and the term lately could have been synonymized with all the time. There never seemed to be a break to catch and with EZ sitting at the head of the table, he felt the brunt weight of that. The silence at the clubhouse usually was peaceful, but today, it was eerie, it was polarizing, it was telling, and most of all, it was just sad. EZ had expected some buzz around the space but was met only with stillness and disappointment.

He stood at the entrance of the club, coffee in hand, he just got lost in his thoughts for a minute. He hadn’t spoken to Felipe in weeks, he was holding on to threads in regards to his relationship with Angel, and he quickly looked over his left shoulder at the statue of Mary when his mother crossed his mind. Family. That word was changing and losing meaning as the days came and went.

“Hey, P, you want a drink?”

As he got alerted out of his thoughts, he looked to the bar to see Nestor wiping down the glassware.

A smile filled EZ’s face as he tucked the thoughts away to a deeper part of his brain, one that was filled with memories, some important, some not, but it was overflowing with thoughts and images that he could never leave behind.

“Yea, let me get a cup of coffee” EZ took the necessary steps to the bar. There was a coffee machine in the small kitchen space that was behind the bar, it was old but it got the job done.

EZ sat on the high chair and leaned against the bar, letting the thoughts fill his brain again as he waited for Nestor. This actual birthday was trivial to EZ, his days were numbered and he knew that. He looked death straight in the face, everyday, he didn’t want to die, but he was content with the idea of it.

“You alright?”

Nestor’s voice made EZ’s head shoot up to look at him.

“Yea, I’m good.” EZ put his smile back on like it was nothing.

Nestor was placing the mug in front of EZ who stared down at it with a look of confusion. They didn’t have coffee mugs here, all they had were single use styrofoam cups. All the glassware was saved for beer, hard liquor and for the occasional smashing in anger or celebration.

“Picked them up when I ran to stock up on shit.” Nestor picked up on EZ’s facial expression. “They were cheap, I’m washing the beer glasses everyday so it’s nothing we’re not already doing, figured it’d cut back on club spending, plus save the planet and all that shit.” Nestor said as he went back to drying off the glasses and shrugged.

EZ smirked and let out a small chuckle before taking a sip of the coffee. As the warm liquid hit the back of his throat he looked up at Nestor, his eyes wide and eyebrows frowned together in shock.

“Too hot?” Nestor’s voice was filled with worry, something EZ wasn’t familiar with, he was a mercenary, he didn’t give a shit about mugs or really good coffee and if it was too hot to consume.

“No, just really fuckin’ good.” EZ was still a little confused as he set the mug down.

“Trick is filtered water. Bought a britta too.” Nestor laughed.

“Mugs, good coffee, a britta. I thought you were a stone cold killer, Nestor.” EZ teased the prospect.

“Believe it or not, I’m not always in the mood to murder people.” Nestor joked back with the club president.

“Where is everyone?” EZ now leaned back in his seat, feeling relaxed despite everything weighing over his head.

“It’s 6 in the morning, pres. No one’s gonna be in until 10 the earliest.” Nestor was honest and kept on with his prospect duties.

“But you’re here.” EZ raised his arm to wave in Nestor’s direction.

He pointed at the prospect patch before grabbing the rag to wipe down the bar table. “I’m earning my way to 10AM roll ins.”

EZ couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “I have a feeling that even when you earn that full patch, you’ll be rolling in here at 6AM still, Nestor.”

“I like routine.” Nestor spoke in a what can I say manner.

“I like that you like routine.” EZ was now dancing around something, both him and Nestor made eye contact at that statement, gauging each others body language, their faces, their words. EZ knew he had the power in the position, and he wasn’t shy to play that card when needed to show upper hand but he also played it to diffuse tension and add a different kind, like now.

“You’re a good asset, Nestor. Loyal, observant,” he paused to grab the mug so Nestor could clean underneath it and also so he could sip it, “make a mean cup of coffee.” EZ finished the statement with a truthful tease. “Appreciate all of that, if I’m being honest, I’d like to see more initiative on the playing field, where we all thought you were originally going to shine.” EZ was still dancing around his words.

“You got it, P.” Nestor nodded in agreement, that loyalty shining through.

“E.” EZ corrected him. “Call me E.” It was a nickname not many people called him so giving Nestor the permission to use it held more meaning to it than one might think.

With a nod, Nestor acknowledged his club president. “Oh, uh. By the way, I know you’re into reading and stuff. Saw this.” Nestor was bending down to grab the book that was tucked in the bottom shelf of the bar.

EZ stared at the book that was now placed in front of him. He went to pick the book up when Nestor’s hand moved to point to the cover.

“Thought the title was cool.” Nestor managed to get out before both their hands touched, the warm graze causing both of them to react, Nestor, more urgently as he peeled back his arm, and EZ even more quickly as he grabbed Nestor’s hand in protest of him moving it back.

“It’s a classic.” EZ stared at Nestor’s eyes before lightening his grip on his hand, he didn’t want the grab to seem harsh or violent but needy and sensual. His thumb slightly moved over his wrist, sending a shiver up Nestor’s arm and to his neck causing him to move his head from left to right out of habit.

“Thank you for this.” EZ didn’t let up on his stare, he could tell Nestor was trying to make sense of everything in his head. Not wanting to make the wrong move, fuck up his chance in the club, fuck up what he had already built with EZ.

“Maybe there’s something in there, things to put in motion on the playing field that I can, uh, you know, get my hands dirty with.” Nestor’s gold tooth shined slightly as he smiled at EZ.

“I think I have a couple things in mind if you’re lookin’ to get dirty.”

The sentence was clear cut, there was no other way to interpret it with everything else that had been said between the two of them. With EZ’s hand still lightly caressing Nestor’s wrist, Nestor went to open his mouth to agree, change every dynamic between the two of them right here, right now, from today moving forward but before he got the chance to, the sound of a motorcycle pulling into the lot alerted them to pull apart immediately. The awkward tension moving in like a pillow to suffocate out the sexual tension.

Nestor turned around to busy himself with something, fidgeting around with the kegs and fridge. EZ has jumped back in his seat, way more collected than Nestor had done, and still managed to let out a chuckle at how Nestor was busying himself.

EZ jumped down off the bar stool, grabbed the book and made his way to the clubhouse door to go see who was pulling in. As his hand reached for the door knob, he paused and turned to Nestor.

“I know you come in early, but uh, I might need you to stay late tonight.”

Nestor turned around, his braids whipping in the air as the surprise filled his face at what EZ said.

“I think there’s some stuff in here we could go over.” He lifted the book up and shook it slightly.

“Yea, whatever you need for club, P–I mean E.” Nestor stuttered as he wiped his hands off with a rag.

EZ grinned and nodded as he opened the door to retreat from the clubhouse. “Yea, for the club.”

#mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans fanfic #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #nestor oceteva #Ezekiel Reyes x Nestor Oceteva #EZ Reyes x Nestor Oceteva #my writing #garbinge

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countrymusiclover · 1 year ago

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33 - Resisting Urges

Part 34

Family is More than Blood

@icefrye19 @secretdreamlandmentality

Alina’s pov

Gripping the wooden railing of the stairs I held my stomach feeling sick to my stomach. I didn’t imagine that being pregnant would be this hard. Mom made it look easy with my younger siblings. Moving into one of the empty library rooms I heard a book slam shut making me jump. “Woah. hell!”

“Uh! Why is this so difficult?” I recognized the voice of my younger cousin Andrea.

Mom had told me that she had been learning to control her newfound powers. Uncle Jackson and aunt Hayley did their best but they didn’t have the wolf temper mixed with the magic inside her. “Hey Andrea, how are you doing?”

“How does it look like I’m doing, Alina!” She snapped, throwing her hands down at her sides which resulted in some books flying up into the air and dropping down as quickly as they flew.

Standing by one of the bookshelves I paused. “Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s not personal. I’m just…frustrated.” She huffed, leaning her palms on the table. “Are you doing okay?”

Grabbing my stomach I stumbled to the nearest chair sitting down. Leaning back in the chair my stomach would bounce everytime I moved. “I’m hanging in there, cousin. This baby makes me tired and I can’t stop eating pickles which I hated before I was pregnant.”

“At least you’re not craving Sushi all the time. I’ve tried it and that was gross.” She made a disgusted face at the memory.

I chuckled back at her, focusing my attention back on the books she was reading. One was titled about the Gemini coven. When it came to Lizzie and Josie we knew that Uncle Ric had ripped out the pages years ago. But now that they knew it was something that was just rarely talked about. “Why are you looking into our family history? You were born with your own magic.”

“Thought it’d have some good tips to help with what I’m feeling. But so far it’s nothing. I don’t feel any better.” Andrea sighed, sitting down in the other chair at the table.

“Auntie Freya says that magic takes time. But I think I know what you mean…you have all this rage built up inside and you don’t know what to do with it. Which is why your magic is so out of control.” I responded to her.

She nods in agreement. “You’re pretty spot on.”

“It’s not like I’m a werewitch like you or anything.” I chuckled, sending her a smile.

Footsteps stomped around the corner causing us to whip our heads around seeing it was Lizzie. She was in a white sweater with black pants and boots. Hair up in a ponytail. “There you two are. I need your help with something for tonight.”

“What's going on?” I asked the siphon witch.

She drops her shoulders. “Your sister is going to Mystic High today and I want to know why. I mean I get that she’s with the muggle but still.”

“I think that’s enough of a reason. But just out of curiosity why are you concerned with it?” I shifted around in my chair.

She rolled her eyes. “Because Josie has been looking at applying there.”

“There it is. So you’re worried she will leave the school and you want to know why.” Andrea leaned back in her seat.

Lizzie huffed, not in the mood. “Can you just agree to come with me today? I don’t want to spy on the townies by myself.”

Andrea pushed herself up and out of the chair walking past the blonde witch. “I’m gonna go try and practice by the old Mill. But you two have fun.” Getting up to my feet I followed the siphon witch out and we made our way to the high school. Simply walking around in the hallway hearing two people coming our way so she used the invisible spell on the both of us.

“My mom would kick my ass if she knew I was skipping class with you.” Ethan was walking beside my sister who was hanging on his arm.

She raised a finger to her mouth. “Sssh people can still hear us talking even when we’re invisible, E.”

“I still can’t believe I’m dating a witch. Somebody like me shouldn’t be with somebody like you. But I like the excitement that it gives me.” He chuckled at her.

Missy shakes her head. “Yeah it does sound pretty cool when you think about it…”

“It is so cool as hell - Woah.” Ethan took a step forward but he slipped on some water removing his arm from hers. He fell against the locker’s holding his head and when he drew his hand back there was some blood sticking to his fingers. “Awe crap…Missy?”

Lizzie made a scoff under her breath. “I get he’s nice. But why can’t he just transfer to our school instead of being in this lame one.”

“Remind me again why you needed me here. And you know the reason is because of your dad’s rules. Keeping the supernatural creatures away from the humans. Even though that ship has sailed with my parents running the school now.” I glanced at her just enjoying my sister being happy after all these years since she had to turn because of me.

Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry, Lina. I just need a distraction from Josie.”

“Let's do something we both enjoy. We go out to the grill and drown our worries in milkshakes.” I suggested to her and she nodded in agreement looking over my shoulder. Glancing over my shoulder I noticed that Missy was pressed up against the lockers and Ethan was still bleeding from his forehead. “Oh no. She can’t handle the blood.”

Ethan stared at her. “Missy, it’s okay. You won’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that, E. This isn’t the first time - ah!” She grunted where the veins underneath her eyes began appearing. Her hands were into fists at her sides but she could have just vamped away.

Ethan grunted getting to his feet coming over to her. He raised a hand out to her. “Missy, look at me. You’re a good person. I know you won’t hurt me. In fact…take from me.”

“Ethan, are you crazy? I don’t have good self control. I could kill you…” She gasped when I noticed her fangs were coming out into view.

He moved closer to her, not afraid from what I could tell. He held out his right arm that Josie had broken during the football game this year. “Take my blood and…I’ll take yours to heal me.”

“This is the most risky thing I’ve ever done. You can still back out.” She lowered herself down onto her knees and he followed her actions. She raised her wrist to her mouth biting down and drawing blood from her arm then held it out to him.

Ethan shifted his gaze up to hers before taking hold of her bleeding wrist. He gagged at the taste but was revealed when the wound on his head healed over. “That is wicked cool. You’re turn, M & M.”

“Here goes nothing…sorry it might hurt.” She apologized to him when he held his wrist up to her. I smiled with a proud grin watching her bite into his skin. He winced but it only lasted for a second before she drew back.

He chuckled at her, grasping her hand in his. “See you had nothing to worry about, Missy.” My twin sister smiled, laying her head against his chest when he wrapped his arms around her.

“My parents would be proud of her. We should get out of here and leave them be.” I mumbled to myself, eyeing Lizzie and so we left the high school without them knowing we were ever there.

Raelyn’s pov

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I groaned finding myself laying up in the bedroom in the mansion. Shifting my body up onto the pillows I covered my mouth with my hand trying to hold in a laugh. “Oh my gosh…”

“Rae…what’s wrong?” My husband grumbled attempting to wake up after hearing me laughing for some reason.

Shoving both my hands over my mouth I throw my head back at the sight before me. There was a Santa Claus hat hanging on his head with a picture sticking on the part of the headboard above where he had slept. “Nothing is wrong, it’s just….I can’t take it.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” He leans forward getting in my face where the white ball on the hat fell onto my nose. He ripped it off finally seeing it. “Bloody hell, did you do this?”

Shaking my head I snatched the picture off the wood turning it around for him to see it. “Wasn’t my ideal but it’s kind of funny.” He eyed the picture that had Ethan and Landon nervously standing over his sleeping form with the red hat sitting on his head.

“Seems like last night was good for them. But if the boys ever try that again they’ll pay for it.” He warned me tossing the hat over onto the armchair in the corner of the room.

Smiling at him, this was going to be a fun morning. “Hmm. They’re just kids being kids. Just like I…we wanted them to be.”

He nodded shifting his body so he was sitting in front of me throwing on one of his gray Henley shirts that he wore around the house. I slept in one of my shirts that Caroline had given me when we did a sleepover. “So on a more serious note. How are you feeling now? Anymore visions of your uncle Joshua?”

“Not so far. But it still worries me.” I replied to him seeing the bedroom door get blown open making us both jump at the sound. Before our eyes were our younger twins, each crawling around on their knees trying to start walking for the first time. “Oh wow, Nik. They’re trying to walk.”

Lowering myself down onto the floor I held my arms out for either of them. Rapunzel made a noise and stumbled to me with some short steps grabbing the front of my shirt. “There’s my girl…ow.” Charming made his way over to me and his hand turned red against my skin.

“Raelyn?” Klaus called my name seeing me wincing.

Biting my lip I pushed through the pain finding it not that bad. “I’m okay, Nik. I’m….” My eyes began feeling heavy where I could barely keep myself awake.

“Rae, your arms. The veins they’re growing.” My husband got to his feet watching the Hollow’s magic in the form of black veins began drawing up my body like snakes. I gasped with Rapunzel trying to climb up my body but I pushed her onto the floor making her start crying. The lights in the room flashed on and off with her crying. I felt myself getting dizzy where I tried to move around but I collapsed onto the ground. “Raelyn!”

Holding my head up as much as possible i saw my vision blur in front of me. I could see someone bend down to my level where I didn't want to believe who it was. “Hey there, cuz. Did you miss me?” He had the same psycho smirk on his face.

“Kai?” I croaked out under my breath.

Charming crawled over to me gripping my wrist siphoning from me. He made a random grunt having the lamp get thrown across the bedroom. “Charming, bad.” Klaus scolded his son, picking each kid up and sitting them on the bed.

“Pretty stupid of you to consume all that magic when you have two young witch siphons in your house. They're just feeding off all this magic.” Kai or at least the version that was playing with my mind declared.

Gripping the carpet underneath my fingers I sniffed through tears. “I already beat you, Hollow. Now get out of my head.”

“Raelyn, Raelyn can you hear me?” Klaus put one hand on my back seeing me holding my head.

Pressing my face deeper into the carpet floor I just wanted this all to stop. Somebody else grabbed my chin for me to see it was my uncle Joshua this time. “I'm thr only one who can help you, little niece. He has poisoned them with darkness. They will have to merge otherwise they'll keep feeding off of you.”

“Siphoners. We just love magic don't we?” Vision Kai stood behind him.

Uncle Joshua held my chin in between his thumb and index finger. “Don't let him ruin what family you have left.”

“Shut up.” I snapped back through tears.

Kai whispered in my ear. “The Hollow and I want the same thing. To end the Mikaelson line.”

“Stop talking, Kai!” I grunted.

My husband watches so confused, not seeing anyone in front of me. He knew that the darkness inside me must be at play then. “I'm calling Freya. She'll know something.”

“No, no, no, no!” I shake my head trying to drown out the voices but it was all too much. Raising my hands above my head I skimmed them onto the ground creating a surge of magic to blast through the whole mansion.

Klaus was almost out the door by the time he got blasted into the nearest wall. Rapunzel and Charming got thrown from the bed and began crying once more. “Rae?” Klaus grunted through a disoriented daze.

“Uncle Joshua.. “ I croaked out in a raspy voice watching my husband right as everything around me went black and I passed out.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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sociallyanxiouscryptid-writings · 2 years ago

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Assassination Attempt

I am not entirely sure what this is. I started with one idea and ended up in a completely different direction. I tried to go for Eldritch being vibes so I hope that comes across. If it just comes across as weird and/or confusing just let me know.

Synopsis: Assassin is on yet another job, they have a plan, and a target, should be an easy in and out job, but something is very wrong here.

CW: Guns, assassination attempt, moving against your will, talk of death, destruction, memory loss/memory issues, disorientation.

The house was silent as Assassin crept in. Silent and dark, the kind of darkness to lose yourself in, intense… swallowing. Assassin lead themself with a hand on the wall, sliding along until they found a door, slipping it open, peering in before closing it again. They fixed their gaze ahead, a silver of light coming through a door at the end, the smell of food drifting down.

They cleared all other rooms, nothing but the glowing kitchen left, assumedly with their target inside. Assassin moved without a sound, steps careful and calculated as they approached, gun in hand, ready. They could hear more now, the sound of cooking, and movement. They tracked their target until they seemed in line with the door, a straight line in and out, done in seconds.

Assassin crept closer, peaked through the crack of the door.

“It’s about time that you arrived,” Civilian said.

Assassin froze, eyes darting to Civilian who’s back was turned, in line with the door, as predicted. When Assassin said nothing, Civilian turned around with a bright smile.

“Are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to come in?”

Assassin just stared, paralysed with a thousand thoughts racing through their head. The moved suddenly, pushing the door open and raising their gun.

“Please don’t,” Civilian said, and Assassin did not. They stood their, gun raised, but unable to pull the trigger. Assassin didn’t even want to pull the trigger, why would they? They wouldn’t want to hurt Civilian.

Civilian sighed.

“Come now, you’re making this awkward. Have a seat.” Civilian gestured to the dining table.

Assassin relaxed, lowered their gun and strode to the nearest chair, taking a seat.

“It’s fascinating to me that after all this time people still haven’t retained anything.” Civilian said, turning back to their pot to give it a stir. “I mean come on, you’re the 23rd assassin they have sent after me now, surely something has to get through.”

They turned the heat off and pushed the pot to the back of the stove.

Assassin frowned, “I thought…”

“I know,” Civilian said gently, turning to face the table. “It’s not your fault, its not even their fault. They don’t know, they tell you you’re the first, that they’ve never tried this before, when in reality you are the 23rd Assassin and this is your sixth attempt.”

Civilian turned away leaving their words to hit Assassin. 6th? No, they’ve never done this before, never even been here before they… They got the assignment…

When were they given this assignment?

Civilian pulled some plates out of a cupboard, walked up to the table. Assassin’s heart leapt into their throat, as they approached, and despite their need to sit in that chair they wanted to be sitting in that chair anywhere but there. Civilian was small, compared to Assassin at least, but they loomed like a giant, their shadows threatening to swallow you whole.

“I know you get disorientated by that every time, then you start thinking about it and your memories don’t line up and you end up in a panic and get upset. Which is understandable, it’s a very distressing thing to realize. However, I am going to be selfish and ask you to pause that for a moment because I have spent a long time preparing this dinner and I really want you to enjoy it.”

Assassin couldn’t respond if they wanted to, didn’t know how. Words crawled over top each other for space in their mouth and all fell short, slipped down their throat and threatened to choke them.

Civilian took one of the plates over to the stove and scooped out some of the contents of the pot, then some more from the pan and when they turned around Assassin could only continue to stare. Civilian placed a plate of Spaghetti Bolognaise in front of them, left again to serve up their own. It smelled incredible, homemade for sure.

“I can’t eat this,” Assassin said, “I’m-”

“Coeliac, I know, its gluten free pasta and I made everything from scratch so no contamination. You told me last time.”

Assassin’s head hurt. They had never met this person before, and yet they had? Assassin felt like they were looking at a silhouette they vaguely recognised, but a silhouette could be anything, made of anything.

“You said this was your favourite, I promised to make it for you even though you said there was no point because you wouldn’t remember. I said at least you’ll get a good meal out of it, whether you remember or not.”

Assassin stared down at the food, the fork beside the plate. When was the last time they had gotten to eat this? When was the last time they had eaten anything? The ache increased but they placed their gun down and picked up the fork. This was wrong they shouldn’t do this.

And yet they did. They twisted the fork around in the pasta, brought it up to their lips. It was truly divine, they had not realised they were hungry until the first bite and then they could not stop.

“Woah, slow down there,” Civilian chuckled, Assassin slowed. “You’ll give yourself heart burn or something if you go that fast.”

“Sorry,” Assassin said, frowned.

“It’s ok, don’t stress about it,” Civilian said, though Assassin wasn’t sure what it was they weren’t meant to stress about.

“Who are you?” Assassin blurted out.

Civilian smiled softly.

“What have they told you?”

The ache, “um… They don’t know. They just need to kill you.”

Civilian nodded.

“That’s about all you say each time. It seems no one knows much around here,” they sighed.

“Except you,” Assassin said, once again unsure of where it came from.

Civilian’s smile brightened.

“Except me. That’s impressive that you got that, usually it takes longer for anything to trickle back.”

Assassin’s face hurt from frowning, their head hurt from thinking, everything in their body felt uncomfortable.

“You should eat more food,” Civilian said, “don’t want it to go cold.”

Assassin continued eating their food, stomach still growling.

“Seeing how you seem to be the first to remember something so quickly, even if you don’t fully remember it, I am going to tell you some things,” Civilian said, fork shifting through their food. Assassin kept eating. “I don’t want to be doing this, it isn’t my intention. I love humans and I don’t want to be hurting them but I don’t know what else to do. There is no way to kill me, even if I were to let you, your knives and guns and nuclear machines won’t help you. In fact it will only hurt you more. I am truly sorry for what is happening but it is simply the nature of the universe.”

Assassin didn’t understand what they were saying, but the longer they sat there, the more food they ate the clearer their head felt. They finished their food, looked at Civilian.

“I don’t understand,” they said.

“I know, and you won’t,” Civilian said. “But try to remember, try to hold on to it. It’s not going to help you, and it’s an entirely selfish thing on my part. But I enjoy the company of humans, I enjoy these little visits even if they are attempts to kill me. I am sorry for what’s to come, but its inevitable.”

“What’s inevitable?”

Civilian just sighed, dropped their fork into their food and stood.

“You should go now. I hope you enjoyed your food.”

“I did,” Assassin said. “You’re a good cook.”

A sad smile, “I try. Your foods are fascinating. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk as much this time, I thought this would be fun, but I am feeling a little down now.”

“That’s ok,” Assassin said. “I’ll probably see you again, even if I don’t remember.”

That brightened up Civilian’s smile. “You’re already holding on to more then anyone else has. Do you remember your name?”

Assassin’s brows furrowed. Their name? They hadn’t realised they’d forgotten it, it hadn’t even occurred to them to be a thing to forget. Do they even have a name?

Civilian sighed again, “sorry, I always jump the gun too early. I’ll make sure to have something nice prepared for you next time, maybe I’ll try and be less depressed.”

An odd concern bubbled up inside Assassin, and they wanted to stand from their chair, reach out to Civilian, and assure them in some way. But they couldn’t, so they sat and stared.

“Go home,” Civilian said.

Assassin stood and left the room. They walked down the hallway, towards the window they had entered through, slipping back through it and sliding the window shut behind them.

The sky was pitch black, no moon, no stars, just an empty void of darkness. And yet light was somehow cast, reflecting of pillars of black obsidian stretching up into the sky like towering trees. Assassin stepped away from the house, and walked without thought, following the worn down path away from Civilian’s house, all the memories of their dinner fading until nothing but the taste of food in their mouth remained.

Assassin went home, ready for their next assignment.

I probably should take more time to edit these but really these works are trying to be a practice of not getting caught up in making things perfect, and practicing getting things out into the world sharing my work. Otherwise I just write, painstakingly go over things again and again until I hate it and don’t get it out.

Let me know how you liked it! Don’t know if this is something I will do more parts too, I guess if I get an idea for it or if someone gives me an idea. Its kind of just a really random thing I started writing.

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dragon-kazansky · 2 years ago

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Double Trouble

Iceman x Dragon & Slider x Whiskey

@mrsjaderogers 💕

Slider and Ice agree to take their girls on a double date for a fun night out. However, the night takes a turn when someone from Whiskey's past shows up.

Warnings: Stephen is the lowest of low in the human race. He says some nasty shit. WHISKEY IS A GODDESS AND I LOVE HER VERY MUCH!!!

♡♡♡

From the moment they decided a double date was in order, Rachael and Jade had been super excited. They even went shopping the day before for their clothes together. Ice and Slider just chuckled at the pair as they went out.

Ron and Jade agreed to meet Rachael and Tom at their place so they could all go together to the restaurant.

Ice drove them all to the restaurant. Dragon in the passenger seat holding his hand as he drove, and the other two in the back getting cosy with one another. It was nice to spend this time together.

They arrive at the restaurant and are shown to their table. Dragon and Whiskey spent a good amount if time catching up on things. Ice orders drinks for the table to begin with.

The girls sit next to each other, opposite their dear husbands. As the wine is poured, the girls keep on chatting. They're laughing and bringing up old memories and all the crazy shit they've often found themselves in.

Tom shares a look with Ron. "If I didn't know any better, I would say they were dating each other."

Ron chuckles.

"Damn right. You're just here to pay the bill so me and Whiskey can have a nice time," Dragon giggles.

"Ah, it all make sense now. You married me for the money," Ice teases.

"I mean, who else is going to spoil me and Jade whenever we want," Dragon winks at him.

"I spoil her!" Ron chimes in.

"I bet you do," Rachael grins before sipping her wine. Jade chokes on her drink from beside Rachael and bursts into laughter.

The waiter returns to take their orders. They had hardly looked at the menu, so each of them quickly look over the choices. All the while Rachael and Jade continue to giggle like teenagers.

Tom orders for him and Rachael, knowing full well she isn't picking anything any time soon. Ron decides to do the same for Jade, knowing her favourite meals by heart.

The waiter leaves.

The two girls burst into laughter again.

"Why are they laughing?" Tom asks.

"I think it's just a thing they do. They look at each other and laugh."

"Maybe they're telepathic?" Ice suggests.

"I don't have to be telepathic to know what's on your mind," Jade says, looking at her man.

Rachael laughs into her wine glass.

"We can't take you two any where," Tom laughs.

"Shh, you love us for it."

They continue to tease each other while they wait for their food. Just as the girls finish their second glass of wine, having not stopped laughing the entire time, the food arrives.

Four delicious looking meals are settled on the table and they all dig in. The girls laugh a lot less while eating, but conversation still flows.

It's nice. Spending this time together as a group. They go put often together, but this felt a lot more intimate. Going out for drinks at the bar is one thing, but sharing a meal and talking about all their favourite memories, that's something else.

As they finish dinner, topping up their drinks again, though Ice is on ice water now because he's driving back, Rachael suggests dessert. Jade waves over the waiter and asks for their dessert menu.

"I don't think I can eat anything else," Ron says, leaning back in his chair a bit.

Rachael sticks her tongue out at him. "Well, I fancy something sweet."

"I fancy you," Tom says, without hesitation.

Jade giggles as she sips her wine and turns her head to Rachael. "Should we give you two some space?"

Rachael smiles as she leans into Jade's side. "They should be giving us space, no way am I leaving my wifey!"

The two burst into another fit of giggles.

The waiter drops off the dessert menus for the ladies and leaves again. The two open the menus and go over their options, trying to decide if they want the same thing, or if they want to go 50/50 on two desserts.

Just as Jade thinks she had decided on one, a voice near by catches her attention. It's a familiar voice she hadn't heard in years. Just like that, she goes cold. Rachael notices her shiver and looks up at her best friend.

"You alright?" She asks, keeping her voice quiet.

Jade turns her eyes to the table near by. Standing behind one of the chairs was a man she hadn't seen in ages.

Stephen.

Rachael follows her gaze and sees the man.

"Someone you know?" Rachael asks. Her questions has both men across the the table looking up at where Jade is looking too. Ron feels himself tense up.

"That asshole!"

Ron is about ready to get up out of his chair, but Jade is quick to reach over and stop him. She grabs his wrist gently and looks at him with pleading eyes.

"Don't."

"Can I ask?" Dragon looks between the couple.

"That's Stephen. My ex," Jade says, turning her eyes to the table. She picks up her wine glass again. "He doesn't know I'm here, let's just eat dessert and go."

Rachael closes her menu and watches Jade for a moment. She glances at Ron who is glaring over at the man at the other table. Rachael then glances at Tom who is looking at Jade with concern.

"Jade?"

Whiskey freezes and Ron's band curls into a fist on the table. Tom looks up at the man who was early upsetting his dear friend. Rachael reaches over under the table and takes Jade's hand in hers.

"It is you!" Stephen stands over their table with a huge shit eating grin on his face. Rachael hates it. "You haven't changed at all."

The way he says that makes Rachael's toes curl.

"Who are your friends?" Stephen looks at each of them.

"I'm Ron, her husband." Slider says. He had never met Stephen, but he knew all he needed to know about that man to know he hated him with a passion.

"Husband?" Stephen laughs. "Well, if you're into that..."

Ron glares at him. "What does that mean?"

Stephen doesn't reply. He turns his eyes to Rachael. She hates the way he looks at her. Rachael squeezes Jade's hand a little tighter.

"And you are?" He asks her.

"A boss ass bitch," Dragon sips her wine with her free hand.

"Ha. Okay..."

Stephen turns back to Jade. "You must at least be making a lot of many if these are your friends. At least you have that going for you."

Tom stands up immediately and stares him down. "I think you should go."

"What? I'm just catching up with an old friend."

"Old friend? I'd hardly call it that," Tom states. "You're making my friend uncomfortable."

Stephen continues to grin at Tom.

"You mustn't know many people if she's your friend."

It takes everything in Tom not to punch this prick in the face. He didn't want to make a public scene, but Stephen's loud voice seems to have done that already.

Stephen turns to Ron.

"I hope you have a good lawyer, you can't possibly be with her because she's any good in bed. I'd drop her soon as you can if I were you. Trust me, no one wants her weighing them down from life."

Rachael barely blinks before Ron is up on his feet and grabbing the man by his shirt. He holds the man up close to his face.

"Say one more thing about my wife. Go on."

Stephen begins to laugh.

Rachael turns to Jade and finds her darling friend crying quietly. Rachael wraps her arms around Jade and pulls her into her side. Jade leans against Rachael without a word.

"Oh, the waterworks. I don't miss that."

Rachael clenched her jaw.

"That's it." Tom looks at Ron and they both grab one of Stephen's arms each. They begin to drag him out of the restaurant.

Rachael let's go of Jade to pull out some money. She leaves it on the table and then takes Jade's hand. Jade follows Rachael put of the restaurant.

Tom and Ron push Stephen out into the street. They stand tall and firm as Stephen straightened out his clothes from being man handled.

"Was that really necessary?" Stephen asks.

"NO ONE talks about my wife like that," Ron glares at him.

"Oh come on, you can't possibly see anything in her. I can see it clearly. You're just like me. Dating her out of pity."

Ron goes to charge at him, but Tom stops him.

Rachael and Jade exit the restaurant and sees the boys standing in the street. Rachael sees Tom holding Ron back. Jade holds her hand tighter and Rachael gives her friend a comforting smile.

"You're going to be okay, Jade. Don't listen to that bastard. He doesn't know the Jade we know."

Jade smiles at Rachael.

"He was the worst part of my life," Jade confesses. Rachael places her hands on Jade's face and smiles at her softly.

"Then we must be pretty fucking good."

Jade chuckles. "Damn right you are."

"I better step in before Ron does something. Your husband would start a war for you if he could."

Jade smiles. She feels all light and warm.

"I know. I know he would. I love him for it."

Dragon winks at Whiskey and takes her a little closer to the group.

"Come on, you two. Party's over."

Ron turns and looks at Jade. He walks over to her and takes her into his arms. Rachael can see the way he looks at his wife and she smiles. That man is hopelessly in love with her and nothing is ever going to change that.

"Disgusting. Jade, he doesn't love you. He married you out of pity. He felt sorry for you. Just like I did. You have nothing to offer and you know there are far more beautiful girls put there than you. They have value. You don't. You have fallen for another lie. I feel sorry for you. I do. You're better off alone, Jade. No one wants you around-"

Before Stephen could do any more damage with his words, Rachael stormed up to him and gave him a good hard kick to the balls. Stephen instantly falls to his knees, hands over his crotch. Rachael stands over him.

"You say ONE more disgusting comment about my badass beauty and I'll break your fucking teeth. Jade is the most hilarious and wonderful soul, but you're too much of a bastard to see that. She's absolutely gorgeous, you fucker. Like, movie star level gorgeous. You're a rat who thinks he looks better when other people, but I can see you for you really are. You say one more thing about my Whiskey and you'll be seeing through two black eyes. You wouldn't know beauty if it hit you in the face. Maybe you'll recognize my fucking fist though."

Tom has to step forward and drag his wife back. As proud of her as he is, there is no way he was having her beat the shit out of this guy.

Rachael glares at Stephen as he remains crouched on the road.

"That's enough, sweetheart."

Rachael looks up at Tom and her expression turns softer.

"I'm sorry, but no one talks about Jade like that and gets away with it."

"I know, darlin', I know."

Tom gives Rachael a hug before she turns to check on her friend. Jade is smiling at her. As soon as Rachael frees herself from Tom's embrace, she runs over to Jade. They hug each other tightly.

"I love you so much!" Rachael tells her.

"I love you too!"

The girls stay like that for a while before they link arms and start walking back to the car. Ice and Slider follow them, leaving the asshole behind.

Ice takes everyone back to their house. Dragon makes Jade a drink in the kitchen.

"Stay the night."

Jade smiles at Rachael. "Okay."

They grab their glasses and head back into the living room.

"You two stay the night. Head back in the morning. It's been Hell of a night."

Tom agrees.

"Ron, you'll be alright on the couch right?"

"You don't have a guest room?"

"Yeah, but it's not done up or anything. Our couches are comfy! Right Tom?"

"Yeah."

Slider looks at Ice. "She make you sleep downstairs often?"

"Never. Tom comes to bed with me every night," Rachael winks. "But we have both definitely fallen asleep down here before. You'll be alright. Tom will bring you both blankets."

"Me?" Tom asks.

"Duh! Whiskey is sharing our bed with me. I'll change the bedding so she doesn't have to smell your aftershave on our sheets," Rachael laughs.

Jade giggled and the girls head upstairs.

Ron and Tom stand there in the living room alone.

"My wife just went up to bed with your wife," Ron says.

"Yep."

"And we're banished to the living room?"

"Yep."

Ron shrugs and picks a couch. "Go get us blankets then, Mr Ice Cold."

"Shut up, Ron."

The two laugh.

Even though the double date was ruined by an asshole, the Kerner's would always be able to rely on the Kazansky's to save the day. There was NOTHING Rachael wouldn't do for Jade if she ever needed her.

#iceman x dragon #slider x whiskey #chaos squad #the chaos squad #double trouble #Rachael writes

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