#but i cannot believe Rob pulled this out of his ass like this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brewsterispunkk · 2 years ago

Text

THE TUTOR

eddie munson x reader

part 1/4

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader, eddie munson x shy!reader (only one use of y/n and I cringed writing it)

rating: 18+ mature! minors be gone!

summary: reader has had a secret crush on Eddie Munson for months, only she has been too scared to tell him. When she’s forced to tutor him, she lets it slip that she feels like she’s missed out on the normal “high school experience.” Eddie aims to change that.

A/N: this has been in my drafts since LAST MAY!!! & i am just now finishing it jfc. this is part one to a series I’m looking to make three parts! I’ll finish it if it’s the last thing I do!

You hated first period. Always had, ever since sophomore year when you’d had AP literature with the juniors and Carol Perkins had made it her life’s work to make your life a living hell.

You didn’t know exactly what you had done to make her hate you so much, but early on in the year, she’d made it abundantly clear that you were going to be her new target. And you, being the only awkward, braces-faced sophomore in the class, had elected to suck it up and take the bullying.

After all, she was telling you everything you already knew; your hair was frizzy, your teeth were crooked, your acne was ugly and awful. The usual things that you, with the same awful self esteem that was characteristic of every knobby-kneed 14-year-old, had already heard and already believed.

Eventually, when your study-buddy and the only other underclassman in the class, Nancy Wheeler, found out about the full extent of the bullying, she’d done something about it. She had just started dating Steve Harrington at that point, and despite his larger than life hair and not so great reputation, he was nice to you by association. He was the one who got Carol to stop.

Still though, you thought that that god-awful year of excruciating first-period classes had ruined them for you for good; conditioned you somehow into expecting the worst from your first class of the day so that now, as a senior, you still dreaded it.

Today was no different.

You tapped your foot distractedly in the back seat of Steve’s car as he pulled out of your neighborhood.

“For the last time, Robin, no you cannot play the new Clash cassette. Put it away—“

“Oh come on, Harrington. It’s good.” Robin sighed exasperated. She’d been your next door neighbor since you were five, and your best friend ever since.

“Oh, oh! Like the new Madonna album?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised as he looked at Robin in the passenger seat.

“Or the Duran Duran one?” You piped in, biting your nails and looking at her expectantly. Immediately, her head whipped back to you, mouth open in a silent gasp.

“Wha—“ she made a choked sound, looking between you and Steve before bringing her gaze back to you, narrowing her eyes. “Who’s side are you on?”

“Uhm, the side of good music.” You countered, playfully sassing your best friend.

“Wow..” she drawled dramatically, interrupting you.

“And right now,” you continued. “Harrington has the better mixtape. Sorry!” You batted her hand away as she reached back to smack your arm.

“Boom!” Steve declared triumphantly, raising his hands from the wheel for a split-second. “Sorry, Robs, we love you but if I have to listen to one more of your mix tapes, I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, yeah! I get it.” Robin was silent for a moment before turning around to glance between the two of you. “You know, every day I remember how it was me that got this little group together, and every day it comes back to bite me in the ass.”

“Oh right,” Steve scoffed. “You’re forgetting, I’ve known y/n since junior year, and I’ve only known you for like, I don’t know, nine months.”

“Okay, but you two weren’t friends.” She gave Steve a pointed look. “It wasn’t until I convinced her to come work with us at Scoops Ahoy that we all started hanging out. So what I should be hearing is ‘thank you Robin.’”

In the rear view, you saw Steve roll his eyes at her antics, a smirk on his face.

“Actually,” you pointed out. “Steve and i hung out almost every day sophomore year.”

“Yeah,” Robin pressed. “But that was because of miss prissy-pants, Nancy Wheeler, not because you two were friends.”

You bristled a bit at your best friend’s name for Nancy. You knew she probably didn’t mean anything by it, but still. She didn’t know Nancy like you did. And Nancy had been nice to you when you didn’t have many friends besides Robin. She’d made it her problem when you were being bullied and did what she could to stop it, when she didn’t have to.

You and Nancy hadn’t really talked much since she and Steve broke up. Even after the whole ordeal last summer, with the mall “fire,” and Russian agents in Hawkins, you two hadn’t really reconnected. But there was no bad blood there. You wished her the best.

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve interjected. “I think she gets bragging rights for knowing me longer.”

You laughed at that.

“Oh whatever,” Robin shook her head, leaning her elbow on Steve’s open window, bopping her head to the music pouring through the speakers.

“Good god, I don’t wanna be going back there.” She groaned as Hawkins High came into view. “It’s not too late to skip you know.” She craned her head back to look at you, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“I’m highly considering it.” You bounced your knee, trying to relieve some of the tension in your limbs.

“Ugh, no I can’t.” Robin exasperated. “My moms gonna kill me if she finds out I skipped again.”

There goes my chance, you thought, knowing there’s no way you’d skip without her.

“Yeah, I do not miss this place, gotta say.” Steve mused as he pulled into the parking lot. Robin rolled her eyes at him. You chuckled. They fought like an old married couple.

“I have Ms. Taylor first period,” you groaned at the memory of the stern, mean older woman who you had for home room this semester.

“Oh god,” Steve laughed. You smacked his shoulder. “Well, good luck with that. I’ll see you two at 3.”

You and Robin begrudgingly exited Steve’s car, facing the pit of despair known as Hawkins High School.

Thank god this was your last year, you thought to yourself.

As you eyed down the beige brick building, you could’ve sworn you felt a bit of your soul get sucked out. It may sound dramatic, but it was true. You felt yourself retreat into yourself the closer you got.

Something about Hawkins high just did that to people. Made them retreat and put on whatever mask they had to go get through the day. You were no exception.

“Let’s get this over with,” Robin mumbled beside you, beginning to walk toward the doors.

“Let’s.” You sighed back.

- - - - - -

There was one aspect of first period English with Ms. Taylor that you considered a saving grace—not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

Eddie Munson.

You weren’t sure why it started, if you were honest with yourself.

In fact, at the beginning of the year, you, like everyone else, were actually a little bit terrified of the lanky, tall metalhead that the rest of the school had dubbed “the freak.”

Before this year, you hadn’t really had many encounters with Eddie Munson. You’d known of him, sure, but never really interacted with him. Besides the few random outbursts he’d have in the cafeteria, and one time when you’d given him a pencil in your art elective freshman year, you’d kept your distance. Most of what you’d heard about him came from the kids; which meant they were lies, at worst, and exaggerations at best. You could tell they admired him from the way they spoke of him—Dustin in particular, who had spoken of Eddie in the way he’d only ever spoken of one person before: Steve. But that was the extent of your knowledge.

Eddie had been two years ahead of you technically, although now he was a senior, same as you, and stuck in the same miserable first period English class with Ms. Taylor.

It had started out innocent enough, you liked to tell yourself. You weren’t always swooning over him and his leather jackets or studded rings. It had just snowballed.

It had begun like this: it was the first day of your senior year, and to add to your nerves at a new dreadful year, Ms. Taylor had given you, and all your classmates, assigned seats.

Great, you’d thought. Just great. Now you had to sit next to a complete stranger while also being a complete ball of anxiety all class.

You were early. Much to your chagrin, Steve had insisted on picking you and Robin up earlier than usual because it was your first day, and what if you have trouble finding your classes. Completely ignoring the fact that you and Robin had gone to Hawkins High for three years and knew it like the back of your hand.

Still, it had gotten you here, 15 minutes early to the first bell, trapped in a room with no one other than Ms. Taylor, and Eddie Munson himself.

“You’ll be right there, beside Mr. Munson.” Ms Taylor had drawled monotonously, eyes focused on a stack of papers on her desk.

You froze, looking over at Eddie, who was scribbling down in a notebook in the second to last row of desks from the back. He looked up at you for a moment before going back to his writing.

“Did you hear me?” Ms Taylor said your last name. You snapped out of it, smiling over at her and gripping the strap to your backpack before making your way to the seat.

“Yeah. Sorry, Ms. Taylor.”

You sat down rigidly, looking anywhere but at Eddie. Ms Taylor left the room to refill her coffee cup in the teacher’s lounge, leaving you and him the only people in the room.

You felt your hands begin to shake at the impending doom of first period rolling around. You knew it was dumb; it’d been two years since the first-period-from-hell, and you still couldn’t shake your fear of home room. You clasped them together, folding your fingers on top of each other on the desk, trying to calm your breathing. Your heart pounded in your ears.

“Look, you can relax, okay,” Eddie’s annoyed voice beside you snapped you out of it. “I won’t bite.”

You looked over at him, his face looked impatient, though if you looked closely, you thought you could detect a little bit of hurt there too. Your eyebrows furrowed, before you realized what he must have been thinking.

He thought you were scared of him.

It made sense, though that was far from what was going through your head.

“No,” you began quietly, before clearing your throat. “That’s not what I—that’s not—that’s not it.”

“Whatever you say,” he mumbled, eyebrows raised as he continued writing.

That was the day it started. The watching him.

It’d begun as a way of coping; a way to distract yourself from Ms. Taylor’s droning on about Shakespeare, or the whispers of the two mean girls who sat at the front and liked to glance back at you and snicker.

Your therapist had mentioned the method to you a few months before, a way to maybe cope with your anxiety in anticipation with the upcoming school year. It was a method that your shrink had described as a way of ‘hyper-focusing’, or concentrating on one thing until the anxiety wore away.

And in the haze of your first day, you’d focused on Eddie.

But eventually, as the year wore on, it developed into something different.

You began to notice his hair; how it would fall over his face as he frowned in concentration at whatever he was writing in that book. His hands, big and flanked with gaudy silver rings. You began to wonder how they’d feel on your skin, running through your hair, over your stomach.

It was almost a type of game you played with yourself; a form of escapism. On days your anxiety got too much, the days your hands would sweat and your feet couldn’t cease their tapping, you could look beside you and focus on Eddie. And it would all fall away.

You supposed that’s why you kept your little obsession a secret; it was embarrassing.

Not the fact that you were infatuated with him, but the fact that you’d been using practically a complete stranger to talk yourself down from anxiety attacks. You hadn’t even told Robin, the person you shared everything with. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that this wasn’t some little crush or admiration—it was more than that.

But you refused to admit that to yourself, because there was one huge, glaring problem. That being that Eddie Munson hated you. You were sure of it.

It was as if after the awkward encounter you’d shared at the beginning of the year, he avoided you like the plague. Not looking, talking, or even so much as breathing your way once. And the one time when you’d gotten the nerve to ask him a question, he’d barely grunted out a response before the had rung and he was gone.

That had been the first and last time you’d attempted to talk to Eddie Munson. Your crush was doomed, you knew it. Not only were you convinced he couldn’t stand you, you also were almost positive that he still thought you were scared of him, like he did at the beginning of the year.

Which, to be fair, you were. Just not in that way. As far as Eddie was concerned, you were scared of him in the judgy, superficial, ill-intentioned way that the rest of Hawkins was, not in the butterflies, tongue-tied, make-your-hands-sweat way that you truly were.

Besides, even if you were the most confident person in the world (you were far from it), and if Eddie didn’t, for some inexplicable reason, hate you, you were sure that you would have absolutely no chance with him anyway. Because why would Eddie Munson, all crooked smiles and sure steps and kind eyes, be even the least bit interested in you? It was inconceivable. Because you were shy and scared and binary and everything he was not.

So, you’d deduced that you were doomed to wait out this life-ruining crush the same way you’d been doomed to wait out countless other things in your high school life: silently.

- - - - -

Today was no different than the other nearly insufferable first periods you’d endured this school year, aside from the fact that today was Monday, which brought with it a more tired you, and a much, much more irritable Ms Taylor.

She’d assigned two detentions so far this period, to Bradley Green and Doug Mitchell, two boys from the basketball team that had been throwing spitballs and harassing Eddie, who merely smirked at them in response, effectively egging them on.

You glanced at the clock, tapping your foot subconsciously on the off-white tile below your feet.

5 minutes left, you reminded yourself, watching the clock tick down. Your hands started to clam up. Perfect.

You let out a shaky breath. A few rows in front of you, Pam Simpson and Diana Fiorelli glanced back, eyes zeroing in on you, before Pam snickered and leaned over to whisper into Diana’s ear.

This wasn’t new; they always had some off-color remark or an unnecessary eye-roll to throw at you ever since they found out about your close friendship with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.

How two nerds like yourself and Robin Buckley had managed to bag someone as popular as Steve the hair Harrington as a best friend seemed to be beyond them, and they sought everyday to punish you for it.

The truth was: Steve had left all of that behind. From the wake-up call that was his break-up with Nancy, to the whole fighting-monsters-from-another-dimension thing, he didn’t really care about it anymore. He’d found better friends in you guys. The whole Russians-in-Hawkins, and Starcourt “fire” helped too.

It was true what they said about trauma: it brought people together.

You tried to ignore their whispering, like Robin had encouraged you.

She was absolutely livid when she’d found out that Diana had “accidentally,” spilled her yogurt parfait over your new blouse last week. It had taken a whole five minutes of both you and Steve talking her down from her stupor to stop her from marching straight to the gymnasium, interrupting cheer practice, and giving Diana a black eye. After though, when you’d managed to calm your best friend down, she’d gone off—trying to convince you to stick up for yourself, to say something. If not to the mean girls themselves, then to Ms Taylor at the very least.

But that was the difference between you and Robin; where she would act, you would listen. Remain passive. It was a trait that served you well when it came to retaining information or solving upside-down-related issues, in situations like these, it kind of screwed you over.

You turned your head from the front of the classroom, blocking out Ms Taylor’s lecture on T. S. Elliot and instead turning your head to the desk beside yours. Eddie’s desk.

He was hunched over, head on his hands, which were crossed and folded on top of the desk in front of him. His chin rested there, and his dark eyes were focused on the board, squinting, as if trying to make out what it said.

He seemed to be trying to pay attention, a stark contrast to how you usually saw him hunched over around his worm notebook, scribbling or drawing.

He wore dark blue jeans today, instead of his usual black ones, and a Quiet Riot band T-shirt . His leather jacket was draped over the chair behind him, as Ms Taylor’s room was hot today. His hair fell messily over his back and in front of his face. His ringed fingers tapped on the desk—he was evidently as anxious for the class to end as you were.

You knew he had trouble focusing. You’d picked up on as much throughout the school year, watching him try and try and try to stay locked in to whatever Ms Taylor was teaching.

So many of your classmates had written him off: cult leader, satanist, idiot, freak, but you saw something different. The Eddie you knew (well, not really knew, more like observed) was none of those things. He was different, yes. Flamboyant, sure. But he was not an idiot. Nor was he evil or freakish or anything of the sort.

The ringing of the bell snapped you from your thoughts. You jerked your head back to your desk as your classmates began to pack up and bustle out to their next classes, the sound of backpacks zipping and chatter filling the classroom.

Per usual, Eddie was the first out of his seat, already packed and ready, before leaving the classroom with long strides, eyes trained on the floor, narrowly avoiding your gaze.

You shoved your notebook into your bag, bending over to zip it up and run like hell out of the classroom. You hoped to avoid any unnecessary contact with Pam and Diane. Ms Taylor cleared her throat, before saying your name.

“I’d like to see you for a moment, please,” she said monotonously, eyes focused on the grade book in front of her. A shot of anxiety spread through your stomach.

“Yes, Ms Taylor?” You asked quietly, noting that you were the only two people left in the classroom.

“You have one of the top grades in the class, second only to Mr. Levy, did you know that?” She asked, still not looking up. You puzzled. So you weren’t in trouble?

“Uh-I-no, I didn’t, actually.” You mumbled, brows furrowed.

“Indeed,” she hummed. “I also have been made aware that you are lacking an extracurricular for graduation, is that correct?”

Shit, you thought. She was right.

Last summer, you’d been set to take a summer gym elective; the ones that the school offered during the school year were too crowded and made your anxiety act up, so you and Robin had both signed up to take summer gym. However, the upside-down and the Russians’ presence in Hawkins at Starcourt had had other plans, so both you and her had failed the class, due to bad attendance. And while Robin had made sure to complete her gym credit last semester, you’d completely forgotten about the whole debacle until now.

“Yeah,” you breathed, in shock that you’d managed to forget about something so important when graduation was only months away. “I-I forgot—“

“I figured as much,” Ms Taylor cut you off, finally looking up at you. “Well, seeing as it’s too late in the semester to sign you up for any electives, it would seem that you’ll be having to repeat your senior year.”

Your breath left your lungs.

No, you thought, no, no, no. The last thing you could handle was another year stuck here. In this high school, in this city. You felt your breathing stutter at the thought.

“Luckily for you,” Ms Taylor continued, refocusing you on the moment. “I have a solution that may just save you from that.”

You blew out a breath between your lips, looking at her anxiously.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Anything— I completely forgot about—“

“I trust you’re familiar with Mr. Munson?” She interrupted you. Your brows furrowed. What did Eddie have to do with this?

“Yes.”

“Well, then I’m sure you’re aware that this will be his second time repeating his senior year.” Ms Taylor looked up at you now, her beady eyes laser-focused. “If he fails again, the school won’t be giving him another chance. It would seem that this class is one of the only things standing between him and a one-way ticket out of this school.”

“I dont think I follow—“ you began.

“You will tutor Mr Munson.” She clarified, face stoic as ever. “From now until the end of the spring semester. If you do this, and if I see improvement, I will make it count as your extracurricular. You’ll be able to graduate on time, and he will get the hell out of my classroom for good.”

You were stunned—not only by the fact that you’d be forced into proximity Eddie Munson for the rest of the year, but the fact that Ms Taylor would speak so candidly about a student.

“I—I-“ you tried to articulate what to say next, but found you were unable to gather your thoughts.

“I can’t,” you finally managed, dumbly. Ms Taylor raised a thin eyebrow at you.

“Well,” she said. “It seems that unless you want to repeat your senior year, you don’t have much of a choice.”

“But, Ms Taylor, I—“

“Look,” she sighed your name. “You’re a smart girl. Mr Munson may be… a handful, but I promise he’s harmless. You will be fine. You can even meet on the school premises, if you’d feel better about that.”

Dear Lord, you didn’t know how to tell her that the reason why you couldn’t tutor him was not because of his reputation, or that you were scared of him, it was because you could barely form a coherent thought in his presence.

“Are we clear?” She asked, arms crossed. You tried to speak, but your mouth was dry. You just gulped and nodded.

“Good,” she smiled tightly. You sighed, turning to leave, already knowing you’d be late to your next class. She called your name as you began to exit, your hand on the door handle.

“Just know, I will be checking weekly with Mr Munson to see how tutoring is going. So don’t think that if you fail to show up I won’t know.”

You nodded, shutting the door behind you as you left.

Great. No escaping it. What if you embarrassed yourself? What if he really did hate you? What if—

“Hey.”

You jumped, too caught up in your thoughts to even notice the tall, lanky figure leaning up against the lockers next to Ms Taylor’s classroom.

“Jesus, sorry.” Eddie looked at you with wide eyes, an arm coming to steady you on your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

When you just stared at him, he cleared his throat, removing his hand from your shoulder. A part of you mourned the loss.

“So, uh,” he began, looking down at his feet as he walked alongside you. You tried not to notice the faint scent of his cologne that sent a thrill through your gut. “So I guess she told you? About the tutoring?”

When his curly head snapped up to meet your eyes, you quickly faced forward, realizing that you’d been ogling his side profile while he was stumbling over his words. You nodded in confirmation.

“Ok,” he said, rubbing his hands on his legs. “Ok,” he repeated, stopping and turning to face you. “I’m just gonna cut the bullshit: I really, really need the help in this class.” His eyes were a bit wild, panicked. Like he thought you were going to run away from him the moment you got a chance. “Like, ‘really,’ as in, if I don’t pass, I don’t graduate. And I know you really don’t wanna do this, and she’s forcing you, and that you hate me, and you’re scared of me, and all that, but if you could please—please— just help me get through this class, I will make it as painless as possible spending all the time with me.”

By the end of his little speech, he looked frantic, like he was pleading—and you suppose he was. And before you could stop yourself, you just nodded, looking at him dumbly, before remembering to speak.

“I’ll help you pass.” Was all you could manage.

He sighed a breath of relief, running a hand down his face.

“Thank you,” he said, and you could’ve sworn it was the most sincere you’d ever heard him. “Thursday after school in the library sound good?”

- - - -

You arrived early, because, of course you did.

To say you were nervous would be an understatement; you were terrified. Mostly of making an even bigger fool of yourself than you had earlier in the week.

You’d spent the better part of the last three days poring over your last interaction with Eddie in the hallway, when he’d begged you to tutor him, and you’d gotten about five words in edgewise.

He’d practically accused you of hating him, and instead of correcting him—like you’d been dying to do for the whole semester—you stood there like an idiot.

You wished you’d told him then and there in that hallway that he was wrong; that you weren’t scared of him, and that you didn’t hate him. That you were just shy and awkward and he unnerved you. So, you decided to do just that.

Last night, while finally talking through the whole situation with Robin, you’d decided that the first words you’d say to him would be: “I’m not scared of you and I don’t hate you.”

It was a bit abrasive and to-the-point, you knew that. But, you also knew that if you let him get a word in before that, you’d lose your nerve. At least this way, you got your point across.

Your eyes ran over the page of your book for what felt like the fiftieth time. You sighed, throwing the worn novel down on the table.

There was no way you’d be able to get any reading done, not with your nerves eating you alive.

The book wasn’t that good anyway. You had no clue what Robin meant when she said Hemingway was ��profound.’

You sighed again, eyes finding the clock in the library.

He was five minutes late.

You felt something deflate inside you. Maybe he’d been bluffing about the whole thing, or maybe he’d changed his mind and wouldn’t show. Your mind ran with the possibilities.

The library was sparse at this time.

It was just past three, and most students had already rushed out of the building. It was Thursday, which meant that the town was just waking up for the weekend. It wasn’t uncommon for friend groups to have small get-togethers, or even for one of the bigger cliques to throw a party.

In fact, Steve had managed to convince Robin and yourself to attend one later that night. Which was a feat, because you didn’t make a habit of going out.

It was at Darren’s house: one of the few friends from high school that Steve actually kept up with after, y’know, everything.

Robin was hoping Vicky would be there. You were just hoping to let loose a little.

With all this business with Eddie and your impending (maybe) graduation, your nerves had been through the roof. A party was just what you needed to calm down.

“Sorry,” he appeared out of nowhere, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped.

“Sorry!” Eddie rushed out, slumping down in the chair across from you. “Really, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you all the time. Sorry I’m late.”

You stared at him.

God, he was pretty.

His hair was big and frizzy, per usual, and fell around his face as a halo. His brown eyes were wide and almost doe -like, and his cheeks were rosy with exertion.

He must have been running, you thought. But why? He wasn’t that late.

“Were you running?” You blurted before you could think. Your brows furrowed as you looked at him.

“Uhhhh, yeah,” he drawled. “Yeah, I ran into some trouble getting here.”

“What trouble?”

“The usual.” Eddie rubbed his eyes, and for the first time since he’d sat down, you noticed how disheveled he looked.

His white tee shirt was stained on the shoulder with what looked like… fruit?

“Is that… food on your shoulder?”

“Shit,” his gaze snapped to his shoulder. “Yeah, uhm. It’s jello.”

Eddie looked… embarrassed. For the first time in the time you’d known him, he looked sheepish.

“Was it Jason?”

“That obvious?” He laughed mirthlessly. In fact, it was a little menacing.

“He’s a dick.” You said without thinking.

Eddie just nodded, staring down a place on the table.

“Are you okay?”

He looked at you, dark eyes guarded.

He seemed to be sizing you up, eyes following you up and down. But his usual playfulness was gone. Instead, he looked almost… forlorn.

“Uh, yeah.” His lips lifted into a humorless smile. “Just done with this bullshit, I guess.”

“Hmm,” you hummed.

“I’m tired of people looking at me like I’m a freak. I’m tired of not behind able to fucking walk to class in peace, I’m tired of people being fucking,” he slammed his hands on the table in front of you. When you jump, he throws them up. “Scared of me!”

You stay silent for a moment, letting him stew and collect himself. After a few seconds, Eddie sighs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“I’m not scared of you, and I don’t hate you.”

“—mean to—what?”

“I’m not scared of you.” You repeated, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans. “And I don’t hate you, like you said on Monday. I’m Im just,” you stopped to take a breath. “It’s just hard for me sometimes. With… new people.”

“You sure? Because you look scared to me.”

“You aren’t helping.”

Eddie shivered, rubbing at the jello-colored stain on his shoulder.

“Do you… want to change?” You asked shakily.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” you rushed out, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. You just—looked cold. I have an extra sweatshirt.”

“And you think it would fit me?”

“I like to wear them a few sizes too big.” You added lamely.

Eddie contemplated you for a moment, before sighing.

“What the hell,” he said half to himself. “Why not?”

After he pulled the lilac crew neck over his head, he smiled.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry. Thank you for doing this. I know it can’t be great for your…image.”

You snorted at that.

“Yeah, my image isn’t exactly suffering.”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward, setting his chin on his fists.

God, his forearms. You forced yourself to look away.

“Yeah. Not exactly prom queen here.”

“Eh, prom queen is overrated.”

You laughed, your own crinkling eyes meeting his. You thought you saw his eyes soften as they looked at you. The vision of him there, in front of you, made your stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, turning to your notes in front of you.

“So,” you straightened your notebook. “Ready to talk about T. S. Elliot?”

- - - -

The party was loud. Mötley Crüe boomed through the speakers that Darren’s rich family had in what seemed like every room.

You silently thanked Darren for having good music taste. The party would have been unbearable otherwise.

You sighed as you walked out the back door of the house. The inside had gotten a bit too stuffy for you, and with Robin trailing after Vickie and Steve reconnecting with one of his old flames, you were flying solo for the time being.

You brushed your jeans with your hands before sitting down on the back step, a lukewarm rum and coke in the solo cup in your hand.

You felt yourself deflate.

As a senior in high school, this was the closest you’d come to actually living.

While Robin had had her fair share of secret flings and parties and Steve had lived a wild four years of high school, you were just… there.

At eighteen years old, you felt like you’d missed out. Been robbed. The Upside Down had something to do with that, you supposed. Fighting for your own and the kids’ lives from Russians and other-worldly demon creatures tends to do that. Still, it didn’t stop your friends from living. You felt like you’d let your teen years pass you by, but mostly, you felt pathetic.

Sure, you had the grades, but rather than that? You had nothing to show for your time at Hawkins High.

“Hey tutor,” the smooth drawl came from the side of the house. You’d know it anywhere.

Eddie rounded the corner of the house, approaching where you were sitting on the back step.

He wore the same black jeans he wore earlier today, but his jello-stained shirt and your lilac crew neck were gone, replaced by a t-shirt with what looked like Judas Priest’s logo. His arms were crossed over his chest, covered by the black leather he wore more often than not.

“Hey,” you offered lamely, rubbing your hands together.

“What ya doing out here all alone?” He came to stop in front of you, his chunky combat boots taking up your line of vision.

“Just…taking a breather.” You smiled up at him, tight-lipped.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Scoot over, then. It’s a little too… preppy for me in there.”

You obliged, scooting over a few feet so he could sit next to you. As he dropped down on the concrete step next to you, he was close enough that you caught his scent.

It was deep, some kind of cologne, mixed with cigarette smoke and a hint of what you knew was weed.

“So…” Eddie bumped his shoulder into yours. “Thought this wasn’t your crowd?”

“It’s not,” you pressed your hands between your knees. “Robin and Steve dragged me here. I thought it would help me… unwind.”

“Robin… she’s in band right?”

You nodded.

“And Steve… I don’t think I know that one.”

You chuckled.

“You definitely do,” you peeked over at him, eager to see his reaction. “Uh, Steve Harrington?”

Eddie looked at you like you grew a second head.

“The hair?” He asked incredulously.

“The very same,” you nodded.

“God, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m beginning to question the company you keep.”

Your heart leapt at what he called you. Sweetheart.

“I know, I know,” you held out your hands. “He was an asshole. But he’s different now.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He is!” You turned to Eddie defensively. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if he was still the way he used to be. He isn’t like…”

“Jason?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at you. “Like Pam and Diana?”

“Exactly.” You nodded. “He’s still… peppy. He just lost all the bad parts.”

“Hmm,” he crossed his arms. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, the only sounds being your breath and the roar of the party inside. Your breaths swirled in the chilly air around you.

“Why are you here?” You spoke finally. “You said this wasn’t your scene.”

“It’s not,” he shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little baggy filled with green substance. “I’m, uh, supplying the party favors.”

You snorted at that.

“These things good business?”

“You have no idea.” He nodded to the inside of the house. “A lot of these kids’ allowance is more than what my uncle makes in a week.”

You hummed, content to just sit in silence.

Eddie tilted his head at you, leaning his chin on his hands again like he did earlier in the library. He tilted his cheek toward you, an easy smile on his lips.

“So, why are you really out here, tutor-girl?” He looked at you curiously. “You look upset.”

You drew a heavy breath, before sighing.

“It’s dumb.” You picked at your nails.

“Try me.”

“I feel like..” you looked up, before turning to Eddie. “I feel like I’ve missed out. I’m a senior, I’m graduating this year, and I have done nothing.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t move to interrupt you. He only leans further toward you, spurring you to continue. The alcohol gave you the rest of the confidence you lacked.

“All my friends have had their little rebellions. Their flings, all of it. And I have done nothing, except drink shitty booze and nearly lose my mind.”

You blew a deep breath once you’d finished. Somehow, you felt even worse—more pathetic—now that you’d vocalized it.

But Eddie didn’t look at you like you were pathetic. Instead, he looked pensive, hand on his chin as he contemplated. It was your instinct to backtrack.

You moved to stand

“Sorry. That was a lot. Nevermind. Let’s just forget I—“

“No, no, don’t apologize.” He grabbed your arm and gently pulled you back to sit beside him. “Especially after what I dumped on you earlier.”

Your cheeks were red, you could tell. Whether that be because of the combination of the alcohol and the confession, you couldn’t tell.

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, still thinking. You snuck a glance over at him and noticed a wry smile on his face. “Let’s fix it then.”

“What?”

“We have til May, don’t we? That’s eight months. Your senior year isn’t over yet.”

You laughed nervously.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that—“

“You’re not! I’m offering. Consider it payback for all the hours you’ll be tutoring me in Taylor’s class.”

“Okay…”

“Okay.” Eddie smiled. “It’s a deal, then .”

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #hawkins indiana #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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tojifm · 11 months ago

Text

- just enough (m.) -> g. satoru

*𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing: gojo/reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖"words": 1k ‧₊˚contains: orgasms, overstimulation (m), masturbation (f, m), bondage (not graphic), whiny gojo, vibrators, a choppy plot, and honestly pure smut. ‧₊˚

i. | ii.*

Gojo is pretty. Like really pretty.

Yes, you cannot believe you are saying this but his sooty white lashes fluttering against his red cheeks, hips convulsing into your hand, he looked like a vice.

“If you had been nicer to me…” you throw your words back at him, feigning sympathy.

After wiping out the curse you both had initially headed out to do, your return was leisurely, laid out comfortably in the back seat of Ijichi’s car, too tired to try anything.

That didn’t mean you had forgotten.

“C’mon,” his hands pulled taut against the ropes, the bed frame creaking, and although the echo made you nervous, you managed a giggle.

“No way.”

Gojo’s needy whines echoed in the room and the sound only seemed to spur you on, glad that you were in the privacy of his flat instead of the office on campus.

“C’mon, just give it to me!” His cock is fattened up, looking red and sore from overstimulation, bulging out of the vibrating cock ring, and you are sure if you don’t stop soon, you might unleash a new monster.

You were still fully clothed, sitting on your knees, mattress dipping to accommodate your weight, occasionally fisting his cock, only to pull away when he seemed to reach his peak.

“I thought you were stronger than this,” you jeered and Gojo’s blue eyes flashed. His jaw clenched, the skin along his throat and collarbones dipped.

“You challenging me?”

There’s cum painting the flat planes of his stomach from before which became misty from inattention. You find it bizarre, the insolence he has managed to upkeep despite being so vulnerable.

“Of course not.”

He had swam through his orgasms, a manic smile gracing his mouth followed by soft groans before he’d look at you for more.

You were not surprised. He’d always been a little sadistic. His chest heaved and his mouth pouted before another shudder ripped through him at the click of your remote. You grinned, ankle discreetly massaging against the spot that was becoming wetter by the minute. “Fuckin’ hell, Gojo. Are you gonna cum again?”

He doesn’t answer but his cheeks puff, eyes fluttering shut, and you knew all too well to ignore the sign. The hum of the ring stopped.

Gojo grunted. “No, no, no, no-“ He didn’t know what he was asking for, eyes glassy and blown, he just wanted this to be over.

“What’s the problem?” You inquired, eyes wide. You were rocking against your foot, consumed by the friction. You licked the corner of your mouth. “Y-you want something?”

He was so pretty, laid out for you to control.

His body flailed, desperate to orgasm just once more. He’d lost count of how many times you had robbed him of the privilege, driving him until he was oozing but not combusting.

“Are you trying to get your ass torn apart?” His jaw was clenched, muscles standing to attention, but it wasn't from anger. No, it was from restraint.

The ridge of the bone rolled against your clit and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. In your haze, you failed to notice the flash of renewed lust across Gojo's face. His eyes widened, nostrils flared.

“No way.”

You huffed, rocking harder.

“Are you fucking yourself right now?”

“No,” you protested weakly.

Gojo didn’t mean to sound angry, but he did. “Are you serious?”

You were breathless, the throb between your legs becoming too much to bear. You raised your skirt, Gojo’s breath rattled, and slipped your hand down, tracing the edge of your panties.

“Hey!” His complaint was half-hearted, feeling ferality lick the edge of his consciousness. “Stop touching yourself.” Once again, his legs thrashed and arms pulled against the restraints, wondering when you had learned all this.

“Gojo,” you keened in response, fingers rolling the bundle of nerves, falling forward against his chest.

“Untie me. C’mon. I wanna cum too.”

Your hand slipped past the barrier and rubbed your fingers against your lips, coating them before you plunged your middle finger into yourself, breathing out in relief at the ease with which you began to pleasure yourself. Your heated breath brushed against his pink nipple.

He watched, cock standing rigid. He hated this. He wanted nothing more than to stuff your mouth, pound into it, and coax your throat open until it was leaking nothing but sweet apologies and his ropey cum. “You fucking bitch,” he gritted.

You felt tendrils of pleasure caress your nerves until your body was wracking and shaking against him. Mouth wrapping around his nipple, rocking against your hand, dragging out the aftermath.

Gojo’s back bent at the sensation. “W-what are you- hah- s-stop that!”

Flushed and worn out, you grinned, his skin was cold and your tongue just sizzled kissing it. You find yourself tracing a path, nuzzling into the column of his neck, kissing and sucking until he was groaning. A string of drool followed your mouth, when you leaned back, admiring the purple bruises you had left behind.

“So pretty.”

“I’ll make you regret this,” he promised, an untamed smile on his mouth. The blue of his eyes glowed against the contrasting white of his hair that was matted against his forehead from the sweat.

You laughed, trying to maintain the illusion of dominance you had fed him. “No, you won’t.”

His skin was buzzing with pleasure so when the click of the remote resounds, it took him a moment to process what was happening.

The room fell silent, the kind of silence you hear before the thunder cracks down and lights farms on fire. When it registers, inside Gojo’s racing mind, a fresh gush of precum shoots out of his slit that you are quick to occupy your hands with.

“Fuck, I swear-“

You squeezed his cock, dragging out a low moan from the man’s throat. “You like this?”

“Go t-to hell.”

You pretended to pout, squeezing harder, watching the translucent liquid dribble out and onto your hand. “But I want to give you something.” Your other hand flicked the button on the remote control. The cock ring hummed at the new speed and Gojo’s spine arched and twisted, like he was just about to die.

“Come on,” You cooed, “Come one, you fucking slut. Give it to me.”

With your resounding words, lips wrapping around the leaking swollen head, licking across the slit, you kiss the top of his cock.

That’s all it takes for an earthquake, an avalanche, a tsunami to roll through his body, shivering and bucking, chasing the pulses of his orgasm, feeling the ropes loosen unbeknownst to you. He choked on his breath, flooding your mouth.

as beyonce once said, if you like it than you shoulda put a ring on it

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk s 2 #gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu sorcerer #anime #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #Overstimulation #smut #gojo oneshot #satoru x reader #satorugojo #ao3

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gabzilla-z · 2 years ago

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ok quick thoughts, spoilers behind the cut.

Pros:

Halle. HALLE. H a l l e. Her voice, her face, her mannerisms. They took what made Ariel special in the animated movie and built on it and she was the perfect person to pull it off.

Her beauty was distracting.

So glad they finally got a singer for a live action, I couldn’t take another B&B autotuned disaster.

Made me want to get to the nearest rock and play mermaid ngl.

I had my doubts with Jonah but he did a great job with Eric, played the shy, kinda awkward potato prince charming to perfection. Loved that they expanded his backstory and his interest in adventure and the sea. Also A+ for the movie knowing he had a white shirt on while surrounded by water and using every chance it had to drench him.

Eric still being caring and worried about Ariel even under Ursula’s spell? 10/10 no notes.

He came to chew bubblegum and be dreamy and he was all out of bubblegum.

Halle and Jonah’s chemistry was insane, I need them to do ten movies making eyes at each other.

Seriously the movie could have been 2 hours of them interacting in that library and it would have been money well spent.

or just two hours of them being cute smol and tol in a boat idc

TRUE LOVE INDEED

Can’t wait for this movie to be out in D+ so I can reblog all the gifs.

Part of Your World and all reprises were ofc gorgeous. Vanessa’s Trick is haunting and exactly what one would want for a siren song. For the First Time is gorgeous and underrated, felt very Broadway-esque. Eric’s song was corny but in a good way.

The rest of the songs are adequate but are not as good as the original ones.

Gotta said, song aside, the Kiss the Girl scene was more endearing in this version. When she helps him figure out her name?

Melissa was good as Ursula and made the character her own, though I think she was not as scary as she could have been. Better than I expected, though.

The actress that plays Vanessa knew she had 5 minutes to make an impression and used them to the fullest. Delightful.

Cons:

The CGI felt unfinished and so did the color grading/lighting. I edited all the movie images in this post (just played with the saturation and the contrast) and I’m mediocre at best. HIRE TUMBLR EDITORS, DISNEY.

Halle deserved to wear more outfits, I can't believe Disney missed an opportunity to sell more dolls. Would have given her a dress for each day on land and the water dress. Mouse, I thought you liked money.

we could have had it all

Wanted more of her sisters tbh. And less Triton, Javier phoned it in imo. I know Triton and Ariel’s relationship is an important part of the original movie but idk if it was his half assed acting or me wanting more of the sisters, but I wasn’t moved.

Flounder's weird character design was saved by his stellar voice actor and Sebastian grew on me, he was hilarious. Scuttlefina was tolerable but gosh she’s always playing the same character, stop casting her in everything.

Less I say about Scuttlebutt the better. Kids are probably gonna love it, though.

The ending was kinda weird? It felt rushed and the battle with Ursula was disappointing. Which is a surprise because the OTHER stormy scene at night was wonderfully done.

Up to Ursula taking Ariel back to the ocean it felt really cohesive but the second Triton appears to save her it was like they were trying to speed things up and it got... weird.

Didn’t mind Ariel being the one that killed Ursula, after everything she put her through.

Cannot believe the movie robbed us of Jonah screaming “I lost her once, I’m not gonna lose her again!”

Overall it was a well paced (up to the finale), entertaining, charming movie. Despite its faults, the only Disney live action I want to rewatch (outside MAYBE Cinderella).

8/10 Justice for the foam dress.

#The Little Mermaid

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temmysilver · 9 months ago

Photo

In today's episode of "what can I do to distract myself from work," I started looking at this thread as a "How *blank* are you?" quiz, given the seven months I spent as a library worker. Should anyone be interested, my "answers" are below. This is obviously not meant to discredit op at all, every library is different and I just wanted to compare and contrast experiences

1. True, not that that was a problem in my library. There were digital clocks on every computer on standby.

2. True, but lucky me, I wasn't the one who handled public email questions.

3. I can certainly believe it, but never encountered this problem myself. I did, however, meet plenty of adults who didn't know how lending worked.

4. True, but luckily we marked that particular section as crime/thriller.

5. False. Again, I have no doubt that op has faced plenty of book defacing, but we simply didn't. Lots of dogearing, though.

6. Lmao true, but we had push/pull doors. Patrons did often jiggle the handle before our sign said we were open, though.

7. True, true, true.

8. TRUE.

9. False. There were plenty of old folk who came up to me directly, but they were always fascinated by what I could find on the computer.

10. True. Some husbands also don't understand that we can all hear you when you give the health insurance person on the other end all your personal information.

11. True, through and through.

12. False. Nobody came to us from a job center, but there were plenty of times when we provided services not in our job description. I helped people with job applications, booking appointments, and once helped a lady write a letter to the sheriff after she had been robbed by her landlord.

13. True, and the same goes for every other business/service that is meant to help people. They also assume everyone has a smartphone.

14. TRUE

15. True and false. Our library was supposed to be quiet, and we did our best to keep it down, but the group of adults swearing up a storm in the kids section, the guy who was always playing in a vr headset, and the man who liked to occasionally exclaim in joy to his music (which he listened to through headphones) could never be fully shushed.

16. True true true true true true tr--

17. True, my goodness.

18. Truuuuuuuue

19. True, though we never had trouble securing an event.

20. False. Yes, two people always had to "volunteer" to supervise for an event, but we always punched our clock back in for the duration of it.

21. False. We always got the supplies we needed thanks to the "head" library in our system, which was a lot bigger and nicer. We did often have to fix certain appliances (mainly the printer and the toilets) ourselves, though.

22. True.

23. TRUE jfc, I was left sobbing at the end of my first week after I shut down this old ass man I'd been helping all week and he started slinging every slur in the book at me, the other staff, and the other patrons. I though he was going to follow me back to my car. (My coworkers and I walked in a group afterwards.)

24. True true true true.

25. False. Some folk liked to strike up conversation about what they just turned in, and I was always happy and excited to listen, but neither I nor any of my coworkers deliberately started one of these conversations.

26. True. My favorite were the third graders who came in every Wednesday because their school didn't have a library inside it.

27. True <3

28. I personally cannot drink caffeine, but my coworkers? Boy howdy.

My personal closing addition points:

1. Libraries often have way more stuff to check out than you think! In addition to books and DVDs, my library had CDs, vinyls, and board games!

2. One person higher in this blog chain mentioned inter-library loan, and I wanted to point it out again. If you want a specific item and your local library doesn't have it in their system, you can go online and fill out their ILL form. A quick questionnaire about the item's details will get you that item. If it is available in ANY other library in America (sorry, I don't know how/if ILL works in other countries), it WILL be reserved for you. This is how I get all my DVDs nowadays

3. Fun fact: most people who work in a library are not actually librarians! Jobs specifically with "librarian" in the title are reserved for managerial positions, and require a doctorate in library science to obtain. I held the position of "Public Service Assistant"

Quiz/rant OVER!

#support libraries #use libraries more #please just be nice to the staff #it's free!#both the library and the being nice!

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

Text

I Carry Your Heart With Me (Part One)

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Summary: Spencer and the reader are reunited for the first time in fifteen years.

A/N: Very excited to get the ball rolling on this one. I hope you all enjoy it! Message me if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” Damien mutters from the passenger seat, his icy blue eyes wide with fright. He pulls his gaze away just long enough to point at a lone cow grazing to the left of the road. “Look! That cow is just like… standing there. No fence around him or anything. What’s stopping him from stampeding into us the second we get out of this car?”

Damien sounds so genuinely horrified that you almost feel bad for laughing. Almost.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Dee. Besides, that cow didn’t even look up when we drove past. We’re not even on its radar.”

“Oh, yeah? Ever heard of a little thing called mad cow disease?” Damien persists, in typical dramatic flair. You roll your eyes at him and he curses underneath his breath. “You know, when I agreed to go with you to this wedding, I pictured something more akin to a five-star resort with a minibar and a heated pool. Not rogue livestock and shitty cellphone reception.”

“You didn’t agree to anything – you practically begged me to take you with me.”

Damien waves his hand, dismissive, his eyes still roaming over the pasture. “Because I wanted an excuse to take a week off work. This is not the controlled environment I expected.”

“If you don’t quit complaining, I won’t hesitate to push you out of the car and leave you here with the cow,” you retort. In your periphery you’re able to make out Damien raising his middle finger to you. Rude.

You chuckle and fix your attention back on the dirt road. You’re driving almost painfully slowly, because the very idea of having to pay extra for damages to this already astronomically expensive rental car makes you feel nauseated. Despite your efforts, the car is covered entirely in dust. Its once pristine, white paint job has transformed into a muddy color.

There goes my deposit.

You shake your head at the thought. You had more pressing matters to concern yourself with; i.e., the fact that you were approximately five minutes away from coming face to face with the one person you swore you’d never speak to again. Two months seemed like ample time to prepare yourself in theory, but now that it is no longer some far-off thing, you know that your attempts at preparing yourself were in vain. With each day you crossed off the calendar leading to your departure date, your anxiety grew and grew until you worried your poor heart would give out under the stress. Getting onto the plane bound for Montana felt like the proverbial nail in the coffin, and a hefty dose of Dramamine was the only thing that kept you from spiraling as the plane ascended into the air. You slept through the entirety of the trip and, much to Damien’s chagrin, there is a sizeable puddle of drool on his left shoulder to prove it.

The lengthy nap helped. The tight band constricting your chest had loosened, and you pulled out onto the highway feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. You had Damien by your side and five vacation days to enjoy. Your best friend was getting married to the love of her life, and you were hellbent on standing by her side through it all. Spencer Reid can kiss your ass, as far as you are concerned. No way is he going to ruin this for you.

You are still very much clinging your take-no-shit mentality when you breach a hill and the ranch comes into view, effectively expelling every single positive thought from your head. Aforementioned anxiety reappears in full-force and you stomp down on the breaks.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this,” you squeak out, casting a look at Damien, whose eyes are trained on the sprawling expanse of the house ahead of you. “We can still turn around – no, we should turn around. There is no version of this that won’t end in me getting embarrassingly drunk and crying in front of everyone. I’m turning around.”

Damien’s hand on yours, strong and steady, is the only thing that keeps you from whipping the car around and retreating with your tail between your legs. His fingers pry your white knuckled grip off of the wheel slowly, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles across your skin. Its sweet and so overwhelmingly gentle that you’re a bit stunned. You glance at him in a silent question, as if to ask who are you, and what have you done with my friend?

He gets the message loud and clear, because of course he does. Damien fixes you with a smile, grip tightening on your hand.

“I’ve seen you hold your own against some of the biggest names in journalism on an almost daily basis – looking damn sexy while you do it, might I add,” Damien chuckles, and you can’t help but give a weak laugh of your own. Damien’s smile grows at this, and he continues, “If you can handle your business against those conniving pricks, I’ve no doubt that you can tough it out for this. You’re not the type of woman that lets some guy dictate what she does or doesn’t do. And you sure as hell aren’t the type of woman that would let some guy rob her of the opportunity to stand by her best friend on the most important day of her life. As the person who probably knows you better than anyone else on the planet, my opinion of you is pretty rock-solid, if I do say so myself. So, unless I’ve completely overestimated the extent of your badassery, I suggest you rethink that plan. What do you say?”

You avert your eyes and swallow against the lump in your throat.

“Spencer’s not just some guy. For a long time, I was convinced that he was the guy,” you whisper. The car is silent, save for the quiet crooning voice of George Michael flowing through the speakers. Damien squeezes your hand, prompting you to continue. You blink up at him with wet lashes, lips pulled into a sad smile. “Have you ever been in love?”

Damien shakes his head and rubs his thumb along the top of your hand. “I can’t say that I have, babe. Haven’t been that lucky.”

You let out a shaky breath and bring your other hand up to wipe at your eyes.

“Maybe you’re better off. I’ve only been in love once,” you gesture to your pitiful appearance and choke out a wet laugh. “Look where that got me. He fucking crushed me, and fifteen years later I’m still broken up about it. It’s pathetic.”

Damien frowns and shifts in his seat so that he’s fully facing you.

“I don’t want to hear you say that self-deprecating shit again. You were hurt by someone you gave your heart to, and I can only imagine how devastating that must feel. Being upset about seeing him again does not make you pathetic. The fact that you’re here, about to spend a week with the guy just so you can be there for Cassidy, is pretty damn admirable as far as I’m concerned.” Damien ends his monologue by pulling you into a tight hug, and you couldn’t be more thankful that he’d come with you. Not only was he a secret sweetheart, he also gave the very best hugs.

By the time he releases you, the tension in your chest has eased significantly. You nod once, and Damien’s rewards you with a smile.

“I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”

Damien snorts rather unattractively and rolls his eyes.

“I take back everything. You suck, and I don’t know why I bother with you, you narcissist.”

Now that the mood has lifted significantly, you reluctantly press your foot against the gas pedal.

“Too late. No takesies backsies,” you singsong. “You think I’m sexy and badass, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”

Damien mutters something undoubtably snarky underneath his breath, but it’s drowned out by the sound of gravel crunching underneath the tires. That, and the sound of your blood roaring in your ears as you inch further down the driveway.

The house, a beautiful log cabin with stone accents along the underside, is massive. Standing at two stories tall with a large wraparound porch and more than a dozen large windows, it’s a far cry from the modest little cabin in the mountains that Cassidy had made it out to be. Even Damien is slack jawed at the sight of it, sitting pretty against a back drop of rolling mountains, and you can’t help but feel a little smug.

“Still want to complain about that five-star resort?”

Damien shakes his head dazedly, “I retract my earlier complaint.”

All too soon, you roll to a stop and put the car in park. Several other cars are parked haphazardly in the grass around you, and that annoying voice inside your head wonders which one belongs to Spencer. It’s not that you care – you totally don’t – it’s just that you are kind of hoping that he hasn’t arrived yet. A few hours to acclimate to the environment before having to deal with him would be nice.

“You’ve got this, babe,” Damien murmurs. “And I’ll be with you the whole time, just in case you need a reminder.”

You flash Damien a nervous smile.

“You’re a really good friend, Dee. I’m really glad that you’re here,” you say, before narrowing your eyes at him. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Damien snorts and pushes open the door.

“Get your sassy ass out of the car. I’m ready to mingle.”

As soon as you set foot on the porch, the front door flies open and a flash of curly red hair precedes a collision that nearly sends you flying back into the railing. Ecstatic squeals rip through the otherwise serene evening air and two boney arms envelop you into a tight hug.

“I cannot believe you’re actually here,” Cassidy laughs as she squeezes you tight. Her enthusiasm has you joining in, the two of you laughing happily and pulling back to examine one another. Cassidy places a sloppy kiss to both of your cheeks before throwing an arm over your shoulder. “I fully expected you to just blow off the whole thing, if I’m being honest.”

You cast at Damien, who’s watching on with an amused grin on his face.

“Believe me, she tried.”

Cassidy turns her attention to Damien and extends her free hand.

“I take it you’re the infamous Damien that I’ve been trading emails with?”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, “Wait, what? The two of you have been emailing?”

Damien accepts Cassidy’s hand and gives it a firm shake, all while smiling smugly.

“Yep. Me and Ms. Cassidy go way back.”

“I mean, that’s cool, I guess, but why?”

Cassidy and Damien share a look, both of them shrugging.

“Mainly to talk about you,” Cassidy admits, not even bothering to look apologetic. When you frown up at her she waves her hand dismissively at you. “All good things, I promise. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Cassidy punctuates her words with a patronizing pat on your shoulder.

“I knew letting you two meet was a bad idea,” you grumble.

Cassidy simply drops her arms from its place on your shoulder in favor of tugging on your hand.

“Come on, sour puss. I want you to meet my husband. He’s a real sweetie – you’re gonna love him.”

A flash of white-hot panic shoots down your spine and you dig your heels into the floor.

“Wait,” you squeak out, eyes wide. “Is… Is he here yet?”

Cassidy’s eyes shine mischievously, briefly flitting up to Damien before returning to you.

“He is. And you’ll be happy to know that pictures do not do the Good Doctor any justice.”

Salt, meet wound.

“Don’t know why you’re telling me that,” you mutter.

“Denial is not just a river in Egypt, my friend,” Cassidy singsongs as she begins tugging you forward. For someone so tiny, she makes easy work of forcing you through the threshold.

The foyer is just as impressive as you expect it to be – beautiful cedar walls and a grand staircase that leads to the second floor. If you weren’t horribly on edge at the current moment, you would definitely comment on the fact that the foyer alone is probably larger than your entire apartment, but you’re too busy scanning the immediate area for tall skinny white guys with stupidly curly brown hair to comment on the grandiosity.

Cassidy leads the two of you to double doors to the right, and just as she’s about to push them open, the shrill ring of your cellphone offers you an out.

You slip your hand from Cassidy’s grip and give her a faux apologetic look.

“I should probably take this – it might be work.”

Damien narrows his eyes at you. “I thought you left your work phone at home.”

You ignore him and begin taking a few steps backwards, “Is there somewhere private I can go?”

An indiscernible look flashes across Cassidy’s face and then her lips pull up into a sugary sweet smile. “Follow the hallway to the very end. Leads to the back porch,” she says. “No need to rush. Take all the time you need!”

Okay, weird, you think to yourself, but the idea of putting off the inevitable for a few extra moments is too tempting to pass up, so you continue your retreat. You make it to the back door in record time and let out a relieved breath as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi, baby. I was just calling to make sure the two of you got there safely.”

You push open the back door and the breathtaking view of the ranch prompts you to take pause; sprawling fields and rolling hills as far as the eye can see, grazing livestock congregating near a lazy stream at the far end of the property, and several horses running across the expanse of the left field. It was wonderfully serene and vastly different from the bustling rat-race that was New York.

You smile to yourself when a loud moo rips through the otherwise quiet ranch. I could get used to this.

“Yeah, we made it,” you murmur into the receiver. “You would love this place, Mom. It’s probably the prettiest place I’ve ever been. I’ll send you a picture when I hang up.”

“How’s Cassidy? Still a little spit-fire, I assume?”

You lean against the railing and let out a snort, “Oh, absolutely. Don’t think that’ll ever change.”

“I’d hope not,” your mother hums. “How does Damien like the ranch?”

“He’s not exactly a fan of the livestock,” you chuckle. “Damien’s never even seen a real cow before. City boy through and through, that one.”

You and your mother share a laugh that dissolves into a comfortable silence. Comfortable, until the telltale clearing of your mother’s throat warns you of the impending inquisition.

“So,” your mother begins. “Are you going to tell me how it went, or are you going to leave an old woman wondering? “

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “Fortunately, I have yet to run into him. I may or may not be hiding out on the back porch as we speak in an attempt to avoid just that.”

“Y/N,” your mother chastises. “Prolonging the inevitable isn’t going to make this any easier.”

“I know, I know. I’ll go in there soon. It’s just a lot, you know? I needed to take a breather, first.” Just until my hands stop shaking. Or until Cassidy comes hunting for me. Whichever comes first.

“I know, baby,” your mother coos. “I’m proud of you for trying. Just don’t drag things out, okay? You’ll only make yourself sick with nerves.” Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. The rolling in your stomach can attest to that.

You laugh a humorless laugh, “I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

A tiny movement at the very corner of your vision and a loud creak makes you whip your head around, and what you see has your heart falling to your ass.

Spencer Reid, looking absolutely stunning in a pair of khaki dress pants and a white cable-knit sweater, sits in a porch swing with wide eyes and a book clutched tightly in his hands. Soft, caramel-colored curls frame his face and a five o’clock shadow runs the length of his jaw, adding a bit of grown-up flare to his otherwise boyish features.

He looks every bit as beautiful as he did on the day he broke your heart.

Spencer knows that he should have spoken up as soon as you walked onto the porch. It was immediately obvious that you hadn’t seen him, and he swears he’s one second away from clearing his throat and launching into the introduction he’d been planning for the last sixty days. But the words die on his tongue as he drinks in the sight of you.

You’re so close to him for the first time in years and it’s more than a little bit dizzying. And yeah, he’s used his very limited knowledge of how the internet works to Google you on more than one occasion, but the version of you leaning against the porch railing is a far cry from the pixelized one. A light breeze rolling through the air lifts your hair away from your face, and Spencer’s breath catches in his throat as he surveys every perfect inch, from the curl of your lashes to the smattering of freckles on your nose. He indulges himself, eyes settling on your cherry red lips, fascinated by the way they move as you talk on the phone. Spencer is intimately familiar with those lips – can recall the way they felt pressed against his own. The years spent apart have done nothing to dull the memories. He’s not entirely sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

It amazes him how you’ve somehow managed to change a lot, but also not at all. You stand before him as an oxymoron personified, and it’s a lot for Spencer’s poor heart to take in. Your hair is a bit lighter than he remembers, as well as a little longer, but it still looks just as soft and he can recall with startling clarity how it felt when he used to run his fingers through it. You have a few more laugh lines than you did, as well as a scar on your left elbow that hadn’t been there before, but everything else about you is so painfully familiar that Spencer could almost pretend that no time had passed – that he still knows your body as well as he once did.

Spencer knows this isn’t true. Every seven years, the body resets; old cells destroyed and replaced with new ones. You’ve both spent enough time apart that your bodies have reset twice over. You’re as much of a stranger to him as he is to you.

Spencer positively abhors the thought.

The sound of your laughter pulls him from the depths of his mind, and while the laugh isn’t warm or inviting in the slightest, he relishes it. What was once one of his favorite sounds has existed in his head as only a memory for far too long. Hearing it in person is jarring in the best of ways.

The euphoria he feels dies a horrible death when you speak again.

“I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

Fucking ouch.

Spencer cringes hard, too hard, because the porch swing screeches out an angry creak and you whip around and holy shit, have your eyes always been that entrancing?

He watches as your entire body goes rigid, tensed as if you’re about to bolt. You blink hard, eyebrows drawn together to form an adorably bewildered expression as you assess him. Spencer hopes he doesn’t look too disheveled. He hadn’t even thought to freshen up after his trip, an oversight that he’s regretting terribly as your eyes flit over him.

Spencer isn’t sure why, but he stands up. Maybe it has something to do with feeling vulnerable. Maybe he just wants to close the distance. The two steps he takes towards you support the latter. He’s thankful that you don’t move away, but the blank expression on your face worries him.

The two of you stand five feet apart, but you feel worlds away. Spencer refrains from speaking for as long as he can stand, which is only about thirty seconds.

“Hi.”

Your lips part, and Spencer holds his breath.

“Hi.”

More silence. Spencer gulps.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, cautious. The last thing he wants to do is fuck up within the first five minutes. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth seem to have some sort of disconnect, and Spencer continues against his better judgment. “It’s been a while.”

It’s been a while? That’s seriously the best I can come up with?

Spencer contemplates drowning himself in the nearby stream.

“It certainly has.”

“Five-thousand, five-hundred and seventeen days.” And roughly thirty-six and a half hours, but who’s counting?

Muted noises flow out of your phone speaker and you pull your eyes away from Spencer. He’s both relieved and devastated.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I just ran into someone. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

Spencer agonizes over the fact that he’s been reduced to someone while you and your mother exchange goodbyes. You’re smiling when you look up at him again, but Spencer’s seen what a genuine smile of yours looks like, and this isn’t it.

“I didn’t see you sitting there. My apologies.” Your formality makes the situation all the more excruciating.

Spencer lets out a nervous laugh, “I suppose avoiding me is out of the question now, huh?”

It’s hard to tell who’s more horrified by the words that tumble from his mouth, you or Spencer. A fierce flush spreads across your cheeks. It’s the first crack in your otherwise calm and collected exterior thus far and Spencer relishes in it. Maybe you’re not as unaffected by him as you seem.

“I… I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you stammer, blinking up at him with guilty eyes. “That wasn’t very kind of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can’t say that I’m undeserving of your anger,” Spencer whispers so quietly that he worries you don’t hear him over the gentle flow of the stream. The hardness that returns to your eyes lets him know that you heard every word.

You clear your throat, signaling your unwillingness to discuss that particularly painful topic. “You’re still partial to Cummings, I see.” You gesture to the book clutched tightly against his chest.

Now, it’s Spencer’s turn to blush. The book in his hands, tattered and worn from years of use, is incriminating. The two of you both know what lies just beneath the binding. The fact that Spencer has it with him now makes him think that he might as well be wearing a t-shirt that reads, I’M STILL NOT OVER YOU.

Spencer raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.” His eyes scour your face for a sign of anything that might clue him in to you feeling the same way. A flicker of something dances across your face, but it’s gone so quickly that he can’t be sure if he imagined it. He forces a nervous smile. “If I remember correctly, he was your favorite.” It’s a shitty attempt at a joke.

You exhale a shaky breath and to his absolute horror, your lower lip begins to wobble. He wishes he could reach up and pluck his words from where they hang heavy in the air.

“Not anymore,” you murmur, and fuck if that doesn’t absolutely wreck him.

Spencer shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help himself. “Oh. Why not?”

He holds his breath, anxiously anticipating your next words. You seem to be battling with yourself, mouth opening and closing several times. Spencer is content to wait as long as it takes for you to answer, but the universe is much more impatient than he.

The door leading onto the porch swings open and out walks an honest to God Abercrombie and Fitch model. Or at least, a man who meets the qualifications and then some. Long, flowing blonde hair and a crisp white dress shirt makes Spencer’s unruly brown mop and dumpy sweater look pitiful in comparison. Spencer frowns.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been out here for like ten minutes,” the man chastises as he closes the distance between you and him. Spencer watches him wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you to him like someone might watch a car wreck happen; with equal parts horror and morbid curiosity. “You can’t hide out forever.”

All traces of rigidity leave your body and you melt into the man’s side. It happens in such a way that screams familiarity, as if the pet name hadn’t already driven that point home. The awful, gut-wrenching realization slams home and Spencer has to fight to keep his knees from buckling.

“Uh, sorry,” you mumble, before nodding your head in Spencer’s direction. “Damien, this is Spencer Reid.”

The man’s – Damien’s - eyes go almost comically wide as they settle on Spencer’s dejected frame, before schooling into a cool indifference. He offers him a polite smile that’s a little tight around the edges, but doesn’t outstretch his hand.

“Ah, Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Spencer swallows hard to keep himself from barking out a crazed laugh. He’s heard of me! That’s certainly something, considering the fact that no one thought it necessary to tell Spencer that you have a –

Spencer’s eyes dart down to your left hand. Thankfully, mercifully, your ring finger is bare.

“Uh, y-yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” The words burn as they roll off his tongue.

Damien nods at him before turning back to you. There’s an unmistakable fondness in the way he looks at you as he speaks. “Cassidy wants everyone back inside. They’re about to serve dinner.”

You smile up at him, not even casting a parting glance at Spencer before Damien leads you back inside. Spencer stands there long after the door closes behind the two of you.

The book feels heavy in his hands.

taglist: @is-this-even-important @evelyncade @usuck @m0rce1ddd @bauhousewife @whxt-to-write @spencerwaltergubler @lovesicksofi @idgafayiowf @shadyladyperfection @mercy-burning @sapphic-prentiss @itsmytimetoodream @m0rce1ddd @bauhousewife @whxt-to-write @spencerwaltergubler @enchantedcruelsummer @no-honey-no @inkstainedwritergirl @tnoh13 @xxconfettiitsaparade @calm-and-doctor @muffin-cup @fortheloveofcriminalminds @arcticrory @holl2712@themanwiththreephds @blameitonthenight21 @stellabelle @me-a-hopeless-romantic @musicxlover97 @anightflower @andiebeaword @annesauriol @haylaansmi

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #fanfiction #icyhwm #my writing #spencer #reid

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lover-of-trash-and-people · 4 years ago

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shadow and bone rewatch s1e6 while drinking mid-range scotch

I wish I have a face that is as unlined and pretty as Ben Barnes' when I'm 39

Arken you dirty dirty liar

the face Alek is making at his lies that he knows are lies firstly because he knows the art of lying so well and also because he can read people very well

okay Ivan is kind of a bad bitch with his smirk at Arken's lies

alek's eyes narrowing and his little smile when Arken says 'im an entertainer' bitch I love this show

*grabs hand, pulls up sleeve, and discovers Arken's hand is full of marks indicating successful passages through the fold* 'well, that is certainly entertaining' I love this man with all my heart

him screaming is so fucking hot, is that weird for me to say

Nina being the Darkling's spy is quite interesting

Ben giving the Darkling crazy eyes when Arken owns up to his guilt is so cool

also wtf is Arken a fool trying to negotiate with possibly the strongest man in the world

kind of loved the darkness literally eating him

also love Alina learning to use her powers better when she is alone than when she is with anyone else, wish we got to see the cut in this season as per the books, ah can't have everything I guess

the camera pan to Jesper's gun at his side, amazing

god Jessie is literally so beautiful I need to see her bring Alina to the peak of her power so bad

netflix you better renew this series to let the plot run to its completion

HOW THE FUCK DID THEY CAST THE CROWS SO PERFECTLY

INEJ FUCKING TREMBLING JUST THE TINIEST BIT AS SHE BOWS SLIGHTLY TO ALINA SGSHSBSJJSJSSJ MY TWO QUEENS

'And where is my Summoner?' my little Darklina heart ouchie I really wish you hadn't used and manipulated her like this Alek it was incredibly fucked up especially considering you actually caught feelings

'Ivan and I won't fail you' oh Fedyor my baby, my angel, you don't deserve what is coming

Helnik literally recreating Titanic lmao stop this is a joke

I too would jump off the raft if I came to consciousness to see a gorgeous woman with magical powers with her hand on my back

omg but why is ryevost so pretty though

'I know exactly how she felt. The King's soldiers treated me the same way... I'm not myself today.' why must you do this to me, why must you fuel my darklina soulmates agenda idiocy

I don't quite think I have a problem with the Zoya Darkling relationship as much as I have a problem with the line they chose to reveal it to use with.

my drink's over and I don't know if I should have another, considering that it's 7 am

the tenderness with which he looks at Zoya and takes her hand and then when he says 'I shall relax when I have Alina' makes me believe more that the man that is reduced to tears time and again in front of Alina could in fact be the master manipulator I know him to be

god I can't wait for Zoya's character arc

'I speak six languages, it's part of my job' why is Nina literally the fucking coolest

Alina blinding the oprichniki was so hot, I can't wait to see more of her power and her ruthlessness

I know I've said it before but good god is Jessie Mei Li gorgeous

HER LITTLE SMILE AMONGST ALL THE PANIC AS SOON AS SHE SEES MAL, THE AUDACITY OF THIS SHOW TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS WAY

THE SCORE COMING IN AT THE RIGHT MOMENT, THEIR HANDS MEETING, HER SMILE AGAIN DHDHSBSNSNSNSNAN IM IN PAIN

REALLY?! YOU'RE GONNA GO DIRECTLY FROM MALINA TO HELNIK WITH NO CONCERN FOR MY HEART?

I simply cannot get over Calahan's accent lmao it's really funny

'im not afraid of you' he says to the insanely gorgeous girl with magic

HIM HANGING HIS HEAD IN DEFEAT TO INDICATE NINA HAS MADE VALID POINTS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I CAN'T BREATHE

'You're just a man. Like all the others.' she says and then forgets her train of thought looking at him as he strips. god I love this

not sleeping all night and then scotch is not a good idea, I think

'I promise not to ravish you' 'I hate the way you talk' her hand on his chest, his hand gripping hers, my fucking heart feels like it's about to explode

good god these shooting locations and sets are so beautiful

Alina throwing the flask at Mal and Mal going 'OI!' I fucking can't, I guess I am a

simp for childhood friends to lovers, give me more of that banter and childhood friend energy, I am thriving

wow it literally seems like they took book! Mal sl*tshaming book! Alina and made show! Alina sl*tshame show! Mal, hmm, interesting

'They would have split us up!' MAL'S LITTLE SMILE AT THIS, and the 'You wrote me letters?' Mal's nod, the Malina yearning stare, the Malina hug, 'thank you for finding me' 'always. I'll always find you.' NO MALINA YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE MADE ME ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL

I understand they had to split time between my ravkan babies and the crows and that is why there were several aspects that were sort of not reflected on enough but Alina's training at the Little Palace, Alina's cut, Mal's personality, a teensy bit of backstory for the crows, maybe one lockpicking scene from my boy Kaz

random note: we have far too many idols and paintings and pictures and whatnot of Hindu deities in our house apart from the specially designed temple (we are Hindus, so maybe it's not that weird but it's a little weird)

Kaz's cane is a literal star, it's so beautiful my heart wants to explode

'Why would Heleen get the Crow Club?' *literally fucking gets up and walks aways instead of answering the fucking question* I LITERALLY CAN'T BREATHE I'M LOSING MY MIND

'I know that voice' WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO MAKE ME FIGHT FOR PLATONIC SHIPS IN FANDOMS

'We won't starve' omg get you someone who packs food for you when you go on the run together hiding from your ex who wants to capture you and use your powers as a weapon against your consent

Mal looking surprised at her summoning sunlight, Alina looking cautiously at him waiting for him to disapprove or run for the hills in fear or smth like that, 'I'm sorry it took me this long to see you... But I see you now' my dumb little shipper trash heart ouch

they really said we're gonna feed you this part asian couple as the protagonists in this show in 2021 and guess what I'm eating it's really tasty I'm very satisfied as a south asian

NINA'S LITTLE SMILE WHEN MATTHIAS WAKES UP WITH HIS ARM AROUND HER

'I can feel how much you hate sleeping next to me' 👀👀👀 BITCH SAID IMMA SPILL THE TEA AND THEN SHE DID

it's 8 am and guess what I'm getting another drink my parents have c*vid and are in govt qu*r*ntine centres there is nobody to supervise or stop me

I too say 'Why do you have to say things like that?' to my pretty crush when she flirts with me

Nina smiling at Matthias bragging about his conservative ways is my aesthetic

'No, it's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall and yet, oh, there you stand.' MY FUCKING QUEEN

Matthias laughing uncontrollably at Nina saying something which isn't even that funny is a whole ass vibe

Kaz Brekker saying 'The Black General' ooh fuck yeah

YESSSS STEP OUT OF THAT CARRIAGE ALL SEXY BLACK GENERAL

isn't alcohol supposed to like kill germs? well, the amount in my system definitely will

I love my crows so much (always but this time particularly for setting that alarm in the stolen carriage)

ooh Polina recognising Inej by the knife yesss let's go writers

this Ivan Jesper showdown is all I needed from life and yet did not know about

Ivan taking off his cloak was, um, sexier than I wanted it to be

I just realised how thirsty I am going to sound in this post

'Has no one told you that keftas are Fabrikator-made and resistant to bullets, hmm?' 'Oh, I do love a challenge' LITERALLY EVERYTHING

im sorry to be pointing out flaws in a perfect show and adaptation but the line delivery on 'You robbed me of my brother, now I'll rob you of your life' from Polina was kind of weak

'You're a-' *gets knocked out with the back of a gun* LMAO we love the hints

got excited at the prospect of kaz v. zoya until I realised they will not be letting the opportunity of kaz v. darkling pass up

my goodness is Amita Suman a splendid actress

I AM NOT KIDDING WHEN I TELL YOU I SQUEALED WHEN I SAW DARKLES EMERGE OUT OF THE SHADOWS IN FRONT OF MY BABY BOY KAZ

THERE BEING ACTUAL FEAR OR ATLEAST DOUBT ON KAZ'S FACE, THE LITTLE BACK STEPS AS

THE DARKLING WALKS TOWARDS HIM, AAAAH I CAN'T

THE DARKLING STOPPING AT KAZ SAYING 'SHE FLED ON HER OWN' AND THE HINT OF TEARS THAT WE SEE IN HIS EYES

'IT WAS PRETTY CLEAR SHE WASN'T INTERESTED IN BEING A CAPTIVE ANYMORE' YOU TELL HIM, KING

*ACTUAL FUCKING TEARS IN THE DARKLING'S EYES AS THE SHADOWS APPROACH*

NOT ME YOWLING LIKE A HYENA THAT THIS CHILD OUTSMARTED THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN EXISTENCE WITH A FAKE MAGIC TRICK

'Are you sure you added enough cloves?' literally warranting a wide ass smile from my queen Alina making my entire fucking day

for some reason, no matter how much I push it from my mind, Ben Barnes dressed up as the Darkling, dancing to 'push it' keeps coming to mind, it's absolutely ridiculous

I got somehow distracted with interviews but good things came out of that as it gave my body the time for the booze to kick in

and I would just like to say that I love Leigh for all she has given me

Alina is so fucking compassionate, I have no much love for her. I can feel her guilt and her sorrow as Mal talks of Mikhail and Dubrov

don't particularly like how the stag plotline is woven in, could have been executed better

'You're afraid you might start to like me?' *flaps furs like a bird's wings in frustration*

'I DO like you' my fucking heart you idiots

the sexual tension is so palpable and the moment is so intimate I simply cannot

OMG SHE FUCKING FELL

that moment where you think he might let her fall despite having read the books and he doesn't and he tells her his name I- <3

YOU DARE TRANSITION FROM A HELNIK SCENE TO A KANEJ SCENE YOU REALLY HAVE NO MERCY FOR MY HEART HUH

people have talked about this endlessly but Freddie's little jaw tic after he says Inej because Inej is wounded and he can't physically bring himself to help her I fucking cannot

THE MUSIC PICKING UP AS KAZ LOOKS TO THE DARKLING'S CARRIAGE I CAN'T WITH THIS SHOW ANYMORE

and now for one of my favorite scenes in television and cinematic history, David Kostyk throwing a book at Jesper Fahey without even knowing who he is merely because he opens the door of his carriage and says hello to him before getting knocked out by Kaz Brekker while trying to run away

Immediately followed by another, the scene with David Kostyk raising his finger to put forward his point in front of the Darkling and the Darkling trying to let him know he doesn't have to before obliging is one of my favourite scenes in the world

also sir please stop being devastatingly attractive in your glorious appearance with your face and your black kefta and cloak because all that comes to mind is Ayesha Erotica's Emo Boy and I'm afraid that is terribly inappropriate.

'No, you look great.' *literally looks down from embarrassment or blushing* MALINA RIGHTS?

THE LOOK ON THE DARKLING'S FACE BEFORE HE SAYS 'NO ORDINARY TRACKER, NO ORDINARY GIRL' BITCH IM OUT OF BREATH

'ORPHANS OF KERAMZIN, REUNITED.' 'ADORABLE.' HE FUCKING SNEERED IRL I FUCKING CANNOT

GOD IT'S SO GOOD

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years ago

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2x13: Houses of the Holy

Providence, Rhode Island

A woman sits in the dark, smoking cigarettes, and watching TV.

The lights start to flicker and the television flickers back to an evangelical preaching. Her house starts shaking and her angel statues start falling. There’s suddenly a bright light and the woman watches it in awe.

Sam Winchester, decked out in white scrubs, greets his patient, Gloria. Sam wants to talk to her about what she saw that night. Gloria tells him that she stabbed a man in the heart “because it was God’s will.” Sam wants to know if God talked to her (too busy fucking with your life, Sam) but she says no and that an angel came to her. The angel told her that the man she stabbed was guilty. She needed no other proof to do it.

Sam later finds Dean enjoying some music and magic fingers.

Dean’s on lockdown because he robbed a bank in Milwaukee. They discuss the case. It really seems that Gloria is just a religious nutjob. And Sam would agree if she wasn’t the second person in town to have murdered someone because an angel told them to. “Supernatural maybe. But angels? I don't think so,” Dean insists. BLESS.

They then have a very fun conversation about how unicorns don’t exist (And Truly, BLESS Andrew Dabb. This dude took this one off joke and made it reality.) In any event, Dean firmly doesn’t believe in angels. (In a far off voice I hear: This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.)

Once they stop arguing about angels, they decide to check out the victim, Carl’s place. They head to the basement to see what secrets he had hidden.

Sam finds scratch marks on the wall. On a closer inspection, he also finds a fingernail. They start digging up the dirt floor and find a skeleton.

In a lonely apartment, a man lays on his bed, drinking himself to oblivion. His lights start flickering and the room starts shaking. Suddenly there’s a bright light.

Cut to the man, Zach, walking to another house and stabbing a dude right in the gut.

Dean’s listening to the police scanner when Sam walks back to the motel room with food. He also has news that three people disappeared from the library where Carl worked. Dean has other news --the not-angel struck again.

They head out to the victim’s house and sneak inside. Sam hacks into the dude’s computer and Dean browses his catalog collection. Sam finds locked emails that turn out to be to an underage girl.

Dean is baffled by this spirit or demon they’re dealing with. Sam points out it’s like an avenging angel. Oh, Sam, if you only knew angels are dicks. Dean connects the two victims --they both go to the same church.

They meet with the priest posing as new parishioners. They discuss this whole angel crap but the priest is a believer (obv.) and talks openly with Sam about what angels are thought to be like. They look at a painting of Michael, the archangel, while the priest describes his belief that they’re “more loving, than wrathful.”

As they’re leaving, Dean notices a memorial on the steps of the church. It’s for Father Gregory, who was shot there two months prior in a carjacking. Dean thinks they’re dealing with a vengeful spirit, but Sam still humors the angel aspect of it all. Dean knows that Sam prays everyday (and I sit weeping in the corner, thinking of Purgatory.)

An angel statue begins to quake. Sam looks at it with curiosity, only to be overtaken by awe as bright light suffuses the room. He passes out.

“I saw an angel,” Sam gasps to his brother later. He reports that the angel spoke to him and told him to kill a man. The kicker is, the doomed guy on Sam’s hit list hasn’t actually committed any crime...yet. Dean’s unimpressed by Sam “Minority Report” Winchester’s insistence that he’s been chosen by the angels and God for this mission. I give Dean a high five, then methodically throw rocks through every single one of my windows as I think about the next thirteen seasons.

Their mom used to tell them every night that angels were watching over them. “She was wrong,” Dean says bitterly, “There’s no higher power. There’s no God. There’s just chaos. Violence. Random unpredictable evil that comes outta nowhere. Rips you to shreds. You want me to believe in this stuff? I’m gonna need to see some hard proof.” (I gallantly resist making a dirty joke about Castiel’s “hard proof.”)

Ahem. Anyway, Dean’s solid on the ghost theory. At the priest’s crypt they find wormwood growing - it’s a sign of a restless spirit. LOLLLL early seasons. Sam agrees to hold a seance.

They head out of a corner grocery a little while later, stocked with SpongeBob mats and candles for the seance, when Sam sees THE SIGN. Light glows around his mark - the guy he’s supposed to kill. While Ace of Base plays in my head, Sam makes a move to kill - er, stop - the ghost-tagged perp. Looking to forestall Sam’s murder-to-be, Dean tells Sam to run the seance and tails Sam’s suspect on his own. Dean watches the guy pick up a date, and then they’re off again.

Meanwhile, Sam’s obediently running the seance.

The priest appears in the crypt, horrified to see what looks like THE VERY DEVIL WORSHIP taking place. “I can explain,” Sam says before utterly failing to explain anything. And then light fills the room. The priest wonders if it’s an angel, but Sam sorrowfully notes that it’s only Father Gregory’s ghost.

The glowing angelic vision suddenly distills into a normal human figure. Father Gregory wonders why Sam isn’t killing his marked man. After all, he’s an angel and he commanded it! Sam glumly explains that NO, Father Gregory is just a normal ectoplasm-slinging ghost.

Dean loses the trail of the marked man, while Father Gregory explains that his kill orders are redemption for the killers and every one of his marks is guilty. “This is vengeance. This is wrong,” the older priest declares and I look VERY HARD at the rest of the show.

Meanwhile, the guy Dean was tailing parks his car in an abandoned alley and attempts to attack his date. JAB HIM IN THE EYEBALLS, LADY! Dean bashes his head in just in time and saves the date. The guy drives off and Dean follows quickly on his tail.

The old priest offers last rites to Father Gregory, who begins to flicker.

Sam watches in full puppy eyed mode as Father Gregory disappears, presumably to high five ghosts in Heaven.

Dean chases the Bad Guy through the streets until a truck pulls out in front of Bad Guy’s car. A metal pole bounces off the truck, pierces the windshield, and impales the guy right in the chest.

Later, Sam morosely packs his bag back at the motel.

For What the Fuck is this Motel Room Design Science:

Sam’s sad that there wasn’t an angel watching out for people on Earth. Dean pulls out his flask, takes a big swig, and promises to watch out for Sam. “You’re just one person,” Sam tells him. He’d hoped there was a higher power guiding their lives. One who’d grant Sam salvation.

“Knocking on Heaven’s Door” starts to play, while Dean confesses his current emotional state. He proposes that the insane way the Bad Guy died MIGHT have been God’s will. I kick Chuck right in the nuts.

Quakin’ Quotes:

Aw, dammit! That was my last quarter. Hey! You got any quarters?

There's a ton of lore on unicorns too. In fact, I hear that they ride on silver moonbeams and they shoot rainbows out of their ass

You’ve got faith. I’m sure it makes things easier

One of the perks of the job. We don’t need to operate on faith

Men cannot be angels

There’s so much evil in the world, Dean. I feel like I could drown in it.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 2x13 #houses of the holy #supernatural season 2

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mrsackermanbrat · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 8: HIS AND HER REALITY

“I’ll be right back.”

Levi watched the weak man tell Claire, closing his rickety door to her face. He crouched on a roof nearby tailing the girl who has been looking for him but was completely oblivious to his presence.

Yes, he knows she has been seeking him out.

He had watched her pester her brothers to help her retrace her steps to find his hideout which they would adamantly disapprove much to Levi’s relief.

Once he had listened to her ask Amon about him and how he had warned her about him. Saying he was rather known to be violent and ruthless, not exactly good company to keep.

He would normally think nothing of what others say about him. After all, he built his reputation for a reason but somehow the way the boy cautioned Claire ticked him off.

She had kept silent but he had seen the objection in her eyes and the defensive way her shoulders set in her stubborn refusal to believe the boy’s words which appeased Levi.

He had been absolutely livid when he came back to his place, feeling robbed and as empty as the poor excuse of the four walls and roof he considered his lodging.

So he decided not to come back the next day.

His blood boiling in his veins, the rage he felt slipping out of his control at how inexplicably unfair things have always been for him.

His sudden loneliness a deliberate and harsh wake up call. It was the reality he was able to escape for a few hours in the confines of Claire’s place. It was also the reality that taunted him now pulling him from his delusion. It felt like being poured with a bucket of freezing water.

He even went out of his way to avoid running into her or any other member of her family ever since that day in their lodging by keeping his heists within the heart of the Underground which was undeniably a pain in the ass because food was scarcer and money rarer.

Why are some people luckier than others despite being in this place? Why can some people have family and hot food on the table? Why can some people have the luxury to laugh and be with someone they love in this hellhole?

“Why can’t I have that too?” A small, vulnerable voice in the back of his mind had bitterly thought.

But then it only took three days before his conviction shattered and soon he found himself seeking her out.

It started with passing by her lodging to get glimpses of her in the mornings as either of her brothers gently shook her awake.

He never could differentiate the twins physically yet. Although Levi learned that Bran was the one with better senses, quick to pick up that someone was watching from a distance.

But Levi was quicker, of course. And so he would quickly take off as soon as he saw Bran about to turn.

Before he even knew it, he was following her. Slowly picking up on and getting accustomed to habits she barely even noticed herself.

Like how the first thing she did as she came down their stairs was hug her mother from behind and how she’d secretly stash bread in her bag to give away for later.

Like how she kept her head down when they walked to work but never could resist looking behind her to make sure her brothers were there.

Like how she always wanted to sit by windows and how she’d reluctantly pull away every time she was called out on it.

Levi has been a silent shadow of every turn she took.

He has been at it for almost two months now.

It irked him quite frankly.

While some would have seen it as alarming, he wasn’t following her because he wanted to.

No. It’s just that he was drawn to her and he simply cannot overcome it which made him hate her more. Every single thing about her.

Claire was on her last leg of delivery but the man miscalculated the exact amount he had to pay.

Days of working for the hospital turned into a month and by now Claire had been confident enough to split the deliveries with Amon so they could cover more ground in less time.

They both agreed to wait for the other, the stall in the market where her brothers worked for their set rendezvous.

She immediately bowed her head down as the door opened again and she accepted the coins from the man, taking caution not to make eye contact but briefly offered a kind smile like always. “Thank you, sir. Same time tomorrow!”

Despite her disguise there would always be one or two who would notice she was not a boy for the matter and in those instances she’d quickly turn or feign indifference.

Sometimes a few would try to follow her to back her up in a corner but unbeknownst to her, someone’s mere shadow was already scaring the other thugs away before they can even execute their plan.

While he justified his own actions to himself as an excuse to find something new to silently brood about and hate her for, he’d never admit the thought of her having some run ins with the other thugs in the Underground was what really kept him.

Her soft features were a dead give away. Her eyes that show a myriad of emotions every time. Other times Amon would smear her face or dishevel her beret or overcoat before leaving the hospital in an attempt to make her look boyish.

This pisses Levi off for reasons unknown but he knows he doesn’t like the dirt on her features. “Disgusting,” he’d often think but if one were to see, they might think it’s actually Amon he’s pissed at.

His keen eyes watched Claire keep a brisk pace, her boots hitting the cobblestone at a steady pattern to get to her destination in the shortest amount of time.

It was obvious to him that the dark corners unnerved her no matter how many times she passed them on a daily.

He had seen her shoulders tense in fear of the shadows that lurked one too many times. The glow from their cigars and the smoke that followed were telltale signs of their menacing presence.

However, Claire never told her brothers or their mother for fear of worrying them.

Once in a while, when they had some coins to spare or when they carried more medicines than usual, Levi would see Agnes pay a Military Police soldier to accompany her and Amon.

They don’t come cheap.

On those days, Levi would retire early knowing she’d come back to the hospital in one piece anyway.

He also picked up that if she told her brothers on the other hand, they would go out of their way to take the deliveries from her. They didn’t like the idea of it in the first place and she wouldn’t like to give them a reason that would strengthen their opposal.

As she rounded a corner, she heard a commotion that quickly made her hide behind a stack of crates that always littered the Underground, peeking to try and see if she can get around the three men when she heard Amon.

“Get fucking lost. You can’t have these-!” She held a hand over her mouth to silence the gasp that escaped her due to the sickening thud of a punch that landed on Amon’s jaw.

“I’m not gonna say this twice, kid. You’re lucky I asked nicely. Now give ‘em!”

“If you want them, you can have them. But you’re going to have to pay first!” He fired back spitting bloody saliva at the man’s face.

“Alrighty then. You ain’t gonna cooperate, eh?”

Levi narrowed his eyes at the lump that accompanied Claire on the deliveries. He could not care less if he was in trouble but then Claire just had to be involved.

He watched in surprise as she slid from the crates. Scoffing, he sat down on the edge of the roof he stood from to spectate. His position still alert and ready to spring into action anytime.

But in the meantime however, he is intrigued at whatever she was going to pull this time.

He can’t decide who was being more stupid between the two.

A shaky breath escaped her as she broke into a run when she saw the glint of the blade of a knife the man pulled from behind him.

There was no time to think. The situation is escalating and the obvious fury in the man’s stance was more than enough to spell Amon’s fate.

Just as the man raised his arm to swing his knife, Amon’s eyes met with hers, widening at the sight of her coming close.

He tried to silently warn her but Claire was having none of it. She can’t let Amon get hurt.

“Stop!”

Without hesitation, she jumped up and wrapped her arms around the man’s bulky one holding the knife before pulling down with all her might.

Unfortunately to no avail.

Claire was positive that she was hanging a foot or so above the ground and she gulped determinedly at the man who wasn’t even bothering to hide his bewilderment.

She began to realize just how big the man actually was and he was obviously the leader.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, brat?” Levi hissed under his breath unconsciously creeping closer. “This isn’t good.”

Having recovered from his confusion, the man violently shook his arm sending her tiny form crashing to the ground.

“What the fuck? This your friend?” The man asked turning back to Amon. “Well it looks like I’ll get more from you two then, eh? What do you have in your bag there, kid?”

Claire scrambled away clutching her bag closer. She subtly cleared her throat knowing full well that if they find out she’s a girl, things would be worse.

“You can’t have these either, sir. O-other people paid for these and it belongs to them.”

“Well now I’m taking them! Now give or I’ll fucking slit your friend’s throat!” The man shouted in a craze, grabbing Amon.

Upon closer inspection the man was shaking and sweating. There was a wild look in his eyes, he was desperate.

“No-! Wait I-I.”

“Go on! Move!” The man nodded to his fellows and they went to snatch the bag from Claire.

By now Levi had already come down from the roofs, stalling behind a crate ready to leap up and deliver a kick to a face of a man stalking closer to Claire when the dumbest words came from her mouth.

“N-no! I-I can come with you!”

Everyone halted.

Levi has seen her pull stupid stunts but today has got to be the most idiotic of them all.

Even Claire couldn’t believe what just came out of her mouth.

“C-Charles! What the fuck are you saying?”

The man stilled, his eyes narrowing at her in discontent.

“Please, s-sir. If you tell us what you’ll use this for we may be able to help you better.”

“And what good can you do, runt?”

Claire racked her brain for a lie that can diffuse the situation. “I-I can help you. I, uhm, I-I’m the youngest grandson of the doctor. I-I know some things. Just don’t h-hurt us, please.”

Well she only lied about the grandson part. It’s not like she can say she’s related to the female doctor because that alone already made her mother a potential target to malicious minds.

Drunkards consulting in the hospital significantly increased the past few weeks and Dr. Babin was having a hard time turning them away, specially those who couldn’t pay or those that only had a scratch.

Alec and Bran already considered getting a job in the hospital too out of worry but then Dr. Babin doesn’t have the means to pay more people.

Agnes didn't bother dressing up in men's clothing thinking a woman her age wouldn't be that much of an issue but in the Underground, thugs were after flesh and a good time.

Her complexion from being a noble wasn't helping either. Besides suddenly dressing up as a man would be too obvious and it might blow Claire's cover too.

“You’re just a delivery boy I bet you ain’t got any idea what those things are for either.”

“P-please! Taking these medicines will only be for nothing if you don’t know their use.”

The man breathed in and out contemplating the child’s words. When he spoke his voice was lower as if he was no longer speaking to them. “My… daughter. She’s been down for days now… I…”

“T-these are formulated for every patient. Please just let me have a look first.” Claire tried again, her voice gentle and coaxing.

“Charles!” Amon yelled in utter disbelief.

“Then I’ll have to pay you, yeah? Stealing it is better! I need them. Stop wasting my time!” The man exclaimed, snapping back to reality from the boy’s outburst and tightened his choke hold on him. He deepened the blade of the knife to his throat eliciting a groan from him.

A round of laughter was heard from not too far away and they all turned to the sound of footsteps approaching to see four soldiers heading their way but not having spotted them yet.

The three thugs exchanged a look of unease with a sense of urgency.

Seeing the opening, Claire stepped closer daring to touch the man again. “You don’t have to p-pay us, sir. Please. Let me see if I can help. You might do more harm if you just force these medicines.”

“You’ve been stalling me…”

“No, sir! Please! I mean it! I- we can come with you!”

“Charles! Are you out of your mind?! Help-!”

Another man kneed him to the stomach while the leader clamped a hand over his mouth in sheer panic. “Oi! Shut it!”

If they called for help the MPs can easily solve this. The look of hope in Amon’s eyes told her he thought the same.

But Claire felt for the man. She could not comprehend the hopelessness that must have driven the man to commit such things.

She suddenly realized they were only ever after the medicines because they actually needed it. If they planned to steal it to make some money then they would have let their knives do the talking from the beginning.

He was only a father doing everything he can for his daughter. She knows her own Papa would do the same.

Breathing in, she decided. “We’ll come with you, sir. You d-don’t have to pay us. Just don’t hurt us and let us g-go after. We promise not to utter a word a-about this.”

After a beat, the man released Amon and gripped Claire’s arm in an iron grasp. “You’d better make this worth it, runt.”

She whimpered when the man started to pull her along but Levi stayed his ground. He could not believe she made the man consider.

Besides, he has already analyzed the same thing Claire did and he could end this in a blink of an eye if things go south but right now he wanted to know how this unfolds.

Claire went along without protest reaching out to pull Amon by his sleeve to evade the MPs who were closer when he bellowed. “Help us!”

In a split second, chaos ensued.

Claire felt the hold on her tighten and so she tried to twist free out of fear but the one holding her was intent on taking her bag away from her.

She adamantly held on to it for dear life. He was about to strike her with his other hand when a knife sliced through the arm holding her.

She felt herself being pushed back once she was free, hearing the voice before catching sight of the familiar undercut. “Get back, brat,” then quickly turning to glare at Amon, “You just had to open your mouth!”

Claire and Amon exchanged looks of confusion at Levi’s sudden appearance. Amon’s eyebrows cocked to silently question Claire but she only blinked cluelessly.

The thunder of the MPs’ boots hitting the ground and the jostling of their gear as they ran closer slightly drowned out the grunts and thuds being exchanged.

At the same time, one of the men tackled Amon. They went down with a struggle, a few punches being thrown here and there. Eventually he was able to throw the man off of him and hold his ground.

The man brandished a rusty knife and swung. Amon dodged and as he did the man pulled on the strap of his bag inevitably pulling the boy along with it making him collide with the man before swiftly slashing to snatch it from him.

“Give it back! Charles get back to the hospital now!” He broke off into a run chasing the thug leaving Claire alone in the midst of the uproar.

He easily caught up to the man but was greeted with an elbow forcefully thrown to his face making him stumble to a nearby wall. When he tried to get back up the man punched him knocking him unconscious.

“Amon!”

A whistle rung in the expanse of the Underground as the two of the four MPs finally reached them, running after the man that took the bag from Amon.

She was about to run to him when a hand pulled her back. “Not so fast.”

“Get your hands off.” Levi warned haughtily, his eyes on them as he delivered one last kick to the leader of the gang, tentatively immobilizing him.

The last man took no heed, pulling Claire by the shirt she wore. Next thing she knew was that there was a sudden whoosh and she was shoved again.

In a blink of an eye, Levi had the man dragging her on the ground, his body radiating with obvious menace, eyes flashing with murderous intent.

Claire watched with amazement at first that turned into crippling terror as the man got a hold of Levi’s leg hoisting him up in an attempt to throw him off but a knee met with the man’s nose.

She heard a crack and blood oozed out of the man’s nose. His grip on Levi loosened.

The strength in Levi’s blows was too immense, beyond unbelievable.

As soon as he was back on his feet he quickly straddled the man, delivering barbarous blows to his face. She watched and flinched at every crack and crunch.

But she couldn’t just stand there and watch. Making her way to where Amon lay, Claire cradled his head on her lap lightly tapping his cheek. “Amon, please wake up!”

Bruises were already starting to form on his cheek and jaw.

She looked up for a second and her eyes widened to see the leader elbowing an MP trying to cuff him before running to them while another MP tried to pull Levi off the other thug.

As he got closer he man had tried to lunge for her but Levi was faster, roughly shoving the MP that touched him. He wasn’t about to let the man get near Claire as his evidently smaller body knocked the man over.

The MPs scurried to stand and subdue the man Levi abandoned. A knife flew by Claire’s head when the man got disarmed but she thankfully dodged in time.

A loud bang rang out amidst the uproar as an MP fired a gun to the ceiling and tried to approach behind Levi once more to pull him off the leader he was once again beating up.

He punched the MP on the ribs and twisted the arm of the other that followed before bringing his elbow down on it effectively.

Levi broke their bones with audible cracks and ease like it was mere child’s play but what made Claire wince was the guttural cries that followed.

Just then Amon stirred with a grunt.

Seeing this and having made sure the remaining thugs and MPs won’t be a problem to them or him anymore, Levi knew it was time to leave.

She helped Amon slowly get up but her body was too small to support his taller build. “Hang on, Amon. Can you walk? Levi, I need-”

She turned just in time to see him running away. “Wait, no! Levi!”

Before Amon could protest, Claire had already leaned him down on a nearby crate. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Clai- Charles! Shit!”

Levi looked behind him in surprise at the sound of the pitter patter of Claire’s footsteps. He couldn’t understand why she bothered to follow or why she had the full confidence to do so.

“Levi wait!”

He tried to shake her off his tail. But his steps lacked conviction and his speed was held back as if he was letting her catch on despite the numerous turns he took. Before long they both found themselves back in the sewers.

He sharply turned back to her to find her bent over, hands at her knees trying her hardest to catch her breath.

“Brat, why the hell are you following me?” His voice dripped with annoyance.

She looked up with her eyes shining and caught him off guard as she pulled him in for a hug. “You’re alive!”

“What?”

Claire was overjoyed to finally see Levi again. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her of Amon but she couldn’t care less at the moment. She could wallow in guilt later.

Abruptly pulling back, she took his left wrist lifting his arm and pushing the sleeve in the process, eyes searching.

She sighed, eyes alight with relief, “You’re all healed up.” Then a hand found his chin turning it from side to side to inspect.

Not knowing what to do at first he froze before harshly pushing her hands away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

As if suddenly realizing her joy at seeing him has overridden her normal decorum, she stepped back with blush creeping in her cheeks.

Levi could not comprehend how she can be so trusting and daring to touch him like that? This has to be the second time she has seen him get rough with other people.

"Did this brat not see that?" He thought, completely puzzled.

“I-I’m sorry. You… you didn’t come back. I was worried something might have happened to you.” Reaching into her bag, she took out the clothes her mother had washed for him. “Here.”

“Am I alright? She went after me for this?”

See, Levi had convinced himself that he hated her.

The way she still offers a smile and a bid goodbye before leaving every door after making her delivery.

The way she kept giving away food to shitfaces leaning on the filthy walls or laying on the grimy ground which he thinks is partly the reason why she wants to run this delivery errand anyway.

The way the first thing she did was embrace him and inspect him for wounds after he had just beaten up a grown man in front of her.

The way it shocked him how she was worried about something happening to him which was completely ridiculous.

The way her eyes looked so happy to see him.

The way she always did the last thing he expected.

He hated how she was capable of being good and why she was like that towards him. It was so foreign to him. So out of place in this shithole and so her very presence angers him.

No. He didn’t hate her. He hated how he was being since he met her. He hated how he felt the need to keep tabs on her. He hated how he could only either stand there frozen or halfheartedly push her away in confusion. He hated how he was so attuned to her eyes or her actions. He hated that he felt good because of how she treated him.

Although he can’t seem to help it.

Standing there, staring at the clothes in her hands he realized the reasons he was so drawn to her were also the reasons he claimed to hate her.

Levi angrily took his clothes from her. “Go away.”

“But-”

“Leave.”

A grumbling inside a stomach echoed within the cavern of the sewers.

She grabbed his hand again, not even minding that other men’s blood were on them and placed an apple in it. “You must be hungry. Here have some drink too.”

He withdrew his hand and threw the apple across the space while she rummaged for her skin bottle. “Levi? Don’t you like it? Mama has been wondering about you too. Alec onii-san is making my favorite again. We can have some soup later-”

“I told you to leave, brat.” He fixed her with a dark glare.

“Nope!” She said popping the p in defiance. “I’ve been looking for you. I carried those clothes every single day for so long to give them back in case I saw you but I never did. I’m not leaving anytime soon. So where were you?”

“I don’t need to answer you.” He said turning his back to her.

“Hey, we’re friends remember?”

Levi scoffed. “Friends? We’re not.”

He heard her sigh and shuffle. Turning his head back he found her picking up the apple and sitting on the ground. She removed her bag and shook her head with a small smile on her lips.

“You know, it’s bad to throw food away.”

“Just give it away. You always do.”

“But this is the biggest one Bran onii-san took home last night. I always keep the biggest ones to give to you. When I don’t see you, I give it to an old woman I always pass on my way back home from the hospital.”

At that Levi raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t noticed that specifically. Just that she always gave food to that old woman more frequently than the others.

“Why?”

Claire wasn’t sure what exactly he was asking. Why did she give food away or why does she keep the biggest ones for him? Eitherway she gave a safe answer because she figured returning a question would just set him off more.

“Because I want to share what I have.”

Levi rolled his eyes and sat down from where he stood.

“You could have slowed down a little back there. I really have a hard time trying to find this place again. Now how am I suppose to retrace our steps with all those turns.”

“That’s the point. What were you even thinking a while ago?”

“The man was in need. If I had the means to help why shouldn’t I? Mama said I should never hesitate to extend a helping had when I can.”

“I doubt she meant you recklessly offering to go with strangers, thugs at that.”

Now it was Claire rolling her eyes. “They were forced to do a bad thing for someone else in need. Does that make them bad persons?”

Levi scoffed once more. “It’s not a question of good or bad. Why even bother?”

“I just wanted to help…”

“No. You’re just naive and stupid to believe they’d just let you go after!” Levi yelled making Claire shrink back.

“L-Levi what’s the matter? Friends are not supposed to talk like that.”

“I told you we’re not!”

“Why… why did you save me then?”

Her question infuriated him. He didn’t know why he bothers either.

“You’re just lucky I was passing by today. Now we’re even for your mother treating me last time.”

Even? Claire was at a loss for words but she chose the high road even if he was starting to irritate her.

“Levi… you don’t have to beat people up in return for that… A thank you is enough. In fact, we don’t need you to say it. You’re my friend and my family and I are more than happy to help.”

“Shut it, brat.”

Claire stood up and approached him, “You’re grumpier today. What’s wrong?” She probed to no avail. “Come on. Why don’t we just get back? Amon probably already told them I came after you. They might get worried.”

“Then you best be on your way.”

“You’re coming, right? Mama would be delighted to see you again. Why don’t you just eat that off, hm?”

Delighted? Why the hell would someone be delighted to see him? Feeling his confusion running his patience dangerously thin Levi stood, only very slightly towering over Claire. Eyes cold and speaking volumes.

“Listen here and you listen well, brat. This isn’t some bedtime story shit you grew up hearing where everyone are all smiles and giving and grateful, no. This isn’t some palace or wherever the hell you came from on the Surface. People in here have to do whatever it takes to find means to survive even if it means living off someone else for some. Those people you give food to? They don’t see you as a friend. They just see you as someone they can leech off of. I only helped you because I don’t like owing anything to anyone. It doesn’t make us friends. I don’t need your charity and I don’t want it.”

“Levi, you have it all wrong. That isn’t… why are you saying-”

“There is no such thing as friends in this place! Down here, it’s every man for himself and those who don’t get that don’t survive long enough. You probably can’t grasp that because you never had to fend for yourself but those who don’t have anyone have no choice but to rely on themselves so get that in your spoiled, sheltered head. Next time try to remember it so you can stop being an inconvenience to others. Otherwise, you might just end up too dead to even learn your lesson.”

She was silent for a while. He held her gaze, unwilling to back down either. Emotions flitted across them again too fast for him to keep up until it settled with sadness.

He looked away first and sighed. He didn’t understand why he lashed out but he wasn’t about to take back what he said either.

Claire blinked and spoke, “Wow.” Her heart felt heavy at his words and somehow they hurt. How could someone she barely knew have that effect? Why does she even care?

Levi’s eyebrows knit in confusion.

“I think that’s the most I ever heard you say in one go.”

“Piss off.”

“I will. Why do I even bother?” She whispered. “But I think that’s a rather lonely way to live.”

“I could care less about what you think. At least I’ll be living.”

“… I don’t think so, Levi. My family told me this place is harsh and I saw it too and it scares me. But you know what? I’m happy I don’t have to face it alone. What’s so wrong about wanting that for you too? Just because that’s how you’ve been doesn’t mean that’s how you always have to be. I feel sorry that you choose to.”

Their eyes met once more and while Levi’s remained cold and empty, he saw something in her eyes: disappointment.

With that Claire turned to leave even though she had no idea how she’d get back. But she was too hurt, insulted even, to ask for help from someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with her.

Maybe her brothers were indeed right. Maybe Amon was too.

Anger replaced the joy she felt earlier with every step she took. Is that what he thought of her?

It was just in her nature to willingly be there for anyone because she has always had so much to give that it hurt to be shut down like that for the first time to the point that she wondered if she had been forcing herself on him and it made her self-conscious.

His eyes followed her again, guilt flooding him because he hadn’t missed the way her shoulders drooped.

It was just in his nature to be so cruelly detached and deprived of everything that he desperately needed without even knowing to the point that he pushes anything she has to offer away because she has been the only one to do so anyway and it all felt so new to him, he didn’t exactly know what to do.

Both children felt like they had just received a slap on the face by the other with their mere words. It was indeed his and her reality that he wanted to avoid and she was shielded from.

Claire kept her head down, choosing to stick to streets with more people because her brothers taught her that those streets would more likely have MPs patrolling them.

She could hear her heart beating in her ears, the shaking of her hands tantamount to the fear she felt walking this far out into the Underground. If she ever came across an MP she could offer payment as soon as she got back to the hospital.

Atop the roofs, Levi followed her once more. He had not the will to let her be, alone and vulnerable in these parts of the Underground.

He had contemplated stopping her and just dragging her back himself having seen her get lost in her delivery runs one too many times.

But he couldn’t.

Not after the words he had said and the look she had given him.

Voices of men echoed and Claire felt the need to run, panic rising in her chest but she held back for fear of attracting more attention.

She turned sharply and collided with a man. Pulling her beret lower, she kept her head down and mumbled an apology.

“Oi, I know you…”

Looking up, she recognized the man who had taken Amon’s bag which he still carried. He looked evidently younger than the leader that she wondered if he was perhaps a son.

The man was breathing hard and kept looking over his shoulder. He had just lost the MPs after him so seeing her eyes trail set him off, immediately cornering her with a knife to her throat.

“Make a noise and you’re fucking done for.”

“Shit. Not again.” Levi grumbled, immediately climbing down but halted when Claire spoke.

“I-I won’t. You can keep those, sir. J-just please let me go.” Then she remembered. “B-but I would still like to have a look. Can you l-lead me to his daughter?”

At her words, the man lowered his knife. He couldn’t understand why the child was still offering but he remembered the little girl they were trying to fend for.

He sighed and spoke. “Follow me.”

Having seen the defeat in the man’s stance Levi decided to quietly follow instead. He didn’t want her to find him tailing her anyway.

He was contradicting what he said and she clearly didn’t listen to him. It irritated him beyond comprehension.

The man led her deeper into the Underground. It was darker and more silent and Claire wondered if she was doing the right thing.

But surmising that she was safe for the time being because the man needed her too much to harm her, she relaxed a little.

Also, Levi’s words rung in her ears and she refused to let them affect her.

She was about to ask if they were close, too agitated by the deeper voices that echoed and the haunting stares in the dark when the man stopped by a small building with a door with many planks on it to keep it upright.

He pulled on a thick rope that latched on the frame before shoving the door open with his shoulder. The interior was small, too cramped and dark. The small kitchen, the bed, and a loo were all in the same room.

The man nodded towards the lone lamp in the table by the corner that slightly illuminated a small figure laying in a wooden bed with a thin blanket covering her frail body.

“A-aniki?” The girl asked weakly, her voice hoarse and barely perceptible in the tight space.

“I’m right here, Isabel.” He turned to her and said, “She’s my sister. We’ve been trying to do everything we can but the fever won’t break. I… I don’t know if you’re just saying what you said earlier to get out of trouble but I figured it was worth a try when you repeated it.”

Claire held a hand to the girl’s forehead. It was hot, too hot to be good. She was so tiny she’s can’t be more than three.

She took out her skin bottle and slightly drenched a cloth she always kept in her bag. Running it across the girl’s forehead and pulling the blanket down to expose skin tight on bones and ran the cloth down to cool her.

The girl shivered and whimpered but Claire gently shushed her as she continued her motions. Her lips were parched and eyes hazy. “It’s alright, Isabel.”

When she was done, she rummaged through her bag and pulled out a couple of herbs to arranged on the table to make her instructions clear.

Pointing to each, “These are elderflowers, white willow bark, catnip, and yarrow, sir. The catnip is quite gentle for children. You can boil these and have her drink them. They should be enough to keep her hydrated and strengthen her. They could also induce sweating but it should take a few hours to break the fever.”

Handing him two small bottles she said, “This one is ginger and this is sage oil. These could warm and soothe her, sir. You can rub these on her forehead, behind her neck, or on the bottom of her feet.”

As Isabel’s teeth chattered, her brother moved to cover her with another blanket but Claire cautioned him. “She has to be able to stay cool so unless she has the chills, extra layers should be avoided. You can run a cloth over her from time to time as well.”

With his head hung low, the man awkwardly shoved Amon’s bag back to Claire. “Thank you. I-I’m sorry for the trouble we caused you and your friends. We had no other choice… we couldn’t have afforded to bring her to the hospital… I can, I can accompany you back. This is too far and it’s dangerous for children like you out here.”

She felt saddened at the image of the man in front of her. Claire knows her brothers and Papa would do the same should need dictate it.

Levi was right. This was no palace and everyone had to do whatever it takes to survive. How can she judge them?

This was the reality she did not see in the safety on the Surface.

But he was wrong to say it was every man for himself and people aren’t grateful.

“Thank you, sir.” Then a thought hit her, “S-should you need anything else, y-you know where to find me. You don’t have to p-pay… all I ask is that you do n-not harm us.”

The man smiled warmly, “Thank you.” His voice broke, falling on his knees as he cried. Never once has anyone offered to help with no cost.

What would have happened to his sister had he not crossed paths with this child again?

He was too ashamed of their earlier actions.

Levi was impressed watching the exchange from a corner and felt guilty for his words once more. Maybe there was another way around the reality of survival in this place and struggle doesn’t always have to be involved.

Claire certainly has her own.

He shadowed her once more on their way back even when she sent the man away when they neared the market having already spotted her brothers with Amon talking to MPs with worried looks.

Levi witnessed her get a good scolding by Alec even after profusely apologizing to Amon, her brothers, and mother. But she took it all silently until it was time for bed.

Their mother had come into the room she shared with her brothers and held her as she spoke of the events of the day and how she made a new friend.

Agnes praised her for helping someone but reminded her that things were different here and not everyone would be so kind to take her up in her offer without harming her first.

Most importantly, she chided Claire never to risk her life again, hastily like she did. Telling her she should have simply given them away if it would have come at the cost her life.

He listened to her excitedly share about seeing him again but wondered why she was making him out to be a good person.

Even leaving out the part when he lashed out at her and claiming he accompanied her instead of the man upto the market but that he had to leave immediately even though he knew she couldn’t have known he followed her.

“Has his wound healed alright? Maybe next time we can ask Levi to come with you and Amon, hm?”

Levi held his breath. He has no idea why Agnes cared for him or trusted him but it was comforting.

“He’s fine and I don’t think we should bother him, Mama. He has already done so much.”

He left after that.

He realized he was indeed wrong. She is his friend. Well was.

He knew he might have just blew it.

He couldn’t have that and so he contemplated what he could do to fix it.

< Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 >

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Hey guys! So I realized you guys might have an issue with the pacing of the story but I would like to take this time to explain how I want it to be realistic and as close to real-life as possible. A slow burn!

Although this is a work of fiction, I don’t want it to be like fiction fiction where the leads fall instantly and whatnot. If you guys know what I mean. I want there to be raw emotions. Hesitation and so much thought.

I think it better suits the characters and the setting and the vibe of the Underground. So pleeeeeease bear with me?

I do promise this is the last chapter of our cuties being distant and uncertain. It gets better, I swear!

Also! We have Isabel now! While I will maintain how Isabel and Levi meet, how he saved her and all that with accordance to the manga, I also wanted to put my touch into how Isabel and Claire meet! Hope you guys like it!

#a choice with no regrets #leviackerman #levixoc #levi heichou #levi ackerman #shingekinokyojin #acwnr #underground levi

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writingbakery · 4 years ago

Text

⥂ 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫 (𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬)

chapter i | price tag punch ; the last thing you’d ever expected is to see kuroo tetsuro’s lying, scheming ass again. little do you know, you’re about to get very well acquainted, all over again, for the lovely price tag of $60 million. a job’s a job, right ?

dessert pairing; international smuggler! kuroo tetsuro x international smuggler! fem reader

warnings; a solid right hook to the jaw, criminal activity, meet-ugly, reuniting exes

a/n; oh boy, i hope y’all are ready to hate kuroo’s smug lil ass !

the last time you saw kuroo tetsuro, he was harnessed to a helicopter rope above an abandoned villa as dutch police put you in handcuffs. he’d betrayed you, sold you out to the competing smugglers and stolen the briefcase containing the priceless original drafts of mozart’s earliest compositions, and he did it all with that absolutely infuriating shit eating grin he always had when he pulled a fast one on someone. usually, it was a competing thief. this time, it was you.

a years partnership down the drain, and a year’s worth of hookups & whispered love confessions burnt with that final bridge. you’d never forget the way he looked that morning, golden in the rising sun as he deserted you. your heart had never truly recovered.

luckily, you had contacts in nearly every agency; you were a free woman ten hours later, purse a little heavier from pickpocketing every cop who’d given you shit. [the hermés bag was a “self gift” from the bitchy receptionist. at least she had good taste in handbags.]

recovering from the betrayal wasn’t so easy, nor quick; you lost count of how many nights youd spent in some slicked up city bar, drowning your sorrows & scouting out new jobs. two years of rock bottom hadn’t been kind to you, but you were finally on the up & up, reestablishing yourself among the ranks of your fellow smugglers.

you were a thief, for god’s sake. you couldn’t mope forever.

thankfully, in the two years since “the dutch incident” — as you’re so dramatically labeling it — you haven’t seen so much as a whisper of tetsuro. he wasn’t accepting jobs or teaming up with anyone, not that it would matter to you if he was. in your mind, kuroo tetsuro was dead & gone; you’d like to keep it that way.

besides, you had more important things to think about than him.

you’d been tapped for a business meeting, with an elusive mr. ondori — on paper, the man was a ghost, completely off the grid. none of your contacts knew him either, so you were going in completely blind; less than ideal.

still, you trusted yourself to handle whatever life could possibly throw at you. you were prepared for anything now, & you keep that mindset as you ride the elevator up to the penthouse of an apartment block in london that looked too expensive for even your red bottom heels to walk through.

pushing open the wide, polished wood door, you can see nothing but high end furniture & floor to ceiling glass windows at first. it’s a beautiful apartment, & you’re wondering just what kind of smuggling job you were taking on when you spot an all too familiar head of spiky black hair.

never presume a thief dead until you see a body.

kuroo fucking tetsuro saunters over to your wide eyed, shocked form, a far too smug grin on his lips.

“hiya angelface — you miss me?” he looks just how you remember him; a mess of black hair falling over one eye, broad shoulders & sharp jaw shaping an unfairly handsome face. it’s like not a day’s gone by since the “dutch incident” — it’s almost laughable how little he’s changed.

for a moment, you’re both staring at each other in tense silence, neither one of you making a move to break it.

and then you pull your fist back with surprising speed, fist landing clean with a solid crack! against kuroo’s jaw.

well. that’s one way to break the tension.

when you focus again, your hand is throbbing, the lavish apartment in chaos; kuroo is whining like a bitch, blood is on the polished wood floor, & you realize with a start that he’s real. kuroo tetsuro is cowering behind a suede chair that probably cost more than the both of you combined, a split lip & a bruised jaw marring his — still stupidly handsome — face.

“i cannot believe the fucking balls on you, kuroo backstabbing piece of shit fucking rat bitch tetsuro ! you were dead to me ! dead & gone, for good, & you’ve got the audacity to trick me into meeting you here after you fucking sold me out—“

“alright, alright okay ! just let me explain, okay? please put down the vase.” you didn’t even realize you were holding it, brandishing it above your head like a weapon more like.

you lower it slowly, face not changing as he straightened himself out. “five minutes, kuroo. five minutes, then i’m leaving.”

he nods hastily, hands still up in a peaceful gesture as he watches you put the vase down. sighing in relief, he sits down in the chair, motioning towards the free one across from him — which you tentatively sit in.

“first... i’m sorry. i know it doesn’t mean shit now—“ “—you’re damn right it doesn’t—“ “—but still. i’m sorry. i’m also sorry that i can’t give you an explanation. but i’ve got a job for us now, so can we just.... put it behind us, at least until i offer you the job?”

you nod slowly, your glare not softening in the slightest; he’ll take what he can get.

“$60 million, kitten. 60. million. dollars. typical billionaire bullshit — he cheated on his wife, she robbed him of the most expensive thing he had in the house, he wants it back. in & out, okay?” the price tag makes your eyes water, & it almost seems laughably easy. except....

“why me? the amount of smugglers you could hire before me is longer than your dick—“

“ouch, kitten, no need for insults.”

“stop calling me that. you lost the rights two years ago.” he sulks a little at that, but you’re past that. he’s lucky you’re even still listening. “why me, kuroo?”

“i’ll be honest, i wouldn’t have decided on you either. i figured... i’d done you enough damage. but it was a condition of the job. i could have anyone on my team, but you had to be apart of it.” you frown at his words, confused & concerned; why would they want you?

luckily, kuroo’s got an answer for you, looking sheepish. “i’m not as good on my own, i’ll be the first to admit it. fucked up some jobs since we split. it’s probably insurance, ya know?”

the answer isn’t enough, but you accept it, mulling over the proposal with a sigh. “$60 million?”

“$60 million, ki— [y/n], & you’ll never have to see my ugly mug again. hell, you could retire. aren’t you tired of running?”

the words ring around in your head, & you can’t lie, it’s too good to pass up; even if it meant being stuck with kuroo for longer than you’d ever be comfortable with again.

“$60 million & i ghost, kuroo. i’m not doing this for you, so don’t expect me to like it, either.” from the look on his face, you’d have thought you’d agreed to marry him in paris.

“you won’t regret this, kitten. i mean, [y/n]. “ god, that’s going to get annoying.

“shut up, kuroo.”

“of course, dear.”

whap!

“ow ! alright, jesus christ kitten— put the vase down!”

bonus: “i’m surprised you didn’t know it was me. ondori literally means rooster in japanese. you’d call me rooster head all the time.”

“yeah, back when you were tolerably insufferable & not a waste of good, clean oxygen.”

“ouch, kitten. you’re a murderer with words.”

[taglist: @cloudydayanime @animefandomally @seita @kyberhearts @rienin ]

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #hq!! au #hq!! x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu kuroo #evywrites #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #no honor series

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nyd-needs-cuddles · 4 years ago

Text

What If (AU Snippet of Not Quite Black)

Au: Ace dies in Marineford

“What?”

Momonga stared at his fellow Vice-Admiral, incredulity clear on his face. Beside him, Fleet Admiral Akainu scowled at the still smiling Marine—or was it ex-Marine now?—as if what he had just said was a simple comment about the weather.

“And what do you exactly mean by that, Vice-Admiral Noir?”

Baccara smiled wider. It was not a nice smile. “I meant exactly as I said. I wish to resign from the Marines, Fleet Admiral.” He tilted his head, innocently. “Shall I repeat what I have said once more?”

The sound of Akainu gritting his teeth could be heard, and Momonga shot the younger man a panicked look, hoping to convey his worry and confusion.

“And may I ask why?”

Baccara continued smiling. “You may not.”

Silence. And for all that Akainu was the bearer of the Magu Magu no Mi, Momonga swore that the room’s temperature went down by several degrees.

Finally, after what seemed to be a lifetime, Akainu said, “...Fine. Wait until the Tenryuubito leave. Then you can submit your resignation letter.”

Momonga inwardly grimaced when Baccara’s eyes sharpened. Judging by the way his smile inched higher, that was not the correct response.

“I believe I cannot stay longer, Sakazuki.” Akainu glared, as if willing his Devil Fruit to melt this upstart from where he stood with his eyes alone. Momonga despaired over it all. “Lest I be tempted to do something... unsavory.”

Akainu raised a brow, vein pulsing. “And that is?”

Baccara’s smile turned into a feral grin, one befitting of a D, and sang, “This.”

One second, Akainu was standing perfectly normal on Momonga’s side. The next, the walls on the other side of the room were broken and cracked, with the other seven rooms following the same fashion. Momonga gaped, jaw working at what was obviously an assault, and stared at his former colleauge.

The face he was greeted with sent shivers down his spine.

Gone was the amiable smile of his lips, and instead left a blank slate with dull, silver eyes void of their usual shine. Slowly, the coat of Justice hung on Baccara’s shoulders fell to the ground with a muffled thud, and he walked away.

Momonga should stop him. Should stop him and ask him why he had done that. But there was something in his empty gaze that made him freeze in his tracks and glue him to the floor.

And so he watched as Noir D. Baccara left, chaos in his wake.

—

Smoker was having a bad day.

First, moving to the New World was a pain in the ass (and what the fuck, why the fuck do you need three Log Poses? Fucking Grand Line bullshit). Second, the G-5 Marines were utter dipshits and he’s seriously reconsidering his order to Tashigi of ‘not engaging’ because if he hears another one calling him ‘Smo-yan’ he was going to go on a murder spree. Third, Strawhat is still at large even though it’s already been a year since Marineford went in and over itself, and he’s been smoking three times more than he usually does because of that damn pirate.

Fourth, he now has to help watch over the Tenryuubito for ‘security’. Tch, damn World Nobles.

Glancing at the other poor sod enlisted to protect the rich douchebags, Rob Lucci looked perfectly at ease and as helpful as a brick wall in showing his emotions. Smoker wished that the Cipher Pols would get the fuck out of his life, but alas. It was not to be.

A few meters ahead, his Observation Haki picked up the presence of a familiar spirit, and he looked ahead to see—

Smoker nearly stumbled at the sight of Baccara’s expressionless face, and he could almost feel the eyebrow raising Rob Lucci was doing right now.

Though, what shocked him even more was Baccara’s lack of acknowledgement to their guest, not even bowing or minding them a glance. Something which the Tenryuubito took great offense with.

“You lowly critter! How dare you not grovel in the dirt where you belong!?” Saint Gregoria screeched, pointing a manicured finger towards the approaching Marine. Baccara gave no indication of hearing her, and she shrieked, “Off with his head! I want him dead! No, brand him as my slave!”

Smoker’s blood went cold at what he heard, and he turned to intervene when—

A blur of silver and a sheen of light passed by, and Saint Gregoria’s body was cut in half.

“What the—!?” Smoker jumped backwards away, a move mirrored by Rob Lucci, and he scanned his surroundings to look for the perpretator—

Baccara stood as still as a statue, indifferent to the blood dripping down Themis, blade shining ominously as red liquid pooled near his feet.

“Noir D. Baccara,” Rob Lucci intoned, eyes narrowed and voice low. “What have you done?”

With nary a hint of trepidation or remorse, Baccara met Rob Lucci’s dark gaze with a stare that could make gods cower before it and replied, “Justice.”

And then, spinning on his heel (showing his back at them, like he was not a foe), he faced the World Government’s flag silently. With growing unease and a niggling memory near the back of his head, Smoker watched him pull back a fist and—

“FIRE FIST!”

—flames shot out from his clenched fist, engulfing the World Government’s flag and Smoker—

Smoker could only watch as history repeated itself.

Head moving to look at them over his shoulder, Baccara started in a tone perfect for idle comversations and said, “Hear me now, former allies of mine.”

Multiple sounds of boots hitting the gravel echoed across them, and hundreds of Marines were suddenly surrounding them all, rifles locked on and swords raised. But all their faces were anxious, uncertain, for this was their beloved Vice-Admiral. Their sweet, kind Baccara. Surely this was a mistake? A misunderstanding of some kind?

“You may all rest in your laurels, but heed my warning—nay, heed my prediction with utmost attention.”

He faced the group of Marines in front, and bellowed with all the certainty of a man who knew the truth and saw it himself, and Smoker’s hair raised on its end.

“Portgas D. Ace will rise again. And with him, Monkey D. Luffy, the Future Pirate King of the New Era, will turn this world upside down!”

“How do I know this, you ask? Well,” and here, he smiled. But it didn’t reach his eyes. No. His eyes were filled with misery and hate and sorrow and love and hope that it didn’t match the brightness in his smile. “Of course I know. I raised them myself, after all.”

It took a few moments until the gravity of his statement sunk in. And when it did, Smoker inhaled sharply—

“NOIR D. BACCARA!” shouted Akainu, body dripping with magma and fury evident.

—until a burst of Conqueror’s Haki exploded from Baccara’s relaxed form, and the Marine HQ abruptly burst into flames.

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let-it-raines · 4 years ago

Note

Ok you probably saw this coming but now I need to see Emma and Killian working together - how it works, what they do, people’s reactions, everything pretty please!? 😊 (Assuming that is what you were alluding to? 😉)

I am...behind in Catch Me If You Can extras. I had about a million and two in my head since I love this universe most of all, and then life happened and I took some time off from writing. But nevertheless, here I am with a short little extra of the two of them being commentators together! I think they’ll probably have some pretty good on-camera chemistry, don’t you?

ao3 | here |

-/-

March 2026

“Do you think I should wear my uniform?”

“What?” Emma yells.

“Do you think I should wear my uniform?” Killian repeats, trying his hardest not to yell since Emma is one room over.

He hears Emma before he sees her, and she pops her head into the closet with her brows furrowed together and her head cocked to the side. She’s got her hair in curlers, only one eye has mascara, and her portable breast pump is attached to her. She’s a sight for sore eyes, and he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful woman if he tried.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asks, and she obviously did not find his joke funny.

Killian shrugs. “Why would I be kidding? Look at this section of the closet. It’s all my uniforms and t-shirts and joggers. I have more Yankees-branded clothes than regular clothes, and I feel like it would be fitting to wear something that paid homage to my time as a player.”

Emma’s head recoils and she shakes her head, little lines popping up on her forehead. “You’re wearing the fitted navy suit, white shirt, matching navy tie, and you have a Yankees pin to put on your lapel. Didn’t the network go over this with you?”

“No, not at all.”

Her eyes narrow, like little slits of impending death, and if she could cross her arms over her chest, she would. He knows it. “You’re fucking with me, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Come on. I know you do, love.”

“I don’t.”

Killian sighs and walks over to her, tilting his head and curling the corners of his lips. He blinks, slowly, and stares at Emma as he waits for her to smile. When she doesn’t, he places his hands on her hips and traces his lips across her neck, gently enough to not leave a mark or any trace of his stubble. If he messes up her makeup, she likely will murder him and get away with it. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Emma.”

“Killian.”

He presses a long kiss against the lobe of her ear and runs his hand down her back. “If you don’t want to have this argument on television, I feel like now might be the time we need to have it.”

“That seems like, ah – emotional blackmail.”

Killian nips down at her ear before pulling back, dipping his head so they’re eye level as he tucks a loose strand behind her ear. “You okay?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I’m a little worried that my boobs are going to start leaking on TV and that we’re going to have no chemistry together and also that we’re going to have to stop the broadcast because MJ is having a meltdown and Jace is having a meltdown because his sister is having a meltdown. And honestly, I feel like life was a lot simpler when you were lying to me about having a shoulder injury and my ex-boyfriend and your father were creating a smear campaign against us that made national headlines and nearly ruined our lives.”

Killian chuckles. He can’t help it, and he knows his wife wants to knee him in the balls for it, but he really cannot help himself. She’s stressed, and she shouldn’t be. If anything, he should be the one shitting himself because he’s the one doing something new today. But he knows better than to say that when he’s not the one who feels like he has to balance ten different jobs at once.

Emma keeps putting everything on her shoulders, like she’s the only one who can carry the stress, but he wants to carry the burdens as well. That is how their marriage works.

“You know, when you put it like that, it makes me realize our lives have never been boring. And life was probably simpler then, but none of what you’re fearing now is going to happen.”

“Really? You can guarantee that my boobs aren’t going to leak and that our children aren’t going to have meltdowns? Margot is three months old. All she does is have meltdowns and all my boobs do is leak when I get off this stupid feeding schedule because my body is only a feeding machine right now.”

Killian tilts his head and smiles. “I can guarantee we’re going to have chemistry working together.”

Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re happy to have a job again.”

Killian shrugs and kisses Emma’s cheek. “Well, I need something to do until Jace and MJ are old enough for me to coach all of their teams.”

“Killian Jones, former three-time World Series Champion, spends his days getting yelled at by overinvolved parents of seven-year-olds at baseball and ballet and fly fishing.”

“Doesn’t sound too different from my playing days. Also, fly fishing?”

“I didn’t want to limit them. We don’t know what their hobbies are going to be.”

“Too true, love. I have a feeling they’ll be trying everything they can get their hands on.”

Emma huffs and taps her knuckles over Killian’s chest. The smile she’s been hiding starts poking out. “Tonight, do you think we can get Mary Margaret and David to watch the kids, and you and I go on a date? Like, a real one where we get dressed up and go out and have full intentions to have sex afterward but really, we go to bed early and wake up feeling like humans again.”

“You are speaking my language.” Killian’s hand falls to Emma’s waist and inches back to give her ass a quick squeeze. “Go finish getting ready. You’re going to make me late to my first day on the job.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I might later.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Jace wanders into the closet as Killian is buttoning his shirt – the white button down and not his jersey – and he starts a long, very detailed conversation about the pros and cons of peanut butter with peanuts and without, and Killian does his best to pay attention to him and keep him occupied as Emma gets ready. That mostly means Jace tries climbing up on the shelves and grabbing Emma’s things, and after Killian is dressed and his hair is tamed enough, he picks Jace up and takes him to get dressed. The lucky kid doesn’t have to wear a suit. He gets to wear a Yankees sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, and his hair, curly mess that it is, will never be tamed. The baby monitor on Killian’s phone goes off, telling him Margot is up from her nap, and he takes Jace with him to MJ’s nursery to get her ready as well. Ariel is watching the two of them up in the suite today, bless her, and she’ll likely watch them for every game. They wanted to hire a nanny, but Ariel insisted that there were enough people to watch all the kids during the games. That’s a lie considering they’re all old and most of them have procreated now, so the kids far outnumber the adults.

It’s like a madhouse in their suite, and Killian could barely handle it when he only had Jace.

“Hello, little love,” Killian tells MJ as he changes her out of her pajamas and into the outfit Emma laid out. “Are you ready for your first baseball game? You don’t even know how much you’re about to have to watch this game. It’s going to be your entire life, whether you like it or not.”

“Where’s Will?” Jace asks.

“Big Will or little Will?”

“Little.”

“Where’d you leave him?” Killian asks as he pulls MJ’s pants up. “You had him while eating breakfast, so he might be in the kitchen.”

“Can I go check?”

“Give me a minute.”

“Too long.”

Killian chuckles and tries hurrying to dress Margot as she squirms and moves as much as anyone as small as her can, and he keeps his eye on Jace as he goes through the books in Margot’s room. She’s got a wall of them, something Emma saw on Pinterest and wanted to do, and while they’re supposed to be displayed nicely, Jace always has other ideas.

Thankfully, Emma’s heels start clicking down the hall, and she appears in the room, a vision in a cream dress that hugs her curves and heels that will definitely distract him for the rest of the day. Killian lets out a low whistle, and she rolls her eyes. “You’re a vision, darling.”

“Pretty, Mama,” Jace agrees.

“Thank you, baby.” Emma pulls her hand out from behind her back and Will the stuffed red lobster appears. She is magical, Killian swears. “I hear you’re looking for Will.”

“Thank you,” he squeals, moving from the books and toward Emma to get the lobster.

“You guys ready to go?” Emma asks. “You look nice, babe.”

“Better than I do in my uniform?”

Emma laughs. “Well, I like your ass in both.”

“Ass,” Jace squeals, and Emma covers her mouth, eyes wide.

“We’re ruining them,” she whispers behind her hands. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Killian chuckles and picks MJ up, holding her in the crook of his arm. “Blame it on Will if Jace says it in public.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m not the one who is teaching our son curse words while talking about how attracted I am to my husband’s behind.”

“Let’s just go,” Emma laughs, taking MJ from him and fussing with her hair. “We’re going to be late.”

They’re not late.

They’re not even close to late. They get to the stadium ahead of time, drop the kids off with Ariel, and they have time to sneak into the clubhouse and say hello to Will, Eric, Rob, and the rest of the guys. They’re in the middle of doing press and warm-ups, and Killian has to dodge questions of his own. His time as a baseball player is over, and two years later, that’s still hard for him to accept. It’s reality, however, and he ignores the ache in his chest and threads his fingers together with Emma as they leave the clubhouse and move to the production booth to do all of their pre-game tests. Emma is a natural, and he has to remind himself this is what she’s done for years. It’s her job, and she’s damn good at it. It’s his job now, too, but this isn’t what he was meant to do. He was meant to be out on the field, not behind the glass.

That’s the past. This isn’t. It’s the here and now.

And he’s thankful to still be involved in the game that has shaped his life.

“You’re going to be great,” Emma promises, reaching over and pressing her hand over his. “We’ve done practice runs. You’ve done this before. All you have to do is talk to me and talk about baseball. That’s literally what you already do every single day.”

“Hey now, I do have things in my life I love besides you and baseball. I also enjoy my kids and baking and complaining about different aches after I’ve exercised.”

“Well, you can talk about those things too.”

“Even the time I think I pulled a muscle in my ass?”

Emma rolls her eyes and adjusts her microphone. “I know I made you feel all good about it earlier, but stop talking about your ass.”

“Actually,” Ruby says from her spot behind the camera, “I feel like that would make our ratings go up.”

Killian shakes his head and chuckles, rolling in his chair and straightening his back as Emma does the same, adjusting her dress and not-so-slightly checking to see if she’s started leaking. Just another day in the life for them. Ruby holds up her fingers, counting down to the camera starting to roll, and Killian looks at Emma, waiting for her to begin.

“Hi, my name is Emma Jones, and I’m here with a familiar face to most of you. I’m thrilled to welcome former Yankees starting pitcher, three-time World Series Champion, two-time Cy Young Award winner, an eight-time All Star, and most impressively, the father of my children and my husband, Killian Jones. He’ll be working with me all season long, and I promise you he got the job all on his own merit. It has nothing to do with any strings I’ve pulled.”

“Well, that sounds a little suspicious, love.”

“Only if you point it out.”

Killian laughs and turns away from Emma to look at the camera. “I’m thrilled to be working with Emma and the rest of the crew this season, as well as getting to mercilessly critique my former teammates. Scarlet, I’m looking at you.”

“Welcome to Opening Day,” Emma chuckles, squeezing his hand under the desk, and his racing heart settles, the beat staying in the settled place where it always is with Emma by his side. No matter how much he wants to be out on the field and no matter how much he still misses it, he cannot imagine a place where he’d rather be right now. “Let’s look at this highlight reel of last season, and then we’ll talk about all the roster changes for this season. I think it’s going to be a good one.”

-/-

CMIYC tag list: @mrtinski @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @sherifemma @onepunintendid @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy @captainkillianswanjones @captain-emmajones

#catch me if you can #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #ouatxxxxx

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loveisblindfanfictionbka · 4 years ago

Text

Love Is Blind: Chapter Eight

Chris looked around her living room as he waited for Robyn to change clothes. Her apartment had a nice mix of new and old especially with it’s unique high ceilings, it reminded him of his house and could see the appeal of her wanting to buy it.

“Robs, where have you been?” Melissa asked.

“I thought Lele told you I wasn’t gonna be home,” Robyn replied.

“I did but you didn’t tell me why,” Leandra replied.

They had called her in a conference call as soon as she had gotten out of the shower.

“I didn’t know I had to explain.”

“Considering you don’t just not be home, you do.”

Robyn laughed, “I was safe so it’s not a big deal.”

“You were with Chris, weren’t you?”

“Chris who?” Melissa interjected, “you finally met your internet friend?”

“Yes.”

“And you won’t believe who he is,” Leandra said.

“You know him?” Melissa asked.

“Yes.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s Chris.”

“I know that’s his name but who is he?”

“It’s Chris, Chris stupid,” Leandra exclaimed.

“Your ex-husband was your internet friend!” Melissa yelled.

“Yes. And stop screaming, he might hear you.’

“Wait, he’s there?”

“Yes, we’re going to see his sister.”

“What? What the hell happened yesterday? How’d you find out it was him?”

“He came to the shelter to pick up a dog for his daughter and I was in the middle of doing an exam of the dog when he walked in. I figured it out when he said his daughter’s name then he figured it out when he realized I knew her name already. He asked me to dinner so we could talk so we went to Mahogany’s. After that we walked around Central Park, he offered to play me some music so we went to his house. It got late, he offered me the option to stay over if I didn’t feel like going home and I accepted.”

“All that in less than 24 hours?”

“Yes,” Robyn said with a giggle.

“And you aren’t mad with him?’

“Why would she be? They’ve basically talked about their entire relationship without knowing over the last 3 or 4 months,” Leandra interjected, “what I want to know is did you get the dick for old times’ sake.”

“Leandra!” Melissa exclaimed.

“Girl hush, I’m not asking you. Robyn, did you?”

“No I did not. He did cuddle with me, we talked a bit then fell asleep. That’s all.”

“No kissing?”

“Only on the cheek.”

“Ugh….you are no fun.”

Robyn laughed, “this is not what this is. We’re working on being friends. A lot has happened and a lot of stuff has to be discussed.”

“Well we know that but you really not trying to climb on top of-”

“Leandra, stop it,” Robyn interjected with a laugh, “sex complicates things and things between us have been complicated enough.”

“Exactly,” Melissa said, “so what are you going to do today?”

“See his sister. Be officially introduced to his daughter and he’s taking me horseback riding.”

“That sounds like fun. How is he?”

“He’s actually really good. A lot calmer and at peace. It’s a bit different but I’m getting used to it.”

“That’s good. How do you feel about him?”

“Intrigued might be a good word.”

“Do you like him?”

“I do but he’s always been likable.”

“That’s true. Well things happen for a reason.”

“One can hope but I gotta go. He’s probably worried about what’s taking so long.”

“Ok but call us later.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you too Sis,” Melissa and Leandra said simultaneously.

She hung up and looked at her outfit in the mirror. Robyn thought she looked great but for Chris’s smile, it must’ve been more.

“I guess you like it,” she said softly.

“”You look beautiful. I like the boots.”

“Thank you.”

“Was everything ok? You took a minute.”

“Melissa and Leandra called me while I was getting dressed. Sorry about that.”

“It’s not a problem. I was just concerned you had changed your mind.”

“No, of course not. Ready to go?”

“Yup.”

“Does Jess know I’m coming?”

“Yes and no.”

‘What does that mean?”

“I told her that I was introducing my internet friend to her but I didn’t tell her that it’s you specifically.”

“You’re trying to give your sister a heart attack.”

“No, just a welcomed surprise. You know she loves you.”

“I remember.”

“You nervous?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Curiosity can be good.”

About two hours into the trip, Chris glanced over at Robyn as she stared out the passenger window, “you ok over there?”

“I’m good. You don’t have to keep checking on me, you know?”

“You’re just really quiet, that’s all.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“About yesterday?”

“What about yesterday?”

“I guess I should say about last night.”

“Is that what you’re so worried about? Chris, I asked you to sleep in the bed with me, why are you so concerned about how I feel?”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured or like things are moving fast. I really did mean the whole building a friendship first thing.”

“I don’t doubt that you did but there’s nothing that happened that I wasn’t ok with. You really have no need to worry. Are we almost there?”

“About another half-hour. Did you need to stop for anything?”

“Can we drive thru a Starbucks? I’d like a coffee.”

“Of course. There’s one off the next exit.”

About thirty minutes later, they got two drinks and coffee cakes before pulling back onto the road to head to Jessica’s house.

“Jess, are you here!” Chris exclaimed as he unlocked her front door. He reached back for Robyn’s hand to tug her slightly behind him as they walked into the foyer.

“Frecks, I’m in the kitchen!” Jessica yelled back.

Chris turned to Robyn and put his finger over his lips for her to be as quiet as possible. He led her to stand behind the wall beside the open-format kitchen as he walked over to kiss his sister’s cheek, “Hey Sis.”

“Hey You, I wasn’t expecting you until later. You hungry?”

“No, we stopped and grabbed something to snack on.”

“We? Oh, you brought your internet friend with you? Where is she?”

“She’s coming in. How was Anesa?”

“She was good. That puppy is already attached to her. I swear Malika and Emmanuel are gonna be begging for a pet next.”

“Sorry.”

“No biggie. So what she look like?”

“She’s beautiful but what does it matter?”

“It matters a lot. You haven’t brought anyone to meet me since Robyn.”

“Well I haven’t dated anyone since Robyn.”

“My exact point. I’m glad you’re opening up to somebody. Now bring her in here.”

Chris stepped behind the wall and grabbed Robyn’s hand to bring her in next to him, “Jessica, meet my internet friend.”

Jessica’s eyes widened as she ran over and grabbed Robyn into a big hug, “My sissy is back!”

Chris laughed as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Robyn and Jessica rocked back and forth for a few moments before leaning back from each other, “I guess you missed me.”

“You cannot imagine. Talk about somebody being hard to live with,” Jessica replied with a glance towards Chris, “how have you been?”

“I’m good. I’ve been ok.”

“Dating anybody else? Children?”

“No to both.”

“Why?’

“Just not in the space for it. How are you?”

“I’m good. Just taking care of my babies. Trying not to kill my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Ch….That is a whole other story we need to talk about. So what brings you with him? How did you find this fool again?”

“Well we kind of found each other by accident.”

“Really?”

“Yea. He came to the shelter I owned to get a puppy and I was doing an examination of the puppy, he walked in with Anesa and well the realizations kind of fell into place.”

“So all this time he was spilling his guts to who he should’ve talked to in the first place?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well I’m glad it worked out like this, I really had no interest in getting to know a new person. You’re my favorite.”

“I thought I was your favorite,” Chris interjected.

“Pshhh...who told you that?” Jessica replied as she grabbed Robyn’s hand, “what does my brother have set up for you to do today?”

“Well he wanted to officially introduce Anesa then we were gonna go horseback riding,” Robyn replied.

“Definitely do the horseback riding, Anesa is with her cousins at their father’s house until this evening.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Chris said.

“I wasn’t gonna have my children meeting some stranger broad anyway. I also didn’t expect you here so early. You normally don’t show up until after noon.”

“Well I wanted to take Robyn to do something since she hasn’t been up here before.”

“Well go do that. I got stuff to take care of around here.”

“You are so rude.”

“Look, you lucky I’m not kidnapping her and keeping her with me. You can’t just bring my sister back in my life and not give me uninterrupted time with her.”

“I was going to let y’all have a moment after I had mine first.”

“Boy. Take her out. The kids should be back by time you get back here.”

“Stop barking orders at me, Ma.”

“Get out Christopher before I change my mind and keep Robyn with me and kick you out.”

Robyn chuckled as Chris rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand, “we’ll be back later, mean ass.”

“Bring my sister back in one piece.”

“What about me?”

“I can replace you. Her not so much.”

“Bye Jessica.”

They left back outside to Chris’s car. He turned to her as he pulled his hand away from the ignition, “we’re in there playing tug of war with you and didn’t bother to ask you what you wanted to do.”

Robyn chuckled, “whatever you want to do is fine with me. I’m just going with the flow.”

“You sure? Because if you wanna stay here and catch up with Jessica, we can.”

“Me and her can always talk or get together separately, it’s not a big deal.”

“You sure?”

‘Yes, I’m sure. I would like to spend more time with you, if that’s ok?”

“That is more than ok,” Chris said as he reached for her hand, “I just don’t want you to feel as if you don’t have any options, that’s all.”

“I’m good with my options, Chris.”

Chris smiled and brushed his hand along her cheek.

“Why are you just staring at me like that?’

“I’m trying to reconcile us being here right now.”

“Do you think we would have been here if you had never come into the shelter?”

“I think it depends on if we had decided to finally meet each other in real life. And by we, I mean you.”

“Me?”

“You were the one who wanted to keep this mysterious.”

“That is true. So you wanted to meet me?”

“I did.”

“When?”

“After like the second week of us talking. I just felt this really close vibe with you like I knew you, oddly enough.”

Robyn giggled as she brushed her hair behind her ear.

“As we continued talking, I just wanted to know more about you, see your face, hear your voice. The basics really.”

“Hmm…”

“You never wanted to meet me?”

“Honestly no. And it’s not because I wasn’t growing to like you, it’s just taking it beyond the chat just made it seem more real. And the more real it became, the more expectations would enter the situation. I didn’t want things to be that deep.”

“I can understand that.”

“I’m still not ready for anything deep, even with you.”

“Did you date at all?”

“I went out to dinner once but I left before the meal even came.”

“Why?”

“I did nothing but compare it to our first date.”

“And it was worse than that? Our first real date was when we were 15.”

“I should say our first date as adults. That was different from our carnival date at 15.”

“Oh ok. I really went out trying to impress you.”

“You did, you failed but you tried.”

Chris scoffed playfully and Robyn laughed, “wow, tell me how you really feel.”

“I was already in love with you so even your failures were cute to me but honestly, everything was too typical and so not suited for our relationship.”

“I can agree with that. I was trying to be an adult and do it the grown up way.”

“That’s why I did appreciate the effort besides you made up for it on our second date.”

“The museum was a lot of fun.”

“It was. Have you been back to LA?”

“Maybe twice. I get all my business updates electronically and it’s easy to videoconference for any meetings I need to be present for. You?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Nothing really there for me, I guess. Mel and Lele were already in NY. My mother moved back to Barbados. And everything reminded me of us, I didn’t need the memories.”

“Ah. That makes sense.”

“We should probably get going if we’re gonna ride horses.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

Chris turned the key in the ignition and put on his seatbelt. As he pulled out of Jessica’s driveway, Robyn put on her seatbelt, kicked off her shoes then folded her feet underneath her.

“Comfortable?”

“Yea. Thanks.”

“Did you want to get something to eat before or after?”

“After should be good. That coffee cake and coffee should hold me over for a while.”

“Alright then let’s go.”

#chrianna #loveisblindfanfiction

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ethelphantom · 5 years ago

Text

Into the... Wait, we’re all what now?

As it turns out, I’m horrible at keeping things as one-shots, so now you’re getting a continuation of the fic in which Mari falls into the DC verse. Using Maribat March is definitely a wonderful way to continue these things. Also, yes, this means you can ask to be tagged to the story from now on. There is at least one more thing to write about this if not more.

Ao3 || first part

This is Maribat -- don’t like; don’t read

______________________________

It was way too late to be up and awake but apparently, that was precisely what Marinette was anyway. Sighing, she pushed the covers aside, slipped on a pair of fluffy socks and made her way to the kitchen through the seemingly endless halls of the Wayne Manor.

As she got into the kitchen, she checked the clock from the microwave oven. It was only 3.29 am. Damn it. She hated the fact she couldn’t sleep. She also hated the fact they hadn’t yet figured out a way back to her own world. The Amazons didn’t know anything about the miraculous — her own world was a cartoon in their world, it turned out, and she kind of knew her partner’s identity, as well as Papillon’s and Mayura’s identities, which, poor Chaton. Hopefully, the Parisians were doing fine without her there to capture and purify the Akuma —, though Wonder Woman had said she could still try to look further into it.

She was glad that Diana had promised to do that because Marinette really would have preferred to be home, especially since speaking English all the time got very tiring. There weren't many people she could speak French with, not really. Dick knew some French, Bruce could speak French, and Tim was able to hold up a simple conversation for a while, but it... It wasn't really enough.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being with the Wayne family, no. She loved the family and kind of considered them her other family aside from her Maman and Papa. She’d even been officially adopted to the family in their world’s eyes so it wouldn’t confuse anyone as to why a random girl suddenly hung out with them without dating any of them. It had been Tim’s idea, Bruce had decided it was a good one, and then they’d asked Marinette if that was something she was okay with. She was. It wasn’t like her family was in this world or universe anyway, and it was nice to know she belonged somewhere. Besides, she fit the pattern — black hair, blue eyes. The only ones who didn't have both but had black hair anyway were Cass and Damian, really.

It was a little amusing that the only one who was actually related to Bruce looked like him the least if they ignored his facial structure.

Quietly, she tiptoed around the kitchen, having already given up on the idea of sleep at this point. She made night snacks for herself and poured herself a cup of coffee, sighing happily as she inhaled the bitter smell of it. The coffee was scalding hot as she took a sip — just how she liked it. The drink warmed her hands as she held the cup which was nice, seeing as the Manor was rather cold at night.

Marinette settled herself at the small table in the kitchen that was mostly meant for anyone who really, really didn’t want to eat with the rest of the family and opened her phone, meaning to go through her Tumblr feed and maybe watch Netflix. She'd even been ready to just start watching a new show when she was interrupted.

What caused the interruption was someone trying to get a mug out of the cupboard quietly and instead dropping one on the ground. Thank god it was the sole plastic mug in the entire manor, so nothing broke.

Marinette turned to look at the source of the voice and found Tim staring at the ground with what looked like grief in the dim light of her phone. She would’ve understood if there was coffee or if it had been Tim’s favourite mug (as that one could be broken — Jay had threatened to do it once or twice by now, actually), but no. Nothing was broken, nothing had spilt on the ground, nothing needed to be cleaned up.

So what was it?

When Marinette raised her eyebrow at Tim as he finally looked at her, Tim just sighed and shook his head. “‘S nothing, Nette, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he told her, crouching to pick up the mug. “Haven’t slept much, nothing more than that. I thought there had been coffee for a second.”

Marinette nodded, understanding what he was on about, and continued reading. It was only when Tim dropped down on the chair in front of her that she paid attention to him again. He had his laptop out and was frowning at his screen.

“A case?”

“Yeah. A series of murders, three robbed stores, riddles and a string of witnesses that refuse to say anything kind of scream multiple of our villains, and I’m not sure who to investigate first, or if it was a collective effort of theirs, or if someone is impersonating them and trying to frame all of them. None of them has claimed the crimes either, which is a little unusual and a lot disturbing,” he told her and turned the screen around for her to see. Indeed, there was a list of possible culprits and the chance of an unknown and the details of the crime.

“I can see why this is troubling you,” Marinette sighed and turned her eyes from the screen back to Tim again. “I cannot believe I’m suggesting this, but what if you slept and then looked at it again? I know you tend to try solving problems even in your dreams, so there’s that as well, but also your brain might want to brain better after sleeping.”

It took her a moment before she realised what she said, but when she did, she groaned and rubbed her hand on her face. “I can’t believe I just used a noun as a verb. Please kill me or knock me out so I could sleep.”

Tim just laughed at her. That asshole.

“What are you two doin’, drinkin’ coffee at this hour?”

Marinette jumped, startled that someone had managed to sneak up on them even in the silence of the night. She turned around to see the slightly glowing eyes of Jason and let out a sigh of relief, bringing a hand to her hear. “God, Jay, you scared me. A guy your size shouldn’t be allowed to move so quietly,” she whined and let her forehead hit the table. Jason only barely managed to snatch her cup away from her way so it wouldn’t fall down and that all her coffee wouldn’t end up on the floor.

She murmured her thanks into the table as Jason patted her head, laughing at her quietly. She would kick his ass in the morning for that. Maybe. After all, he had just saved her coffee.

This time, Marinette noticed when someone entered. She couldn’t bother to turn her head to look at them, though. They would make themselves known to the rest of them soon enough.

No, actually. There were two people. One of them had a very soft walk, barely audible, but now that Marinette was listening, she was able to find it. A hand touched her hair, gently pushing it away from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. When Marinette looked up, just a little, she found the dark eyes of Cass staring at her. Marinette gave her a weak smile in return.

They don’t talk, not really. The time passed by as Cass just sat on the floor next to Marinette, Tim tried to solve his case, and Jason and Dick were talking (or fighting) about something in hushed voices again. None of the others, except for Cass, obviously, because she noticed everything, paid attention to the small frame that appeared in the doorway. Marinette did. She stood up, stretched and walked to Damian.

She didn’t touch him. She wasn’t sure if it was okay right now. Instead, she watched for any signs of what had happened, or reactions to anyone in the kitchen. Nothing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Damian shook his head. “No. It was merely an unfortunately timed nightmare, I can survive.”

“I know you can. You’re strong like that. It just doesn’t mean you have to survive on your own, alone. It’s also a strength to recognise when you—,” Marinette yawned. She hadn’t slept in a too long time. “—When you need others for support.”

When Damian lingered in the doorway a little too long, his eyes going between the floor and Marinette. Marinette just opened her arms and let Damian walk into them before embracing him. “Do you want a hug? I can tell none of them you wanted a hug if that helps. We can also go to the living room if that sounds better?”

Damian nodded. Marinette shot Cass a text to drag the rest of them to the living room in about half an hour with pillows, blankets and mattresses. They all needed sleep, or at least rest, and maybe they could get that in a pillow fort?

The two of them went on ahead, and once they were there, Marinette sat on the couch and waited for Damian to come there with her. He, a little reluctantly and hesitating a lot, took careful steps towards her before he too was sitting on the couch and curling up against Marinette. She smiled and pulled him closer, securing them under a blanket.

Maybe he’d feel safer from the nightmares this way.

About half an hour later (though both Damian and Marinette had dosed off already), the rest of the family made their way to the living room, everything Marinette had asked from Cass with them. They built a pillow fort for them as quietly as possible, one of them always watching over Damian and Marinette so to make sure they didn’t wake up. Heavens knew both of them needed the sleep, and they didn’t want to try their luck and see if they would fall asleep again.

After it was done, Jason picked Marinette up in his arms as Dick carried Damian in his, and carefully laid them down on the mattresses before tucking both in. Tim and Cass curled up the closest to the two, Jason and Dick surrounding the smallest four of them the last. It was comfortable and much warmer than it usually was in the house, six bodies all huddled close.

Aside from how none of them knew how to not sprawl over everyone else, it was the most peaceful and well slept night any of them had had in years.

________________________

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @maribat-is-lifeblood @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @kadmeread @silverwhiteraven @marinettepotterandplagg @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip

#Into the DC verse #Maribat #ml x dc #dc x mlb #dc #miraculous ladybug #ml #fanfic #fanfiction #ethel's writing

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lost-eternity · 5 years ago

Text

Matchup Requests: CLOSED

Match up request for: @ imightsecretlybeadragon

Okie dokie. I match you with...

I love your tag name, hun

I had to ship you with Sherlock himself

I was originally considering Mycroft but he honestly can't handle spontaneity

That's more Sherlock's thing

Although the number of hobbies you have tried your hand at, only to drop most of them, tells me that you grow bored easily and hence need things to occupy your time

So does Sherlock. Except his methods of quelling boredom are not nearly as tame as candle making.

He'll keep you on your toes

I also considered Mary as a potential match but finding information on her online is incredibly scarce, for some reason. RIP

I believe that your ambition, drive, and willingly to throw reason to the wind and embark on thoughtless adventures is the perfect reason why you would mesh so well with Sherlock Holmes. You would totally be willing to jump out of windows or attempt crazy experiments with him instead of judgmentally staring as most would

As much as Sherlock enjoys John's company, he cannot handle people asking him questions all of the time

Either they need to be on the same level as him- or shut up and do as he says until he reveals his thought process in some theatrical way

While you may not be able to under exactly where that man's mind is at, you are definitely smart enough to understand the general gist and decide for yourself whether or not you want to follow through

Because sometimes Sherlock really needs someone to look him in the eye and say "no". Instead of passively being yanked around like a dog on a leash.

Both of you have a habit of becoming so engrossed in your work that you forfeit biological functions like sleep. Sherlock really appreciates your understanding in regards to this because he knows that you will not disturb him.

But when he is going on three days without sleeping or eating, your more nurturing side will step in, force him to rest and give that man some damn sustenance.

Which is why I feel like you would work very well with him. You know when to back off and give him the space he needs, but you aren't complaining like him because you also know when the is challenging the limits of what his human body can handle and will step in to make sure he actually takes care of himself

Like, dude. Take a freaking shower, you both look and smell like a writhing sack of horseshit

Sherlock would probably find your tendency to be loud quite intrusive. He claims that "even your thoughts are loud. I can feel you thinking. Stop that." And promptly kick you out of the room

Try not to be too offended by him

He is like a toddler. He doesn't know any better

But feel free to give him a scalding tongue lashing afterwards

Sherlock would never admit it, but he does genuinely care for you. And it can sometimes be hard to tell. He constantly berates and criticizes you. But only because he is worrying over your well being and gets super mad if you do sometimes that puts your life in danger. Sherlock can't even bear the thought of losing you, and like everything else he doesn't like, he chooses to ignore or "delete" it. So when that fear becomes a reality, he flips out, masquerading his concern as anger. Because he does not want to appear weak

His criticism comes from a well meaning place. He genuinely wants you to improve and do the best you can in life to become successful, he is just piss poor and phrasing. Instead his critiques come off as purely negative. You may have to remind him of this and he would be quick albeit awkward to correct.

If you show him a painting:

"No, the lines are all wrong. The focal point should be here, but because you used 45° angles, the focal point ends up down here."

Cue an unamused look from you

"What? Oh... uh. Y-your use of colour palate is... adequate...."

He's trying

Knowing Sherlock, you did not really ever "meet"

At least not how most people would

The first time you met, Sherlock had you pinned beneath him on the ground, demanding that you take off your clothes.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let's start from the beginning

You were near Hyde park, cloaked in a heavy woolen coat to combat the biting cold of the winter-scape around you

With your hands shoved deep in your pockets in an attempt to warm them, you continued at a brisk pace, wanting to get back to your flat before the scheduled snowfall

That was when a dude on a motorcycle nearly careened into you. You jumped back and glared over your shoulder, fully prepared to tell him off. Instead, what you saw rendered you speechless

The guy who almost hit you was wearing a... bunny head mask. What the hell?

So distracted by this weirdo on the motorcycle, you did not notice another man in a black trench charging down the way. He actually did hit you from a full sprint.

The force of the impact knocked the air from your lungs and caused you to fall over, he taking a tumble shorter thereafter

The man, now having you stretched out beneath him, seemed entirely preoccupied. If he recognised the implications of your situation, he gave no indication to it.

He spared you a single glance before looking back after the motorcycle bunny guy.

"I need your jacket, now!" He demanded, not once looking at You

"Excuse me?" You asked.

"Jacket!" He demanded again. "Take it off!"

Were you being robbed?

If you were, this was one weird ass mugger.

Another man came jogging up, his breath short and strained as she rested his hand on his knees. He looked horrified then apologetic "Sherlock! Get off her!"

The rude trench coat fella scrambled to his feet, as if just now realising he had been on top of you. He must be Sherlock.

The second man continued. "I'm sorry about him, we aren't mugging you. We would just like to borrow your jacket for a few minutes."

"Watson, he is getting away!" Sherlock complained

You removed your coat, and handed it over, completely confused. What else were you supposed to do?

The cold air bit your exposed skin, sending goose-flesh across your arms as you shivered from the chill

Sherlock and his big ass coat moved at a dead sprint towards an ice-crusted fountain

Watson sighed and extended a hand to help you up. He shrugged off his own jacket, offering it to you.

You immediately refused his gesture, despite the sheer cold causing you to shiver.

Watson frowned slightly at the rejection, his forehead creasing

You watched as this Sherlock character leapt onto the fountain, nearly losing his footing as she scrambled across. The motorcycle man had almost reached the road, if he got there, he would be lost.

Sherlock pursued him, jumping over gates and pushing past pedestrians to cut him off on the main trail.

You did not think he would make it, but remarkably, he did. He stood before the motorcycle your jacket extended in front of him

Bunny guy did not hesitate to charge at him, probably planning to run him down

Your breath hitched in your throat as you gazed at the scene. Like a matador facing off against a bull... except Sherlock had no sword. No back up. Just a jacket. How in the world was he going to stop a guy on a motorcycle with only a jacket???

You watched in anticipation, the cold you felt completely forgotten as the motorcycle drew nearer and nearer.

Sherlock did not once hesitate nor flinch. He remained rooted in spot, his eyes steely with determination

The bunny suit man got within a single metre of Sherlock.

You thought for sure that you were about to witness a collision.

You were wrong

Sherlock threw your coat then rolled out of the way.

The coat hit the back wheel as it spun, getting snagged in the shifting gears and mechanisms.

It wrapped itself around the back wheel, seizing it up and causing the motorcycle to skid out, slipping across the ice before colliding into a nearby tree.

Sherlock was quick to pounce, restraining the bunny suit guy.

You were absolutely amazed. Both you and Watson seemed to have the same idea as you rushed over. Watson scolding Sherlock for pulling the stunt and you out of concern for your poor coat.

It wasn't long before the police arrived. Apparently bunny guy was some sort of expert thief turned murderer known for his iconic bunny suit. The cops have been after him for months and Sherlock had been the one to flush him out and trap him

You were mostly distraught over the loss of your jacket. It was a good jacket, now completely lost to the motors and gears on the cycle

Watson promised that he would buy you a new one. He even invited you back to his flat for some tea because he was worried you would catch cold if you walked all the way back to yours

You were going to refuse and just take a cab, then you learnt that Watson and Sherlock were flatmates.

How could you say no?

You just met some of the most interesting people on the planet, how could anyone say no to tea with them?

Sherlock seemed adamantly against the idea, complaining loudly about Watson "taking home too many strays" because "they ruin my work."

"You should have thought of that before you ruined my favourite jacket." You retorted

They were both taken aback by your wit

Watson appeared rather smug. "Yeah. You could have just used your own."

Sherlock seemed positively offended that anyone would dare suggest such a thing. "Not my coat! The coat is iconic."

Watson just rolled his eyes

Despite getting off on the wrong foot, you and Sherlock hit it off rather nicely

You were amazed by his observational abilities, but shocked him by understanding how he came to his conclusions before he even explained.

This was when Sherlock began to like you

And Sherlock doesn't like anyone

It kinda baffles John, really

Sherlock, finding you rather entertaining, is fine with you popping in for tea every once in a while.

He even let you assist on cases

This is where he really began to fall for you

He admires your intellect and thought process, considering it formidable albeit slower than his own

Let's be real, it's Sherlock

But things kinda start out rough

At first, when Sherlock first realises that he has feelings for you, he "deletes" them

It's scary admitting when you fancy someone

And not just scary. Dangerous. Especially for Sherlock.

He can't allow himself to be focused on anything except for work

Of course, the more time he spends with you, the more his feelings keep coming back, regardless of how often he deletes them

So he pushes you away

He lashes out

Becomes cold and distant, trying to make you give up

But you won't. You're having the time of your life with him and always comes back. No matter how many times he yells for you to go away. Its infuriating, actually

There will come a point where Sherlock has to make peace with his own attractions but it will be very difficult for the both of you

You will have to work with him through this

Cause Sherlock is not going to be an easy catch. And an even harder one to keep

But I have faith in you.

I hope you enjoyed dear, let me know what you think :)

#sherlock #sherlock holmes #matchup #ships #sherlock x you #sherlock x reader #match up #matchups #match ups #ship #bbbc #bbc sherlock #john watson #request #sherlock request #sherlock matchup #sherlock ship #sherlock match up

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