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mountttmase · 11 months

Note

HIYAA

Missed uuuuu🤭🤭

When Mason moved to Manchester you knew things would be different. You just hadn't realised how different. I ALREADY DON'T LIKE HIM

‘Are you alright?’ You heard a soft voice say, looking up to see a concerned looking guy and under normal circumstances you might have been a bit worried about being alone in the dark with some random man but his presence settled you. You couldn’t make out what he looked like exactly but you could tell he was young and his voice sent an excited shiver down your spine. HI MASEEE

‘Here, have mine. It’s a fresh bottle and it’s unopened I promise’ he laughed, handing it to you and you took it with a smile. ‘I um- I don’t live too far from here, I could take you back there or drop you home’ he offered and you couldn’t help but warm to him immediately. CUTIE PIEE😭😭😭

‘You can come back for me’ AHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH THAT'S ME

‘I’ll be as quick as I can. Don’t talk to any strangers while I’m gone’ he winked, making you laugh at his little joke but you sat tight and waited for him to get back. Putting all your trust in a man you’d just met and you weren’t even sure was telling you the truth about coming back. SILLY BOY😂

‘Thanks for this’ you smiled sweetly at him and if you didn’t know any better you thought he might have been blushing before he turned the light off again and started to drive away. HE ALREADY LIKES HER

‘That’s okay. When you went for an extra lap I thought I better keep an eye on you just in case, I know you normally just stick to two’ he explained but then the realisation of what he’d said hit him. ‘And I know that’s probably made me sound like a right weirdo. I’m not stalking you or anything I promise’ he rambled but all you could do was laugh, finding his awkwardness endearing. OMG ITS NOT THE FIRST TIME HE SEES HERRR

‘Please don’t think I’m crazy but I’ve been sort of keeping an eye on you since you first started. I know you’re fine and you can probably hold your own but you never know who’s lurking in the dark’ HE IS CUTE, ISN'T HE???

‘No, I like to watch you jog. There’s a difference’ he told you pointedly and you couldn't stop the wide grin that made its way onto your lips. MASON TONY MOUNTTT

‘Yeah I could tell’ he snorted, causing you to look at him with your mouth agape in shock but his little squeaky giggles made your heart thud. ‘I’m kidding I swear’ AHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH YOU LITTLE PIECEEEE

‘But look how far you’ve come since then’ he reassured you, a kind smile on his face. ‘Left me in the dust tonight I could barely keep up’ OHHHHHE IS SOOO SUPPORTIVE

‘Well, y/n, if you ever need a running partner let me know. I know where you live now’🤭🤭🤭🤭

‘I hope you do’ he winked. Was this boy flirting with you? You thought. It only then hitting you that he’d been trying for the whole journey. YES HE IS FLIRTING

He was nowhere to be seen though and after taking a little longer to pack up than usual you got ready to go home a little disappointed. That was until you heard your name being called in the distance and suddenly a glistening Mason was stopping in front of you. HERE HE ISSSS🤭🤭🤭

‘Hey’ he laughed, straightening up so he didn’t look so tired but you could see it had been a long run for him. Small beads of sweat trickling down his flushed skin but his shy smile made your tummy feel warm. ‘I’ve been looking for you’ he admitted shyly and no matter how hard you tried to hold your smile on you couldn’t. THEY WERE LOOKING FOR EACH OTHER 🫠🫠

SHE IS AT HIS, AND HE WANTS TO TALK TO HER

‘Do you um, do you play for Chelsea?’ You asked, seemingly dumbfounded but you noticed how pink his cheeks got. Not really answering the question, just nodding his head over to the sofa so you could sit with him. OPSSS

He sat you down and explained that he did in fact play for Chelsea, that he was injured and that he was going through some rehab and would hopefully be better soon but unfortunately he wouldn’t be able to run with you anymore and you felt your heart sink. PH BABY BOY, I WANT TO HUG HIM

‘I was thinking maybe I could still come and cheer you on though? Or we could hang out here sometimes’ HE IS IN LOVEEEE

‘Oh um, well yeah. I like hanging out with you’ he shrugged, trying to play it off but his confession made your cheeks hurt. ‘I like hanging out with you too’ you whispered, watching his eyes crinkle at the edges and thinking you’d never seen anything better. Your tummy warming at the interaction between the pair of you and it was only then it hit you what a big fat crush you had on this boy. CAN YOU HEAR MY SCREAMS???

He would pick you up after your jogs and take you back to his. Having dinner ready for the pair of you as you learnt even more about each other and you loved everything you were finding out about him. He was kind, humble and a little goofy but also smart in his own way and every time he flashed you that toothy grin you wanted to shout from the rooftops about how much you fancied him. I NEED A MASON IN MY LIFE

‘You alright, Mase?’ You whispered, your question making the corners of his lips turn up slightly before he nodded. Shuffling up in his seat more so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and bring you into his side, almost like you’d snapped him out of his mood by just checking in on him. OHHHH, BABY 🥺🥺🥺

It was a soft kiss, more like he was testing to see your reaction but when he pulled back and your eyes met his again, he was leaning back in to kiss you properly and you felt yourself melt into him as you cupped his jaw and kissed him back just as sweetly. OMG FINALLY

He was perfect and everyday your feelings grew for him even more. He was polite and kind and always wanted to touch you in some way which made your heart sing. Finding him was like finding your missing half so when you received a text from him asking if you could pop over to his after work you did so gladly. Not thinking anything of it until he opened the door to reveal him looking the saddest you think you’d ever seen him look. OHHHH I LOVE THEM

Before you could speak he flung himself at you, holding you as tightly as he could before you walked him inside. Taking him into the kitchen where he proceeded to break down in your arms, telling you his injury wasn’t healing, that he needed surgery and that he was scared. Scared he’d never get back to where he was and that the surgery could ruin everything but in your hold he seemed to calm down ever so slightly. OMG😭😭😭😭😭 MY BABY IS SAD

‘Sorry, you didn’t need to see me like that’ he sniffed, eyes looking up into your as you caressed his cheek and you wanted to tell him it was fine but he beat you to it. ‘Truth is, I’ve been holding it in all day. You’re the only person I’ve really wanted to talk to about it’ he whispered, his face soft as he looked back at you and all you wanted was to kiss him. ‘I feel like you’re the only person I can be myself around’ I WOULD HAVE FAINTED AFTER THAT

‘That’s understandable but they know what they’re doing. And when it’s all over I’ll be here for you yeah? Whatever you need whether that’s company or you need me to cook or clean or anything. You won’t be on your own’ you told him, trying to be as reassuring as you could and from the way he held you a little tighter you hoped it had worked. OHHHH SHE IS LOVELY

You stuck to your word, coming over when he needed you to and helping him out around the house however he seemingly forgot to tell you his family were still there and you had to meet his parents all sweaty after a run. They didn’t seem to care though and were just as sweet to you as Mason was. He’s eyes sparkling with joy and he watched you get along with them. OPSSS, FAMILY MEETING

‘I don’t wanna be without you’ you told him carefully. Putting your heart on the line so you could at least tell yourself you gave it everything, even if he wasn’t willing to do the same. You told yourself if this was the end then you would be okay, these things happen sometimes. OH BABY GIRL

‘I don’t want to be without you either’ he whispered, kissing your forehead gently. ‘I know it’ll be hard but I want us to try to make it work. Even if we just try long distance for now’’ GOOD JOB BABE

‘I know it’s early but I see a future with you. I wouldn’t bother suggesting it if I didn’t think it would be worth it in the end. I really think we can do this’ I'M EMOTIONAL

‘I didn’t think I could feel more for you if I tried but everyday I think I love you a little bit more’ he confessed and you felt your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. HE LOVES HER🥺🥺🥺

‘I love you’‘I love you, too’ you replied instantly. Your jaw aching from how much you were smiling. This conversation could have gone many different ways and even though this is the outcome you wanted you never thought it could have happened. That Mason of all people would want you in his life but you were so thankful that he was willing to try with you. I HAVE ELEPHANTS IN MY BELLYYYY

He was still living in a hotel the first time you went to see him. You ordered room service and sat in between his legs as he showed you a selection of houses he was going to choose from. Telling you he wanted your opinion first as it was a joint decision and thankfully your favourite was his too. THEY CHOSE THE HOME TOGETHER

When the pair of you were apart, you got yourselves into a routine. Texting whenever you could, daily calls or FaceTimes even if it was just to say goodnight and always letting the other know you were thinking of them when you had time. BABIES

Mason’s time seemed to be ever decreasing though but you expected it. New team, new friends, new environment. It was bound to be exhausting and you knew he wanted to fit in so you tried to look past the unreplied message and missed calls as he was so apologetic when you did finally get to speak to him. But as the instances grew the apologies stopped and you just accepted that this would be your life for now. OH MASON....😒

It had been a long week, and it wasn't even over yet. Finishing work half an hour early so you could jump on a train up to Manchester to meet Mason in hopes for a quiet night in but your hopes were dashed about two minutes in the car. MOUNT I'LL PUNCH YOU

‘We’ve got dinner with Rashy and his new girl tonight’ he smiled, squeezing your knee gently. ‘You've got time to get changed and stuff but you’ll have to be quick’ MASON....😒

So you did your best, getting changed and sorting your face out before heading out to some fancy restaurant you didn’t know the name of. Rashys date seemed nice and as much as you tried to look like you were involved and interested you knew you were being quiet. Mostly due to tiredness but also due to the fact you wanted a quiet night in and as usual he’d made you plans that you couldn’t back out of. OH MY BABY GIRL😭🫂

You wanted to say something but it was like each time you tried you couldn’t get the words out. Not sure how to make Mason understand you needed some down time with him and that as much as you loved his friends and family, you didn’t travel all this way every week to feel further away from him than ever. Not only that, the fact he didn’t seem to mind that the pair of you never spent any quality time together made you feel sad as you clearly weren’t on the same page about everything. OH BABY GIRL, JUST TALK TO YOUR STUPID BOYFRIEND

The straw that broke the camels back came around a month or so later. You were already pissed off with him as he’d gone out to a club in the week with some of his single friends and had left you on read until early afternoon the next day. The only reason you knew he was there in the first place was because you saw him in the back of a story someone posted, surrounded by girls, but you trusted him enough to know nothing had happened and when he told you it just slipped his mind as he was with so many people you weren’t sure if you were happy or sad about his excuse. HE DID NOT, NO WAY😒😒😒😒

This weekend was make or break for you. One last chance for him to prove he could put you first but he'd already ruined it the first night. Claiming to pop out for five minutes so he could help Bruno move something but he still wasn’t back 3 hours later. You’d taken yourself off to bed in the end, pretending you were asleep when he eventually got home and cuddled up next to you, biting your lip so hard you thought you might have drawn blood just to keep the tears at bay. I HONESTLY WOULDN'T HAVE GONE...

‘I need to go pick up Rashy, will you be ready by the time I get back?’ He asked but he picked up on your confused face right away. ‘Luke’s brothers friends gallery opening is today, I said we’d go’ I WOULD PUNCH HIMMMM

You were exhausted and in no mood to be around anyone, even Mason at this point so you didn’t move. Just stayed in bed and tried to think of something you could say to get you out of it. Not realising your hour was up until you heard the front door open downstairs. YES GOOD JOB

‘C’mere’ he whispered, pulling you into his body and you held him like it was the last time. In your mind it might be as your future was decided on what his next actions would be but you were surprised when he took your hand and led you downstairs and into the living room so he could get you comfortable on the sofa and wrap a blanket around you. OH MY BABY GIRL😭😭 I FEEL SO BAD FOR HER

‘Okay well Rashys outside. I won’t be too late I promise and just call me whenever you need me’ he whispered and you felt your blood turn cold. NO WAY HE IS GOING.....

You didn’t speak, not having anything to say to him anymore so you just snuggled into the cushion and let him press a kiss to your temple before getting up to grab his jacket. IF SHE DOESN'T GO BACK HOME IMMEDIATELY....

You felt like a prop and you’d had enough so after a cry and feeling sorry for yourself for a little while, you dragged yourself upstairs so you could go pack your bag and go home. You were no rush as you knew Mason would be out for a while but the longer you stayed the more you felt the walls closing in on you. YES, GOOD JOB GIRL, I'M PROUD OF YOU

Mason had only just made it to the gallery, saying a quick hello to a few of his friends before he was reaching for his phone. Wondering if he should call you to check in but in the end he decided against it. Not wanting to smother you and also thinking you were probably taking a nap but his mind was plagued with thoughts of you. WELL MASE A BIT TOO LATE...

‘You alright mate?’ Mason heard from behind him, turning to see Luke joining him with a pat to his shoulder. ‘Where’s y/n?’ HI LUKE, BE OUR WISE MAN

‘No offence mate, but if she’s sick then why are you here?’ Luke laughed, looking at Mason like he’d lost his mind but all Mason could do was scrunch his brows at the older boy. I LOVE YOU

‘Mate, I love you, you know I do but I see you every day basically. As do most of us here. But y/n? She doesn’t get to see you half as much and the one time she needs you you’ve left her on her own?’ LUKE YOURE OUR SAVIOUR

Luke was right, you needed him and he’d left you alone in his house. Sure you visited all the time but it wasn’t full of your home comforts just yet. Anytime Mason was unwell or sad the only thing he wanted was for you to wrap your arms around him and make him feel better but he’d done the opposite and left you to fend for yourself. FINALLY MOUNT FINALLY, THANK YOU

Mason made a stop on the way home, running into Sainsbury’s on the way to pick you up some supplies for you before quietly opening the door. Thinking you might be asleep on the sofa where he’d left you but as he quietly crept in he noticed the blanket you’d been wrapped up in was folded and placed over the back of the sofa, the cushions were sat up neatly and the tea he made you sat on the table untouched. MASON MOUNT I HOPE FOR YOU YOU'LL HAVE A GOOD PLAN OF APOLOGISING

There you stood, eyes red and face blotchy as you zipped up your overnight bag and he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. BABY GIRL

‘You’re sick, I thought you might want me here instead’ He told you, his voice quiet and unsure but you didn’t want to be having this conversation right now. A BIT TOO LATE...

‘What? No, please don't go, talk to me’ he pleaded, taking a step towards you but you shuffled back like you didn’t want to be anywhere near him. MASON...YOU'RE LATE

‘Cause I didn’t know what else to do to make you want to spend a bit of time with me! And even that didn’t work�� you told him, laughing ever so slightly as you placed your bag down on the floor to make your way out but he was blocking the exit and didn’t look like he was going to move for you. OH MY LITTLE GIRL😭

‘Are you breaking up with me?’ He asked, disbelief infused into his tone but you didn’t want to talk to him. You needed to get out. MAYBE....

‘Talk to me, please’ he begged, walking towards you but you stayed rooted to the spot. ‘You wanna tell me how awful I’ve been and scream at me then fine but I don’t want you to go’ he whimpered, falling to his knees in front of you so he could wrap his arms around you and bury his face into your body. ‘I don’t even understand what’s happening, please talk to me’ WELL MASON, YOU SHOULD BE UNDERSTANDING....

All you wanted to do was run your hands through his hair and tell him things were fine even though they weren’t. You were mad and upset with him but you still cared and seeing him so heartbroken made you feel sick but you couldn’t let it get to you. Instead covering your face as you began to sob into your hands and Mason was quick to get up and pull you into his chest. NO Y/N BE STRONG PLEASE

‘Whatever it is, I’ll fix it. I’ll make it right I promise but you have to tell me’ he whispered. ‘No matter how hard it is okay?’ YEAH MOUNT....

‘Apart from an hour or so in the mornings and the same in the evenings, when was the last time we did something just the two of us? The last time we got dinner together just us two? Or stayed in and did nothing?’ You asked and it’s like you could see him trying to recall a time. ‘Everytime I come and visit it’s like we always have to be around other people and I’m not saying I don’t want us to see anyone else but I come here to see you, you know? To spend time with you and it just hurts feeling like you don’t want to spend time with me alone’ MY LITTLE BABY GIRL

‘But I do just want you to myself sometimes. And it hurt a little bit thinking you didn’t want me. I travel all the way here for us to be together for you to want to spend our time doing things with other people. And maybe I sound silly-’ YOU'RE NOT SILLY AT ALL

‘But you should be my priority. You are my priority I promise and I swear I’ll make sure I prove it to you now. Like I should have done this whole time’ he croaked. Tears spilling from his eyes he shut them tightly. ‘Please don’t leave me bubs. You’re my everything, I’ll be nothing without you’ GOOD MORNINGGGG

‘Can we get into bed?’ He asked, sounding almost shy but you nodded, standing up gently and reaching for your bag so you could pull your pjs out but he cottoned on to what you were doing. Instead pulling the top from his body and handing it to you and you took it with a small smile. MMM, I THINK ILL FORGIVE HIM

‘I’m fine, Mase. I’m sorry if I worried you by saying I was sick but I’m alright’ DON'T YOU APOLOGISEEEE

‘Don’t be sorry, I’m the sorry one. The fact that you even had to say all that in the first place makes me feel awful’ he sighed, squeezing your side as you offered him a sympathetic smile. ‘But we’ve got the rest of the night to ourselves now and we can do whatever you want yeah? And all of tomorrow. Even if you wanna just stay in bed the whole time I’ll do it’ HE FINALLY WOKE UP

‘We’re okay then yeah?’ He asked hopefully, and you nodded into his skin. Feeling his whole body relax at your answer before he pulled you in even tighter. ‘I really am sorry. I think I just got a bit lazy and needed a kick up the bum but consider me well and truly kicked’ PERFECT😌

‘Thank fuck’ he laughed, kissing your cheek. ‘I’m starved, left before the food came out earlier’ he winked and you rolled your eyes at him before he tickled your sides playfully. ‘I’ll go make us something’ I WANT FOOD TOO

‘I thought you were ill, I was making sure I’d have everything you need’ OHHHH🥺

This was what you missed. Quality time together where you had nowhere to be and no one to answer to. Where Mason could be Mason and you could be you. Half naked dancing in his kitchen at 7:30pm without a care in the world. YAYYYY, FINALLY

‘I love the sound of my name coming out of your mouth. I love the way it feels when you hold me, just like this. You make me feel safe and loved and whole. And I love that you take me just as I am, no matter what. Sometimes I think I was made to love you and the fact that I could of lost you tonight kills me’ I GASPEDDD

‘Thank you. And I promise I’ll never make you feel like that again. Hand on heart, you’re my priority and I’ll prove it to you everyday’ MM, YOU'RE FORGIVEN

‘I don’t care’ he told you, attaching his lips back to yours but you could feel the smirk on his lips. ‘I’ll burn this whole house down if it comes to it, I don’t wanna stop kissing you’ NAUGHTY

LOZZZZ

OMGGGGG

I MISSED THOSEEEE

THAT WAS PERFECT

I LOVED HOW THEY MET, BUT THAT COULD NEVER BE ME, ME AND RUNNING ARE ENEMIES 😂

I LOVED HER, CAUSE SHE WAS SOOO LOVELY AND EVEN IF SHE WAS HURT SHE STILL WENT AT HIS

AND I'M HAPPY SHE GET READY TO GO, CAUSE IT WAS THE MOMENT TO LEAVE.

AND I LOVED HOW HE APOLOGISED AND MADE IT UP TO HER🥹

THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH FOR SHARING THIS WITH US, THATS THE PERFECT END FOR A SUNDAY EVENING 🩷🩷🩷

HI LOVE

Mason was a silly billy in this one but it’s not because he didn’t love her he’s just a people pleaser

BUT THANK YOU I love reading these after like reliving the whole fic again it’s so much fun 🩷

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Aversion Therapy

Summary: Y/N has been institutionalised for sex addiction at an experimental facility, run by Dr. Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Doctor!Sam x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Sex addiction, addiction therapies, abuse of therapist/patient relationship, noncon roleplay Tags: hair pulling, crotchless panties, degradation (like, a lot), blow job, spitting, pussy spanking, sex on a desk, body writing, p in v, pulling out Word Count: 4.5 k Created for: @samwinchesterbingo - Doctor!Sam | @spnkinkbingo - Crotchless Panties | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Hair Pulling | @j3bingo - Diary

A/N: So I this may or may not be one of the dirtiest things I've ever written. It's definitely up there in the list 😅I hope you enjoy, fellow sinners!

October 24th

Last night was awesome. He took me out to dinner and everything, real gentleman, even though we both knew that’s not what the night was about. It was sunset when we got up to the lookout, all romantic. I felt silly that he was making such a big deal about it. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be so much pressure. Now it’s over I don’t feel any different except that I want more. We went twice last night but that still wasn’t enough. I touched myself this morning and it was almost like I could still feel him inside of me. I think tonight I’m gonna let him do it without the condom, so he will still be inside me tomorrow morning.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shout, outraged. It wasn’t enough that your parents had locked you in this place, humiliating you, betraying you, handing you over to Doctor Judgy, but they’d handed over your diaries too. Fucking great. Dr. Winchester ignores you and keeps reading, skipping ahead a few weeks.

November 15th

Fuck I love sex. Even with guys that aren’t great at it it’s still worth it just to have a cock inside me. I wish I could stay the night somewhere without my parents freaking out. I want to fall asleep with a cock inside me the whole time, wake up to it fucking me, keeping me open. College is gonna be the best. Then I can finally do what I want, fuck who I want. Can finally order a freaking vibrator without mom asking what’s in the package. Ugh, I can’t wait.

Sam’s voice sounds unnatural reading out your words. He’s not putting the right emotion or inflection in them. It’s like he’s taunting you with them. There’s a trace of humour underlying everything he says.

“Why are you doing this?” you shout again, and Sam looks up at you from your diary, a smug smile on his lips.

“Because you’re sick, Y/N,” he states it like an obvious fact, shutting the diary with a loud clunk and waving it back and forth. “These are the words of an addict.”

“I’m not an addict,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. Sam raises his eyebrows at you and flicks open your diary again, thumbing through to a page he has marked with a turned down corner.

February 3rd

That’s it, I’m addicted to cock. I need it more than coffee or air or food. I just want to be on my knees all day and let men use me. I want them in my mouth, in my pussy, even in my ass, I don’t care. I just want them. One day I’ll figure out how to make that happen.

Sam gives you an accusatory look as he closes the diary again, and you do have the good sense to look a little sheepish. Having your thirsty words read back to you is embarrassing. Especially considering the man reading them out is extremely attractive. If you’d met him when you were out you would have been on him in a heartbeat.

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his crotch, which is just below your eye level where he’s leaning against the front edge of his desk. Dr. Winchester notices your gaze and smirks down at you knowingly. The expression makes him even hotter – domineering and sexy.

“You really are a little slut. Get carted off to rehab and the first thing you do is eye up your therapist,” he clicks his tongue disappointedly, and you blush for a moment before you decide that you don’t want to take this shit from him.

“So what,” you shrug, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. Dr. Winchester raises a brow again, surprised by your boldness.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate to think about your therapist in a sexual manner?” He pushes himself off his desk and settles his hands in his pockets, considering you carefully.

“I like cock, so what?” you say again defiantly. The doctor keeps his expression neutral, walking around his desk and sitting down, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down a few things. You watch him suspiciously, wanting to know what he was writing down. “I’m not crazy, I just really like sex.” Dr. Winchester nods and keeps writing, not looking up at you.

“Come on, are you saying you don’t like sex?” you try to rile him up, and you see a small laugh bleed through his careful exterior, but not the kind of reaction you were hoping for. “What, your manhood not measure up or something?” That gets the doctor’s attention. He shoots you a glare over his desk and puts aside his pen, folding his hands in front of him and staring you down. His eyes drag across you from top to bottom, lingering on your lips, your neck, your cleavage, your legs. You like him looking at you like this, it sends a thrill through your chest, settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I can see that your attitude is going to make traditional therapies somewhat difficult.” You roll your eyes, but let him keep talking. “Have you heard of aversion therapy?” You shake your head shortly. “Aversion therapy is a psychological treatment in which the patient,” Dr. Winchester gestures to you, “is exposed to a stimulus while simultaneously being subjected to some form of discomfort, in an attempt to discourage said behaviour.”

“Um, English, please?” you stare at the doctor blankly, not putting together how this is going to apply to you.

“Well,” Dr. Winchester leans back in his chair, and swings his legs up onto his desk and brings his hands to fold in his lap. It makes him look surprisingly casual - not at all the image you had of doctors and therapists in your mind. “In this case, the stimulus is an unwanted behaviour, your over zealous sexual cravings and actions. We need to introduce an element of discomfort or unpleasantness into your experience of that behaviour, to discourage future indulgences,” he explains.

“What are you gonna do, Doctor?” you sneer at his title. “Put me in an electroshock chair and make me watch porn? Newsflash - that sounds amazing,” you scoff. Honestly, if that’s going to be your therapy, you’ll drop the attitude and sign the fuck up right now.

Dr. Winchester shakes his head, a small smirk on his lips. He stands, removing his jacket and tossing it on the back of the chair, then proceeds to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves and roll them back, one at a time. You watch him suspiciously. The moment his jacket came off your head went straight to one conclusion, but that couldn’t be right. You find your eyes lingering on his forearms, the veins in them pulsing visibly just below the surface of his skin. You want to lick them.

“No you’re right, you’d enjoy that far too much.” The doctor’s voice brings you back to yourself and you look up, watching him slowly approaching your chair. “We won’t be associating a physical discomfort with the addiction, what we want is to alter your mental associations towards the behaviour. We’ll use a series of mantras, and repetition and after a period of good, focused work, we can start to transition you back to a home environment.” His hand comes up to grip the back of your wooden chair, right beside your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body against your skin despite the several inches still separating you.

Between your legs, you can feel how much Dr. Winchester’s proximity is beginning to affect you. For some reason the way he’s speaking to you, so formal and condescending, is really turning you on. You bet if he knew, he’d just say it was another sign of your “addiction”. You can feel your panties starting to get a little slippery when you shift in your seat to look up at him, and you don’t manage to stifle your small intake of breath when the open crotch of the underwear accidentally catches on one of your pussy lips, sending a delicious tug of pain into your core.

Dr. Winchester smirks down at you, entirely unsubtle, probably assuming that gasp was your reaction to him being so near.

Finally, after far too long staring at him, you manage to take a breath and ask- “what exactly is my therapy going to be, then?” Your voice comes out much higher than you’d anticipated, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Dr. Winchester’s hand drags along the top of the chair and lands on the back of your neck. You shiver when his skin touches yours, despite its warmth. His fingers wind themselves into your hair a second later and yank hard, pulling your head over the back of the chair so you’re forced to look straight up at him.

“Ow! What the hell?!” You reach behind you to try to break his grip but he just pulls again. The pain sends a new tendril of desire twisting down your spine to between your legs, and you feel your panties getting even wetter. You whimper, your arousal clearly evident to the doctor, who laughs.

“Yeah, I knew you’d be too into pain for that kind of thing to work,” he chuckles darkly. He bends down, face so close to yours you can feel his breath ghost against your cheek. “So here’s what we’re going to do instead. I’m gonna fuck you, but you’re going to make sure you don’t enjoy it. You’re going to cry and yell and beg me to stop.” He practically growls, nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.

Your pussy clenches at his words, aroused beyond belief at the disdain he’s treating you with. You struggle against his grip deliberately, relishing in the renewed sting as his hand pulls your hair even tighter to keep you still.

“You really don’t get it, do you Dr. Winchester,” you try to laugh but your throat is taut and your air isn’t quite flowing easily enough to let you. “I like cock. I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me want you to stop.”

“I think we can drop the formalities now,” he releases you, standing up and reaching for his belt. “It’s Sam, not ‘Doctor Winchester’.”

Your eyes drop to his hands immediately, watching his fingers deftly push his button through its hole and pull down his zip. He’s already hard, you can tell by the tent in his boxers, but you’re astonished to see when he pulls himself out that he’s actually only semi hard – his cock is just huge. You feel your mouth and your pussy water in equal measure.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he starts to stroke himself, eyes tracing up and down your body hungrily as he does so.

“You want this cock, Y/N?” he asks pointedly, and you nod mutely. “Use your words then.”

“Yes,” you breathe instantly, dropping to your knees on the hard, grey carpet in front of him.

“Then you don’t get it,” Sam smirked, contradictorily walking himself closer to you as he speaks, hand still pumping his cock.

“Please?” you beg, hoping that’s the game he’s trying to play. Maybe he thinks he can humiliate you enough that you won’t want to repeat the experience – he’s going to be wrong.

“Nope.” Sam pops the ‘p’ on the word teasingly. “Your mantra for today is ‘no’.”

“What?” you look up to him, confused.

“Anytime I ask you if this is what you want – if you want my cock in your mouth, in your pussy, anywhere I want to put it – anytime I ask you if you want it, you have to say ‘no’,” he smiles down at you like some kind of evil genius, and you’re getting annoyed now that you find this so fucking hot.

“You want me to pretend you’re raping me? Sounds like you need therapy.” Sam laughs, not at all offended by your jab.

“We’re trying to condition a new response, Y/N,” he explains lightly, still jacking himself off maddeningly close to your lips. It takes every ounce of self control you have not to lean forward and suck him down on the spot. “If you want my cock inside you, then you have to tell me you don’t. And hopefully, with time, you’ll start to believe what you’re saying out loud. You’ll believe that you don’t need this, don’t want this.” He taps his cock against your lips and your tongue chases him immediately, reaching for a taste of the liquid you felt pooling on his tip.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he pulls himself away, tutting. “What do you say, Y/N?”

You swallow your pride and give him what he’s asking, though begrudgingly.

“No, please, don’t.” Your voice is monotone, lifeless – like how you used to read out loud in English class when the teacher called on you.

“C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. How are you going to believe yourself if I don’t believe you?” Sam walks closer again and sets his cock against your mouth lightly. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

“No,” you manage to choke out, and your hesitance to say the word must sound like hesitance to give him a blow job because Sam buys it, and the next moment he’s pushing the shiny, pink head past your lips, against your tongue; not stopping until he hits the top of your throat. He pulls back again, taking himself completely out of your mouth.

“You want it?” he asks again, grinning down at you.

“No,” you whimper, while inside every fibre of your body is screaming – yes!

“Good girl,” he groans as he pushes himself back inside, and you moan along with him. This time he doesn’t stop himself, fucking all the way into your throat until your nose is pressed against the skin of his stomach. “Fuck, you really are a cockslut,” Sam grunts above you, pulling back a little and starting to fuck your mouth in earnest. “You haven’t gagged once. Not many girls manage that with me.”

You believe him. Your jaw is already aching from the stretch of your lips around his girth but you savour the hurt. You love this; being on your knees for some guy you barely know with his cock shoved as far in as he can fit it. This is what you were made for, you know it, no matter how hard Sam’s going to try to talk you out of it.

He fucks your throat for a few more minutes, lulling you into a false sense of security. You’ve relaxed into it now, and you aren’t thinking about the therapy or the role play or any of it, you’re only thinking about his cock against your tongue, heavy and velvety and perfect. You cry out when he pulls away, taking in a shocked breath at the sudden emptiness.

“You want it back baby girl?” Sam asks breathlessly, and you allow yourself a moment to feel smug at how clearly affected he is by your ministrations.

“Please,” you beg, crawling towards him, forgetting your lines. Sam pulls away, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wrong answer, Y/N.”

“No!” you shout hoarsely, trying to correct yourself. “I mean no, please, no.”

“No,” Sam sucks in a breath, reaching to pull up his trousers like he’s going to put himself away. “No, I don’t think I believe you.”

“No, Sam, please!” you beg, reaching out for him. “I can do this,” you whisper, and Sam lets you take his cock in your hand, wrapping his fingers over yours and guiding your strokes. “Ask me again?”

“Do you want my cock, Y/N?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say firmly. “No, don’t make me do this.”

“Good girl,” he says again, his hand tightening over yours and using you to jerk himself off. “Do you want my cock, Y/N?”

“No,” you whine, trying to play into it even though your fingers start trying to jack him off faster of their own accord, your hands slipping together over the saliva you’d left behind.

“Do you want my cock in your pussy?” Sam growls, reaching his free hand out to snag your hair and pulling hard, causing you to shout out in delicious pain.

“No!” you squeal, trying to pull out of his hold, hoping you can act your way through this convincingly enough to get what you really want.

“No, whore?” Sam spits on you harshly, the wet striking you on the cheek and dripping down your chin.

“No,” you scream again as he pulls you off of the ground by your hair, throwing you forwards over his desk. Books and pads of paper go crashing to the ground. Pens scatter around you when your elbow hits the mug that was holding dozens of them.

“No?” you hear Sam scoff as he flips up the hem of your patient-issued uniform skirt, spotting the pair of crotchless panties you’re wearing beneath. “You’re telling me a slut like you, who gets put in an insititution for sex addiction, and decides to pack crotchless fucking panties, doesn’t want my cock stuffing her cunt full?”

“No, I don’t want it,” you moan, his words positively setting you on fire. Fuck, you want everything he’s saying and more.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Sam spits between your legs, adding to the slick that must be visibly gathered there by now.

“No!” you cry out when he delivers a stinging blow to your pussy, palm landing right over the open slit of your panties. “No,” you sob out again as he continues to spank you, each hit making a sickly wet echo and sending a jolt of heat through your clit every time his fingers happen to catch it. “No, no, no,” you’re begging, even as you spread your legs wider and push your hips back into his hand, trying to angle yourself so he hits your small bundle of nerves more frequently.

“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you,” Sam is seething behind you. “I can feel how wet you are, you fucking whore. You want my cock now, huh? Want me to put all this slick to good use?” He dips his fingers into the crotch of your panties and comes away with his fingers drenched in your juices, which you see a moment later when he shoves them in your face, yanking you back by your hair again.

“See this slut? See how I can tell you’re lying to me? What’s all this for if it’s not to get you ready for my cock?”

“N–” you try to protest, needing him to believe you if you want to actually feel his cock inside you, but your words are cut off as he shoves his fingers into your mouth, making you lick yourself off his hand.

“That’s right, taste what a fucking embarrassment you are.” Sam lets go of your hair and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers reaching for one of the pens that you knocked onto the desk earlier. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he uncaps the pen and crouches down behind you, putting your pussy at eye level for him.

“I think we should let the world know just how much of a slut you really are.” You wonder what he means, feeling him draw a single line down your right buttock, then switching to your left and writing some words. “Now anyone who fucks you is gonna see my instructions, and know they have to leave a tally mark right here.” He slaps your ass hard where he had just drawn his own. “And every time you come back to me for a session with more tallies than you left with the last time I saw you, that’s just one more time you’re gonna have to go through this with me. To make sure we really break you out of this habit.”

You silently wonder how many guys there are in this hospital that you might want to fuck. He spanks you again and you clench, pussy convulsing at the threat and the thought of men keeping count of the cocks you’ve taken by literally writing it on your body. You feel a trickle of slick start to make its way down your thigh, and you know Sam must have noticed because he laughs darkly.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Are you already planning how to rack up your score as soon as I let you out of this office?” he sneers vehemently.

“No,” you shake your head, even though it’s entirely true. “No, I don’t want that, I promise, I don’t.”

“But you still want my cock?” Sam questions, and you feel the tip of his dick start to drag against you, up and down the slit of your panties.

“No, I don’t want it,” you insist, trying to keep yourself from pushing back onto him.

“Good girl, Y/N,” Sam pets at your lower back and braces himself as he starts to sink in. You both moan when he enters you, but to your chagrin he stops when he only has an inch or so inside. “You want me to keep going?” he pants, and you’re pleased to hear that he’s not as composed now that he’s got the head of his cock wedged between your legs.

“No,” you shake your head quickly, silently praying for him to continue.

“Very good,” he groans, and begins to thrust into you again; tiny, sharp motions to ease himself into you bit by bit.

“No, stop,” you whine without prompting, hoping to encourage him to go faster. He does. “No, no, no,” you chant until he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, his hips pressed firmly into yours, his hands squeezing around your waist possessively.

“No?” Sam asks teasingly, pulling out a little.

“No!” you cry again, and this time you do mean ‘no’ – you don’t want him to leave you. At your cry Sam pushes back in harshly, snapping his hips back against yours and moaning, the sound bubbling up deep from his chest. “No,” you try repeating the phrase, testing your theory, and you’re rewarded by Sam withdrawing and fucking back into you piercingly.

“Please stop, please,” you whimper, not able to stop yourself from rocking back into his thrusts as Sam starts a punishing pace.

“You fucking liar, you love this you little cockslut,” Sam grunts pointedly, taunting you.

“No,” you insist, still meeting him thrust for thrust. “No I don’t want this, I don’t want you!”

“You’re always going to want cock, always gonna beg for it.”

“No!”

“You want me to stuff you full everyday don’t you? Maybe more than that. I bet you’d sit under my desk all day with my cock in your mouth if I told you to,” he laughs, his harsh pace becoming even quicker. He’s not fucking you deeply now but that means that every time he pushes in the head of his cock punches hard against the sweet spot on the front of your pussy, making you clench around him.

“No,” you shudder, feeling yourself close to the brink of your release, and you wonder what he’ll do when you cum – a clear demonstration that you’re fucking loving this, despite what you’re saying out loud.

“Say it louder, bitch,” he grunts, reaching down and spanking hard against your clit.

“No, no, stop!” you shout, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his cock, your orgasm just out of reach.

“You want to cum on my cock?” Sam slaps you again but then starts to rub tiny circles just where you need them.

“N–no,” you stutter, unable to hold back your moan.

“You don’t want to cum baby, you sure?” he teases, angling his hips so he’s fucking your sweet spot with each drive into you.

“No,” you whine, voice pitching higher as you feel yourself right there.

“No?” You can hear from Sam’s voice that he’s pouting at you, mocking you. “You don’t want to cum baby? Not gonna cum on my big, fat cock fucking you so good?” You clench around him, your toes curling, straining… “Come on you little slut, fucking cum already. Thought whores like you were supposed to be easy? Huh? Want you to cum for me, Y/N.”

“No, no, no, no, no–” you lose track of what you’re saying as you cum, screaming into your arm so you don’t accidentally say something to make Sam stop fucking you. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and your come down, hips snapping more and more erratically as you bury your face in his desk and try to catch your breath.

Suddenly, the weight of his body is gone, and then there’s a warm jolt between your legs, and you know he’s cumming – aiming his load at the top of your panties and letting it drip down through the open crotch. You moan high in your throat at the feeling of his release soaking into your underwear, mixing with your own juices, which are already leaking out of you and dripping onto his desk.

“That was a really good session, Y/N,” Sam says, and you’re surprised to hear how composed he sounds, though a little breathless. “I think this is going to be a good strategy for you.” He walks around to the other side of his desk and starts to pick up the books and papers you’d knocked down earlier.

Slowly, you peel yourself up off his desktop, your skin sticking to the surface with sweat that’s already started to dry.

“Go clean yourself up, Y/N,” Sam instructs, not looking at you as he continues to tidy his desk. You turn to go, still in your post-orgasmic daze, but you spin back around when Sam calls your name again. “Oh, and Y/N?” you look at him curiously, and a smirk curls slowly across his lips as you watch. “You better keep the tally marks, or there’ll be consequences next session.”

“Yes, Dr. Winchester,” you agree quietly and slip out of his office into the hallway, walking back to your room behind an orderly, with Sam’s cum still dripping down your thighs. You think about the tally he’d left on your body, and you look up at the orderly, who’s now stopped at the door to your room and holding it open for you.

As you pass him, you keep your eyes trained at the ground, and glance sideways to surreptitiously inspect the man next to you. The hospital scrubs do nothing to hide his endowment. You smile brightly, bringing your eyes up the rest of his body, taking in the muscles in his arms and the name tag on his chest, before landing on his face.

“Thanks, Dean.” You walk into your room, eyes flicking back to see Dean still standing there, watching you walk towards your bed. You bend over to grab something off the bottom shelf of your nightstand, not caring what you grab, just knowing that you’re now giving Dean a full display of your ass – Sam’s writing and Sam’s cum decorating your skin.

The door behind you shuts quietly.

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Note

Can you do a prompt of Marinette being the daughter of the Joker and Harley but Harley left him before Marinette was born and when Joker found out about his daughter He decided to kidnap Marinette so she can become like him (Ace chemicals) (Daminette)

Woot, my first ask in a while! Let’s see how I can do this oddly specific ask that reminds me of a fic that might actually exist but tbh I’ve read so many fanfics idk if my brain is remembering right

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette knew Sabine and Tom weren’t her biological parents. She had known ever since she was eight, when her mother by blood visited her for the first time, sat her down, and explained everything. Including, but not limited to, her disastrously toxic past relationship, her new girlfriend, and her recent success with long term rehab (unofficial rehab that mostly consisted of illegal anti-hero actions, but hey if it worked it worked).

Marinette understood. Well no, she really didn’t since she was only eight, but she understood that her mom— that Harley— was genuine. She had always had a knack for emotions and telling when people were sincere or not. And Harley really was regretful about not being in her life beforehand, and was serious about wanting to be part of her life now that her own was mostly sorted out.

So Marinette was not surprised when Harley really did stick it out. When Harley cooed over Marinette copying her hairstyle to show her support of her biological mom, when Harley never failed to call at least once a week even if she was in jail for punching some asshole or another. Harley never stayed arrested long anymore, she was usually found to be on the right side of the moral scale more and more often so the police didn’t bother keeping her locked up anymore. Through the years, Marinette always looked forward to her mom’s calls. Looked forward to being lulled to sleep by one crazy story or another from her mother’s past. Everything was nice. Perfect, even, for a while.

A thump sounded from her balcony, one late night when Marinette was thirteen. Blinking, the dark haired girl furrowed her brows. Who would be on her balcony? Cautiously walking towards the trap door leading to it, grasping her metal pencil holder as a weapon (she remembered all of her Mom’s stories about break-ins and random attacks back in Gotham), the teen strained her ears. Akuma attacks were only a few months old now, but she had already become in high alert for any sign of Hawkmoth or his victims. As per usual, Marinette’s paranoia began to kick in. Did Hawkmoth already figure her out? Was he here for her earrings? Would she be able to fight him?

She gently pushed up the trap door, catching a glimpse of black leather. Huh? Marinette narrowed her eyes, confused. Was it Chat? He should have been on patrol, on the other side of the city. What was he doing visiting her?

Suddenly the trap door yanked the rest of the way open, making Marinette yelp as the handle for it rugged away from her fingers. And there, backlit by the pure blue-white moonlight, was Not Chat Noir. It was Catwoman, in all her skintight black leather glory, grinning at her before pushing her cat-eye goggles up to the top of her head and crouching down by the trap door’s entrance, balancing only on the pads of her feet.

“Well hello there~” the woman purred. “So you’re the cute little kitten Harley is so secretive about. Nice to finally meet you,” the woman held out a hand, sending Marinette a sweet, if mysterious, smile. For a while, the pigtailed girl only stared before a squeal of excitement left her throat, leaving very little room for any doubt as to her bloodline. A large smile curled over Marinette’s lips, leaving her beaming widely at the catlike woman on her balcony.

“Auntie Selina! Mom’s told me so much about you! Come in, come in, come in! I’ll sneak some macaroons up for you. Or do you prefer croissants? What’s your favorite flavor? Are you really dating Batman? Oh my goodness, that necklace is so lovely! Did you steal it?”

Selina could only chuckle fondly at the word vomit, letting the smaller girl drag her down the trap door and into her very… pink room. Looking around, Selina was once again slapped with just how similar this kid was to her outgoing friend. Marinette clearly had no shame in indulging in the things she liked, such as the color pink and anything regarding fashion. But there were other things amongst the girliness of the room, like the posters of Jagged Stone and the training dummy half-sticking out of her closet door. There were a few ornamental knives hung up behind her computer, seemingly just for decoration although Selina could see that they were definitely battle ready and sharpened. A small mallet, clearly a miniature replica of her mother’s own signature weapon, leaned up against the side of the girl’s laundry basket. But then there was Marinette’s mannequin, which was surrounded by meticulously cut pieces of cloth and had other pieces pinned to it strategically. Marinette clearly had the same professionalism and love for her chosen career that had so completely defined Harley in the Time Before Joker. The same genius intellect hiding in those deceptively cheerful bluebell eyes. And for the first time, though not for the last to be sure, Selina found herself thoroughly relieved that it seemed Marinette had inherited very little from her father.

Except, as she would learn from stories Harley told her later, an apparent affinity for chaos.

“I’m not that picky, kitten. But I’m not that hungry, so don’t go too out of your way,” Selina decided to just react the same way she did with Harley’s rambles, and answer one question at a time. “Also, I am actually dating Bruce Wayne. But, if you promise not to tell anyone—“ she waited for Marinette’s eager nod before continuing casually, “— the two are maybe not as mutually exclusive as many think,” Selina finished with a conspiratorial wink. “No, I actually did not steal this necklace. Bruce has been adamant in trying to curb me of my thieving habit by buying me almost everything I so much as glance at sideways. It’s sweet. Naive, because I like stealing for the fun of it, but sweet.”

Marinette giggled, bouncing in place happily. She loved a bit of innocent gossip like this. “Is Momma Ivy ever gonna visit? I don’t think Mom told her much about me yet, and I still gotta give her the shovel talk!” the fierce look that overcame Marinette’s face made Selina laugh again. Oh yes, definitely her mother’s daughter.

“Pam has been trying to sneak over, but the laws regarding Metahumans in Paris suddenly got much stricter a few months back and have caused some problems. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened, would you?” Selina did not miss when her seemingly innocent question caused her niece to close off almost instantly. Bluebell eyes took on a familiar guardedness, and scanned her with the same soul-searching intensity that Harley had when she was channeling her Psychiatrist side. Selina found herself in a slightly concerning spot though—

Because she couldn’t predict Marinette at all. She was left to simply stand there as Marinette searched for some unidentifiable thing in her eyes, completely unable to read the younger girl’s face and with no idea of what to expect. The side effect of having chaos so thoroughly entwined in both of her biological parents, she supposed.

“Nope, no idea.”

Selina knew that was a lie, but knew equally as well that she would not be getting a better answer anytime soon. So, she let it go and the two of them once again dipped into innocent chatter.

Later that night, when Selina left and the sun threatened to rise at any minute, Tikki flew up from her hiding spot under Marinette’s pillow to land on her holder’s shoulder. Marinette giggled and looked over at her little friend.

“Tikki?”

“Yes, Mari?”

“Why was I chosen to be your holder?” She asked suddenly, flopping back into her bed and staring at her ceiling. The little goddess hummed, smiling knowingly before flying down to cuddle in the crook of Marinette’s neck.

“Because you are born from luck itself. Even when bad things happen, you have the luck and determination to get out just fine, and stronger than before. And despite the destruction and anarchy in your blood, you have the willpower to reign it in and keep control of yourself. That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good. And that’s a large part of who you are, I could feel it in your soul the moment we first met.”

Marinette closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek. “What if I lose control?”

“... You’ll just have to get it back. It’ll be hard, but as long as you have people to support you, you will be able to do it. You aren’t evil, Marinette,” the small God seemed to sense the true question her holder was asking, and did her best to soothe the doubt the girl felt. “Just remember the reasons you fight against chaos. Remember everyone you love, and you’ll be okay. And you have me, I’ll always help you.”

“... thank you, Tikki.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was uncanny just how often Marinette’s hunches were right. Her intuition was something to behold, truly, because it only took three days in Gotham before Joker snatched her right out of her room at Harley and Ivy’s apartment. At least Marinette had sixteen by then, so she had had enough experience as a hero in Paris and with generally unpredictable situations and people who were absolutely nuts for her to not immediately panic. Too much, anyway.

Because there was definitely a little panic there.

See, Marinette knew herself inside out by then. After her own battle with her toxic feelings towards Adrien and doing her best to heal from those before she turned out like her mom, she knew she was by no means mentally indestructible. Mental illness ran the high risk of being inherited, and Marinette was well aware that her own personality was scarily similar to her mother’s at times. She got attached quickly, felt affection and love for others very strongly and, as she found with Adrien, could easily become obsessive if she didn’t watch herself. At least Harley was the perfect person to help with that, and Marinette was serious about helping herself too. She did everything she could to keep an eye on her mental health and keep her behavior in check so she didn’t do anything too unhealthy with her relationships again.

But she knew, she knew she had a soft spot for family. She got attached too easily. And being in the same room as her biological father, despite being tied up by her hands and feet and knowing just how many unforgivable things he had done in his life, Marinette felt vulnerable. She didn’t want to hurt him, despite everything. She still loved him, despite every reason not to, despite her first meeting with him being with him shoving chloroform over her face and hogtying her to a metal chain dangling over a vat of acid.

Geez, she’d need more than just her mom as a therapist after this for sure. Even if her mom had a PH.D, Marinette felt like she’d need several psychiatrists to sort through her emotional turmoil right then and make sense of any of it.

Marinette licked her lips, aware that the only kindness that Joker gave his daughter was sparing her from the discomfort of being gagged.

“Don’t,” Marinette said, surprising herself with the amount of steel she was able to put into her voice. Somehow, she managed to make the single word sound more like an order than a plead. “Joker, put me—“

“Ah-Ah-Ah!” The clown walked over, tutting and waving his finger in the air in almost playful admonishment. He gave her a dramatically fake pout. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to refer to your father by his first name?” Neither of them mentioned that Joker was definitely not his real name. They both knew the point was moot. “Say it with me now— ‘Daddy dearest, I am more than willing to be dunked in acid for you,’ go ahead, say it.”

Marinette’s jaw clenched. Familial love or not, she would not tolerate being ridiculed like that. She dealt with enough ridicule when she was fourteen and fifteen during school, before she put Liar Rossi in her place. She had spent the past three years as a hero in charge of the war against Hawkmoth, in charge of protecting all of Paris from an emotional terrorist.

And gee, wasn’t that what Joker was, too? Sure, he was a terrorist in the classic meaning of the word as well, but he was nothing if not a skilled manipulator. He knew the human mind just as well as Harley or any other psychiatrist did, he just used his knowledge for different means. He had emotionally abused Harley for years, he emotionally abused and manipulated people all across gotham on a daily basis. He was just another Hawkmoth, but with more physical violence in place of magic.

With these thoughts strengthening her resolve, Marinette narrowed her eyes at the man who donated half of her DNA. She let her anger boil into her irises, hitting him with one of the few traits she knew she inherited from him.

Her ability to intimidate others on the tip of a hat.

“No,” she growled back at him. She took a deep breath. It had taken her a while, but she refused to be ashamed of who she was regardless of her blood relation. She would have no problem using the very things she inherited from Joker against him. She might have gotten most of Harley’s personality, she might have inherited her mother’s habit of falling in love hard, fast, and obsessively, but she also had Joker’s defiance. His bone-deep inability to be stopped from doing exactly whatever the fuck he wanted.

And then, there were Marinette’s own traits. The ones that were completely her own, developed over her life organically. Like her refusal to bow down to bullies, her creativity, her ability to take even the most chaotic situation and see some sort of balance and sanity in it that she could use to her advantage.

That she WOULD use to her advantage. The shadows she saw move out of the corner of her eye gave her the chance to do exactly that, she just needed to buy a few more seconds. Just a few more seconds.

“Excuse me?” Joker growled right back, his own intimidation, honed over more years than Marinette had been alive and thus much more potent than her own, reading its ugly head as he stalked towards her. His face was pulled down into an ugly snarl, his shoulders tensed and back straight as he glared right at her. From his spot on the metal walkway, he was easily able to reach over the railing and grab her chin in one pale, viciously strong hand. “I think you’re misunderstanding something here, little Marionette. I’m your father. Half of your life came directly from ME. That makes you my puppet. You exist to follow my orders,” his right grip suddenly let go, leaving behind the beginnings of a bruise as his entire demeanor changed from angry to cheerful. He spread his arms as if gesturing to the whole chemical plant victoriously, and an unnaturally large smile curved over his lips and bared yellowing teeth at her. “But that’s okay. I’ll forgive you this time, you haven’t learned any better yet. That’s why we’re here. We need to cleanse you of all those icky bad habits you’ve learned up until now, all you need is a little,” he bounced in place with a wicked smirk to illustrate his next words— “jumpstart. A little acid goes a long way to enlightenment you know, you’ll see my side of things in no time. And with my blood in you, you’ll make a better sidekick than that idiot Harley ever did. I can sense it, you’ve got a real talent for Chaos in you, it’s exciting, Heheeeheheee! Now then, we should probably speed things along before our family reunion is cut short. Hang in there, my little Marionette,” the man actually had the gall to spin in place while humming a tune cheerfully before all but dancing over to the lever that held Marinette’s length of chain in the air over the vat of chemicals below her. “Everything will clear up in that little head of yours in just a second!”

There! Right as Joker pulled the switch to lower her into the bubbling vat underneath her, Marinette was able to finish untying her hands. She couldn’t contain a small yelp as gravity flung her body forward, leaving her upside down on the chain for a brief moment. That was when the chain started lowering rapidly, and Marinette was barely able to rip the rope off of her ankles in time to swing off of it and onto the metal walkway that came up right next to the giant metal container of liquid death and insanity. Joker had barely enough time to shout in rage before the windows near the ceiling shattered, admitting the city’s vigilantes themselves. Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, Robin, and evening Black Bat all landed on the same metal platform above Marinette’s head that Joker was still on, buying the teen time to start running. But she didn’t go towards the exit right away, instead heading right up the stairs into the thick of the fight. Robin briefly separated from where Joker was managing to hold his own, goons flooding from side doors to inhibit the heroes in their attempt to bring their boss down.

The katana-using vigilante kept one eye on Marinette the whole time, suspicious of why the girl would come back up if not to help her father. But that wasn’t what she did, instead she flipped and kicked and punched her way through the quickly growing sea of Joker thugs until she reached a small pink purse that had been abandoned near the lever that had nearly sent her into liquid insanity. Three thugs surrounded her right as she snatched the purse up and slung it over her shoulder, but Robin barely had the chance to head over before she was heaving the men, who were all easily three times her size, over her shoulder and was slamming elbows into soft spots and the side of her hand into pressure points. By the time Robin got to her side, all three men were unconscious and bound to wake up in utter agony.

Marinette glanced up, getting ready to haul Robin over her shoulder as well before she realized who he was. She let her shoulders relax just a tick, sighing in relief before returning her eyes to scanning their surroundings. She shot him a brief grin.

“Good thing my adoptive mother, Mom, Momma Ivy, and Auntie Selina all made sure I knew how to take down a small army on my own, huh?” She asked rhetorically before they were both unceremoniously dragged back into the giant brawl.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Nettie-pie!”

“Marigold!”

Harley and Pamela Quinzel-Isley shoved down anyone and everyone who dared block their direct path to their daughter. The girl of the hour stood next to the bat clan, a shock blanket held tightly around her shoulders as she did her best to finish her statement to both the vigilantes and Commissioner Gordon.

“You untied yourself… from a ship-grade knot in high quality rope… with a phone charm?” They heard Gordon ask incredulously, to which Marinette could only give a lopsided smile. That was when her mom and stepmom crashed into her, enveloping her in a nearly suffocating hug.

“Gah— mom— momma Ivy—“ Marinette flailed in their arms for a bit before finally getting her head free and continuing her statement as if she didn’t have two of the most dangerous women in the city still giving her a bone crushing hug. “That’s better. Yes, Commissioner. You see, I realized when I was in the car with Joker, while I was pretending to still be unconscious, that one of the charms on my phone had pretty sharp corners that I could use like a serrated edge if I had enough time. So I carefully detached it from my phone, and held it in my palm. It took almost an hour, but once Joker noticed I was awake I kept him talking so that he didn’t notice what I was doing even as he tied me up to that chain. Really, it’s just lucky that I was able to get it worn down in time,” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck with a nervous chuckle. “But regardless, I think Batman and his partners,” she nodded to the listening vigilantes just to the side of her. “Were close enough that I would have been caught anyway, I just wanted to make sure they had less work to do. The sooner I freed myself, the sooner ‘Daddy Dearest,’” she grimaced as she mockingly used the same term Joker had tried to get her to say earlier that night. “Could go back behind bars where he belongs.”

“Oh my little Nettie-cake,” Harley cried, finally pulling back from the hug long enough to wipe her cheeks. It was clear that she had been crying for a while, and her colorful pigtails were mussed and tangled from where she must have been tugging on them in worry. “You were right. I’m so sorry, I never should have let you come to Gotham when I knew he was out of Arkham.”

Marinette was quick to shake her head frantically, pulling her arms out of Ivy’s hold so she could grasp Harley’s shoulders firmly. “No. No, Mom, I’m fine! And besides, we knew I couldn’t stay secret forever. I really like staying with you and Momma Ivy! Everything turned out fine though, and he’s headed back to Arkham. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Nettle,” Pam argued, distracting herself by running her hands through Marinette’s bangs. She had only known the girl for two years, but that was more than long enough for her to consider the teenager as her own. “He took you right out from under our noses. You were supposed to be safe in our home, and he still got to you. That’s not okay. We weren’t able to protect you like we should have been. Maybe you should go back to Paris early.”

“What?! No way!” Marinette argued, eyes wide. “This is the first time I’ve been able to ever visit you guys in Gotham, I’m not letting some psycho sperm donor keep me from enjoying time with my family! I came here knowing full well that it was dangerous. I’m not gonna just run away after one bad experience.”

Harley snorted, and then devolved into uncontrollable giggles. “Heh— psycho sperm donor. Good one, sugar!”

Marinette smiled and rolled her eyes good naturedly at her mom’s usual immature antics. Seeing as Gordon had walked away muttering to himself a short while ago, Marinette pulled herself the rest of the way away from her moms and turned to the vigilantes. Without a second’s pause, she bowed to them just like her Maman Sabine taught her.

“Thank you for helping save me. I know it’s probably a shock that I’ve been kept secret from you guys all this time, but I hope you don’t lump me in with the likes of the green-haired half of my DNA. I’m staying with my Moms in their apartment, if you guys decide to patrol by our place like I suspect, I’ll leave some baked goods and coffee out for you on our patio. It’s the least I can do for you all after tonight. And don’t be too hard on Auntie Selina. Me and Mom swore her to secrecy, even from you guys.”

Batman jerked a little at the mention of Catwoman’s real name, jaw twitching for a second. Behind his cowl, his eyes narrowed. Marinette laughed, easily reading his body language and expression.

“She never told me who you are, but she didn’t exactly hide it either. It was easy to put the last pieces together on my own. But don’t worry, SHE swore me to secrecy too. I won’t tell anyone.

“How the hell are you related to the Laughing Asswipe from Hell?” Red Hood blurted out, his confusion clear even from behind his hideous helmet. Marinette burst into giggles, and both Pamela and Harley smiled knowingly.

“Mom gave me up for adoption when I was born, so I spent my whole life in Paris up until now,” she admitted. “Mom didn’t visit me for the first time until I was eight, and she and my adoptive parents are so awesome that it must’ve suffocated the worst traits from his DNA before they had a chance to develop,” she guessed out loud with a good natured smile.

Batman grunted. Marinette knew that one run-in wasn’t enough for them to trust her. After all, she was still the biological daughter of their arch enemy. But she didn’t mind, she understood the caution even if she didn’t fully agree with it. They weren’t outright hostile, despite the fact that Robin had never stopped glaring at her since they fought back-to-back against the mob of thugs earlier. She could live with their suspicion, as long as they continued to not be outright rude or mean to her.

At least she could empathize with Adrien now, whenever she figured out how to break it to him that Hawkmoth was definitely Gabriel and couldn’t be anyone else. Hopefully she could help soften the blow for him a little.

Harley and Ivy were starting to herd Marinette towards their car and take her back home, where they could continue to smother her in care and make sure she didn’t have even a scratch on her, when Robin’s voice stopped them all in their tracks.

“You are a surprisingly capable combatant.”

Marinette froze, blinking in surprise for a second before turning to stare at Robin in shock. The rest of the Bat Clam was doing the same, nobody expecting Robin of all people to be the first to directly complement Marinette. He tutted, crossing his arms, but never moved his gaze away from Marinette’s eyes.

“But your form could use some work. Most of your style is incredibly improvised, which I can appreciate since you do it well, but you would benefit from more structure in your fighting. I will set up a time and place for us to spar. We start in two days, if you think you can handle it.”

It took a while for what Robin said to sink in, and another few seconds for Marinette to decipher what his semi-aggressive, order-phrased proposal really meant. And she smiled.

“It’s a date.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Woo! This started off a little rough, but I really like how it ended up! Thank you, Anon!

#ml x dc #maribat #mlb x dc #eventual daminette #pre daminette #daminette #Bio!dad joker #bio!mom Harley Quinn #Joker Sucks #Request #Oneshot #Fanfiction #crossover

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Text

Nemesis - Part 4

Based on the votes from Part 3, option B was chosen-- Hero will lie to Leader, and trust Hacker. But time is running out, and they must make their move fast. Perhaps, however, they have moved too fast.

Thanks so much to everyone for reading, and special thanks to @whumpilicious for coming up with Hero’s plan!

CW//Mentions of breakups, mentions of concussions, crude jokes, shapeshifting, forced sedation

“No. They need to be here.”

“And why would that be?”

Hero’s attempt to suppress a shiver failed as a single bead of frigid sweat ran down the back of their neck.

They could tell Leader the truth. Hell, they would likely never get a chance as good as this one. The leader of an entire team would be an incredibly powerful asset, an incredibly powerful ally. They could have Villain out of there before Hero could blink.

Or, they could lock them away in some underground bunker, never again to be seen by human eyes.

It was an untenable risk. If Villain was ever going to be saved, Leader needed to remain ignorant.

When had they started thinking of this as a rescue mission?

They expected that realization to make them feel sick, but it did anything but. Instead, it reaffirmed their decision.

“There’s a reason the rehab facility is in the city.” Hero finally replied, after a long moment of shaky-eyed staring. “If anything happens, we’re close by. I’m sure the villains housed there are well aware of that fact. Moving Villain farther away... it’d put them even further out of my sight. It’d make my worries far worse, I assure you.”

Leader raised a brow, looking down at Hero a moment, as if studying a particularly interesting piece of artwork. At last, they nodded.

“I may not understand why you are so worried about this hypothetical escape plan, but I will humor you.”

“You won’t say anything to Director?”

“I will not give Director my opinion on the matter. But it is my duty to report your performance. The terms they outlined are very clear. If you do not stop distracting yourself with this silly venture within the week, Villain’s transfer will go ahead. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

Hero bit their lip.

“Do you report... everyone’s performance?”

“Everyone under my command? Yes.”

“But there’s dozens of teams.”

“I am aware.”

“Surely Director does not look over everyone’s performance reports.”

Leader’s mouth pursed.

“They are very busy, so I assume they do not.”

“Did you mention my performance to them?”

“No.” A crescendo of discomfort seemed to reach its peak within Leader, whose gaze quickly moved downwards, to the table.

Hero felt their ears grow red, yet they could not stop themself from pushing.

“They noticed on their own.”

“Yes.”

“The others have had slips, before. Remember when Teammate broke up with their partner? Or when Other Teammate had their concussion?”

“Of course I remember.”

“Did Director say anything then?”

“No. What’s with all the questions? I don’t know why Director is so worried about you, but it’s not my job to question their motives. It’s my job to make sure that the city stays safe, and that you keep your eyes on the road.”

Hero suddenly felt awfully lightheaded.

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Just one.”

“Have you ever met Director?”

A moment of silence resounded as the gears in Leader’s head ground.

“No. No one has. We communicate only over E-mail.”

“Wait, one more question.”

Leader frowned.

“Do you have any pictures of Director?”

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“This is like, the equivalent of walking into the White House and pretending to be the President. You know that, right? You get that?”

Hacker’s voice was even more high-pitched and anxiety-twinged than usual.

“I am well aware.” Hero nodded.

They were well aware of how stupid the idea was, but they hoped that wasn’t evident in their voice. That was the only thing that really mattered, considering that they were currently speaking to Hacker on the phone, though it didn’t stop them from struggling to keep their shoulders level and their gaze steady.

“And you still want to do it. You still want to walk into the White House and pretend to be the President.”

“You’re really proud of that metaphor, aren’t you?”

“A little. Answer the question, though.”

Hero exhaled, exasperated.

“Yes. I’m doing this. There’s no choice.”

“Your hesitation went away really fast. Did you finally grow a pair of balls or-”

“We only have a week.”

“Oh, god. There’s a time limit now?”

“It’s a long story, but, TLDR is, Villain needs out of there in the next week.”

“Otherwise?”

“They’ll be transferred out of the city. Out of our reach.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Damn indeed.”

“Well, then, what do we need to do?”

“Did you grow a pair, too?”

“Maybe. I’m not about to go guns blazing with you, but... Let’s just say I’m invested in how this all turns out. Any help I can offer from behind a screen, I’ll do it. Are you sure we only have a week? Is there any other option?”

“Well... The ultimatum is that if I don’t get my performance up in the next week, they’re going away. The Organization’s director thinks it’ll help me.”

“Then just get your performance up?” Hacker sounded perplexed.

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

Hero gritted their teeth.

The way Hacker spoke, it made the situation sound so simple. As if Hero could just decide to forget years of fighting, of... of whatever they and Villain had. They couldn’t just go on. They should have been able to. Anyone else would have been able to.

But they couldn’t. They knew that their best efforts would not be enough to keep Villain within striking distance, no matter how much sweat they poured in.

“Because... Because I know it isn’t. And, besides, the sooner we get them out of there, the better.”

“If you say so, boss. What do we gotta do?”

“Can you send a fake email? Make it look like it’s from someone important?”

“In my sleep. What do you need?”

“Tell the rehab unit that they’re to expect a very special visitor.”

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It was a stupid plan. Just as stupid as walking into a hostage situation pretending to be a reporter.

But, in the end, that plan had worked. Just not quite in the way they had wanted it to.

On the outside, the appearance of the rehab center had not changed a bit. Even the childish artworks in the windows remained static, untouched by the hands that had supposedly created them.

Yet, despite the appearance remaining unmoving, when Hero gazed upon the brightly-painted structure and its white picket fence, they could not help but feel as though they had swallowed a stone.

It all felt so wrong. A vicious Villain contained in such a cutesy building. If Villain themself knew, they likely would have been sick. Or furious. Or sick and furious.

If everything went right... they would know, soon.

That was all the plan that Hero had worked out. They had an entrance plan, and a car. Thinking ahead of that made them feel awfully lightheaded. Besides, future thinking like that was far too optimistic for their tastes. If, and only if, they made it out of this alive, then they would think ahead.

Until then, their future plans consisted only of what step they were to take after the current one.

“Do you have visual?” Hero whispered.

“You don’t have to be so quiet.” Hacker’s voice crackled in their ear. “You’re still in the car, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just don’t want them to think I’m talking to myself like some kind of nutcase.”

“Maybe Director is a nutcase. No one knows. That’s what you’re basing this whole gimmick on, right?”

Hero sighed. “Just about.”

They pulled down the car’s sun visor, flipping up the little panel that covered the miniature mirror embedded within. Even with how long they had had their powers, they did not think they would ever get used to looking in the mirror and staring upon a face that was not their own.

Director’s face looked awfully like it belonged on the front of a magazine. Well-cropped black hair, a curling, defined jawline that led to ears adorned by modest steel studs.

“What time is it?”

“Can’t you look at a clock?”

“I want to make sure I have the disguise right.”

“Well, they’re expecting you in about five minutes. Do you think Director is early? Or punctual? Or-”

“I think if I sit in here for another second, I’m going to lose it.”

“Guess they’re gonna be early, then.” A nervous sigh. “Are you ready for this?”

“I think so. You’ve got point, right?”

“Yep. They’ve got their security stuff pretty well protected from remote infiltration, but so long as you’re nearby the building itself, I should be able to see everything the cameras can see.”

“What are you... what are going to do if I fail?”

“I think I’m the last thing you should be worrying about, in that scenario.”

“No. You’re a civilian.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, and last time you were calling me a criminal.”

“That’s not... don’t worry about that. Right now, you’re a civilian, and you don’t need to get yourself wrapped up in all this nonsense. So, in the very real event that I fail, what are you going to do to protect yourself?”

“I... I can cut the connection. The thing in your ear, it’ll look like nothing more than a normal earbud. Is that good enough for you?”

“Yes.”

“And, once you’re in there, don’t reply to anything I say. Not unless everything goes terribly wrong.”

“Got it.”

“Now, we ready for real?”

Hero gave a sharp nod.

“Let’s do this.”

Stepping out of the vehicle, they forgot just how tall they were in this form. They could change into all forms of animals, operate just fine as bird or beast, but existing in the form of another person never ceased feeling terribly odd to them.

They didn’t do it very often. But, this time, it was the only choice they had. And if no one had heard Director’s voice before... then their plan should work just fine.

It was far too many ifs and shoulds for their taste, but that wasn’t important. Not while Villain was still in there.

Hero slammed the car door as authoritatively as they could manage, keeping their gait even and steady, even as they moved in an uncomfortably restrictive suit.

They were at the door far too quickly. They settled their jaw, then, and entered the White House, pretending to be the President.

Behind the front desk was seated the same labcoat, though, now, they had a far more formal posture to them. Upon Hero’s entrance, they seemed confused on whether to salute or bow. After a few nervous moments, they settled for a simple:

“Hello.”

Hero flashed Director’s pearly white smile.

“Good afternoon. I hope I’m not too late?”

“O- Oh, of course not. It’s an honor to have you visit our humble facility.” Labcoat’s ears grew rapidly red in hue. “Would you like a tour, maybe? Or to meet with our head doctor? Or-”

“Oh, no, none of that will be necessary. I am sure we are both far too busy for all those formalities. You must run a very tight ship, here. It is very nice.”

“Thank you! Thank you, sir.”

“Of course. But, no. I do not need the tour. Perhaps another time. For now, I do not have all too long. Would you be kind enough to show me to Villain’s room?”

“Of course, sir.” Labcoat leapt up from their seat, still looking as though they wanted to bow. “It’s just this way, if you would please follow me. If that’s okay.”

Hero nodded in gratitude, following Labcoat through the steel door that led to the rest of the facility.

There was considerably more life to the building’s various rooms, compared to the last time they had visited. The common room at the front saw a group of villains stiffly sitting around a board game, moving the pieces at an agonizingly slow pace. Another watched an old movie on the television, their posture oddly perfect.

Hero tried their best not to show their discomfort.

Instead of leading them straight, into the dining hall, Labcoat turned left to one of the patient wings. The two of them walked past what must have been twenty doors, each of which had a name plaque upon its surface, stating proudly who resided within.

The door at the end of the hall did not have such a name. Instead, it had a simple label.

‘43′

Room 43. Villain’s own personal hell.

“Would you like company? Or would you like your visit to remain private?” Labcoat ducked their head as they spoke.

“Private, if you would not mind.”

“Of course not! Whatever you say, sir. When you are ready to leave just knock, uh, on the door. I’ll let you out. If that’s okay, um, or I could- Actually, no I don’t want you to have to knock. How about this.”

Hero felt their stomach twist, the organ confused about just how well the plan had turned out. To their great surprise, Labcoat reached within a pocket, producing a small metal key.

“Just use this.”

“Thank you very much.” Hero dipped their head, taking the key in turn. Like a mouse skittering from a cat, Labcoat was gone in an instant.

Hero was alone, outside the door. Their stomach sickened, though this time it was not from surprise.

Their plan was going perfectly! They couldn’t have hoped for better. They even had a key, and...

And they couldn’t do it. They felt their legs to be frozen in place, their mind instead filled with a spiraling cascade of images. Images of what their nemesis used to be.

And now...

“Hero.” The voice in their ear was soft. “Villain needs you.”

Hero nodded. They placed their hand upon the knob, and turned.

A gust of sterile air wafted out. Hero entered, closing the door behind themself.

Leaving themself alone with Villain. Some small part of them expected a witty one liner, a passive-aggressive joke. But there was none; only the mechanical whirring of medical machines.

And the slightest rise and fall of their nemesis’ chest.

They did not tell their legs to bring them to Villain’s bedside, but that is where they ended up. On the security footage they had seen, it had been nearly impossible to see their unconscious nemesis’ face.

Now, they had the best view in the world.

Some part of Hero had expected peace. Expected their former foe to have been spending their unconsciousness in a state of bliss. Certainly not an ideal state, but a comfortable one.

Instead, Villain’s closed eyes twitched, tiny movements flickering through their fingers. 375 days, and they were still fighting.

Of course they were. They would never stop fighting.

Hero didn’t notice as their hand reached out, practically on its own. Villain’s hand was cold.

Their face... everything about their face was too perfect. Too clean. Their mouth was locked in a permanent, blank frown. Their brows twitched, but did nothing more than that.

Villain’s eyes did not open.

Hero squeezed their hand tighter. The heartbeat monitor registered the slightest quickening of pace.

It was a knocking that broke Hero from their trance. They dropped Villain’s hand, stumbling backward, turning just as the room’s door opened to reveal a pair of blue scrubs.

Head Doctor smiled.

“Friend.” They chirped. “I’m so glad you could come visit. I missed seeing you, last week, but I understand how busy you are this time of year. How are you finding everything?”

Hero gulped.

Their imitations were perfect. They knew that, and they were quite proud of that fact. Just about any animal, they replicated with ease, and they could morph their face to match that of anyone they so chose to copy.

Appearances were easy. But there was one limit to shapeshifting.

Hero could not imitate voices.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Hero is too far in. Keep up the ruse - How should Hero explain their voice?

B.) There’s no way to get out of this. Take the risk and run! - How should Hero make their escape?

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump #nemesis #hero villain whump #villain whumpee #drugged whumpee

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miracleonice87 · 4 years

Text

Begin Again

a Mathew Barzal song fic

a/n: a one shot based on “Begin Again” by Taylor Swift. obviously I don’t own any of Taylor Swift’s music/lyrics! I’m not even a big Swiftie anymore (edited: lol dying bc I wrote that before she released folklore and evermore and sucked me RIGHT back in) but I love her “Red” album and always listen to it in the fall. also, the NYC traffic/parking/location situation in this is purely fantasy BS, lol.

summary: Mat Barzal meets Hayden Parker (fictional) in a coffee shop, and they start something new.

warnings: swearing. talk of a concussion/migraines/weight loss — otherwise, complete and total fluff.

______

With a deep breath, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror hanging near your front door before you left your Brooklyn apartment. You hadn’t worn these heels for several seasons now — he hadn’t liked it when you wore high heels. You had let his opinions — on your clothes, shoes, music, books, movies, and friends — dictate how you lived for too long. You smirked now, admiring how the pointed-toe snakeskin stilettos looked paired with your raw cut black jeans and silky pink blouse. He would’ve hated this look (“too gaudy,” he would have said), which made you love it that much more.

You popped in one AirPod and flipped the inside lock on your door before pulling it closed. You made your way down the hall as the lyrics started to flow.

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range

His horse and his cattle are his only companions...

You fought the urge to roll your eyes thinking about your former flame’s constant unwarranted comments about this classic ballad which often wafted through your apartment from the record player in the living room.

“I don’t get this song — like, is he singing to himself?” he would ask. You never bothered to tell him the real background and meaning — you loved the song, and you got it. You always had.

Emerging from the main entrance of your building, you hummed along to melodies from your favorite playlist, and walked the three or so blocks to your destination. Soon, you were stepping in from the bustle of the street to find solace in an only-slightly less busy coffee shop, one you had come to frequent because of its location — sandwiched within the six blocks between your apartment and the fashion magazine where you were interning this semester.

“Hi, one large double shot mocha, please?” you requested, stepping up after the man in front of you paid for his order. You tapped your AirPod to pause your music, just in time to hear: “Nice shoes.”

You lifted your head and glanced toward the pick-up section of the counter, where a classically handsome man in his twenties stood donning a well-tailored navy blue suit. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized he was looking straight at you.

“Me?” you inquired softly, just to be sure, as you slipped your bank card back into your wallet. He nodded, smiling. “Yes, you. Nice shoes.”

You bit your lip involuntarily, slowly walking his way to wait on your coffee. “Thanks. You’ve got nice style yourself,” you complimented, and you were surprised by your own boldness in that moment. Something about his confidence made you confident, too. And something about his model good looks seemed unsettlingly familiar somehow.

He extended his hand as you took your position next to him. “I’m Mat,” he greeted. You couldn’t help but smile, nearly breathless from his innate charm.

“Hi, Mat,” you replied, engaging his handshake. “I’m Hayden.”

“Hayden. Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Mat mused, holding onto your hand for just a moment longer than was customary. You knew it was silly — God, was it silly — but you felt yourself blush at his flattery.

“Large Americano,” a barista called out. Mat stepped forward, thanking her and stuffing a bill — you couldn’t help but notice that it was a large one — into the tip jar atop the glass pastry display. He turned back to you as he unfastened the lid and blew gently on his coffee. Another thing you couldn’t help but notice — his perfect pink lips.

“So, Hayden, are you a native New Yorker?”

Hmm, you thought. Why isn’t he running for the door after getting his drink? You decided to play along, feeling more daring than you had in ages.

“I am not,” you confessed. “I’m from Maine, actually.”

“Ah, still an East Coast girl,” Mat remarked with a grin. “I’m from the West — near Vancouver.”

You arched your brows. “Wow, Canadian, huh?” Mat chuckled.

“Born and raised. You know what they say, though: opposites attract,” he commented, hazel eyes piercing into you even as he took a cautious sip from his cup. You studied his face — he seemed more familiar with each word he spoke.

“They do say that, don’t they?” you retorted, skirting his inference. Just then, the barista set your mocha on the counter.

“Thank you so much,” you said, also pushing a tip into the jar, thankful that Mat’s attention was on grabbing a cup sleeve from the island nearby instead of on the much smaller bills you had to offer the staff.

You turned toward the island, too, reaching for the cinnamon. Mat offered you a sleeve as if it was second nature, and you graciously accepted, trying to relax the muscles on your face that seemed to have permanently turned upward into a smile since you’d been in the man’s presence.

Suddenly, you gasped.

“Islanders,” you whispered under your breath as Mat watched you stir your cinnamon into your drink. He froze.

“What?” he asked with a nervous laugh, wondering if he had heard you correctly. Your eyes darted around, making sure no one within earshot was paying attention.

“You play for the Islanders. Right?” you asked softly. He nodded, silent, ducking his head a bit; you began to backpedal.

“Oh, God... I didn’t mean - I, uh... I promise I’m not like a hockey fangirl, or anything,” you choked out, cheeks flushed. Your hands started to shake slightly as you replaced the lid on your to-go cup. “I just, uh, my brother. My brother played hockey. He always talked about you, and, uh, I just realized that that’s why I recognized you.” You winced.

“This... this isn’t as weird as it sounds, I swear,” you insisted. “It’s just that, my brother played in the Q. He was good, and, uh, I knew about all the other good hockey players, because of him.”

Mat’s demeanor had quickly changed — from slightly uncomfortable to giddy. He was smirking at you while you sputtered, taking a sort of masochistic pleasure in watching you squirm. His grin was infectious.

“What’s your last name?” he asked when you finally stopped talking. “Parker,” you responded, the two of you stepping away from the island and taking up residence near the front windows of the cafe.

“Parker... Parker,” he repeated. You were distracted by how good your name sounded falling from his tongue. Then, he gasped, too.

“Oh shit, your brother’s Nick Parker? Damn, how’s he doing?”

Your brow quirked as you watched the light flicker on in his eyes when he pieced it together. A National Hockey League star recognized your brother’s name, your name. What the hell was happening?

You cleared your throat, attempting to come back into orbit. “Uh, yeah, he’s good now. He, uh... it was a battle there for a couple years. He had migraines every day for about 16 months... lost a lot of weight. It was... it was tough,” you told him, your voice lowering noticeably. Mat watched you carefully, concern written all over his striking features. It was evident that Mat knew your brother’s story.

Your older brother Nick had been a top 20 prospect in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League as a teen, playing forward for the Halifax Mooseheads. But after a nasty late hit during a playoff game, he had been left with a debilitating concussion and, after a long period of unsuccessful rehab, had been forced to walk away from the game just as he was entering his prime.

Those troubling days hung like a thick, black fog over your family’s history, and you suddenly recalled being 15 again, cross-legged outside Nick’s bedroom door for hours, begging him to let you into the dark room to hold onto him as he cried, both because of the pain and because of the weight of his unrealized dreams. It had taken countless neurologist appointments, physical therapy, and your parents’ unwavering insistence that he regularly see a sports psychologist for him to return to some semblance of normalcy after a long road to recovery.

Now, minus the occasional treatable migraine, Nick was thriving. You beamed at the thought, your well-polished black nail picking at the corner of the cup sleeve on your mocha as you looked back to Mat and continued.

“But he’s finishing law school now, seeing a therapist and keeps himself in great shape, which helps. He’s getting married next summer to this great girl,” you finished, pride swelling in your chest at how far your brother had come. Mat’s eyebrows lifted, his worried expression morphing into elation.

“No shit!” he exclaimed. “Damn, I’m so happy for him. Tell you what, lotta guys wanted nothing to do with him when he was tearing it up. And we were all gutted for him after it happened.” You gave him a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “I’ll have to let him know you said that.” Mat nodded, then pressed on. “Maybe I’ll get the chance to tell him myself one day,” he added brazenly, casually taking another sip.

No response came to your brain, so you curled your fingers around your own cup and took a long draw, eyes darting to the activity outside the window, Mat’s never leaving your unsure face.

The church bells chiming from a nearby steeple were the only thing that could pull Mat’s gaze from you, as he checked his large-face Rolex. He seemed angered by the time staring back at him, and he ran his hand aggressively through his hair as his eyes rolled just slightly.

“Listen, Hayden, I hate to do this,” Mat began with a sigh. “But we’ve got a game in Pittsburgh tomorrow night, and the team plane leaves in like half an hour.”

You’re surprised by how deflated you feel in that instant, casting a downward glance at the shoes Mat had complimented only minutes ago, before you’d started feeling like maybe you’d known him your whole life.

A quiet, “Oh,” was all you could muster, still not meeting his eyes.

His hand then came to rest on your upper arm, and it’s only then that you noticed how big it was, long fingers curling easily around your bicep.

“But hey... I’ll be back late tomorrow night. Whaddya say we grab coffee here the next morning? Wednesday. Maybe 8?”

You turned your eyes upward to take in his face. He looked hopeful. He was hopeful that he’d see you again.

You nodded. “I’d love to, Mat. I’ll meet you here.”

Mat beamed, a relieved breath falling from his lips. “Good,” he commented. “I’ll see you then.” He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, leaving you reeling when he pulled away.

“Bye, pretty Hayden,” Mat said with a wink before turning and exiting the coffee shop, walking down the block to the Cadillac he’d just unlocked. He was still in sight when he glanced over his shoulder and threw you another breathtaking grin. You smiled back, frozen in place as you watched him drive away.

_____

Mat was going to be late.

At least, that’s what you had convinced yourself at some point within the last 48 hours.

He was either going to be late or he was going to stand you up altogether. So even though you woke up at 5:30 and initially felt the need to rush through your routine to get down to the coffee shop as quickly as possible, you didn’t. You forced yourself to slow down. Because Mat was going to be late. Or, he wasn’t going to be there at all.

So you were surprised when, after throwing on a red chiffon dress with tiny white flowers and a cognac leather jacket, you walked through the coffee shop door at 8:02 and heard, “Hayden!”

Your head snapped up.

At a corner table in the back of the shop was Mat, dressed in a smart grey sweater and distressed black jeans, a silver chain looped around his neck, standing to wave you over with a broad smile across his face.

He came. And he’d arrived before you did.

You walked over to Mat and he embraced you warmly, the two of you exchanging kisses on the cheek. He squeezed your elbow affectionately as you stepped back from him.

“Oh, here. Let me,” Mat said as he pulled your chair out and motioned for you to sit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his chivalry catching you by surprise. Once you were seated, he pushed your chair in slightly before taking his place across the table from you.

“I got you a mocha,” he told you, nodding at the cup in front of you. “Double shot, right?”

You nodded. “You’re sweet. Thank you,” you said, the two of you beaming at each other for a moment, lost in a daze.

“So how was the game?” you inquired, pulling you both back to earth. Mat cleared his throat before answering you.

“It was good! We won. It’s usually a tough battle with them but we kinda dominated, which was nice for a change,” he spoke, looking pleased.

“You score?” you asked teasingly as you sipped from your cup.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he told you with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Two goals and an assist.”

Your eyebrows lifted on your forehead. “Mat, that’s amazing! So my brother was right. You are good.”

Mat shook his head, trying to shrug you off.

“Ah, nah. I kinda think it had more to do with a good luck charm I met this week,” he remarked slyly. You licked your bottom lip before biting on it gently. Mat took notice, mirroring your motions as he stared at your lips.

“So, how’s work been this week?” It was Mat’s turn to deflect.

You told him how hectic it had been, with you arriving at the office around 9 and leaving at 6 on the day you’d first met, then departing after 7 yesterday, despite it being only a part-time internship in addition to the five classes you were taking online. He asked about your combination of on-campus and online learning throughout your college career in order to accommodate your dream internships, and he was already in awe of what a hard worker you were.

You pointed out that you weren’t the only one at the table with a crazy schedule, and you asked him how he balanced hockey with his personal life. He answered you easily, launching into stories about his teammates and his family and his friends who all kept him grounded in different ways. There was one name he kept bringing up — Tito. He told you that you’d have to meet him. Before you could hesitate, you said you’d like to. His visage brightened at that answer. He reminded you of sunshine.

He continued to regale you with a vast array of stories, stopping often to ask you questions and invite you to tell him stories of your own. It took a bit of time, but soon you were opening up about your own life — your parents’ recent and shocking divorce after 30 years of marriage, and your struggle with your grandmother’s death last fall.

It wasn’t all dark, though. In fact, most of it wasn’t. You also told him about the crazy theater actor roommate you’d had when you first moved into the city to study fashion at NYU, and how her frightening antics had eventually pushed you into accepting your uncle’s offer to pay for your own apartment in the city, as he was single and childless and had always delighted in spoiling you and your brother. You told him about your only two cousins on your dad’s side, two siblings bracketing you and your brother in age, and how the four of you were more like siblings than cousins. You told a slightly off-color joke at your own expense that most of your friends and coworkers would never laugh at, but it left Mat breathless, throwing his head back with boyish giggles flowing from his mouth like your favorite song. This caught you off-guard — you couldn’t believe he actually seemed to think you were funny. The last one certainly never did.

At some point, the conversation shifted to music. Mat’s jaw dropped when you told him that you own every James Taylor album on vinyl, after he told you that that’s one of his favorite artists of all time. He said he’s never met anyone who has as many James Taylor records as you. You simply shrugged. You explained that you and your mom have seen every tour James Taylor has been on since you were eleven and had started playing guitar. Mat’s eyes went wide — he told you that he dabbles in guitar, too.

After this, you quieted a bit. He noticed. It comes off to him as shyness, but you know what it really is. It’s fear. All at once you realize just how far you’ve let your guard down with this stranger. You’ve only just met this person, yet you have more in common with him than anyone you’ve encountered since moving into the city.

He sensed that something was off, so, in the silence, he reached a hand across the table and took yours in his grasp, stroking the back of it with his thumb. You looked into his mesmerizing eyes, and your hesitance melted.

After several more minutes of easy conversation, you check the time. You need to be at work in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this up this time,” you started, and Mat sat back, looking understanding though disappointed. “But I’ve gotta get to work. Thankfully, it’s just right down the street.”

“Let me walk you,” Mat quickly insisted. You smirked at him, digging in your purse to find your office key.

“Didn’t you drive here?” you asked, chuckling. He simply shrugged. “Yeah, but if pretty Hayden works just down the street, I might as well walk her to the office and spend a few extra minutes with her,” he told you with a smug grin. You felt your cheeks get hot.

“Sounds good to me,” you admitted quietly. Mat nodded, then rose from his chair, reaching for his wallet to leave another tip.

“Thank you,” you said, putting your hand on his forearm tenderly. “For the coffee. For this.”

He smiled down at you. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

The two of you walked out the cafe door, which Mat pushed open even from behind you. You pointed in the direction of your office building and the two of you fell into step, side by side. Your heart leapt when Mat reaches for your hand. It felt unbelievably natural — which terrified you.

Your recent relationship history flashed through your brain all at once, like a film reel. Your brain screamed, “Slow down!” while your heart whispered, “Relax.” You weren’t sure which to believe. You opened your mouth to bring him up, to give a fair warning, to tell Mat that you might not be ready for... whatever this was.

Then, he started to talk about the movies that his family watches every single Christmas. You weren’t at all sure what had brought that subject to his mind — maybe your earlier questions about his younger sister back in Coquitlam — but you’re grateful for the diversion from your own messy mind. You decided to engage him on that topic instead, rather than bring up your last boyfriend who’d shattered you then walked away.

And for the first time in eight months, you decided to leave what’s past, in the past.

Like a pinball machine, Mat had already bounced to yet another new topic — his practice later this morning. As he finished a story about pranking Tito in the locker room after a skate last week, you bubbled over with giggles. He watched you with admiration and wonder coursing through his entire being. You eventually observed how he was gazing at you, and you sensed that he had something more important to say than his joke on his teammate.

“Hey, so, uh,” Mat started, clearing his throat. Your suspicion had been correct. “What are you doing tomorrow night, after work? We have a home game tomorrow at 7:30 and I, uh, I wanted to see if maybe... you wanted to go? I requested a ticket for you... just in case you want it. If you do... I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner after?”

The sentences Mat spoke seemed to be rolled into one giant question mark. His unwavering self-assurance had seemed to falter slightly for the first time since you’d met him, surprising you. You only needed a moment to consider your answer.

“I’d love to come watch you play,” you told him, wrapping your hands around his upper arm affectionately. You watched him exhale, a smile slowly overtaking his face.

“Thank God,” Mat breathed, making you both burst into hysterics as he leaned his head down to touch yours for a moment.

Bewilderment overcame you as you realized that you hadn’t felt this way about anyone in... you couldn’t even remember how long. You’d thought it might never happen again. That for you, this feeling might just be... gone.

You couldn’t believe that on a Wednesday, in a cafe, you’d watched it begin again.

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creaturebehavior · 3 years

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since getting sober and receiving that BPD diagnosis, i have been paying close attention to my thoughts and my behaviors and my emotions. i know i talk about this a lot on this blog. and i just came here to say that the evidence does not stop adding up. i cannot think of any other explanation for why i am the way i am. and i have been reflecting on all that’s gone on inside me over the past two years especially, because i became addicted to drugs while i was a teenager it’s hard to decipher what was the drugs, what was the hormones and the angst of being a teen, and what was symptoms of bpd. so while i take my whole life into account, i have been especially focused on the past two years, since i sobered up. because that’s where i can identify what’s actually going on. and time and time again, episode after episode, it becomes clearer and clearer that i really do have bpd. i am paying close attention, thinking maybe someday i will ask for a re-analysis due to my findings. see, i was diagnosed and i felt it fit me, but then when i was released from the psyche ward and was doing an intake with another therapist, who i had just met during that intake, he said his opinion was that BPD should not be diagnosed so hastily and that my case would benefit from being further examined. he said that the BPD diagnosis was officially on my file, and it has been on many other files since then. see, this therapist wasn’t my primary therapist, he just worked at the inpatient rehab that i went to, so i never got a confirmation on his opinion on my diagnosis. but to me, i felt so much that the diagnosis of BPD was true, and it’s something i have felt for the longest time that i probably had. i know i’ve made this exact post like 100 times. but i am just more and more convinced, with each passing moment of each passing day that this is what i have. i have trouble believing it could be anything else. there was awhile i thought well maybe it’s just ptsd. and while i do have that diagnosis as well, i believe it is co-morbid with BPD. there is not a doubt in my mind. i keep coming on here to say this because i find peace in the reaffirmation of this diagnosis. because it explains everything. it explains everything i do, think, feel. and i guess i feel some unrest because i felt so secure in the diagnosis and then this other therapist said in his opinion it was diagnosed too quickly. but to me, it’s the only diagnosis that’s every explained everything. it explains everything. and i am tired of feeling like i can’t say for sure what my diagnosis is. it’s on my file. i was diagnosed with BPD, and i personally believe with everything in me that I have it. i understand that one therapists opinion, but who cares if i got diagnosed after one week in the psych ward, after retailing my life history? and i know i already made a post like a month ago that was like “i have it, i was diagnosed with it, it feels true to me, so i’m going to say i have it” but i am just here to say it again. because i feel i need to reaffirm it to myself. and i feel the need to explain myself even though probably no one is going to read this.

i just want to make sure it’s clear to everyone that this is official. i don’t even honestly feel i need to be re-evaluated because there is no way this could be anything else. i have borderline personality disorder. i know for sure that i do. there is no way that i don’t. there is too much evidence supporting this diagnosis for it to not be true. this is my truth. i have borderline personality disorder and i feel that until i face this fact and stop questioning my own gut feeling that i will not be able to get the help that i need for this and i will not be able to fully support myself how i need to.

i realize this may sound silly or ridiculous. “it’s just a label” “it’s just a word” whatever. i have claimed in the past that i don’t need a word for it because all i know at the end of the day is that my brain functions differently than other peoples. but that’s not true for me anymore. i need to call it what it is, i need to state it as a fact. because that’s just what it is. it makes it so much easier to call it what it is. borderline personality disorder

#processing #personal

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blackcoffeeandteardrops · 3 years

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Rescue (3/4)

Chapter 3 of Rescue is available on AO3 & also below the cut:

Chloe watched as sunlight filtered through the trees. It was a sunny afternoon, though a bit cloudy, and she’d have given anything to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin or the feeling of the breeze in her hair. She walked down the path, darting her head left and right, as if any minute Michael might come swooping back in, though she doubted as much. He was likely forging ahead with his plans to rehab Hell the way he wanted, leaving Lucifer caged up and slowly bleeding out. Her breath hitched in her chest at the memory of the last time she’d seen him, face pale and eyes withdrawn as he asked her to go. She shuddered at the thought before squaring her shoulders and marching forward. The sound of footsteps beside her caused her to falter.

“You think she’ll be here at the cemetery?” Rory asked.

Chloe nodded slowly, fighting the lump growing in her throat. “After the talk about Dan, this is the most logical place I can think of for her to go.”

“I really didn’t mean–”

“I know you didn’t,” Chloe replied, her heart hurting at the pain etched into her daughter’s features. She felt a pang of guilt regarding worrying so much about Lucifer moments ago given the emotions she knew both Rory and Trixie had to be battling since she’d popped back up unexpectedly into their lives. “How are you?” she asked as they rounded a row in the mausoleum.

Rory glanced at her before focusing her gaze at the ground below their feet. “It’s been hard. I’ve been spending a lot of time with T and the kids, but Ella offered to take them for the weekend while she and I go through everything at the house. There was a whole box of drawings I’d made for you as a kid. You were kind of a pack rat, mom.”

“All parents do that,” Chloe protested. She rounded another corner and stopped, frowning. It had been years since she’d come to see Dan’s memorial, mostly because as she aged arthritis had ravaged her body and she’d become frail, so trips out of the house became far less common, especially near the end.

“It’s this way,” Rory said, turning left. “I come here sometimes just to think. Reading the dates on some of these plaques, seeing how old these people turned out to be. It just makes me remember how old I’m supposed to be. And how old I’ll become. How old I’ll always be.”

“You can’t think like that, honey,” Chloe replied, regretting how defensive she sounded almost as soon as the words left her mouth. As they rounded the corner, she spotted Trixie standing with her hands pressed against the cool plaque of metal and stone that served as Dan’s memorial. “Rory, would you mind giving us a moment?”

Rory nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go check if the flowers for Aunt Linda still look fresh. I’m sure Charlie would appreciate that.”

Chloe waited until Rory headed off to try and approach Trixie. “Hi, honey. I know we didn’t go about things the right way earlier, but I hoped we could take a moment and talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Trixie asked, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms and turned to face Chloe. “You said you’d always tell the truth and not try to sugarcoat things with me, especially as I got older. Why would you keep something like that from me?”

“I’m sorry. I guess we just thought not telling you was the safer option. That in telling you, we’d open up a wound that was still healing.”

Trixie nodded before focusing back on the memorial marker before her. “I never told you, but sometimes when I’d text you that I was studying after school at a friend’s house, I’d actually be here. I know it’s silly, he’s not actually here, at least not the things that made him…him…”

“I know,” Chloe replied, her voice wavering as she spoke. “It doesn’t matter how much time passes, he’s still your dad. It’s okay to miss him.”

“I miss you, too. Except now you’re here. But how long? And how am I supposed to explain to the kids why their grandma looks like she does in old pictures?” she asked, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “Actually, how does it work exactly? Rory seeing you makes sense I guess, but I’m not a celestial so–”

“To be honest with you, Trix, I’m not really sure how it works. This is something I never expected to happen, and it’s not like Michael was very clear on the instructions, aside from the fact Lucifer is to stay trapped down there and I’m to remain here.”

Trixie watched as someone walked past, smiling sadly and waiting until they disappeared from view to continue speaking. “You miss him, don’t you?”

Chloe nodded and reached a hand out before remembering at the last second that she couldn’t hug her daughter like she wanted. “Of course I do. But I miss you girls, too.”

“At least Rory can visit you,” Trixie mumbled, just loud enough for Chloe to hear. “I mean she hasn’t yet, that I know of, but still. You saw my dad after he died, and Rory can just pop in and visit you anytime she wants. It’s selfish I know, but it doesn’t seem fair.”

“It’s not fair. But you have your life here, your kids, your job…and I’ll be here as long as I can. But if I go back, you’ll see me again. That I can promise you. And your dad will, too. I know he misses you. And Trixie? If he were here, I know he’d be proud of the person you’ve become.”

“The next time you see him, can you tell him I love him?”

“Of course,” Chloe replied. She didn’t have the heart to tell her she hadn’t made a trip to Heaven yet, having been so caught up in reuniting with Lucifer and getting settled in with becoming his partner again. A pool of guilt settled cold and hard in her gut at the realization she may never get the chance. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the sky grew grayer by the second, a sure sign that rain was on the way. “We’d better get home, we don’t want to get caught up in the storm.”

“You mean you don’t want us to get caught in a storm? Can you even get wet?” Trixie asked, arching a brow. She tilted her head toward the stone and cleared her throat. “See you in a minute?”

“Of course. I’ll go find Rory. Take whatever time you need,” Chloe replied. She turned the corner and gazed about, knowing her youngest daughter couldn’t have gone far. A few aisles down and a row or two over, she finds Rory standing stock still, staring straight at the memorial plaque before her. “Is everything okay?”

At that, Rory can’t help but laugh. “Other than the fact my dad is imprisoned in Hell by one of his idiot brothers and my mom’s soul is currently trapped on Earth? Sure, everything’s peachy,” she said, wincing a little as she turned to face her. “Sorry. I was just looking at this.”

“At who–” Chloe halted, her gaze catching on the name on the plaque before her. “Oh. That’s…for me.”

“Yeah. I know it’s probably weird for you. It’s definitely weird for me, what with you literally standing right here, but…” she shrugged, tilting her head and tapping her fingertips against the stone. “I haven’t been here since they put it up.”

“Since after the funeral. Right,” Chloe replied, unable to break her focus away from the engraving before her. As she’d gotten older, especially after retiring from the police force, planning her funeral and purchasing a plot seemed like the wise thing to do, and she had, but this was the first time she’d seen it in person. She closed her eyes, a memory of what seemed like a lifetime ago of lying in the hospital grade bed at the apartment and willing for the end to come flashing before her, and she’d have reached for something to hold onto had it not been for knowing she’d simply float right through it. Devoted mother and friend, she will live forever in our hearts, the plaque read. Her heart sank at the thought of Rory and Trixie sitting in a funeral home, picking out what the plaque would say and reviewing final arrangements. She wondered what songs they’d picked, what memories they’d relayed, how difficult it must have been.

“Mom?” Rory called, worry creeping into her voice. She waved in silent respect at a mourner passing by, knowing full well they couldn’t see her mother standing beside her and would assume she was speaking to the grave instead. “Do you need to sit down? Can you sit down?”

Chloe shook her head and moved to wipe away a tear that had escaped. She marveled for a second that she could somehow still cry despite her current state. “Sorry. It’s just a little weird.”

“A little weird? Can’t imagine why,” Rory replied, relieved at the smile she earned from her mother in return. “I’m kidding. But seriously though, are you okay? You look pale, and maybe that’s normal, all things considered. But still.”

Chloe opened her mouth to reply, only to close it once more. She didn’t want to complain about seeing her daughters again, about how good it felt to see them even under such abnormal circumstances, but there was something that felt decidedly…wrong. A shift in the air maybe, or a pull somehow from within, that suggested something wasn’t quite right. “Do you remember in seventh grade? When you did your science project with the magnets?”

“Yeah,” she answered with a frown. “Mom, where is this going?”

“That’s just…sorry, I shouldn’t be putting this on you,” Chloe replied. She hung her head and wrapped her arms around her middle, feeling as if she was running out of breath, though she no longer had a reason to breathe.

“No, mom. It’s fine. It’s what I’m here for. But what does the science project I did like a million years ago have to do with what’s happening now?”

Chloe laughed and straightened her spine, desperate to retain composure. She wasn’t sure why seeing her name on a grave had evoked such a visceral response, or if something else had provoked it, but she wanted to pull herself together for her children. It was the least she could do. “I remember you sitting at the table for hours, face all stern, trying and failing to get the magnets to stick together. The teacher explained, I did too, that the same side poles on the magnets won’t stick together. It wasn’t even the point of your project, but you were convinced that you, Rory Morningstar, would be the one to make it happen.”

"I thought if I tried hard enough, I could get the north ends to connect," Rory replied, smiling fondly at the memory. Beside her, Chloe shuddered before again regaining her focus. "No matter how hard you try to stay, you're not supposed to be here. That's what's wrong, isn't it?"

"Rory, honey, it's okay. You know, I'm doing the best I can. I didn't want to say anything at first because I didn't want to worry you or Trixie, who should be along any moment now…" she trailed off, craning her neck in the direction she'd come from to see if her oldest daughter was on her way yet to find them. When she turned back to Rory, she spotted a squared jaw and darkened eyes she knew all too well. "Honey, what are you thinking about doing? You just need to stay here with us, it's okay. We'll be--"

"Do not say we'll be fine, mom," Rory interjected, stomping her foot down defiantly. "I can't sit back and just hope Uncle A comes back to fix things while Dad is imprisoned and you are here, clearly in pain. I'm going to fix this."

Chloe held her hands out in mock defense. "I'm not in pain. Really. It's just a weird feeling, but I'll be fine. I will," she said, crossing and then uncrossing her arms. "I know it's only been a few weeks for you guys, but I have missed you and your sister so much."

"I know. And we've missed you, too. But I can't stand down, mom. I want to help," Rory said before stepping back and unfurling her wings.

"Where are you going?"

"To help," she reiterated. "I'd hug you right now, but well, you know. I love you, mom."

"I love you, too," Chloe replied, watching as she flew away.

It had only been a few weeks, but technically decades ago, since Rory had last been to Hell. Still, as she touched down amidst the smoke and ash, there was something that felt vaguely familiar about it. She knelt to retie her shoe and then stood, trying to get her bearings as she debated which way to turn. "This place could really use a GPS system," she muttered, quickly darting behind a large column as a demon marched by.

In the distance she spotted the tower that also served as the throne. She narrowed her eyes, spotting a figure she could only assume to be Michael sitting atop it, and resisted the urge to immediately fly up and throttle him. While she knew he needed punishment, or at least some semblance of suffering, she also knew she couldn't let him be her first priority. She closed her eyes, trying to shut everything out as she envisioned the skyline she'd flown over as she arrived. In the western corner, there had been a darkened, desolate area, with not much development around it, so she decided to start her search there.

She rounded a corner and then another, jumping over a few rocks along the way. There were a few times she'd had to dodge passersby, but for the most part she was alone. There was door upon door upon door, each looking slightly different, that she knew were meant to be hell loops. For a moment she stopped at one, her hand curling around the metal handle, but pulling away a second later. The time might come when she could help with the family business--if they made it out of this mess alive, she made a mental note to refer to it as such--but now wasn't the time.

Minutes turned into what she was sure were hours, but finally she'd stumbled down a darkened alleyway and saw the cell. Through the bars she spotted Lucifer leaning against the back wall, and the few seconds it took to cross the distance between them seemed to stretch on and on. "Dad? Dad, are you awake?"

Lucifer shook his head against the stonewall, delirious. "I'm hallucinating," he murmured to himself as he slowly palpated the wound in his side. "I'm sitting in a jail cell in the pits of Hell, and now I'm bloody hallu--"

"No, you're not," Rory replied, gripping one of the bars tightly, as if she hoped that sheer determination would cause it to break. "Dad, look at me. I'm not a hallucination. I'm here and I want to help."

"Rory," Lucifer whispered, his eyes closed. Suddenly, it seemed to click for him that the dream wasn't quite as dreamlike as he'd originally suspected. "Rory! Rory, darling, what on Earth are you doing here? I appreciate the offer, but you need to leave."

"You're hurting," she replied, staring at the crimson stain on his shirt. "You're in pain, and mom says she isn't but we both know that's a lie, so I came to help."

"You've seen your mother?" Lucifer asked, gripping the wall as best he could for stability to try and make his way over to her. "Of course you did. He brought her soul to Earth, didn't he?"

Rory nodded, words failing her as she watched him slowly shuffle across the cell towards her. "Why can't you just heal yourself? Or make yourself invulnerable? You're bleeding, and if we don't get you out of here soon--"

"Rory, love, I appreciate that. I do. But there's nothing you can do. I'd have tried healing myself already if I could."

"I can at least do that," Rory replied, unfurling her wings once more. She ruffled through her feathers in search of the softer, downier ones underneath the sharpened blades.

"You don't have to do that," Lucifer said, watching as she ripped feathers out.

"I know. But I want to. Here, two should do it," she said, passing the red feathers through the cell door to him.

Carefully, Lucifer lifted his shirt and pressed one of the feathers into his wound, watching as it burst into a ball of light before dissolving into his skin. Without breaking his focus he repeated his action with the second feather she’d given him.

Rory looked on, impatiently waiting as the feathers absorbed into his skin. Already she felt as if she could see some color returning to his cheeks, and though a wound still remained where Michael had stabbed him, it would scar up and heal significantly faster than it would have otherwise. “Well?”

Lucifer rolled his neck from one side to the other and shifted his feet, as if testing his bearings. “It still hurts, but I’ll be quite alright,” he replied. He looked through the bars at his daughter much more clearly this time. It struck him that the last time he saw her had been in the penthouse as he and Chloe had bid her farewell on her trek back to the future. She looked the same as the image that had been sealed in his mind, and he felt both as if they’d just seen each other and as if it had been hundreds of years. “As much as I love seeing you, and I truly do, you need to be safe. Please, you need to go.”

“No. You and mom sacrificed everything to protect me. It’s my turn now. I’m not leaving you.”

He couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that. “Does Chloe know you’re here?”

“Maybe?” she replied with a shrug. “I took off before exactly telling her where I was going, but it can’t be that hard to guess. But you should see her, something’s…I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right.”

“She’s a soul trapped on Earth, of course she’s not alright,” Lucifer bellowed, belatedly realizing that unleashing his wrath on their child wasn’t the best way to express his frustration. “I’m sorry, darling, it’s just–”

“You’re worried about her. It’s okay, I get it. I am, too. For both of you, which is exactly why I’m going to find a way to get you out of here.”

He longed to hug her at that moment, longed to reach out and feel the proof that she was whole and healed and real. “There’s nothing you can do. You’ve already done enough, so–” he paused, looking up at the shadow that was flying towards them. Panic crept up his throat, and he realized he recognized the form all too well as it came closer to them. “Rory, run!”

#deckerstar #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #rory morningstar #fanfic

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ezzydean · 3 years

Text

barycenter

for @notsuchasecret

CLICK HERE TO READ ON MY BLOG INSTEAD OF THE DASH

5+1? Nah. 8+1

8 times a friend cared for/comforted Rei and 1 time he comforted a friend.

(barycenter: the common center of mass around which two or more bodies revolve)

Nagisa It’s been a long day. One of the longest he’s had in years. And somehow he still has hours and hours left of it. The math of the day just isn’t adding up but he honestly can’t be bothered to figure out just how the last two hours have actually managed to last approximately fifteen years. Or maybe it’s the last fifteen years that have actually lasted two hours. He’s not even sure which way it should go.

Not much makes sense today.

He’s pressing his fingertips against his eyes, glasses abandoned on the table about twenty minutes past half a year ago, when he hears soft footsteps padding down the hallway towards him.

“Oh, Rei-chan,” Nagisa breathes out.

Then there’s cool fingers running through his hair and a warm body settling into his lap and the smell of Nagisa’s apple scented body wash filling the air between them and it really says something about his day that he doesn’t even attempt to flail, flounder, or protest Nagisa invading his space in any way, shape, or form.

He tips his head forward, nose resting against Nagisa’s collarbone, and wraps his arms around Nagisa’s waist.

Sometime between a half hour and nine years later he relaxes with a shuddering breath and Nagisa hums softly.

“Next time call me before it gets this bad,” Nagisa murmurs.

Rei nods in agreement even though they both know he’s far too stubborn and sometime in the next seventy-whatever month-hours Nagisa will pad down the hallway and spot Rei bent over the table, too tired to function anything remotely close to properly. But that’s okay. Because when he does Nagisa will pull him apart so gently and help put him back together with gentle fingers and bright smiles.

Rin “Hey.” A warm body drops into the booth next to him.

“Hello, Rin,” he replies politely.

“What’s eating you?”

He glances over and meets Rin’s curious gaze for only a moment before he goes back to staring blankly at the menu sitting on the table in front of him.

“Nothing.”

Rin scoffs. “Forgive me if I don’t believe that,” he says. He snatches the menu and grumbles about the ridiculous prices and the silly names and other stuff that Rei barely listens to. He listens to the rise and fall of Rin’s voice. He catches the easy shrugs and hand gestures as he rambles. He feels the way Rin leans against him to half-whisper something to him and then just never quite sits all the way back up.

He simply exists for a little while and lets Rin pull him along in his wake.

By the time the others join him he feels less untethered, less ready to float away at a moment’s notice, and he presses his shoulder against Rin’s in silent thanks. Rin grins a ‘you’re welcome’ in return.

Makoto Sometimes he just gets so incredibly, unreasonably, unfairly cold. When it’s the middle of winter and there’s snow on the ground he can understand it. But in the tail end of summer when the sun is high in the sky and the ground itself seems to throw off heat it’s a little ridiculous.

But ridiculous or not here he is, sitting on the beach and watching his friends chase each other around and laugh and have fun while he sits in the sun and shivers.

A shadow looms over him and Rei leans his head back. Makoto smiles down at him and gestures to the ground next to him.

“May I?” Rei nods with a slight smile of his own. Leave it to Makoto to ask permission before sitting next to him on the beach when they had been squished together in Sousuke’s frightening excuse for a vehicle less than an hour ago.

They sit shoulder to shoulder and watch as Rin and Momo attempt to pull Haru under the water while Gou and Seijuurou egg them on. He’s not entirely sure where Ai and Nagisa have gotten off to but the last he saw of them they had their heads bent together, laughing as they clearly planned something.

A shudder runs through him and he huffs in irritation.

“You know,” Makoto says suddenly. “It still takes me awhile sometimes.” Rei makes a questioning noise. “To get in the water. To be comfortable enough to remember that especially with everyone else here I’m safe.”

“It’s not really that,” Rei says. “I just get so cold sometimes.”

Makoto shrugs. “The water isn’t the only thing they keep me safe from,” he says as Haru dramatically pops up in the water, sending Rin and Momo swimming away from him as fast as possible.

Rei scoots a little bit closer until Makoto laughs and wraps his arm around Rei’s shoulder, pulling him tight against his side and Rei sinks into the warmth and refuses to move even when Rin stumbles up to them a few minutes later and flops across them, soaking them both.

Gou “For someone so smart,” Gou says as she tucks the blankets up around his shoulders, “you’re pretty stupid sometimes.”

Rei does his best to pout at her. Not that it really does much. He doesn’t have Nagisa or Ai’s puppy dog eyes and even if he did he’s pretty sure Gou wouldn’t be swayed by them.

“Not like I was trying to catch Haru’s cold,” he mumbles. At least that’s what he tries to say. He’s not sure how much of it comes out the way it’s supposed to. The fond look Gou gives him really doesn’t help him figure out if the words all came out in the right order or not.

His everything hurts.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable. And my mom loves you so she sent over soup and gave me a list of stuff to buy for you. Even though I’m pretty sure by now I know how to handle a stupid boy getting a stupid cold.”

“I am lucky,” he rasps out.

Gou smiles and brushes some of his sweaty hair from his clammy forehead.

“Yeah. But I suppose we’re lucky to have someone like you too. So we’re all pretty even in the end.”

Sousuke Logically he knows that he’s lucky they caught it this soon. That he’s here mostly for prevention and not for rehab. It still doesn’t stop his hands from shaking ever so much as he makes his way into the clinic for his third appointment for his shoulder.

“Rei?” Somehow the thought never occurred to him that this might be the same clinic that Sousuke visits for his own shoulder.

His hands shake even more and he curls his fingers until they’re clenched fists hanging at his sides. He tenses his jaw and refuses to let himself give in to the tears that suddenly try to overwhelm him.

Sousuke glances over his shoulder. “Hey Ayame,” he calls out. “Ryuugazaki is here for his appointment but we’re gonna go for a quick walk beforehand okay?”

He doesn’t look at the receptionist, a lady who has the kindest eyes Rei has ever seen in his life, doesn’t listen to whatever she says to Sousuke in reply. He just lets Sousuke settle his hand in the middle of Rei’s shoulders and guide him carefully outside.

“I get it,” Sousuke says eventually. They’re about three blocks from the clinic and Sousuke’s hand is warm where it’s still resting between Rei’s shoulder blades. “It’s a lot and it’s kinda frightening. Especially since we’re, you know, not creaky old men. We’ve still got a lot ahead of us. People like you and me we’ve gotta be careful.”

He could be talking about their shoulders. But Rei is pretty sure Sousuke is talking about something far more internal. Something far easier to bust and something that is much, much harder to repair when it does. He nods and takes one last deep breath before they turn and head back to the clinic.

He’s not even remotely surprised when Sousuke is sprawled in the waiting room flipping through a magazine when Rei finally finishes his appointment.

Momotarou Some days you just can’t win. His bag strap broke this morning. He stepped in a puddle less than five minutes after leaving. He dropped his glasses and scratched the lenses. He forgot his lunch on the counter and he’s pretty sure his stomach is trying to eat itself even though it is physically impossible to do so. And now he’s sitting up with a wince and glaring down at the rather impressive scrape he now has on his arm. Because of course his shoes came untied without him noticing until he literally tipped over his own feet.

A hand appears in front of his face and he tilts his head up until he sees a familiar face.

“Come on,” Momotarou says with a friendly smile. “My place is just a few blocks away. We’ll get you cleaned up.”

He can do it himself. His own place is only a few blocks in the other direction. But he lets Momotarou pull him up by his uninjured hand and tug him down the block and lead him to his apartment and push him into the bathroom. The first aid kit Momotarou pulls out is extremely well stocked and Momotarou laughs when he sees the look on Rei’s face.

“Yeah. I’m not the most graceful of people out of the water,” he explains as he wets a cloth and gently wipes at Rei’s arm. “So when I moved out on my own my parents bought me a good first aid kit and then my brother and sister both bought me extra supplies.”

Rei simply nods and lets Momotarou clean his arm and carefully apply antibiotic to it.

“Something wrong?” Momotarou is staring at his arm with a frown.

“No. I just don’t know if I have a bandage big enough to cover the whole thing and I don’t want you to rub it on something on accident.”

Rei glances down at the scrape. “Then give me two bandages,” he says. “Or wrap it in some gauze. It shouldn’t take long to start scabbing up a bit.” Momotarou’s eyes dart from the scrape to the first aid kit to Rei’s face and back again. “If it’ll make you feel better I’ll even stay here a bit before going back outside.”

Momotarou scrunches his face and then nods. “I think that sounds okay.”

“Thank you, by the way,” Rei remembers to say as Momotarou loosely wraps a piece of gauze around his arm. Momotarou grins at him, accepting the thanks with a wink.

Seijuurou “You’re never going to be perfect. None of us are.” The words are surprisingly comforting. Or maybe it’s Seijuurou’s hand warm on his knee as he talks Rei back from the edge of a potentially epic meltdown. “You’re never going to be Tachibana but that’s okay.”

The captaincy had been weighing heavy on his mind and even heavier on his shoulders and instead of giving into the temptation of letting it boil over into frustration and irritation and taking it out on the others Rei had cut practice short and started walking. He’s not quite sure where he is or why the former Samezuka captain was there but he was thankful just the same because Seijuurou had taken one look at him and led him down a sidewalk to a bench, sat him down, and started talking.

About his own blunders as captain. About his rambunctious teammates. About not only training and going to school with his teammates but living with them as well. About how he learned the hard way that he could count on his team to support him.

“You have a good team and, more importantly, good friends. Let them help you. Lean on them if you need to. Hell you have my number still right?” Rei nods absently. “Give me a call if you need. Or call Tachibana. I know I’d be more than happy to help and I’m sure he would too. Just remember. They’re your team now. You’ve gotta figure out what works for you.”

He sits there and lets Seijuurou talk and talk and talk. He does wonder, briefly, when he started being acquaintances with so many talkative people and then promptly pushes the thought aside because he knows exactly when. It was when he joined the swim team.

It was when he made the choice to change his entire life by stepping out of his comfort zone without looking for a net to catch him should he stumble.

Aiichirou They’ve exhausted all their usual topics — classes, their teams, their last meets, their current training regimens — and are simply listening to each other breathe through the phone. He hadn’t expected to find such a close friend in Aiichirou when they had exchanged numbers. Though he probably should have. They both had such big shoes to fill, such amazing captains to follow with their own captaincy, it’s not really that much of a surprise in the end.

“I just don’t know for sure,” he finds himself admitting, breaking the silence.

“About what?”

“Anything,” he says before he can talk himself out of it. “University. Getting a job. Even graduating high school feels a little bit daunting right now if I’m being honest.”

Aiichirou laughs tiredly. “I hear you on that. I’m still not sure if I want to keep swimming competitively in university. I love swimming but, yeah. I just don’t know.”

It’s refreshing to hear it from someone else. Someone who has been dealing with a lot of the same responsibilities and pressure as he has. Trying to balance being a captain on top of school work on top of maintaining friendships.

“But,” Aiichirou interrupts his thoughts before they can wind him up they way he was before he called. “But. It’s okay. Because we’ve got everyone. And it’s okay if we don’t know what we’re doing yet so long as we keep on moving.”

Rei lets the words rattle around in his head for a few minutes, once again listening to Aiichirou breathing, before the words really sink in.

“Have you been reading Nagisa’s inspirational quote of the day texts again?”

Aiichirou laughs and starts talking about the quote Nagisa sent him last week and Rei smiles.

They’ll all figure it out in the end. Because they’ll get there together.

+1 Haruka It’s not unusual to open Haru’s door and find all the lights out and a general feeling of almost abandoned floating through the air. Haru has lived in the same place for years and years but it just always has a semi-permanent feel to it. Like he’s just waiting to pack up and leave it all behind.

Rei has never really been able to understand it. Heck he’s lived in a dozen different places in the last five years and even the shittiest, most temporary apartment felt more lived in than Haru’s place.

Maybe it’s just the dust accumulating on every flat surface because Haru hates cleaning that gives it that feeling. But Rei really doesn’t think that’s it.

Haru lets out a huffy little noise when Rei prods at him with his foot; he’s never understood how Haru manages to fall asleep in the middle of the floor without even a blanket or pillow.

“You know,” Rei says, “it’s okay to stay. To make this place yours.”

“It is mine,” Haru mutters.

“Then get rid of your parents’ ugly tapestry on the wall and put up one of your paintings and stop simply existing here.”

It’s harsh, harsher than he’d usually be with any of his friends, but Haru has always brought out something in him — something a little more raw and fierce and possessive — than any of the rest of them.

Haru scoffs softly but he also reaches out and wraps a cool hand around Rei’s ankle, thumb rubbing gently over the skin, as he considers Rei’s words.

“You’re right,” Haru says eventually, voice tiny in the darkness.

“I usually am,” Rei replies.

“I don’t want to pick the painting though.”

“We’ll pick one for you. It’s what friends are for.”

#free!#free! writing #ryuugazaki rei

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years

Text

Three Days ~ 76

~*~Sebastian~*~

Will texted they had picked up the food and were on their way, no more than ten minutes out. Emma wiped down the table while I pulled out beers. She was closest so she got the door. Will hugged her, looking at me strangely, then brought the food toward the table. The women hugged and stood there talking while the door closed.

Will glanced over his shoulder and almost whispered at me, “Did you do that to her hair?”

I smiled.

“Practice more.” He started pulling things out of the bag. “And don’t let her go outside like that.”

“Stop it, Will.” Alissa pulled me into a hug.

“No offense, Pippi Longstocking. I mean, Emma.”

Emma made a face, “I don’t know who that is.”

“Don’t look it up.” Will looked at me, “Want me to teach you to French braid your girlfriend’s hair?”

“Shut up and I hate you.” Truth was, yes, I think that would be easier than her trying to teach me. Partly because she’d be doing it backward and I wouldn’t know what was going on. Partly because there was a high probability of the effort being aborted and the whole thing just being foreplay.

I was being a good boy with chicken and roast vegetables. Meanwhile, Emma had a ridiculously juicy medium-rare hamburger and fries. Emma and I both made obscene noises with our first bites. She covered her mouth and looked across the table at our guests. "We didn't eat dinner last night."

Will smirked, "We had an amazing standing rib roast with the family."

We traded stories of our evenings and Alissa filled us all in on what happened after Emma and I went home. It sounded like we'd missed a crazy after-party, but we had our own good time. We stayed talking at the table after the food was gone and I'd fetched another round of beers.

"You offered to get cocaine for your girlfriend who went to rehab for cocaine?"

I laughed, looking at one of my best friends. "In hindsight, not my best idea."

He was looking at me like I was an idiot. Shaking his head, he shifted his attention to Emma, "How long have you been sober?"

"I have no idea." I put my hand on the chair behind Emma, barely touching her. Emma made a face and looked like she was searching. "May 2007. I was sixteen."

Alissa did the math, "Twelve years."

"I never kept track because I didn't have a problem. My parents did not believe me. I was the captain of the Varsity Volleyball team. We had random drug tests. The only time I used during the season was if we had a long break. That's not addiction it's recreation."

"And you never used again?"

She shook her head, "When I got home, I was peeing in cups daily and didn't want to go back to the facility. It was a rule at Ed's and it would have wrecked me to disappoint him. We practiced year-round in college. Jimmy barely even drank. When we broke up and I moved in with Eli and Angie I really wanted to. But..." she shrugged with a smile and a sigh, "That wouldn't have been recreation or a none too original way to say fuck you to a boyfriend who cheated on me. Seemed like a slippery slope. Then it'd just been so long I wasn't interested."

I wanted to ask. "Had Keaton pulled out coke, would you have?"

She nodded, "Probably. That would have fallen under recreation. It would have been fun."

"At the risk of sounding very old."

The three of us looked at Will and said, "Too Late."

He flipped all of us off, "Emma, what you chose to do is up to you. I think an after-party with your musician friends may feel comfortable, maybe too comfortable. There'd be a risk of overdoing and you don't have a tolerance or any idea how you'll react."

I lifted my beer to my lips, "Good point". It’s ludicrous to think I wouldn't have been watching for just that. Actually, it’s not. I was pretty stoned.

Emma barely glanced at me when she got up and went around the table to get to Will. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek, "Thank you. For asking, and caring, and warning."

Will thought she was kidding. "It's been twelve years. It'll be like the first time."

She moved back, keeping her arms around his neck, "I'm being serious. Thank you. That was very sweet."

"Oh, you're welcome." He hugged her and said something that made her smile. Will rolled his eyes and smirked at me, which I knew was directed at me and not at the interaction between him and Emma. He was smiling nicely before Emma sat down. He looked at me, "Where's your laptop?"

Hell, if I know. I had it yesterday while Emma was shopping. I looked over at the table in front of the couch. Nope.

"On the chair in the office." Emma pointed toward the room.

"Thank you." I pulled on one of her braids before I went to get it.

Will pulled up a Google doc with links and notes to about a dozen places from Maldives to Bora Bora. I nixed any place with a flight over eight hours. I was traveling a lot in the next month and didn’t want to start a vacation with another long flight. We narrowed it down to three places for a variety of reasons that included too many mosquitoes and a lack of lizards. Emma liked lizards. Will, Emma, and I picked different islands, so Alissa was the final vote. She voted with me, but no one was upset with the result. The villa on Turks and Caicos had five bedrooms (one more than we needed), a pool, and a private beach. Perfect.

An hour Later Will's travel agent had us booked in and on a non-stop four-hour flight.

We updated Will's travel doc with all the information and started adding things to do. He shared the doc with all four couples, so we could add and comment. Not that we'd be joined at the hip for the whole trip, but some things were more fun in a group.

A few hours and many laughs later Will and Alissa headed home. I leaned against the door, hooking Emma around the waist, pulling her in tight. I liked how she was with my friends and was excited to have her with more of them on an island. More importantly, I liked how I was with her and my friends. I can tell the difference. I’m relaxed and everything that goes with feeling relaxed.

Right this second with Emma's body fitted against mine I was not quite as relaxed. I put my hand on the back of her neck and brought her to my mouth. Kissing her. Claiming her. Finally, letting her go. "I need to finish up some stuff from yesterday. Maybe two hours?" I said it in the form of a question hoping she'd not be angry.

She nodded quickly, "Ok." She pointed down the hall. “I'm going to finish my laundry and make the bed."

"No, we'll do that later."

"Don't be silly." She went to her toes and kissed me. "Will it bother you if I practice?"

"No, I've got a few things to watch. I'll have on headphones."

"See you in a bit." She ran her fingers down my chest letting them drift away before touching my cock. Tease. I loved her little smile as she wiggled her nosey fingers at me. "I love you."

"Love you." So damn sexy.

I made myself walk to the couch before I followed her down the hallway. Focus. Focus. Focus.

I did well for an hour and forty-five minutes when Emma came back into the room. She sat in the chair diagonal and started to read. She is doing nothing to distract me, which I find very distracting. Her ignoring me is sexier than if she was stripping. I’m sure that says something about me. For one, I’m a liar. Her stripping would be much sexier.

One hour and fifty minutes. I crooked my finger, patted the cushion next to me, and lifted my arm. Emma uncurled her legs slowly and moved next to me, settling with her back against me. She went back to reading. I pretended to pay attention to the laptop on my lap instead of the woman I wanted there.

One hour and fifty-three minutes. I ran my fingers along the skin above the collar of her t-shirt. Emma shifted a little where my fingers were on her breast. I could feel the thinness of her bra and limited my touch to the swell above.

One hour and fifty-seven minutes. I have given up restricting my exploration. I’ve decided it's time to make the decision between my fingers and my mouth a more difficult one. Her stiffening nipple approved.

Two hours. I moved her enough to allow me to put my laptop on the table. My headphones too. I pulled her over my thigh, between my legs. Cradling her in my arms, I rubbed my nose against hers before kissing her.

"Are you finished?"

I moved my hand between her legs, keeping my touch light. Barely skating over her shorts. "Enough. How was practice?"

"Fine. Laundry done too."

"Good." I kissed her, deeper and longer this time. My touch intensified.

Emma spread her legs, moving one foot to the floor, and pressing herself into my hand. "Are you finished too?"

"Not even close." I smiled, "Oh, you mean work. Yes, done with work."

"So, it's playtime?"

I felt my eyes and smile widen, "It is playtime." I pulled the tie on her shorts and wiggled my fingers into her panties. “I worked hard for two hours. I deserve a reward." I dipped a finger inside her then started circling her clit.

She curled her hips into my touch. "This is your reward."

"You bet." I licked the middle of her top lip. "I get to watch you come."

She closed her eyes and laid her head against my shoulder. "I'm going to relax and let you enjoy your reward."

"Mmm, ok."

Relaxation didn't last long. A combination of light fingering and finger fucking had her squirming, biting her lip, and licking them. I couldn't resist. Didn't want to. When I kissed her, her hand went to the back of my head and kept me where I had to keep kissing her. It wasn't a hardship and I didn’t fight.

I had to hold on tight to her squirmy body. Hard to tell which she liked better. By the time she was close, and I could tell when she was close, I was slamming into her pretty hard. In the end, it was the finger fucking that pushed her over. She ripped herself away from the kiss and shattered in my arms.

I watched.

Emma laid her head back on my shoulder. "Well."

I leaned in and kissed her chest, "Next time I ask if you want my fingers or my mouth it might be a harder decision."

She looked at me, eyes and mouth wide open, "Did I bruise your ego? Was this some sort of revenge finger banging?"

"No, but that sounds fun."

She laughed, "It does, doesn’t it?"

I lifted her over my other leg and crawled out from under her leg. "Stay here. Take off your pants."

I should have planned ahead. Emma had stashed condoms around her place. I need to do that. I had made a plan though. It involved going to find her in either the laundry room or in my bedroom, separating her from her clothes, and making love to her. Wasn't working out that way.

I had my clothes off and the condom on by the time I was halfway down the hall. I stopped dead in my tracks as soon as I saw her stretched out on my couch one leg hooked over the back of the couch the other foot on the floor. I know, I know, I know, I've seen it all before and up much closer. It doesn't matter. Beautiful woman spread out, legs wide, on my couch, with the sunlight just starting to fade. I hope to hell that never gets old and always knocks the breath out of me for a few seconds. I took a moment to enjoy the view. Emma saw me and smiled. That took my breath away too.

I knelt on the couch, kissing her ankle, and running my hand down her leg. By the time my hand was between her legs, my cock was there and I guided myself inside her. She felt incredible. Wet. Tight. Warm. Half a dozen slow strokes later I laid over her, supporting myself on my elbows. The feel of Emma's fingers on my waist almost burned, the warmth sinking into me. She held onto me, her grip tightening when I hit just the right spot. This was good, but not what I wanted, how I wanted to come. I pulled out and sat back on the couch, taking her hand to pull her over me. Emma straddled my legs and immediately took me back inside her. It was my turn to hold her waist. She braced herself with her hands on my shoulders. The apartment was silent except for the sounds of us.

Emma rode me slow and easy until both of us needed more. She picked up the pace and I guided her harder. Her kissing my neck was what triggered my orgasm. I held her down on me and as soon as I could I laid Emma back down on the couch, going down on her to finish what we'd started. It didn't take long for her to be holding onto my arm and breaking the silence with my name.

We spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch watching a movie. We laughed, kissed, and fed each other popcorn. I don't remember the last time I had such a good simple night.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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takadasaiko · 4 years

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Aftermath (a Veronica Mars one shot)

FFN II AO3

Part of my Spanning Years, Continents series

Notes: I know these one shots were supposed to be movie to the beginning of S4, but this idea popped into my head a while back and I wasn't able to shake it, so here we go. It does take place after the S4 finale, but with the exception of Logan getting to live because I'm not a monster.

Summary: In the aftermath of Epner's last bomb, Logan struggles with recovery and what it cost him.

Aftermath

It wasn't that the waves were much louder on the ground floor than the third, but in the early hours of the morning when the rest of the world was silent, they sounded like they were. It was just one of the many things that Veronica had had to get used to in the new apartment over the course of the last few months. They'd been lucky, she knew, to catch an empty unit a few sections down from their own and on the ground floor so that Logan didn't have to struggle up three flights freshly home from the hospital. He would have given it the same stubborn effort that he'd given everything since the bomb had gone off, leaving him clinging to life without great odds at pulling through. He had, though. Stubbornly. Just like he had stubbornly pushed through surgeries and rehab. She had no doubt that he would have been willing to climb the stairs if that's what had needed to happen, but she hadn't wanted him to.

Anyway, this unit had a washer and dryer, she'd told him when he'd rolled his eyes at her from the hospital bed. It all worked out.

It had nothing to do with the overwhelming fear and guilt she had felt at seeing him lying on the street below their old unit or the fact that every time she risked a glance out their bedroom window she saw it happen all over again. The glass cutting her face and the pressure from the bomb sending her stumbling back. It had sent him flying too, but instead of a bed to catch his fall, he'd been tossed like a ragdoll into the building itself. The collision with the unyielding wall had broken bones and given him a bad concussion while shrapnel had done the rest of the damage. Nearly six months later he still wasn't back up to speed and the doctor warned him that there was a good chance he never would be.

Not that Logan listened to him. That could be for better or worse. The doctors had also told Veronica to make sure her new husband's affairs were in order and he'd proved them wrong there.

Veronica pulled in a deep breath, the sound of the waves doing nothing to lull her back to sleep with those thoughts rattling around in her brain. She turned in the bed, hoping that holding onto him and feeling his steady heartbeat would help ease her nerves, but found only empty space and rumpled sheets on his side. She sat up ramrod straight in the bed they shared, looking around the room still drenched in pre-dawn shadows. "Logan?"

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the bathroom door now connected to their bedroom and, for the first time, she saw the light peeking out from under it. It opened and Logan shot her a curious look. "Hey. You okay?"

Veronica squinted against the fluorescent light shining into the bedroom and Logan seemed to notice as he reached back to switch it off. She watched - noting the very subtle limp that still worked its way into his step some mornings - as he made his way back to the bed and eased himself down. "You okay?" he had asked again, his brows drawn together with the question.

"Yeah. Yes. Just —" Just what? Thought he was really gone? Thought that the last six, nearly seven months had been a kinder dream to replace a realty her mind couldn't accept? It all sounded silly now that she was actually awake, so she forced a smile and rocked forward onto her knees. Her fingers teased at his hairline and the burn scars there, gently guiding him in until he met her halfway for a kiss. She leaned into it, feeling one of his hands against the side of her face and she tilted them both over so that he landed on his back, Veronica leaned over him with an impish smile. There was one way to banish those recurring fears. "I love you," she said firmly.

His thin lips quirked up into that lazy, amused smile she loved and he brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I love you too, but I need to finish getting ready if I'm going to make it down to base by seven."

Her pre-caffeinated brain spun trying to figure out why he needed to be down at the base at all that day before it slammed head first onto the answer. "You have your physical today."

"Yep," he answered, kissing the tip of her nose and his tone a lot cheerier than she would have expected. His last physical had not gone as well as the Navy doctor - or Logan - had hoped. After about a day of moping around the apartment Logan had very pointedly brushed it off as still healing and buckled down to work even harder than before. Wanting it - needing it - had been what had gotten him through ROTC, through OCS, and continuing through one of the toughest military training programs there was, but it might not be enough to keep it now. Veronica had heard his physical therapist remind him the last time she'd picked him up that sometimes there was just no bouncing back to before an injury.

"You want me to go with you?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't read too much into the offer.

"Aren't you working a case?"

He rolled a little and she slid off of him, letting him up. "Yeah, but I can make time if you want me there."

"I'll be okay," he promised, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "How about you make reservations and we'll celebrate good news at dinner tonight?"

"Logan —"

"It's fine. I've got this."

She watched him carefully, and damn it if he hadn't convinced himself of it. She just hoped he was right.

Slowly she unfolded and stood on the bed, stepping to the edge so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and look down on him, her fingers teasing his short hair. She took a breath and went in with him. "Yeah you do. We'll celebrate good news."

"You keep looking at me like that, Mrs Echolls and I'm not gonna make it to base," he muttered, mischief dancing through his eyes.

Veronica snorted and released him. "Then go get 'em, Mr Mars."

And on the heels of a joke they'd held onto throughout his recovery, he turned to finish getting ready to drive down to San Diego.

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

She knew the moment she saw him walk through the office door that the news had been less than he'd hoped for. They canceled the reservations and went home with takeout and a bottle of wine. He didn't talk. No quips, no brushoffs, not even an honest opinion or an explanation of exactly what the doctor had said or what it meant. Veronica didn't know if they were forcing him into retirement - or was it discharging him? She wasn't entirely sure - or if they'd pushed the decision down the line. His squad had already been deployed without him two months earlier - this time for a longer tour - and while she hated the idea of him shipping out to join them, the idea of him losing the job he loved so much - because of hers, the pesky thought tried to push its way to the forefront - wasn't any better. Sure, he'd be safer, but he loved what he did. He'd tried to describe the way it felt to fly his jet to her one time. The rush of an aerial dogfight, the thrill of hitting supersonic, and the way he could trust that his Wizzo Dave Riley had his back, both literally and figuratively. Even when his duties had shifted in the last couple of years and he found himself with boots on the ground from time to time, the people he trusted were right there with him. "They're family," he'd explained one time and she knew what that meant to him.

Now she was afraid that he'd lost that and she had no idea what to say. She'd never been particularly good at finding the right words to fill the awkward silence following a disaster she couldn't fix. She was good in a fight. She was good on a case. Something winnable. This…. she couldn't do anything for him besides be there and support him, but that never felt like enough. Too often she brushed past, opting instead to focus on anything tangible, but not here. She couldn't do that to him here.

Logan had barely touched the slice of pizza sitting in front of him, but his wine glass was almost empty. Veronica reached over to the bottle and poured the same amount she tended to reserve for his impromptu deployments: up to the lip of the glass. He shot her a look at that and she shrugged, finally pulling a mirthless snort that was close to a chuckle as he was capable of giving her in that moment. He reached over and she took his hand readily, feeling his fingers close around hers, his wedding band cool against her skin. He heaved a sigh, squaring his shoulders a little as he started to speak. "You know, right after I woke up in the hospital my first thought was shit, I bet that explosion just fucked my hearing. Woulda grounded me instantly."

"You got cleared on that three visits ago," Veronica murmured.

"Right? Didn't lose a limb, didn't damage my eyes or ears. I was lucky. I know I was lucky." She shifted on the bar stool and reached up tentatively, her freehand resting on his thigh. He tried for a smile and failed miserably. "I just couldn't pass the physical."

The words were like a knife to the gut and Veronica tightened her hold with both hands, feeling his own fingers around hers and he squeezed his eyes shut. He was done. They were taking his wings. They were taking the thing from him that had helped him find purpose in and that he'd devoted his adult life to.

She had taken it.

Veronica scooted off the stool and wrapped her arms around him, her forehead pressed against his arm as hot tears streaked down her cheeks. She felt as much as she heard him choke back a sob as he reached to hold onto her arm, his entire body trembling under the strain of it all. He'd fought so hard, but even he couldn't fight hard enough to win this one.

"I'm so sorry," she heard herself say, the words tumbling out again and again, faster and more desperate each time until he turned on his seat and suddenly he was standing there, his arms around her too and pulling her in.

He didn't say anything and her apologies eventually dwindled to get swallowed up by the sobs that still shook her. She felt his hand tangled in her hair, though, stroking it gently and he had her pulled close in that way that had always been meant to comfort. Even now, even after being responsible for this, he was trying to comfort her in whatever way he could manage. It wasn't fair.

She felt him pull in an unsteady breath and kiss the side of her head before leaning back. His eyes were rimmed red, the lines in his face a little deeper than usual with the strain of trying to hold himself together. "Veronica," he said firmly, even if his voice was rough. He waited until she met his gaze. "This is not your fault."

"Bullshit," she managed and swallowed hard, determined not to let another wave of sobs break free. "He was after me and he nearly killed you. I knew. Back in college I knew how dangerous this was. It's why I left. It's why I didn't come back until…"

"Till I asked you to."

"I knew this job was dangerous. Not just for me, but for everyone around me. Everyone I love. I went back to it anyway. I could have used my degree at a firm in San Diego or LA and lived here, but I was….so selfish. I knew I was putting everyone -" No, that's not right, Mars. If you're going to start, you better damn well own it."That I was putting you in danger. I did it anyway. I did this."

"No," he choked out, fresh tears building in his brown eyes and she hated that even now he was trying to defend her.

"This is my fault!" she shouted and lost the battle with her own will as she folded forward, unable to drag in enough air to satisfy her lungs.

He pulled her back in and held her close. "Don't ever apologize to me for being who you are. You're good at what you do and I…. I wish it weren't as dangerous as it is. You know I wish it wasn't, but that's for you. What happened to me is Epner's fault, not yours." She felt his finger under her chin, guiding her to look at him again. "You hear me?"

"Yeah," she said smally.

"You believe me?"

"I want to."

That pulled the tiniest of smiles from him and he leaned forward, kissing her forehead. "I love you. The Navy was everything once, but you…. I love you. I've loved you over half my life."

Veronica sniffed hard. "What now?"

He leaned down, catching her lips with his like that was his answer, and the moment she kissed him back he was lifting her off the floor. Veronica wrapped her legs around him and she could taste their tears in the kiss as he carried her back to the bedroom. He wasn't going to magically be okay with losing his career just like she wasn't going to instantly be able to - appropriately or not - redistribute the guilt she was feeling onto Penn Epner, but she could be there for him. And maybe, in time, she'd find a way to be a little better at that.

---------

The world didn't stop just because Logan felt like it should have. There were things to do, papers to sign, and - worst of all - a call he dreaded making. Thankfully he managed to hold it together on the Skype call with his squad, even if Riley of all people looked on the verge of breaking down. Riles wasn't the only one that reminded him that just because he didn't ship out with them didn't make him any less their family or them his.

Veronica spent the first few days after he got the news close by. She didn't ask him to talk about it, but listened when he wanted to . Even that couldn't go on forever, though, and eventually she started slipping out to the office. The bombing case had put Mars Investigation on the map even outside of Neptune and calls were coming in from all of the country. She wasn't taking anything out of town just yet, but Keith wasn't able to carry to load himself, even with the adjustment to his medication that had helped his memory issues. It was fine. Probably better than fine. Hopefully it meant that she was starting to accept that this really wasn't her fault.

Logan wasn't sure how long a person was supposed to take to mourn the loss of their career, but he was pretty sure he was due at least a few more days of moping. Dick hadn't agreed with him on that and had shown up on his doorstep with a surfboard and a chest full of beer that morning to drag him out to the beach. Well, it had always helped him clear his head when he was younger.

It was bordering on noon when he and Dick trudged their way back to where they'd left their things to find Veronica had brought her own beach towel and was stretched out with a magazine on cameras. She flashed him a bright smile. "Hiya, handsome."

"Always knew you had a thing for me, Ronnie," Dick chirped at his side and Logan rolled his eyes, elbowing the other man in the ribs.

"Hey. You calling it a day already? Careful, or someone's going to accuse you of keeping '09er hours."

"Well, I did marry one," she answered him with a wink.

Dick snorted and Logan elbowed him again before he had a chance to add to his earlier comment. He feigned injury. "That's what I get for trying to cheer you up, man."

Logan's lips stretched into an almost-smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Dick turned his attention back to Veronica. "You got him?"

"I do indeed," she answered cheerfully and popped to her feet. "You -" she directed at Logan this time - "go hop through the shower, then I'm kidnapping you."

"What for?"

"You'll see."

He glanced at Dick, looking for any hint he might give, and the blond shrugged.

"You think I'm dumb enough to give him details?" his wife laughed. "C'mon. We're on the clock."

Logan gave up trying to figure it out and did as he was told. Twenty minutes later he was showered and dressed, being ushered out to the convertible he'd bought four months before when he'd been cleared to drive again and it became clear that Veronica couldn't continue giving up her car or all of her time to make sure he made all of his doctors' appointments. He tried to swipe the keys from her, but she just smirked as she hopped into the driver's seat. "You don't know where we're going."

"Would if you'd tell me."

"Where's the fun in that?"

They worked their way through the back roads and he could tell she was trying to throw him off, but he knew the town too well and recognized the roundabout path she was taking to the private airport on the edge of town that Duncan's family used to fly their private plane out of. He didn't bother asking why, but settled into the passenger seat a little deeper and tried to push back the twinge of pain that the roar of a Gulfstream climbing overhead stirred in him.

"Veronica…" he started, suddenly finding himself utterly sapped of energy and wanting nothing more than to go home. They had come out here over the years and watched the planes coming and going. Veronica didn't get nearly as much out of it as he did, but he had loved to go on and on about them, always teasing her that he was going to buy some little single engine one day. She had rolled her eyes at him and told him not to even try it. He'd come close a couple of times, but the judgement would have been strong if he had.

"Trust me?"

He sighed, giving her a sharp nod.

They pulled around towards the hanger and parked off to the side. Veronica kept glancing at him, like she was constantly trying to gauge his mood. He could have saved her some time if she'd just asked: worse by the minute. "I'm really not in the mood to watch them."

"Good, because I thought you might want to fly one." She motioned to where a late 90's model Bonanza sat out on the runway. "You said that you can still fly, just not like the Navy needs you to be able to. I did some research and talked to Riley to make sure I understood everything correctly. He said you had gotten certified in a Bonanza several years ago and all you'd need to do to… re-certify?"

"Get current," he corrected and she nodded.

"Right, that's what he called it."

"Yeah, I just have to do what they call touch-and-goes. Three take offs and landings."

"Super easy, right?"

"Yeah." He felt his lips quirk upward despite his best efforts. "How long do we have her?"

"Unless Riley lied to me and you don't really love this model…. as long as you want?"

Logan stared at her. "You bought me a plane?"

"Well, technically, you bought you a plane, but apparently that marriage certificate means that your finance guy was willing to listen to the crazy idea and set everything up." The beautiful blue gaze of her latched onto him and Logan felt his heart stutter in his chest. "I know it's not a Hornet and I know it won't go mach… whatever, but you'll be in the air." He wasn't sure what his face was doing, but apparently it caught her by surprise. "Shit… do you hate? Is it too soon? I just -"

He leaned in, the kiss cutting off whatever she was going to say and he lifted her up off the ground and spun her a little before letting her feet drop back down and begrudgingly releasing her. Oh. That's it, he realized as he blinked through blurred vision. Tears could definitely give the wrong impression. "I love it," he swore. "It's perfect."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No. You wanna go up?"

She flashed him a bright smile. "See you fly first hand? Absolutely. I think we have to talk to the guy in the office before we just take off in it though."

"Probably so," Logan chuckled and caught her hand in his, pulling it up to press a quick kiss to her knuckles before starting into the hanger. The aftermath of the bombing, recovery, and his eventual medical discharge had been more than he could have ever handled alone, but he had her. Through all of it and for whatever came next. They'd figure it out together.

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

Notes: So, fun fact: my dad has been a pilot all my life and when I was little (and it didn't break the bank to do it) he used to rent Bonanzas to fly us to different places. I have some very early and very fond memories of those flights, so when I needed a single engine for Logan to be certified in, that was my go-to.

#Veronica Mars #Logan Echolls #VM fix it fic #veronica mars fanfic

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rentsturner · 4 years

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talk tonight

all your dreams are made of strawberry lemonade

You wake up to the feeling of lips brushing your forehead, stirring and furrowing your brow. When you open your eyes it’s to see Mark giving you a gentle, if wry, smile, holding his jacket in a bundle under his arm and his shoes dangling from his fingers. He clearly hadn’t meant to wake you, and your heart fluttered a bit in your chest at that sheepish expression in his eyes.

“Goin’ somewhere, Marko?” you said, clenching your jaw to keep in a yawn. You got your elbows under you and sat up to have a look around. True to form, he’d never joined you on the bed last night and had instead wrapped himself in the quilt on your couch. You couldn’t help rolling your eyes over the gentlemanly gesture.

“Yeah, sorry, I got a train I need to catch,” he was saying, and you could see him edging towards the door.

He always did this, you found yourself thinking. He came over and crashed with you when he was too fucked to get home. Took the couch in spite of your bed being big enough for two of him to fit in beside you, and tried to run as soon as he could, like he was afraid of being underfoot, or he was trying to get out before you could kick him out yourself.

Not that you ever would. Even high eight ways from Sunday on the skag, you’d never kick him out.

“It’s not even half six, Marko, can’t you catch a later one?” You sat up in bed and stretched, closing your eyes and completely unaware of the way his eyes lingered on you. You gave him a smile when you dropped your arms. “I could make you some breakfast at least. Got some black pudding.”

He was on a “sober” kick, so you knew he had to be hungry. You could see the temptation in his eyes, but you knew in that same moment he wouldn’t take it.

In three strides he crossed the room again and wrapped an arm around you for a quick and bony hug, dropping the lightest kiss on the top of your head.

“I ‘preciate it, luv, but I do have to get back. Got a benefits round to do this mornin’,” he said, and you sighed.

“Promise me you’ll get somethin’ to eat at the station?” You looked up at him as he shrugged into his jacket and you could see his eyes twinkling faintly in the morning light.

“I promise. You go back to bed, I’ll see you in a few days.” He said it like a promise, but you knew that it could be significantly longer than that before he was in your neck of the woods again. You got the distinct feeling that it would be the case—he’d been “sober” for a good while now, and you knew he had to be getting bored. He tended to steer clear of your place when he was fucked on more than alcohol. Your heart clenched in your chest and you gave him a tight smile.

“Don’t be a stranger, Marko,” you told him, and he smiled, hand raised in a half wave as he walked out the door.

You waited until you could hear his footsteps fading away before you drew your knees up to your chest and cried.

As you predicted, it was longer than a few days before you saw him again. It was more like a couple months. You were used to it by now; the radio silence, peppered by the occasional call from his mother and the very strong urge to drive into Edinburgh yourself when you’d had too much wine and not enough dinner. You knew that Mark needed his space, though, and the last time you’d talked about it he’d vehemently protested you going to Mother Superior’s to try to find him.

So you waited. You played by the rules of his game, even when he made it so vastly unfair, and you counted a hundred and twelve days before he showed up at your door once more.

He looked different this time, you thought. Brighter in the eyes, skinnier in the frame, with a clarity in his expression that you hadn’t seen in a while.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft and eyes beseeching. “You wanna go for a walk w’me?”

No apology—yet—but you couldn’t deny him when he looked at you like that.

“Lemme grab my coat,” you said.

It was a long walk, meandering, past the station and into the hills. He puffed a bit, but so did you. It was just chill enough that you didn’t start sweating, thank God. The story came out in bits and pieces. He’d gotten caught shoplifting. He’d been put in rehab. The stupid, silly, daft bastard had underestimated his tolerance and almost fucking died.

“And that bint never thought to fuckin’ tell me!” You were seething—Mark’s mother was calling round at least once a fuckin’ week to check and see if you’d seen him, but heaven forbid she let you know when your best friend was dying. No wonder the last few weeks had been suspiciously quiet.

“Well I’m sure she had a bit more on her mind, installin’ a lock on my door and all,” he said, managing to sound only a little bitter.

He went into more detail, how they’d made him go cold turkey, and how he’d almost wished the overdose had killed him as he went through the withdrawal. Chills, fever, hallucinations, the whole works.

“Christ, Marko,” you found yourself saying. You couldn’t imagine how difficult it had been—on any of them. You were still processing the retroactive horror of finding out he’d nearly died. “I cannae even think how you managed it.”

“Well, it wasn’t fuckin’ easy,” he said with a snort. He looked over at you, something unreadable in his eyes, and you felt something brush your hand. You looked down and saw that he was reaching out almost tentatively to curl his fingers with yours. “But I had some help. Thinkin’ bout coming back to see you.”

Your heart jumped up in your throat and for a moment you forgot how to breathe. “W-what?”

“Look, I’m—“ He cut himself off, and he squeezed your fingers. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am. I shouldn’t’ve just up and vanished on you, but—you know I wanted to keep you away from all this shite. But you...thought of you, thought of comin’ back here to see you... God, it helped. It really fuckin’ helped. I dunno if I would’ve made it if I hadn’t had you on my mind.”

“Come on, now, Marko, you don’t mean that...” you said, pushing out a disbelieving scoff in spite of how breathless you felt. “You’d’a been fine.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. His eyes were bright on yours, intense. “Thought about you when I was sinkin’ into that overdose, too. Thought, ‘what am I gonna do, I promised I’d be back.’”

“In a few days! Been a bit longer than a few, you cunt,” you said, though there was little acid in your tone. “Would you just stop it, alrigh’? You don’t need to do—whatever this is.” He tried to it in, but you wouldn’t let him. “I forgive you, you don’t have to do this song and dance. I’m just happy to see you again, you daft bastard. Specially if it means you’re off that fuckin’ poison.”

He said your name, trying to interrupt, but you were on a true ramble now.

“Wish I’d’a actually been there to fuckin’ help, but that’s your mam for you. I’m a bad influence cos I don’t nag your ear off about your drinkin’, but not too low’s she can’t call round to ask about you—“

You were finally cut off when Mark dropped your fingers to grab you by the head with both hands and pull your face up to his. You let out the most undignified sound as he kissed you, and he drew back to chuckle against your lips for a moment before he slotted them again. He nipped your bottom lip and surprised a little whine out of you before you managed to pull yourself away to give him an incredulous look.

“I meant it,” he said simply. His thumbs stroked over your cheeks. “You kept me alive, well long before I overdosed. I can’t—I can’t promise it’ll be easy, or I won’t make you cry again—“ you turned bright red when you realized he heard you those months ago “—but I want to try. Don’t you?”

“You are a fuckin’ idiot, Mark Renton,” you said, and you buried your face in his chest while he laughed.

beth omfg how dare u do this to me this is so fucking good and the way it goes through all the parts in the song and the little nods to the lyrics and omfg you should have seen my face when i saw this in my inbox cos ngl i was feeling pretty shit and struggling with intrusive thoughts and this almost made me cry. but in a good way. did you come up with the just now? you’re fucking incredible. ily

#drinksomecoco #mark renton #tw: drugs #this is so fucking good ahhh #submission

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tsarinastorm · 4 years

Text

Same World-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 1

*PART TWO OF SO WE BEAT ON SERIES

PART 1: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

“I want to know you moved and breathed in the same world with me”. -F. Scott Fitzgerald

Adam’s walking through the park carrying Sample, he had got roped into babysitting as Caroline had to go somewhere and Laird was busy. He hoped it wouldn’t be for too long like it was last time. Both Caroline and Laird had seemingly been more stable than they’d ever been and it made Adam happy. Considering her real name, Adam was now glad his niece’s nickname Sample stuck, it was better than have to carry around little Jessa-Hannah. In fact, that name made him feel nauseous. Now he was over both his past relationships with Jessa and Hannah enough to be friendly with both of them, but he still preferred to keep his distance so he wouldn’t get caught up in all of that drama again.

Today was his day off from shooting his recent film and he wanted to make the most of it despite his babysitting duties. It was nice outside, and Sample needed fresh air so he took to her a local park, though he would never let her be more a few feet away him. She’s sitting down on the blanket he brought for them playing with a toy and he’s talking to her in a silly voice which makes her laugh. He hears someone speaking to him.

“Cute baby. Is she yours?” Y/N observes him with Sample and smiles. Adam’s disoriented seeing her there, and she looks beautiful he thinks to himself. She’s wearing a striped short-sleeved sweater, black jeans and flats. Act cool, act cool.

“No, she’s my niece. Her name is Sample.” He answers her and she leans down beside the blanket and hands Sample her toy. Y/N raises her eyebrows as she asks, “Her name is really Sample? That’s a different name.”

Adam watches Y/N playing with Sample, and he appreciates it. He remembers how awful Jessa was with her, so it’s refreshing to see someone who is a natural. He mentally logs this moment in his mind, because if he ever gets into a serious relationship again, he wants kids one day. “Sample is her nickname because she was born really small, sample-sized. Her name is Jessa-Hannah Bluebell something, some ridiculous name. My sister was trying to do a home-birth but was having complications and refused to go to the hospital. It was Jessa and Hannah who convinced Laird to carry her there.”

“Damn that sucks though having your niece named after two of your exes. Sample it is then” She says as she smiles. Y/N adds, “You seem like you’re really good with her.”

“I guess so. I’m a like a big kid myself and it works out.” He responds back and Sample appears to be loving all the attention she’s getting. Sample grabs unto Y/N then heads towards Adam, as Y/N hands her to Adam, their hands brush. And it’s electric, Adam can feel the tingle go through his arm. She then looks at her phone and stands up to leave.

“I have to go meet Shoshanna for lunch. But you’ll be at the party, right?”

Adam nods his head, but before he can speak, Y/N adds, “Hannah and Jessa both will be there, but if it gets weird I can find a place to hide you in the apartment.”

“Thanks, but I think it should be civil between all of us now.” He watches her go and thinks that if he wasn’t so into Y/N there would be no way anyone could get him to that party. But he supposes he’ll suffer through it if he gets to spend time with her.

**************************************************************

Marnie called you as soon as you left Shosh, and she told you that she had seen her ex Charlie earlier in the day. She said that he’d gone through rehab, been clean for over a year and has a new app he’s developing. She then mentions that she invited him to your apartment warming. You told her that if Marnie still had a couple hours of work left and you decided to browse on your computer. Without thinking it through, you start googling Adam, and then you’re clicking on his movie. You try to talk yourself out of it, but then you press play. It’s actually good, guess he really did love Hannah.

Then, the scene starts. He spanks her again and again. You feel yourself becoming aroused as you watch his back muscles move and his large hand collide with her. You’re getting wetter, and honestly you can’t remember the last time you felt this horny. You go to take a shower, hoping that these hormones will pass. But that scene was hot, and you couldn’t ignore it. Then, there was the raw emotion from that film, you could feel everything that the characters were feeling. It made you think of Adam differently to see what kind art he had created and to see what he really felt. Here you had always thought that he was more of player, you never realized the strength of his emotions. Now you find him more attractive than you did before.

Ugh, this complicates things, you think to yourself. Of course you had to go and catch feelings for one of the most inconvenient men you’ve met. First, there’s the fact that Adam may be the most frustrating man you’ve ever known, second, he’s an ex of one of your friends and has a complicated past. Third, you had decided that you didn’t want a relationship right now, you had wanted to focus on yourself. Yet, if you were being honest with yourself, you were infatuated by Adam, and you could see it potentially developing into something real one day, if it wasn’t already. He made your head hurt, your heart flutter, and gave you butterflies as cliché as that sounded. He was intense, and you could tell that he felt things as deeply as you did. You always wanted the type of connection that was intoxicating, maddening and deep enough to drown in. You knew you would have to explore things with Adam, and you made up your mind that you would be open to the possibilities.

While you’re zoned out in your own world pondering your emotions, you hear your phone buzzing. You check it and its Jessa calling you, so you answer, “Hello.”

“Hey, so Y/N, first, I need life advice then I have a question about the party tonight.” Jessa says and you can hear people in the background speaking.

“Okay shoot.” You tell her.

“I want to mend my friendship with Hannah but I don’t know how. I thought since Adam and I are over that it would fall back into place but it’s not. And can I bring a plus one to the party tonight?” Jessa asks and you sigh before answering, “You should show Hannah that you’ve changed and that she can trust you again, and you know, take an interest in her life. It will probably be a slow process. You can bring a plus one as long as he behaves.”

*******************************************************************

Music fills the air, and you have opened the sliding doors to the main terrace. Marnie has taken care of the food for the night. You weren’t sure if you wanted this apartment warming in the first place but you go along with it, because, hey, what could it hurt? Marnie has moved the furniture around in the main room so the table is in the middle of the room, while there are other seats surrounding the room. You’ve never been the best hostess so you follow her lead. Though you do set out the flowers and see that the food is out with utensils in all of the containers. You’re wearing a pale-pink, off-the-shoulder jumpsuit, and block-heeled sandals.

“I can’t believe you invited Jessa. And Adam. There is now a 99 % chance that this will turn into a shit show.” Marnie says as she continues moving around your apartment. You stop to get a treat for your dog River before answering her. “You invited who you wanted, including your druggie ex who you just ran into for a few minutes earlier today. By the way, tell me about that.”

“Well I just ran into Charlie on the street and he started asking me questions about my life. I summed up the past two years, and asked him about what he’s up to. He said that he went to rehab, and has been clean since. He also has a new app he’s starting. I don’t know it just really threw me for a loop seeing him again.” Marnie states and you notice that she’s twitching her fingers like she does when she’s nervous.

“Running into an ex can do that. Do you still have any feelings for him?” You ask because now you’re curious. She seems very flustered so you sense that there’s some emotions underneath that.

“For so long, I thought I would always end up with Charlie. Then I wouldn’t and I thought that Desi was the one, then Ray, but I think that I always really wanted closure about Charlie.” She admits and you give her a pat on the shoulder and say, “If you need closure then get closure. Love chooses you sometimes.”

“Back to what I said before I got off on the Charlie tangent, what were you thinking invite both Adam and Jessa?”

“Jessa says that she wants to turn her life around and I guess I want to support that. Adam and I have a lot in common, he makes me feel less weird.” You say hoping that will get her to accept the fact that you choose to invite them both.

“Look, Y/N, I know you’re a good person and want to help people but Jessa pulls this all the time. She’ll say she’s going to change, get her life together and that will last a few months then she spirals out of control. And she’ll probably end up fucking you over. But I say that as your best friend: just be careful. Then there’s Adam. I have never understood what it was about him that made Hannah and Jessa so crazy. My only worry with him is that he wants to fuck you. Then if that happens, the awkward love triangle will turn into an even more awkward love rectangle.”

You feel your face go red at her last statement, you still blush as an adult and you hate it. Then, you do your best damage control by saying, “That’s not going to happen. But I guess we’ll see what happens with Jessa. We’re best friends, we’re supposed to be honest with each other.”

Marnie turns and grab a gift bag from her room, and pulls out the bottle of champagne that was inside. She says, “Marc got us this as a house warming gift.”

“Oh well that was very nice of him.” You say and think that he was the last person you wanted to think of. Elijah then shows up early to help the two of you set up the decorations. You had bought some lights to string up through the apartment and terrace while Marnie had got a few balloons. You catch up with Elijah while you wait for your other guests to arrive. Hannah shows up first, followed by Shoshanna and her fiancé, Byron, then Ray and his girlfriend Abigail come in. Then a guy you assume must be Charlie walks in. He seems nice enough, and Marnie introduces you to him. You’re actually feeling relieved that Jessa didn’t show since Marnie was sure that she would cause problems, but you were disappointed that Adam bailed. You were looking forward to hanging out with him again and you wanted to tell him that you watched the movie.

You mingle with Shosh and Elijah, the former is talking about wedding details and the latter is giving her his thoughts on the details. Byron is keeping his opinion to himself as you assume that he’s letting Shosh do much of the planning. You look over and see Ray and his girlfriend Abigail sharing a plate of food and giggling. Your eyes continue to scan the room to see Marnie and Charlie off on their own in a corner in the room. How is possible to feel lonely in a room full of people?

******************************************************************

Adam buzzes up to Y/N and Marnie’s apartment. When he walks through the door he immediately sees that the room is full with people who aren’t his biggest fans: Hannah, Marnie, Marnie’s old boyfriend, Elijah. Then he sees Y/N and it was worth it. She standing by the door to the balcony, and smiles as soon as she sees him. She looks hot and comes right up to him and thanks him for showing up. He don’t see Jessa and he’s relieved he can’t deal with her ‘friendship’ ploy tonight.She offers him a drink and he follows her into the kitchen to avoid socializing with the other people at the party.

“I have a question and I want you to be completely honest with me.” Y/N says and looks somber. He nods his head and now he’s scared: what will she ask, it must be important. She then leans into him, handing him his drink then whispers, “What is like to fuck Hannah and Jessa?”

He watches her to see if she’s joking or being serious. She then laughs at his horrified expression and he shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders before adding, “A gentleman never tells.”

“Now, c’mon, what kind of answer is that? I invited you so you could provide details and your drama could be the entertainment for the night.” She says cheerfully, then giggles. Holy shit, that giggle may be one of the best sounds he’s ever heard.

“What? Here I thought you brought me here so you could watch me squirm. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to make it clear that you invited me so you’re responsible.” He says in a deep tone back at her.

“On a more serious note, I watched your movie….” Now, Adam starts to panic, he’s expecting her to lay into him and begin her insults/commentary. He’s surprised by her actual comment.

“It was really good. It was open and raw. Real life isn’t depicted correctly in art anymore, it was refreshing. You could really feel the passion. To have a love that’s too intense to survive is painful, but you have to let it go.”

He feels his face blush, he always feel uncomfortable from praise, but he does appreciate it from Y/N. He knows she definitely has her own opinions, and is well-cultured so if she likes it then that really means something. He awkwardly stammers, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Then the rest of her comments sink in, he adds, “See you get the purpose of it! That was the point of it: that you can have a connection that’s too intense for it to last.”

The moment is ruined because he then sees Jessa walk into the room with some guy, she’s obviously dragged here. She goes up to talk to Hannah, Marnie, and Shoshanna. Adam is thankful that she hasn’t spotted him yet and he wants to keep it that way.

“How are your projects going?” Y/N asks him like she doesn’t even recognize that he’s become tense. He answers, “Good, I’m actually updating some of my old writing work for a resume, and preparing for another audition. One of my friends from the cab group wants me to take the movie and either turn into a longer screenplay or adapt for the stage.”

Shit! Jessa’s made eye contact with him and now she’s coming their way. Jessa approaches with the asshole she’s brought with her. She hugs Y/N, and says, “Y/N, you look beautiful as always. This is Joe, we’ve been seeing each other.”

Jessa then turns to Adam and says, “It’s good to see you, Adam. Adam this is Joe, he’s a cardiologist. Joe this is Adam.”

Adam reluctantly shakes Joe’s hand and prays that Jessa goes away. He can tell that she brought this guy here to make him jealous but he’s so checked out of that relationship that he doesn’t care, he’s just annoyed. He wants to continue his conversation with Y/N without the newfound company. Y/N chatters with Jessa for a short amount of time which leaves both him and Joe stuck standing there awkwardly.

“If you need someone else to help you review your other pieces, I’d love to read some more of your work, if you’re open to that. I know some writing is extremely personal.” Y/N says as she ignores that Jessa and Joe are still only a few away. Jessa is trying to hide that she’s eavesdropping in the conversation, but she keeps her head pointed towards their conversation.

“I’d like that, I’m auditioning for a role with Ars Nova, and they’re going to be doing a new piece by Sara Ruhl. They look their actors to be well-rounded and are looking for new works.” Adam says and he can’t hide his excitement. He wants the role and to be a part of the elite company.

“Wait, that’s amazing! Didn’t Lin Manuel Miranda do work with them? And Sarah Ruhl? Wow” Y/N says and she sounds as excited about it as he does.

“It’s a big opportunity and I want everything to be perfect.” He says. But before they can continue the conversation, Jessa interjects, “Who and what are you talking about?”

“A theater company, one of the best in New York and one of the best contemporary playwrights,” Y/N answers her and Jessa only responds with “Oh” then she walks away and goes to talk Hannah. Adam and Y/N look at each other and raise their eyebrows before continuing the conversation.

They end up talking about past relationships, family, and pet peeves. For one of the first times, Adam is one of the last people to leave the party, Y/N gives him a hug and Marnie gives him the side-eye.Adam never thought that Y/N would agree to help him write. The idea of her reading and editing his work makes him somehow self-conscious and excited at the same time. He wants to be sure to impress her, and to make the most of it so his resume is as good as possible.

Adam returns home then goes back to read through new materials for upcoming auditions. He gives up after he notices that he can’t concentrate. His thoughts drift to Y/N as he thinks of how good she looked that night at the party, and how perfectly disheveled she looked walking the other day. He wonders what she would look like after he’s wrecked her, then he thinks about her great her tits looked in that outfit, and her perky ass. And he realizes that now he’s hard. He unbuttons his pants and reaches down to stroke his cock. He begins stroking, thinking of how Y/N’s mouth would feel sucking him, how her pussy would feel around him, and how she would look when he made her cum. He strokes at a faster pace until he feels the familiar tingle in his spine. Then his orgasm hits him and streaming cum is across his hands and his stomach.

He thinks that he’s going to have to make a move on Y/N, or else he’ll always regret it. He’s interested in her in every way: sexually, emotionally, and intellectually, and he supposes he’ll settle for any part of her she’ll give him.

******************************************************************

Once everyone is gone, you crash down on the couch beside Marnie, and you look around at the mess left from the party. You grab some a container of cookie dough and a couple of spoons, and the two you snack and talk about how great the party was. Marnie stares at you, so finally ask, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I saw you talked to Adam most of the night.” Marnie says in an accusatory tone and gets up to pick up some of the trash.

“What? We have a lot in common. I’m not going to apologize for it. You spend the night talking to Charlie, how did that go?” You say, desperate to change the topic.

“It was good, I forgot how I had felt about him. Then it’s all coming rushing back. I guess we’ll see how it goes.” Marnie says and you’re worried because while Charlie seems like a nice guy, he did have no problem ditching her and disappearing.

“I hope it works out or get what you need from it. Do you want to finish cleaning up in the morning?”

Marnie shakes her head yes and you retreat into your room, and fall into your bed. Sleep hits you at once.

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler fic #hbo girls #girls hbo #adam driver #adam sackler smut

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plutoswrath · 5 years

Text

horror for each sign

(Warning: explict description of violence and disturbing scenes.)

Aries: Gruesome:

I sit in the living room. The TV is turned on but there is no sound but the endless noise of the static. Black and white orbs mix into my vision and the walls are painted red. It mixes beautifully with the minty wallpaper, now adorened with red roses. Mother was so annoying. Always telling me to move aside from the TV (’Stop watching TV!’). So I took the hammer Mother usues to tender the meat with. She sat in front of the TV. And I smash the hammer towards her head. Tendering her head like a fine filet. (Splatter. Splatter. Splatter. Crimson colored splatters everywhere). Mother is quiet and in my head everything is very loud. But then my favorite TV show comes on and I sit in front of the big, static scene. I forget Mothers now very well tendered head behind me. I am not bothered, being just by myself.

Taurus: Tragic:

This appartement is a nightmare to sell. I’ve had some tough cases and some tough clients, but this is...nothing I was prepared for. Nothing about appartement 26 seems off at frst. It’s rather small, I could even say it has the potential to be cozy and warm, but there is something eerie clawing on your back, as soon as you enter it. Not to mention the figures I see in the corner of my eye and in the mirrors sometimes. The carpet is old and smells like somebody desperately tried to clean it over and over again in order to cover something up (murder maybe?). The bed always looks as someone just sat on it, even though I made it minutes ago. I learned not to put my keys on the shelf because they will go missing and reapear on strange places (behind the shower curtains). I am doomed because I am bound to this appartement. There has been a number that keeps calling me and asks if it’s still avaible, we made an appointment for a visit, but no one appeared. I can’t call them back, the number isn’t avaible (that’s what the voice of the Lady at the other side of the receiver whispers). But this number keeps calling me, every Friday at 12pm. I know something happened there, but at this point I don’t dare to search for answers.

Gemini: Disastrous:

Once there was a man, with a house big enough for him to live, too small for a family to grow. The man drew a picture of his family every day - 4 people. Happy and smiling, eating dinner at the kitchen table. The man brushed his teeth every night before lying down to sleep and combed his 4 puppets hair. Humming, humming. He loved his puppets, dear companionship they were always there for him where did my family go? No need for a family I told her to stop shouting at me as his house is too small to grow one. Because he is alone and forever and will be and will not seek out for a real life company what do you mean they aren’t my children? Ding dong. I open the door and see a child a child that is not mine. I will refuse to accept that they aren’t mine I am alone and will keep me company, yes come in, I will buy some cookies, sit down on the couch, you want to look at my puppets?

Once there was a man, with a house big enough for him to live, too small for a family to grow. But enough space for a small family of puppets, now combing 5 heads every night before lying down to sleep.

Cancer: Cruel:

It is 08:30 pm. in the deepest of winter. The sun has set a long time ago and the world outside is warpped in a thick blanet of glistening snow. Four children brush their teeth before lying down to sleep, as they hear someone climbing down the stairs and opening the door.

“Children, lie down, will you? Uncle Vitja will tell you a nice story before you go to sleep, okay? Since your mother and father are still in that restaurant they mentioned earlier they told me to help you fall asleep. Of course I prepared a nice story from Russia, what kind of question - oh, just hear what I have to tell, okay? Have you ever heard of Baba Yaga? No? Ha! I thought so, now, listen closely..never, never go alone into the forest and be disrespectful to nature, you hear me? Baba Yaga has her eyes and ears everywhere and somewhere she will watch you when you try to pick all the flowers from the fields or demolish the trees with a knife; yes I am looking at all of you! You are closeby teh forest, so pay attention! Her hut can’t be found since it stands on chicken legs and wanders around. Also you can’t enter even when you find it, because it turns around when sensing intrudors. But you’ll notice if its her shack even when it looks normal because the garden is adorned with human skulls since she likes eating us. Huh? What are you looking at me? I only tell the truth! She is one with the earth and one with life and death; she decides who needs to die and who doesn’t but this all...makes her hungry at times, it’s exhausting you know and the flesh of humans is so tender....”

Uncle Vitjas eyes run across the room as he turns to the opened window.

“Rule number one: never leave your windows open when your parents aren’t home. Yaga smells the bad spirit of mean children!”

And his eyes turn red and his nose long. His back shrinks and his skin turns to bark. The teeth long and metallic. The children are in shock and fear grips them tightly as the old womans long finger hover over to them. They can only hope for their parents to come home soon.

Leo: Mad:

“Manot? Dear, is that you? (.....) Dear, don’t be mistaken, I am sorry for troubling you with my calls lately, but I am so far away and I needed to hear you voice (.....) Oh silly, have you forgotten how to speak? I called your mom yesterday because I read that you couldn’t bring yourself to look her in the eyes after stealing the money she put aside for your fathers surgery (...) Oh- so sorry, I know you told me not to read your diary, but please, put those dangerous pills aside and come to me - no rehab needed, just my ever lasting love that heals you (............) Manot...now, don’t be mean. I wouldn’t break into your home if you would just give me the keys like I asked you to in my last love letter!! Pay attention to my words and you wouldn’t be so troubled all the time!! Stupid bitch, igoring me and my love as always, why do you think you’re higher than me? (.................) Can’t say something? (...............) Hello? (.......crrk.........) Hello? Are you recording this? Just wait till I come home! Hope you don’t fall asleep without me, hehe, mind it if you could put on those sweet mint colored panties you wore back than as you graduated? I loved these...ha..... (....). Well then, I need to go to work now. See you soon love. Bye.”

Virgo: Cold:

Our Grandmother used to tell us stories about her old school. Stories I like to tell my friends when we sit together for a drink after work. She has always been a funny woman, she’s been a clever kid that liked to trick her teachers at times and told me she never got into trouble because of the ‘funny’ old man (a monk to be specific) that apparently no one saw except her. The school (having been a monestary in the past) was old and full of history. And the kids gave the dead walls new life. And so did my Grandmother to this dead man who never talked but stood in the corner, pointing to opened windows she snook out when her teachers turned away. Or directing her to the funny old photobooks of former students in the big library. He never left the grounds of the school though. She was young - 8 years old maybe - and felt special to have made such an ‘unique and special friend’, that she never thought about the fact that it could’ve been a ghost. So I asked her if he was nice. Her smile turned crooked and she looked out of the window as she answered: “I think he was once, but he was lonely for too long. One day I walked down the hallway and he pointed to staircase to the cellar or our school - something we were forbidden to go to under any circumstances because of the gigantic oven that stood there. Well, as idiotic as I was I followed him, but right in front of the doorway I stopped. His smile was off and he pointed into the black room where the giants red and orange mouth of the oven smiled at me. I felt the chance in the air and left, shaking my head. He looked angry and sad at the same time. Later that day one of our students went missing. And they found him. 2 days later, his ashes and bones in the oven. I am glad I was smart enough not to walk into the room that day and I never saw that monk again.”

Libra: Erroneous:

‘I love you, I love you’, I whisper as I turn the knife in your chest and stab into you heart for more than a thousand times. All the times I told you I loved you, I revisit those memories and breath heavily as I remember our first kiss. ‘Ah, your eyes are beautiful..’ So I plunge them out and put them in a jar, I place them on the top of my bookshelf so I can look at them and you can look at me when I lie down to sleep. I f e e l t h e w a r m t h o f y o u r b l o o d o n m y b o d y G o d y o u f e e l s o g o o d. I love the way you looked at me and you loved my smile so I engrave it into my skin, on my face - forever. I place my hand on your chest and the open wound allows me to toucg your heart. I smell you and feel you.

I l o v e y o u.

Scorpio: Demonic:

‘It is him who writes the names behind our wallpaper, when our little daughter tells me to look behind it. He is the nightmare that keeps her up at night, the monster underneath her bed, the long black hair that is tickling me in the shower. There is a shadow I feel standing behind me, someone breathing in my neck; the wind that is closing and opeing our doors and the force that drags me from the couch every time I try to sleep there. The feeling of someone standing behind me and watching how the blood begins to pump under the constant pressure in our own precious four walls. There are eyes inside of the dark- A pair of two red eyes accompanying me everywhere. They are placed in every little black corner in our house. I see them in the reflection of the TV and the computer screen. They are bloody and since weeks our sleeping room smells foul. And it is I who brought him here in order to bring you back, my dear, and I brought sin over our love, over our home, over the one I swore to protect. And I will continue protecting her - in heaven.’

Love, Helena

(To whoever finds this: leave the ruins of this home and never come back.He will follow.)

Sagittarius: Bloody:

I once visited this town on one of my trips. It was small and far away from the next bigger city, but people from all around it swooned over the restaurants that has been there for several generations - apparently it served the finest meat in town. So naturally, I ordered a table for one the following day and tried a steak myself. Indeed, it was fine - very fine, tender and beautifully pink colored in the middle. I am confused though: I haven’t seen any fields with cattles or any farms on my way to this city. Nor do they have many tourists here; so how does this restaurant survive over the years? Then again, my uncle is an ivestigator and told me that near the next biggest city that is two hours away have been reported people that went missing over the past 50 years. And seemingly, they never reappeared. But they cases went cold since there were almost no hints or tracks.

Oh god .

What am I eating?

Capricorn: Sinnful:

Day after day he cared for the old cathedral, being the only Pastor to talk to for the old village, in the dark times of WW1 being the voice of sanity that bring clarification for the desperate citizens. “God”, he asked one day, knees on the ground, “why does his happen to us? What did we do, our small village, to deserve being conflicted in this war?” God - knowing that the higher sense of the things happening aren’t for this man to understand, the pastor knowing for sure that it is evi, tempted people creating chaos on earth - kept quiet and knew this was an inner war he had to fight for himself. The devil - listening as well - being sneaky and answering the man instead: “You want to know?”, he asked alluring. The pastor cried. “Yes..all this blood and murder..” Content the devil whispered into the ear of the Pastor, telling him all the sins of the people in town, showing him that there is no such thing as innocence. No, every time someone dared to go to the confessional, it was not the Pastors voice answering him. Something dark devoured his soul that night, letting him lose hope in good and moral. And he shamed them. And he pushed their souls to the cliff in times of gruesomeness. And no one dared to put a foot into the church, even after the war. Because an old, bald man with bloodstained eyes wrote hieroglyphics on the wall at night, talked in gibberish and dared to haunt everyone who stepped into this holy place with their sinfull souls.

Aquarius: Immoral:

24.11.2017. Day 23. I didn’t leave the labor for almost a month now. I am not interested in eating. I don’t want to sleep. I just...can’t stop hearing those screams of this...abstrusity the doctor shot two days ago. I think he lost his mind. He thinks creating live is like cooking: grabbing some ingredients that seem to get along together and putting it all into one mixing bowl - hoping for the best. But that’s not it. That’s against nature, that is...disgusting. He is whispering names to those dead mutated baby animals. (Sophie, wasn’t it?) He hopes for them to live, but how are they supposed to live if they can’t even move their limbs? I wonder now, how far will he go? I am afraid he will test on me. I am a female, perfect to give birth to whatever he wants me to. I need to find a way out of here, before I become one of his subjects. He looks at me always a little too long at times. And he complimented my wide hips once. I will hide this letter somewhere safe, so he won’t find it, but please, if someone’s gonna find this and me, nurse ▇▇ ▇▇▇ is no more, please, stop this madness. He has a cellar I am not allowed to go in, God knows what he is keeping in there, since I already know where he is keeping the animals. To whoever reads this, stay safe, don’t be fooled by easy money making like me.

Pisces: Otherworldly :

Mom doesn’t believe me.

She doesn’t believe that there is a Boogeyman in the closet, with yellow eyes and long, long fingers that tries to grab little children in their sleep. She doesn’t believe that when I close the door behind me, I can hear someone scratching at the other side of it. She doesn’t believe that there is someone standing in front of the window at night, that’s why I close the curtains always for her and force her to look away when the dark figures in the mirrors try to scare her. Mom hates the footsteps at night, but I just try to catch those bats that get into our attic every night. He sends them and tries to scare her so much so that she falls down the stairs and breaks her neck.

Mom didn’t believe me back then and years later after I died in this house she still tries do deny the evil in it. But I am here to protect her. Even tho she is afraid of me, I love her and will forever be by her side.

#wanted to do that for a year #sorry if its not for everyone #i like.....writing stuff like that especially when its a bit more abstract like aries gemini or libra #astrology #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #own #mine

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lettersofsky · 4 years

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Gamzee Week 2020 - Day Three - Ships

Day Three for @gamzeeweek and it’s Ships day >:3c

I have very specific feelings about what dynamic I like for Gamzee ships and they’re probably awful but they’re mine. Such dynamics including: Gamzee and Tavros who used to date but decided they both wanted to work on self-improvement before relationships and later on just said ‘yeah nah’ to trying to date again but stayed really good friends. There’s also my other favourite Gamzee relationship type in here, the “Gamzee wants more out of the relationship but isn’t going to say that because they don’t want to push for more than they think they deserve and they think voicing their wants and/or needs will cause whoever they’re seeing to leave them”. Because I’m just like that.

“How have you been? Since we last talked that is.”

Tavros’ voice sounded the same as it always did, kind and soft but where once there’d been a timidness that Gamzee couldn’t understand now there was a self-assured confidence that suited him so much better in Gamzee’s opinion.

“Been on that up-and-up, ya’know? Things been going all kinds a well for me lately.”

“That’s good to hear.” And bless his pumper if Tavros didn’t sound ever bit as genuine as he could saying that as he did anything.

That was one of their favourite parts about Tavros, Gamzee would easily admit that. It had been for that brief period they’d tried out a flushed relationship and it was now years down the track after they’d called it off.

It just hadn’t been what either of them had needed at that moment, juggling a flushed relationship on top of everything else.

Tavros has been struggling with his confidence and how difficult it was to stand up for himself and the things he wanted in life, on top of needing to change his entire outlook on life with the removal of his certain death from his future.

While Gamzee had been in and out of rehab, relapsing and relapsing until they were able to get themselves together and free of addiction for a year running now. Add onto that the issues that came with trying to sober up and they just hadn’t been ready for a relationship.

Neither of them had been.

So a month or two after they started they called it off, mutually agreeing they needed to look after themselves first.

That hadn’t stopped them from being friends though, Gamzee doubted anything would stop Tavros from being their best friend.

Which was why they were both able to bring up the idea of trying to date again, after they’d both gotten to where they wanted to be in life, and shake their heads.

They were better as friends, that’s all there was to it. And that didn’t mean they didn’t care about each other it was just they both wanted different things now and they weren’t compatible flushed wise.

Not to mention Tavros had himself a fine piece of flushed partner in one Jake English, a fact Gamzee never failed to tease him about when he saw the human on his silly little show, talking about the adventures he’d had with Aradia and Tavros.

Tavros would always grin, head ducking in an old habit to hide his bronze-dusted cheeks and run his hand over the shaved hair at the back of his skull.

Gamzee was glad to see it; Tavros was their best friend and deserved someone who loved him as much as Jake did, deserved someone that would believe in him and would pay proper attention to his interests and the like. He deserved it.

“Are you still working at the bakery?” Gamzee blinked, realising they must have zoned out and shook their head slightly before answering.

“Yeah, yeah still workin’.” They hummed, wrapping their hands around the warmth of their mug. They liked tea, not so much to drink it but to let the warmth of it radiate in their hands, the smell was also nice most of the time. “Got a promotion to being head decorator with is pretty motherfuckin’ cool. I get to be doing most of the cakes now.”

“That’s great!” Tavros grinned and Gamzee returned it, doing their best to keep it up when Tavros asked his next question. “What about your quad-life? Any changes there?”

They mustn’t have tried hard enough because Tavros’ expression dropped soon after he finished speaking.

“I’m sorry, if you don’t—“

“Nah, you’re all kinds a good bro.” Gamzee promised waving their hand before setting it on the table so they could prompt their chin on it, looking out at the world passing. “S’just the same as it was last time. Got some casual date mates but neither of ‘em real wanna be attached like that.”

He doesn’t see Tavros’ brow furrows but he knows it’s happening.

“Isn’t—?”

“That’s different,” Gamzee said before Tavros could fully voice his skepticism that mirrored Gamzee’s own. “‘Sides, ain’t like I real mind yeah? I ain’t gonna be askin’ for things motherfuckers ain’t ready for.”

“But you can ask for things you want.” Tavros said, sounding too sure for Gamzee to do anything but shrug at.

“S’fine.”

It sounds weak to their own ears but thankfully Tavros doesn’t comment on it and instead starts to talk about the latest venture he, Jake and Aradia has just come back from.

Gamzee listened as well as they could, forcing themselves to hear their best friend talking about trips to far-off dangerous places instead of focusing on the fact that their date mates were both more than happy to have defined quadrants with other trolls, just not with him.

It was fine though.

They didn’t mind.

They knew better than to expect anything else. Knew better than to ask for anything else.

It was all kinds of fine.

#gamzee makara #gamzeeweek2020 #hs #writing #tavros nitram #Skyee Writes #There's also an uncurrent of #But Gamzee... those people have people in their other quadrants they date openly? How are you handling that? Not well :o)

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