#i had to scrub that cabinet for an hour because it had years of dust accumulated and i did the boards bc they were blank | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

i-got-these-words · 4 years ago

Text

Short Midnight Drabble ~

[Content warnings: Excessive drinking; dubious consent; victim self-blaming; jealousy; explicit sexual content; explicit language.]

The rhythm in his head had but one name. Tequila.

Guan Shan winced as a shooting pain lanced through him, striking dead centre in the space between his eyes like a rusty nail trying to screw its way through his skull. His heavy and only-somewhat-cooperative tongue rolled around a tart curse that would have had his mom smacking him upside the head and scolding him six ways to Sunday.

Fuck a cheese grater. Where was he?

Prying his eyes open, Guan Shan squinted into the dimly lit room, thankful that someone had had the foresight to draw the vertical blinds closed. The scintillating shimmer of a spring dawn spilt through the narrow gaps, casting the room and its slumbering occupants in hues of cerise and new beginnings.

Guan Shan didn’t recognise them, and he sure as fuck didn’t believe in new beginnings. Or second chances. He was forced to clench his teeth against a wave of nausea when he tried to sit up, his body stiff and protesting. He took a few steadying breaths through his nose as the rusty nail asserted itself once again, burrowing deeper and laying claim to his alcohol-addled brain.

The room was littered with the usual post-party detritus, but in place of ransacked snack bowls, disposable red cups and crushed beer cans, there were half-empty food platters, fully empty champagne bottles and a slew of personalised confetti.

It came him to then—Jian Yi and Zheng Xi’s engagement party.

He instantly regretted coming. Then, just as quickly, felt bad for even thinking it; Jian Yi was the closest thing Guan Shan had to a friend, even if Guan Shan would never admit it. But then he remembered how, in the face of his hesitation, Jian Yi had assured Guan Shan that he wouldn’t be attending. After all, he was halfway across the globe and had already sent his apologies and felicitations in the form of an outrageously luxurious RV disguised as an engagement gift.

Shit.

Guan Shan needed to get out of there.

He took his time levering himself to his feet, swaying a little as the room spun. Gingerly, he lumbered past the handful of dozing guests, most of them more scantily dressed than they had been at the beginning of the party, limbs twisted around a partner—or partners—a piece of upholstered furniture, or a bottle of top-shelf liquor.

The air was thick with the scents of warm, canoodling bodies, an eye-watering floral fragrance someone had drenched themselves in the night before and the lingering traces of eau de fuck mist. Wrinkling his nose, Guan Shan scowled at the thought of partygoers going at it right there in the living room whilst he was passed out drunk on the couch. What happened to having some goddamn decorum?

Meandering out into the hallway in search of his chukka boots, Guan Shan rubbed his temples and wondered if it was too early in the day for the Sunday trains to be running. He considered getting an Uber back to his place, but he was trying to save up—for a wedding gift, a fucking suit because the one he owned was only fit to be worn at funerals, smart shoes that hadn’t been bought at a thrift store, and a round or two of over-priced drinks at the joint bachelor bash Jian Yi was already twittering about.

Fuckin’-A. He’d need to budget more tightly than he already had been, but he consoled himself with the option of selling the suit and shoes second-hand post-wedding and making up for the difference by picking up a few more shifts at the restaurant.

And making do with less than three hours of sleep a night.

Putting his monetary worries to one side, Guan Shan spent the better half of a minute getting tangled in the loose end of a congratulations banner that had come half-undone from the wall. As he passed the kitchen, he caught the time on the microwave’s digital display: five fucking am. The first train wasn’t due til half six.

Mood souring, Guan Shan ran a frustrated hand through his shorn hair, a little stiff and sticky from the product he’d fingered through it last night. His stomach lurched when he noticed the wretched bottle of jalapeño-infused tequila on the breakfast bar and he wondered why he’d thought drinking himself to oblivion would be a good idea. Not only had it been one of his more foolish decisions, it hadn’t even fucking worked.

Guan Shan could remember, clear as day, how his mouth had dried up and his heart had dithered like a fucking damsel in distress when he’d spotted He Tian sauntering through Jian Yi and Zheng Xi’s verdant backyard. With his signature cocksure swagger, He Tian had garnered the attention of many a guest sprawled on rattan garden furniture. Guan Shan had envied them their insouciance as they sipped chilled champagne from sparkling glasses and got their fill of a fabulous ass furnished in dark denim. Guan Shan, on the other hand, had ensconced himself in the kitchen in an attempt to avoid crossing paths with his ex.

That, too, hadn’t fucking worked.

With an hour to kill, Guan Shan found himself in the guest bathroom, splashing his face with arctic-cold water in the hopes that it would chink away at the haze of his hangover. In anticipation of having overnight sojourners, Jian Yi or Zheng Xi—more likely the latter—had stacked a pile of sealed toothbrushes and bottles of mouthwash on the window ledge.

Guan Shan felt marginally human after he’d scrubbed his teeth and freshened up. He chanced a look in the mirrored cabinet above the sink and grimaced. His rose gold hair, which had been a deliberate mess of spikes at the beginning of the night was now nothing short of a grooming disaster. His cheeks were flushed from the cold wash, masking the dusting of freckles on his face that bloomed and waned with the seasons. Normally a blazing liquid copper, his eyes were a dull brass, tarnished by too many shots and not enough winks.

The mouth-watering aroma of morning coffee wafted through from under the bathroom door and Guan Shan hoped whoever was up was brewing it strong. He was downing a couple of Advil he’d filched from the small cabinet when he noticed a bruise peeking out from the collar of his shirt. He leaned closer to the mirror, trying to get a better look.

Motherfucker. It was an honest-to-fuck hickey.

As his already-shit mood took a nosedive, Guan Shan ground his molars, the flush on his cheeks deepening with anger. Who the fuck had put it there? And when? Guan Shan couldn’t remember making out with anyone last night and, given that he was fully clothed sans shoes, the necking session had probably not gone past first base.

Probably.

Had he been so blitzed out that he couldn’t remember letting someone suck a bruise on his person? Fuck.

Fuck!

Guan Shan’s ire took an ugly turn. He shouldn’t have put himself in that fucking position. He should’ve known better. Seeing He Tian had fucked him up and Guan Shan had responded by getting shitfaced.

Eyes stinging, Guan Shan swiped viciously at his face with another palmful of frosty water. Just as he turned to the toilet and unzipped his fly, the bathroom door swung open.

He Tian paused in his stride to blink at Guan Shan. Then proceeded to make his way to the sink.

��Do you fucking mind?” Guan Shan growled, ignoring the way his insides squirmed at the sight of a sleepy-looking He Tian: softly tousled locks, a rumpled silk shirt and black boxer briefs that were so tight his dick was one cough away from indecent exposure.

Opening the cabinet and rummaging through the contents, He Tian mumbled a curt, “Nope.”

Guan Shan knew he was on the verge of snapping, and he let his anger simmer to a boil as He Tian popped the cap off the Advil container and knocked back a few pills. When he was done guzzling a mouthful of water right from the tap, his gelid grey eyes slid to Guan Shan. He Tian lofted a dark brow and the motion shouldn’t have been as sensual as it was.

“It’s not like you haven’t pissed in front of me before,” He Tian mused. “In fact—”

“Finish that sentence and you’ll be shitting out your own teeth for the next year,” Guan Shan snarled.

A smirk ghosted He Tian’s lips and the challenge in his eyes made Guan Shan’s stupid heart stutter like a gin-soaked queen in stilettos. “—I distinctly recall how much it turned you on.”

The illusion that he had any self-control around He Tian shattered as Guan Shan pivoted on his heel and plunged towards the taller man, fists raised and powered up.

But He Tian was ready for him. He’d always been fucking ready for him.

Guan Shan’s knuckles barely grazed the hard-lined jaw it was aiming for as He Tian swiftly dodged to the side. When Guan Shan brought up his left elbow to ram it into He Tian’s obscenely, perfectly straight nose, He Tian ducked like he was made of liquid and not the stacked muscle Guan Shan knew was rolling under that naturally tan skin. He Tian countered with a friendly jab to Guan Shan’s kidney; it wasn’t meant to hurt, and it didn’t. But it did momentarily surprise Guan Shan and He Tian predictably took advantage of his hesitation.

The bathroom cabinet shook as Guan Shan’s back collided with the tiled wall.

He Tian closed in on him, outstretched arms boxing Guan Shan in from either side and leaving He Tian wide open to a counterattack, one that they both knew wouldn’t come.

Guan Shan blamed his sluggish reflexes on the hangover from hell and, this close up, he could see that He Tian hadn’t come away completely unscathed either from a night of liberal drinking and liberal morals.

His eyes were rimmed pink, half-lidded and weary. His weekend stubble was a velvet shadow that would have taken a younger He Tian a week to grow out. His post-party redolence was a mixture of faded cologne, the spicy notes of celebratory fizz, and a familiar musk that reminded Guan Shan of lazy mornings in bed, sun-warmed sheets, and an intimacy that didn’t involve swapping spunk.

Guan Shan’s throat tightened like a vice when he spied the flecks of dark red on He Tian’s crumpled white collar, and the grisly bite mark on the side of his neck that was responsible.

“I’ve barely said two words to you and you’re already trying to break my face,” He Tian drawled in a voice that was as deep as it was dark, and made all the more dangerous by a disarming smile. “What crawled up your ass this fine morning?”

Read the full fic here: Love Bites and Bruises

#19 days #19 days fic #fanfic #fanfiction #drabble #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #love bites and bruises

141 notes · View notes

thestyleswritings · 4 years ago

Text

Fix You

"We talked about something you said to me a while ago." She says, tone short. He couldn't tell if she was angry or if she was being shy about something.

"Well? I'd love to hear what I said that you're still thinking about months later and talkin’ to your therapist about, baby." The hand that lay stationery on her thigh squeezed a bit, encouraging her to talk to him.

"You said something about making a baby with me. Haven't been able to stop thinking about it." She muttered, biting her lower lip. His whole body went rigid beneath her at that.

Or - The one where you have depression and Harry leads you in the right direction, and then some

(6.1K)

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Mention of Mental Health Issues, VERY brief mentions of suicide, Language, Possible Breeding Kink(??), Smut (at the end)

Masterlist

I wrote this in one night,,, shout out to mania.This isn’t even what I was working on. I don’t know if this is something that many people will want to read but it definitely brought a smile to my face to write. Do I need therapy? Probably. Will I ignore that and continue to escape my own mind through fiction? Absolutely. Reblog/Like if you enjoy!

Harry knew she'd been struggling for a long time. It wasn't like her depressive periods lasted very long when they happened, maybe around a week or so, but when they hit, they hit her hard. He'd asked her when they first started dating, years ago, why she never invited him over and why she always went to his place, and at first she didn't want to tell him. It was embarrassing to her that she sometimes got into these periods where she didn't even want to lift her head from the pillow, let alone tidy up her flat.

Harry eventually went over to her place once she felt comfortable enough to let him. She knew he wasn't going to judge her, and she knew all he wanted was to help her feel better. He stayed at her flat for hours the first time he came over, helping to fold the laundry she had done days before, dusting the bookshelf, clearing out the refrigerator. He'd joked they were a perfect match since he loved to clean up while listening to music they both loved; it relaxed his mind. His love language was acts of service anyway, which he constantly had to remind her of. He didn't mind doing anything and everything in his power in order to alleviate his lover's stress. She had sworn to Harry she'd try her best to keep the place in tiptop shape, but he didn't actually expect her to.

He'd lost more than one friend to severe depression and he knew it was nothing to take lightly. Unfortunately, he also knew the signs to look for in suicidal people all too well. He could tell she had become moodier and spent a good bit of her day in bed either sleeping or just staring off into the void. She texted him that she was at home more and more, opting out of seeing her close friends for drinks or dinner. He hadn't seen her, either. It was all beginning to worry him deeply. He knew she'd have bad days, he'd signed up for that, but this was bigger than just a rough day. It had been going on for nearly two weeks and he knew he couldn't wait to address it any longer. He wanted to approach her tenderly. He was fearful that if he misspoke, she would shut down.

That's how he ended up at her door one evening, unannounced. He brought along two sunflowers, one significantly taller than the other. He'd seen them at the florist's downstairs and they made him smile to himself. They were her favourite flower, and the posture of them reminded him of both of them. He hoped they would make her smile, too.

He didn't bother ringing the bell, fishing out the spare key she had made up for him from his jeans pocket. When he stepped through the threshold, his heart sunk. There were empty cups on the coffee table, and he knew that meant she wasn't eating. If she were, there would've at least been a bowl or two. In that regard, her untidiness was helpful. He could assess the situation before even having to talk about it.

He sighed deeply as he gently places the sunflowers down on the kitchen island, walking over to clear the short table in front of the loveseat. He could practically feel the pain she was in and he hated. He hated the fact that she had to be stuck with the short end of the stick. He walks the cups over to the sink, running the water over them for a moment before grabbing the sponge on the ledge of the sink to scrub them clean.

As he washed the cups, he thought of what he could say to her that would actually prove to be helpful. It wasn't easy to always have the right words when the person hearing them didn't care if they lived or died. He knew if he told her outright how upset he was seeing her this way, it would only serve to make her feel worse that she couldn't help it. He didn't want to force or therapy on her, but he really wasn't left with many options. He wouldn't lose someone else to this. He couldn't live with himself, nor without her.

He shuts off the tap and dries his hands on the cute yellow kitchen towel that was always draped on the cabinet next to the sink. With the flowers in hand, he cracks open her bedroom door. There are a few small piles of clothing around, t-shirts and sweatpants carelessly discarded based on the look of how everything was inside out.

The sight of her breaks his heart. She was curled up tight beneath her fuzzy blanket that he knew she only pulled out when she was missing him and his snuggles, facing the wall while her arm hung limply over the stuffed dragon he'd gotten her ages ago. He could tell she hadn't gotten up all day, that much was evident. All the lights in the apartment had been off when he'd arrived and there was a stillness to the air. She hadn't even answered his messages sent hours earlier. He thought the worst for a moment, frozen in place with wide eyes trained on her unmoving body before hearing a soft snore coming from her, easing his breathing exponentially.

He sits on the edge of her bed, placing the flowers with a shaky hand in a cup of water that had been sitting on her bedside table. He brings his hand up to the dip of her waist, gently rubbing up and down the length of her torso to soothe her awake.

"Wake up, bug. S'me. Brought ya a little present." He coos at her once he heard her intake a large breath, reaching up to tuck her thick hair behind her ear. He could tell she hadn't washed it in a few days and made a mental note to encourage her to shower with him. She stirred under his touch, like she could tell it was him even when she was deep in slumber.

"Harry?" She calls out quietly into the dark, feeling the warmth of his palm against her cheek. Had she been more awake and alert, she might've even been sheepish at her disheveled appearance. She already knew he saw all the empty cups on her table that had once been full of tea and coffee. She felt ashamed.

"Yeah baby, it's me. Can you turn around and let me see that pretty face?" He croons, removing the hand that had been stroking her hair.

She sighs deeply before turning over in her full sized bed, eyes focusing on the plush faux-down blanket beneath her. His hand slowly approaches her face again, this time grabbing hold of her chin softly to have her look at him. He smiles sadly at her. She knew that look. It's the same way her mother would look at her when she came into her room as a teenager. Pity, almost. It made her feel weak.

"Hello, my angel. Have you been in bed all day, lovie?" He dotes on her, running his thumb across her cheekbone. He knew the answer, he just wanted her to acknowledge it.

"Mhm. What time is it?" Her voice is hoarse, as if she'd been crying the night before. The sound of it deflated Harry's heart in his chest.

"S' a quarter til six, lovie. What time did you fall asleep?" He asks, leaving his hand on her face to cradle her soft cheek.

"Dunno. Seven, eight? This morning sometime." She replies, sighing at her own erroneous sleeping schedule. Harry presses his lips together silently, taking in her words.

"Alright. Well, I'm here now, so up you get." He requests softly. Softly enough where she doesn't find it demanding. He stands from her bed, holding a hand out to her.

"Did I hear you say you brought me something?" She asks as she sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. He chuckles at her, knowing that a huge part of her mental illness caused her to crave buying material possessions, only for them to mean nothing to her the very next day. It was something she was truly trying to work on.

"Yes baby, I did. S' on the bedside table." He informs her, waiting for her to turn and see them before he walks closer to her. She caresses the vibrant petals of the yellow flower, biting her lower lip between her teeth.

"I... I love them, Harry. Thank you." He can hear the tightness in her throat and he worries that he should've just not gotten them at all for a moment before he sees the genuine smile across her lips.

"I saw them and thought of you. Well, us, really. Don't they look like us?" He beams at her, and she sort of thinks she can see what he means. He looks like a sunflower when he smiles. He brings light and beauty into her life. Maybe that's why she found herself wanting to cry. Because she felt like she wasn't worthy of the human sunflower standing in her room.

"Yeah. They do look like us." She offers a smile, smaller this time now that she's thought about it. She wraps her arms around his middle, allowing the overwhelming feeling of warmth and comfort to consume her for a moment before pulling away.

"I should probably go clean off the coffee table, huh?" She says humorlessly, walking the way of the door before his voice stops her.

"I did it for you, baby. Why don't you come with me to have a nice warm shower? I want to talk to you about some things while we're in there anyway." Panic strikes her still; what did he want to talk about? Was he finally fed up? Did he find someone else, someone who could take care of themselves properly? Was that why he was being especially sweet on her? She felt like she could throw up. She didn't know how to do this without him anymore, and that alone scared her. It wasn't to say she didn't adore him for all that he does for her, she just wished he didn't feel like he had to. She wished she could get her mind well enough to care to do even the simplest tasks.

She nods her head and thanks him quietly for straightening up before walking into her bathroom and stripping down to nothing. She reaches into the shower to turn on the water and waits for it to get warm, as well as Harry. She didn't like the sound of wanting to talk, even if he hadn't necessarily said it in a menacing way. When he joins her, he follows her lead by taking everything he wore off. He didn't want to look at her body for too long and become distracted like he often did when he saw her, especially when he really saw her. She had soft features and her body was always so pliant in his hands. Though, he couldn't allow his mind to wander right now.

He gets in first, testing the water and making sure it was around the temperature they both liked before reaching for her hand and pulling her in gently. She expected him to keep some distance, so when he wrapped his arms around her from behind as they stood under the steady stream of water, she was a bit taken back. Was he being overly affectionate as a way to say goodbye? He places a few kisses to her shoulder before peeling himself away and grabbing her peach shampoo off the built-in shelf. She leans her head back to make sure her hair is all wet before allowing him to lather her hair with the sweet smelling soap for her. She always loved how he massaged her scalp with it.

"So, I know you might think I wanted to talk about something bad, but I promise it's nothing bad. I just want you to know that before you start making scenarios up in your mind." He speaks softly, matching the pressure of his fingertips in her hair. He sees her shoulders sag and he feels awful. She'd already started thinking of potential issues he may have wanted to talk about. He carries on by rinsing the shampoo out and repeating, creating a much foamier lather the second time around. He rinses it out for her by guiding her beneath the waterfall, following up with the peach conditioner.

"What do you want to talk about?" She whispers, enjoying the feeling of Harry's hands moving lower with her wash rag, scrubbing her limbs delicately as to not harm her skin.

"Well... you. You know how much I love you, yeah? Can't fuckin' live without you, you know? Hurts me when we're apart for too long, or when we have to sleep alone. I, um... I just want you to be happy," he sighs. He prattled on a bit; his thoughts were jumbled and he didn't know how else to tell her this.

"I want to be able to know you're okay when I'm not with you, even if I want to be with you always. I know you're going through a rough spot right now, and I want you to have help. More help than just me," he's as gentle as he can be, and she appreciates it. It doesn't mean she wants to cry any less, of course, but she knows he has the purest intentions.

He wants her to thrive, not just survive. He knew he could only do so much for her before she had to start doing things for herself. He loved to baby her and take care of her, but not when he had to. He wanted to help her shower sometimes and feed her because he wanted to, not because she wouldn't do it herself if he didn't.

"Are you saying you want me to find a therapist?" She asks softly. She's not opposed to the idea, she just never found the strength to actually care enough about her own mental well-being to make an appointment.

"Are you okay with that? Would you be open to it if I helped you find someone to talk to? And maybe try medication? I know it's a lot at first, but it helps so many people. Just can't keep seeing you so sad. Hurts my soul, since we share the same one." He turns her around now to look at her property while they spoke. He could see the furrow in her brow, like someone was pinching them together with their fingers.

He saw the tears welling up in her eyes and his heart nearly explodes at the pout forming on her face. This isn't what he wanted to happen. He didn't want to make her cry. Her chin trembles as she tries her hardest to look anywhere but at his face.

"Oh, baby," he coos, wrapping her up in his arms once more, "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so sorry, m'love," he kisses the top of her head, peppering them all around wherever he could reach. "M' just worried, baby. When I came in earlier it looked like you- I just, I can't imagine what I would do if-" he's slightly panicked now, she can feel his heart picking up it's pace. She didn't know that was something he worried about with her and it made her whole body ache.

"You didn't. It wasn't that. I would really appreciate if you could help me find someone to help me further. I'm crying because I'm hurting you when I don't deserve you in the first place," she sniffles, pressing her face further into the slippery skin of his neck. "You deserve someone who's whole, someone who you don’t have to worry about."

"Hey," he pulls back from her, holding both her shoulders so he can look her in the eyes, "I love you. So much that I'd die without you at this point. Just told you that. Please don't put thoughts and words into my mouth. I mean everything I say to you, don't let your brain fool you into thinking it's not true. When I tell you I love you, please know I mean that with everything I have and everything I am. I'm not whole without you. I worry because I love you so much that it would kill me to lose you," His voice is soft yet firm all at once, conviction filling his tone.

"Promise?" She asks weakly, knowing what he's telling her is the truth. Her brain tended to sabotage her.

"I promise." He kisses her lips, backing her underneath the water once more to rinse her off before reaching behind her to shut off the water. He steps out before her, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around her short body.

"I'm going to make something for us to eat, angel. Come sit with me at the counter so I don't get lonely?" He asks once they're both dressed. He wore her sweatpants and t-shirt while she wore his Christmas themed pyjama pants with his Spice World hoodie.

"You want me to?" She can't help but wonder why he wants her to be around him so much. She knew he loved her and they'd been dating for almost four years, but she found herself to be a buzzkill. She just exuded sadness, she thought. Harry scoffs at her playfully, rolling his eyes. He knew she couldn't help but doubt herself, but he still found it absurd. Of course he'd want to be around her all of the time. She was so accepting and loving, even if she didn't think so. She was good.

"Obviously, angel. Always want you within two feet of me. As a matter of fact, I wish you were pocket-sized so I could bring you everywhere with me until you got sick of seeing my big dumb head." He smirks at her, making her genuinely laugh. She hadn't done that in a while.

"You're such a dramatic nutter." She laughs, pushing him away from her so she could walk into the kitchen to find a stool to occupy.

"Me!? Were you not the one that cried because you couldn't stop thinking about The Hunger Games?" He comes in behind her, smacking her ass playfully in retaliation of her push before quickly walking at least an arms distance away from her.

"That's literally not fair? Finnick deserved so much better than that. You cried when we watched it together too, fucker!" She explains even more dramatically than he had been in the first place, as if he hadn't been there too. He chuckles as he opens her refrigerator, kissing his teeth when he finds nothing defrosted to cook. All she really had was oat milk, a bottle of homemade cold brew and a few cups of yoghurt.

"Fair enough. I'm going to take this chicken down so we can make it tomorrow, but since there's nothing else, do you wanna do Japanese?" Kicking the door closed as he walks closer to her with two water bottles in hand.

"You know I can never say no to Japanese. I'll order it," she offers, but he's already shaking his head with his phone in hand.

"It's on me. We're eating food you bought tomorrow, s'only fair. I wanna know what else you could never say no to? Like maybe... moving in with me?" He says without looking up as he places the order, already having her favourite meal saved on his phone, along with his own.

At first, she doesn't react. She doesn't move a single muscle, not even her eyes. He doesn't take her stunned silence personally, waiting for her to process what he'd just offered. He can practically see the cogs turning when he looked at her.

"You want me... to live with you... in your big beautiful mansion of a house..." She says slowly, turning her gaze to his own. He exhales a laugh at the flabbergasted expression on her face.

"Yes, baby. Told you I'd bring you everywhere with me, and we've been together almost 4 years, known each other 6. I don't know about you but I'm ready to wake up to your face every day." He smirks once more, reaching out to tucker her hair behind her ear like he always did. He just wanted to see more of her pretty face.

"You- I... Harry. You know what? Yeah. I will." She had began to refuse before catching herself. This was a normal next step in a long term relationship. She wouldn't sabotage this. She was a better version of herself when she was with him, and they made each other happy.

"Yeah? You will? I'm so happy baby, thank you. I'm tired of waking up alone and missing you every day. It's dumb." He tackles her in a hug, attacking her with a million kisses. He doesn't bother holding back the few happy tears he sheds, he doesn't care and he knows she doesn't either.

—

He had proposed to her the day she moved in, after she unpacked her last bedroom item and found a place for it. It was the silly green dragon, who now lived between two puffy pillows on their shared bed. He'd had the ring burning a hole in his dresser for over a year and he couldn't stand it anymore once he saw how at home she'd made herself. That, and he wanted to make love to her while she wore the sparkling diamond.

Something about the visual prompted him to drop to his knee behind her instantly.

It had been a year since she moved into Harry's “big beautiful mansion of a house”, and they were happier than ever. She was seeing a therapist that she enjoyed, someone whom she felt comfortable with. She had also begun taking medication. The first few prescriptions weren't right, but Harry encouraged her to keep trying different things and held her hand along the way. She finally found the one that matched her chemistry, and it worked a treat. She could focus on things better, and she had the energy to do so many things that she would even go on the occasional run with Harry. It was amazing for him to see her in such high spirits. It was like the her that only he could see was finally free, brightening up the world around her. More importantly, she could finally see herself that way, too.

A few months after she said yes, he had said something to her that she couldn't shake.

"Wanna make babies with you."

He'd said it to her in passing, staring at her with hearts in his eyes as she sat on the grass in the garden. The sun was hitting her skin so beautifully and she just looked so radiant. He couldn't help it. It had just slipped out.

She brushed it off at the time, but now it was all she could think about. She had even told her therapist about it. While the older woman seemed excited for her, she still asked if that was something she'd want. If she'd even thought about it.

And truthfully, she had thought about it before. A lot. She's thought about Harry rubbing her tummy, kissing it and singing. She's thought about them falling asleep together when the baby is finally born. She's thought about how much of a daddy's girl they'd have, if it turned out to be a girl. She's thought about how if he babies her this much, she would love to see how much he'd baby their real baby. She's thought about how much she and Harry would love their shared creation. She’s thought about how much more love it could bring into their lives.

She'd arrived home from a session one day after work to find Harry peacefully reading on the couch in the soft yellow light of their living room. She took a moment to admire him from this perspective before making her presence known. Jingling her keys a bit harder than usual, making his head turn in time to watch as she hangs them up before shedding her coat and walking over to the back of the couch.

"Hello, my love." She coos, rubbing her flat palms against his chest. She kisses the side of his face a few times and he grabs hold of her hands, clutching her closer and enjoying her warmth.

"Hi, lover. How was today? Work was alright?" He lets her hands go with a kiss so he can dog-ear's his page before shutting his book, giving her his undivided attention. She rounds the couch and decides to sit on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. His hands automatically shift to hold her waist.

"Work was the same. People are obnoxious and rude. What can I do? Session went well too. Talked about something I've been thinking about a lot." She looks down at him, tracing her finger subconsciously against the silver chain he never took off. She can't help but smile at how pretty her lover is, making him reflect the same expression.

"Want me to go down there and give them a talking to? You know I'd do it." He glares playfully, furrowing his brows and puffing his chest. She laughs softly at his silly demeanour. It's one of the things she loves the most about him.

"Shut up. Annoying," She laughs, hiding her face in his neck. He laughs with her, dropping a hand to one of her thighs to smack it lightly for her comment, ultimately choosing to leaving it resting there.

"That's you. Anyway, what did you talk about? Is there something bothering you?" He asks, ignoring the way her brow raises at him for calling her the annoying one. They had such a lighthearted relationship. It filled them both with joy.

"We talked about something you said to me a while ago." She says, tone short. He couldn't tell if she was angry or if she was being shy about something.

"You said something about making a baby with me. Haven't been able to stop thinking about it." She muttered, biting her lower lip. His whole body went rigid beneath her at that.

"You've been thinking about it this whole time and didn't say anything?" He questions softly, looking up at her with loving eyes. She nods her head, looking off to the side to gather her thoughts.

"Yeah. I... I really want that, Harry. I already promised to love you forever when I said yes, and you make me so much better. I can't imagine how amazing you'll be as a father. I, um, I also stopped taking my birth control a few days ago." She spoke with confidence. She knew this was what she wanted, and she could tell he did too. There was something in the way she spoke about it that made him stand with her in his arms.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to put a baby in you?" He speaks boldly, almost matter of fact. He wasn't asking, he was confirming. She says nothing, choosing instead to nod furiously.

He beams at her, bringing her all the way to their bedroom before sitting her delicately on the bed. She rolled her eyes at that; it's not like she was already pregnant. He catches the look and reaches to her shoulder to shove her on the bed with an eye roll of his own.

"Better?" He mocks, grinning from ear to ear at her shocked expression. He takes his shirt, that was actually her shirt, off along with his joggers before clambering on top of her.

"You're such a knobhead." She laughs, taking off her own shirt. She didn't feel like waiting.

"A knobhead that you want to come in you. A knobhead that you want to father your children!" He exclaims jokingly. She can't help the grin on her face, pulling his chin until their lips met. Her grin evaporates when she feels him practically rip her skirt off, alongside her flimsy thong. She gasps at the feeling of his fingers on her, rubbing over her slit ever so gently. Feeling how wet she was for him.

"Were you thinking about this on your way home? You're fucking drenched." His voice had lost all sense of humour, acquiring a certain gravel to it that only served to make her wetter. She only nods, kissing his lips in a pleading sort of way.

"You want my baby this bad, huh? Want me to make you a mummy? Want to make me a daddy? S' that it, angel?" She couldn't take it anymore. The sound of his voice was driving her insane and she had checked if she was ovulating this morning and found out she was. It was like her body was demanding for him.

"Yes! Yes, lover. Please? Want it so bad," Harry felt his heart warm at the tone of her voice. He knew they called each other lover in bed when they were feeling too romantic, too lost to the moment. In a good way. She was truly desperate to try for a little person with him. Quickly, he rolls them over so she's sat atop him once more. He kisses her immediately, bringing his hand down to dip his fingers into her now sopping wet hole.

She choked on a gasp as she felt him slide two in, curling them at the joint to apply pressure exactly where he knew she needed it. He took advantage of her head falling back, attacking her neck with tender love bites and kisses. His other hand roamed around her stomach and back for a bit before reaching for her chest, tweaking her nipple between two slender fingers. Her jaw dropped when she felt his thumb land on her clit, circling hard and fast.

"God, Harry! Fuck," she could hardly breathe at the efforts her lover was putting in. "Yes! Yes," her praise was quiet, but it fuelled him regardless.

He was always an attentive lover, but something about his actions were nearly feral. Like he couldn't get enough, no matter how much she gave him. He would always want more of her. More sound, more taste, more feeling. He wanted her to always evade and overwhelm his senses. He moans at her noises, along with the feeling of her clenching around his fingers.

"C'mon, lover. Come so I can put our baby in ya," he breathes against her neck, licking any patches of skin he can reach. Her eyes roll back at his words, crying out for both him and God.

"Tha's it, lover. Good girl," he whispers huskily, slowing the movement of his fingers and moving the other hand to hold her body even more tightly against his. When he can feel her body shuddering, he pulls his fingers from her and sticks them in his mouth, sucking them clean in a filthy way.

"Please put our baby in me," she requests in a small voice with a smile, tears streaking down her cheeks. She was so overwhelmed by him and by the prospect of what they were doing that she started crying happy tears. His smile is worth everything to her in that moment, pulling his face up for a kiss.

"Yeah, lover. I'll do that," his voice is tender, like his touch. He kisses her as he lays her body beneath him again, stopping for a moment to take in her form. Her body was so gentle and relaxed after he'd made her feel good, and he couldn't help but kiss her tummy. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her hair was starting to frizz, but she'd never looked better.

This wasn't by any means the first time they'd had sex without a condom but it was, however, the first time they'd done it without her taking birth control.

The rational part of their minds knew it wouldn't physically feel any better, but they couldn't help the buzz around them at the thought.

He kisses her neck lightly as he grasps himself, tugging a few times to make sure he was nice and hard for her. He knew he was already rock solid, but he wanted to be extra sure. This was important. When he pushes into her, his eyes roll to the back of his head. She grits her teeth at the feeling of being so full of her lover, digging her nails into his side.

He pushes the rest of the way in, taking a pause there for a moment. He could tell he was pressed against her in a delicious way from the look on her face. His hips started to create a rhythm they could both enjoy; deep and hard, slow and passionate. They were making love, after all.

"G'na be the best mum, fuck, I know it," he pants into her ear, leaning his body further into hers. She whines into his hair, lifting her hips off the bed to get closer to him, even if it wasn't possible.

"You're- oh my god, fuck! You're gonna be the best dad, you already take, oh shit, take such good care of me. Such a good lover,” she can tell her voice sounds fucked out, but hell if she gave a fuck. He squeezes her hand in response, kissing her neck again. He felt himself get hotter at her words. The way their bodies collided could be heard in the thick air around them, filling their ears with beautiful music.

She could hear it in the way he moaned in her ear that he was so close. She was, too, just at the thought of him filling her up with possibly more than just nut. They could get a baby out of this. Her eyes roll back as she practically howled in pleasure.

“Please come, please I wanna feel it,” she begged as she lost her mind, repeating her chant.

“Oh my fuck, yeah, baby. Finish for me first, lover. Good fucking girl,” he praises her, kissing along her collarbones as he fucked her through her orgasm. He was so close he could practically taste it, but he had to say something first.

“I love you, angel. I’m gonna love you forever.” His words are broken up between moans in her ear, making her cry out with him. She was so sensitive that when he let go and shot into her, she came again.

He could barely move once he was spent, dropping his weight to his elbows and laying on top of her chest, which was moving rapidly along with his own.

He kisses the skin beneath him as she plays with his hair, both too dazed to say anything.

She’s the first to break their silence when she tells him she loves him too.

“‘M bloody glad you love me too, or else it would be pretty awkward for us to have a baby together.” He mutters sarcastically, not even having the energy to lift his head. It was like she sucked out his soul and he needed 2 to 5 business days to get back to being functional. She’d have to call Jeff and let him know the bad news.

“You’re a dork. But, I wouldn’t choose anyone else to do this with. You helped me through the worst days and showed me what I could be. I owe you everything.” She cards her fingers through his hair, speaking softly.

“I resent that, firstly. But I’m proud I get to be this person for you. You’re everything to me, so you don’t owe me a thing. I’m just happy that you’re getting help for yourself. It’s not an easy thing to do, and I’m proud of you. Extremely fucking proud.” He had turned his head to where his chin was poking at her tummy so he could look at her face.

“I’m happy I took your advice. Outsourcing help doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong. It shows that you can pull yourself up and realise you have a problem, you know?” She tries to explain it, but he knows. He’d been telling her all along. He even went to therapy.

“Yeah, baby. I’m happy you’re here with me.” He says, and she knows he meant here, alive, not just here with him at that moment. She holds onto him a little bit tighter.

“I’ll always be here. I need you too much to go anywhere”

IF you can help support the blog, I have a Ko-Fi page :)

PS if you’re sexy, reblog this :o

#harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blog #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty #Harry Styles #boyfriendharry #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry 1d #1D FanFic #1dff #1d fic #1d imagines #masterlist #mobile masterlist

282 notes · View notes

arcane-apathy · 4 years ago

Text

Part 1

AN: Part 1 of 3 for this Male Naga X Female Reader. I’m hoping to get better at writing short stories, but it’ll take some practice. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): N/A

You didn’t know why you decided to leave home but your mind was already made up and the U-Haul was already packed. There was no going back now. You didn’t want to be a big city nurse anymore, and you also didn’t want to move back to your hometown. So, this year you decided to move to New Mexico, specifically Peralta. A town of a little over three thousand people. The eastern half of town right on the border of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation, and the Rio Grande River to the west. You could even see the Manzano Mountain Range in the distance.

The drive to Peralta was taxing, but unbelievably beautiful. No wonder why New Mexico is called The Land of Enchantment. You made it to your new home in the middle of the day, and the sun was high above you. Of course you decided to move in the middle of summer, the dry heat smacking you in the face as you got out of the rental truck. You shielded your eyes from the sun as you stared at your new home.

The property was near the end of a dirt road, about a city block away from the local cemetery. But you didn’t mind, in fact it made the house even cheaper. You’d just have to remember to cleanse the house whenever you got a chance. The house was a simple one-story pueblo style house, the faux-adobe outside was an ivory color, and the windows were painted pear green. It lacked the wooden vigas, making it obvious that it wasn’t an actual pueblo home. The house was small, the yard was huge, it had a detached stainless-steel garage, and a dirt driveway. All surrounded by a chain link fence with a gate.

It didn’t take you long to unload the U-Haul, considering you sold most of your things before you moved. You lay your mattress on the bedroom floor and the majority of boxes stay in your living room. You look at the time on your phone, there was still two hours until the U-Haul’s scheduled return time. Un-packing wasn’t the first item on the agenda, some serious cleaning needed to be done before you thought about anything else.

Granted the house wasn’t in horrible shape, but it was obvious that it’s been a few months since anyone has lived in it. The air was stuffy, there was dust on everything, and there was dirt all over the floors. You search for your bag of cleaning supplies that you bought at a Wal-Mart in Albuquerque, well prepared to clean. With the house being so small, it didn’t take you long to clean, so you took your time admiring your new home. The house was made in the seventies, the Spanish-style linoleum tiles in the kitchen being the proof. Yet it didn’t look like it came out of a home magazine that your grandmother would've read. There were some obvious updates throughout the years. Thankfully central air was one of them.

You returned the U-Haul and the towing dolly on time, driving your car back home. You stopped at a Domino’s on the way home, not yet ready to try the local food. Unpacking was the only thing on your mind. And no surprise to you, it took all night. Packing wasn’t easy, because you had to take things from their place and sort them into boxes. Unpacking was another challenge, the amount of times you switched which cabinet your plates went in was frustrating. By two in the morning you had everything put away, there were sheets on your bed, and your eyelids were heavy.

~~***~~

It’s been a month since you’ve moved, and you’ve loved it more that you’d ever thought. Living in your one bedroom house was a dream compared to any other apartment you’ve had before. You’ve gotten over the linoleum in the kitchen, and you couldn’t even imagine the house without it. The yard was easy to maintain, considering it was primarily dirt. You didn’t see much of your neighbors but they were nice from what you could tell. And the quiet was refreshing.

You spent most of your days at work, a health center in the middle of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation. The work was tough, and didn’t pay much, but it was obvious that they needed you there. According to your co-workers everyone wanted to work in the big cities and that smaller health centers, especially ones for the native populations, were constantly understaffed. You became a licensed practical nurse because you wanted to help people, and working in an at risk community fulfilled that goal.

To say you were surprised when your co-worker invited you to her birthday party in Albuquerque was an understatement. Although you didn’t know her that well, you still went. You needed socialization outside of the workplace and the occasional video calls with your family back home. So, you put on your best outfit and did your best to look presentable. The night started off at a restaurant, the food was amazing, and the company was actually enjoyable. After dinner you all went to a bar, so far it was a typical birthday party for a bunch of girls in their twenties.

You stood against the wall, nursing a drink as everyone else in your group dance. Normally you weren’t such a party pooper, but these girls weren’t much of your crown. It was too early in the night to go home, and they all knew that you didn’t work tomorrow so you couldn’t use that excuse. Hence why you resorted to people watching. The bar was packed with humans and non-humans alike, all dancing with each other. There were already a few couples sharing face in the darker corners.

“You look bored,” a blunt voice shook you from your daze. You look to the side, noticing as a tall man slithered up to you. Not metaphorically. Your eyes instantly gravitated to his tail, the bulk of muscle trailing closely behind him as he moved. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the pattern of his scales. The base was beige and was decorated in an assortment of splotches all in varying shades of brown, and at the very end of it all was a black rattle. He laughs at your reaction, “have you never seen a Naga before?”

“Not up close, there weren’t that many back home,” you flush a little as you are caught staring. Which wasn’t a lie, you didn’t see many growing up, nor did you encounter a lot at work either. A surprising statistic you’ve learned since you moved is that New Mexico has the highest population of Naga in the United States, with Texas as a close second. You have seen a few as you wandered around Peralta and the neighboring towns, but you have yet to talk to them.

“Oh, you’re from out of town. How exciting,” he smiles and extends a hand, “Santiago Rosales.” You shake his hand and introduce yourself. His smile grows and the rainbow lights from the dance floor reflect off his fangs. You couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man, tan skin, curly raven hair, a triangular face with a strong jawline, and golden serpentine eyes. You look back at the dance floor and notice one of your co-workers giving you a thumbs up. “So, not to sound cheesy… But why is a pretty chica like you, not out there?”

You flush a little at his definitely cheesy comment, “I’ve already done my socializing for the evening, but if I leave now I’ll never hear the end of it at work. What about you, why aren’t you out there?”

He motions to his tail, “I’m in no mood to get stomped on.”

“Oh… I didn’t even think of that. Does it happen often?”

“It happened a lot when I was a kid, but I was kinda a wimpy kid too,”

You raise a brow as you look at how snugly his button up fits to his arms and chest, “wimpy?”

“Hey I wasn’t always like this, I was a string bean growing up. It took years for this to happen,” he motions to himself proudly. You laugh and finish your drink, Santiago looks at the empty glass, “may I offer to buy you another drink?”

You contemplate it for a second then shake your head, “no thank you, I have to drive home tonight. And I don’t live in Albuquerque.”

“Is it too weird to ask where you live then?”

“Peralta,” you shrug.

“Really? My mom lives in Peralta… Maybe I’ll see you around?”

~~***~~

And you did, the first time you saw Santiago was at the grocery store. You were trying to figure out what brand of refried beans to buy when he came down the aisle, slithering alongside an older Naga woman. He didn’t acknowledge you, which made you question whether he recognized you at all. The second time you saw him was at the post office, and he immediately smiled when he saw you. Your heart couldn’t help to flutter at the sight of him. The third time was at the bank, both of you waiting in line at the tellers.

The fourth time was when everything changed. You were standing in the bathroom aisle at Target in Albuquerque, looking through the wide array of shower curtain options. You heard your name being called and you looked up, expecting to see someone from work, possibly even a regular patient. But, instead your eyes were graced with the sight of a familiar Naga in a taut shirt and a leather jacket, “oh, hi Santiago.”

“Hola, looking for a shower curtain I see,” he smiles as he sidles up beside you.

You fluster a little, realizing you were still wearing your baggy maroon scrubs. “Indeed I am, it’s been two months and my house still looks like no one lives in there.”

He looks you up and down, his eyes stopping at the embroidered patch above your breast, “you work at Isleta Health Center?”

Your brows knit in confusion and you look down at the patch, resisting the urge to face palm, “yes, yes I do. Sorry, I just got off my shift and I kinda forgot I was still wearing this monstrosity.”

“You don’t look bad at all if I’m being honest…”

Damn he was slick, “it’s not the worst, but I hate how plain it is. I sold all my fun scrubs when I moved, so I’m stuck with the standard issues until I buy more.” He nods and looks at the shower curtains in your hands curiously. “So, what are you here for?”

"Uhh… Honestly I don't even know anymore. They didn't have what I needed, so I just started to aimlessly slither around the store. And then I found you."

"Aimlessly wandering around Target can be dangerous," you chuckle.

"I haven't learned my lesson apparently," he gives you a lopsided smile, "last time it happened I came home with a pillow that had some motivational quote.”

“Yikes,” you laugh and put one of the curtains back onto it’s metal hook.

“Yikes indeed,” he crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at the options before him. “So, do you have any style in mind.”

“Santiago, you don’t need to help me.”

“I fear if I don’t help you, you’ll be stuck in the store until it closes,” he teases with a wink.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, “alright fine. My house is pueblo style, built in the seventies. The bathroom was recently remodeled before they sold it, so the walls are plain, it has normal wood, and laminate tiles that look like travertine. It’s very boring.”

“So you need something to spice it up?”

“Exactly,” you pick up a geometric patterned one, looking at the picture on the cardboard.

Santiago shakes his head, "nope", he takes it out of your hand and puts it back. You look at him dumbfounded by how brash he was. He puts another one in your hands, “this one looks like you.”

You look down at the curtains, it was a simple floral. But with the way the bright flowers were stylized like they were from an Alfredo Ramos Martinez painting. “This is cute.”

“You look like a floral person.”

“How does one look like a floral person, without being an actual nymph?” He shrugs and you simply roll your eyes, “you’re lucky I tolerate you.”

He winces, “just tolerate?”

“Well, I don’t know you that well…”

“Then let's get to know each other,” his posture straightens. “Why don’t we go out for a coffee someday, as a date?” You must’ve stared at him like he grew another head because he immediately fell back on his statement, “or not a date?”

“No… A date is fine.”

“Is it?”

“Definitely.”

“Then why are you still looking at me like that?”

Your face instantly turns a scarlet color, “I… It's been awhile since I’ve been on a date. So, the fact that you are asking me on a date, in a Target, is mind boggling.”

“Do you want me to ask you outside the Target?”

“That’s not the point,” you sigh, trying to steady your breathing. “So, a date?”

Santiago smirks, “give me your phone.” You scowl and he shrinks at your stern gaze, “por favor?” Reluctantly you unlock and hand him your phone, watching as he makes himself a contact. “Text me when you get home, I should have a fantastic plan by then.”

“No coffee?”

“Nope, you deserve more than a coffee.” You flush again as he smiles victoriously, “I’ll let you get back to shopping so you can get home at a decent hour. Talk to you soon, cariño.” You watch as he slithers out of the aisle with a wave over his shoulder. You can’t help but stare, looking at the end of the aisle then back at the curtains in your hand. For some reason, the bright flowers just felt right. So, you put the package into your basket and head off to find the next item on your list. And you couldn’t wait until you got home.

#Naga X Reader #X Reader Miniseries #M Naga x F Reader #Exophilia #Terato #My Works #My Writing #Original Content #Monster X Reader

243 notes · View notes

andrewologist · 4 years ago

Text

Can’t Get Control of the World

first full length fic I’ve posted in over a year and it’s batlantern. I’m not sorry.

thank you @emmajeancoco-deactivated20001027 for editing this for me even though you had no clue what the fuck was happening <3

tw: blood, mild gore, panic attack

also on ao3

--------

The mission went bad.

Spectacularly, woefully, bad.

There were a lot of casualties. The intel the Oa received was outdated. The Lanterns were outmatched. The planet they were supposed to be protecting was in ruins.

1,009,953,907 casualties. Too many of them children. Hal had done the math in his head over and over. and over. and over. and over. From the end of the battle to the debrief on Oa to the flight home. There was nothing that Hal could have done to stop it, to change it.

It wasn’t his fault.

And yet.

He could still smell the awful stench of burnt flesh.

He could still see the terrified face of the child, who looked uncomfortably human.

He could still hear the screaming and, god, the pleading.

The Watchtower was the furthest he could make it without collapsing.

He doesn’t know whether he should be relieved or disappointed that the halls are empty when he arrives. He makes a bee-line for the locker room, thankful that no one was there to talk to him but still hoping that one man, in particular, would stop him.

His hair is covered in dust, and his face is speckled red from the minor scrapes he gained from falling debris, but the rest of his body is relatively clean.

Except for his arms.

Despite their purple skin, the Vraissol still have red blood. It’s thicker than human blood, but it looks damn near the same.

And Hal’s arms were covered in it, from his fingers to his elbows.

The dust washes away, the scrapes sting under the hot water, but they had stopped bleeding hours ago.

But the blood wouldn’t get off his hands.

Between the debrief and the trip home, it had dried and hardened into itchy, red cement.

No matter how hot Hal makes the water, no matter how hard he scrubs with the stupid high-tech expensive decontamination soap, it refuses to come off in more than tiny flakes.

The longer it stays there, the longer Hal has to look at the almost-black blood, the sicker he feels.

The harder he scrubs, the more he remembers.

All he can see is the family of Vraissols trapped under the ruins of their home, the child cowering in fear from him because it didn’t matter that he was trying to help; he had brought destruction with him. He can still see the blood seeping through his fingers as he tries desperately to stop the bleeding; he can still hear the explosion nearby. His brain had telegraphed every moment of the rubble crashing down next to him right where the family had-

The door to the locker room slams open as Hal’s knees give out from under him, and it’s the thunder of the battle raging overhead, reinforcements exploding-

“Hal!”

Someone is calling his name; he can hear it, but it’s miles away, and he’s not there. How could he be here?

Footsteps pound toward him, and it’s bullets raining down-

“Hal, it’s Bruce. Breathe with me.”

The room goes quiet - someone turned the shower off - and all there is the sound of exaggerated breathing in front of him as he desperately tries to get control of the air around him.

“That’s good, Hal. Can you look at me?”

Hal wants to snap back and tell Bruce to stop treating him like a child, but he opens his eyes to see Bruce crouched down in front of him, dress pants soaked and shirt sleeves rolled up, towel in hand and fear flashing in his eyes for a split second before he gets control of it.

Hal is hit with just how much he missed Bruce. One kiss before an emergency Lantern call, and he missed him like a limb.

“Hal, what happened to your hands?”

Hal swallows and gets a grip on his breathing before responding.

“Not my blood,” he says, startled by how even and hollow his voice sounds. Bruce sucks in a breath and motions him forward as he unfolds the towel.

If it were any other day, Hal would’ve laughed in Bruce’s face. If it were anyone else, Hal would’ve been angry.

But he’s too tired and hollowed out to protest.

So he lets Bruce wrap him in a towel. Lets him search through his locker for an extra pair of sweatpants. Lets him hold Hal steady as he steps into the legs of the sweatpants one by one. He lets Bruce guide him to the bench. Watches as Bruce putters around the locker room in silence, opening and closing a few cabinets. Pretends not to notice Bruce glancing over at him every three seconds.

He stays silent as Bruce sits next to him and takes Hal’s left hand in his own, so gently that Hal momentarily forgets that those same hands could tear down all of Gotham. So gently that Hal is reminded that Bruce is a father before anything else, despite what he tells himself and everyone else.

Hal looks away from his hands. Stares anywhere but down.

“I didn’t think anyone was here,” Hal says, just barely above a whisper.

I didn’t think anyone would see me like this.

“I got an alert as soon as you returned,” Bruce responds, just barely below a whisper.

You don’t have to hide from me.

Hal turns to look at Bruce. His gaze is focused as he works at the blood on Hal’s hands. Whatever he’s doing is working. Hal is starting to feel the air on his skin again, but it still feels like lead.

Bruce’s features are pulled tight in an expression that Hal would have once read as anger and frustration. Now Hal knows that it means that Bruce is throwing himself into a task to try and forget the worry and fear at war in his head.

“We were outnumbered,” Hal says, still not daring to break the quiet of the air. Bruce pauses, and his eyes flicker across Hal’s face, calculating. Always calculating.

Hal looks away. Bruce continues.

“The intel was wrong. Somehow. They had more firepower.”

Hal is silent as Bruce finishes his left hand. He switches to his right hand, carefully removing the ring and setting it aside.

“Even with ten of us defending that planet, we weren’t enough.”

Bruce works at his right arm steadily.

Hal doesn’t look down until he pulls away.

His hands are raw and numb. There’s a section of his left arm that is significantly worse than the rest. He realizes it’s because he had scrubbed at it until he broke the skin.

Bruce holds out his ring, and Hal takes it. Holds it in his hand.

“1,009,953,907 Vraissol. And they were all terrified.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Hal. You did what you could.”

Hal’s head whips around to look at Bruce, his eyes meeting Bruce’s for the first time in too long. It’s not pity he sees in the other man’s eyes. It’s understanding. Concern. Pain. It makes Hal feel incredibly small and infinitely old.

“But that’s the worst part, isn’t it? There was nothing I could do. Not a goddamn thing.”

Bruce takes Hal’s hand again, takes the ring from his palm, and slides it back onto his finger. Hal doesn’t take his eyes off of Bruce for a single moment.

Bruce meets Hal’s gaze, places his hand on Hal’s face.

“Sometimes our best isn’t enough. But you tried. You can’t save everyone, but that doesn’t make you any less good. There is good left in this world, Hal Jordan. You are proof of that.”

Hal is silent, but his eyes are searching Bruce’s face, his hands trembling, his whole world unsteady.

He can see the weight that Bruce puts on his own shoulders; can feel the weight on his own.

The weight of a thousand worlds on their shoulders and Bruce washed the blood off of Hal’s hands.

#batlantern #halbruce #hal jordan #bruce wayne #hal jordan/bruce wayne #hal jordan x bruce wayne #how many different ways can I tag that lol #also yes this is based on a bilmuri song leave me alone #my stuff #my writing #fuck how do I tag things again

87 notes · View notes

come-on-shitty-boys · 5 years ago

Text

//chocolate mornings. akaashi keiji//

Warnings: Your heart may explode from too much fluff

Word Count: 3.3K

Notes: Part 2 because my Wattpad readers were on the verge of murdering me! I would d i e for this family dynamic~

(Single Parent!Doctor!Akaashi x Reader)

*Part 2 of Chocolate Impressions. Read Part 1 HERE*

It was a picture perfect scene: a slumbering home, the only source of light coming from the moon as its rays filtered in through the windows. Katashi was fast asleep in his bed, a stuffed owl held tightly in his arms, tucked in beneath a thick layer of blankets, the love of a father’s kiss still lingering on his forehead. You had been pulled into Akaashi’s chest the minute the two of you had sank into the soft embrace of his mattress. Soft words were shared about each other’s day, plans for tomorrow, plans for the distant future. Short, breathy laughs in an attempt to stay quiet for Katashi’s sake were the only response to small quips and silly stories. Warm kisses and cool wandering touches were soon replaced by quiet “I love you”s and the small sounds of Akaashi’s little snores against your skin. Wrapped in his warm embrace, a final kiss was placed against his skin before allowing yourself to fall victim to sleep’s grasp.

The all too familiar tune singing loudly from Akaashi’s bedside table was the sour note that ended it all. You jolted up, obviously more distraught by the sudden noise than your boyfriend was as he simply buried his head under his pillow with a quiet “No.”

“Keiji, your phone,” you mutter, shaking his shoulder, trying to keep him from falling back asleep.

“I don’t care.”

You reach over him to grab his phone from the table to check the caller ID. Exactly who you expected. “It’s the hospital.”

“I don’t care.”

“Keiji, come on.” You pull the pillow away from him and a heavy groan is the only response as he takes the phone from your hand.

“I’m not on call,” he states plainly, avoiding any sort of pleasantries. You can hear the person on the other end of the line talking rapidly, multiple apologies being uttered in quick succession, and Akaashi can only sigh as he sits up and swings his legs off the edge of the bed. “What’s the point in telling me that I’m off if you’re just going to wake me up anyway? Where’s Ohashi? Or Ichirou?” He runs his hand through his bedridden curls and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I have my son this week. You know that. . . What? It’s two in the morning. I am not waking him up to drag him to a hospital for who knows how many hours. . . No. No. It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.” Akaashi slowly gets up from the bed, stumbling slightly as the fatigue hasn’t quite left his body yet. “Yes. I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.” He ends the call and tosses his phone on the bed, his form radiating pure annoyance. “Absolutely ridiculous,” he grumbles, shoving his feet into a pair of slippers to save himself from the chilly hardwood floor. “I guess I need to call Akiyo and see if she can take care of Katashi until I’m done.”

“Why? It’s not like you’re going to be leaving him alone.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this.”

You laugh a little, getting up on your knees to wrap your arms around his neck. “But, I want to.”

He nuzzled his face in your neck, letting his black curls tickle your skin. “You’re going to be such a good step-mom to him someday.”

“I hope so. But, come on. You need to get ready. You have lives to save.” He offers a quiet whine as you pull away from him in order to put on your own slippers. “I’ll get your clothes and get some coffee going, okay?”

Akaashi nods, slumping off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and attempt to wake himself up with a quick cold shower. You padded softly towards the kitchen to start a pot of coffee before going to the laundry room to grab a fresh pair of scrubs from the dryer. Back in the bedroom, you rummaged through his drawers to find him clean boxers and a pair of socks.

A swift knock to the bathroom door is all it takes for Akaashi to pull the door open. He’s holding a towel around his waist as his other hand vigorously tries to towel dry his hair. A soft grin takes over his features as you set his clothes down on the counter. “Thank you, princess,” he says, placing a short kiss on your cheek.

“You’re welcome, Keij. Coffee should be done in a few minutes. Do you want to eat anything before you go?”

“Uh . . . Can you throw a granola bar or something in my bag? I don’t know if I have time to stay and eat.”

You nod and leave him to get dressed in order to go pack his work bag with snacks for his drive. You add a few granola bars and a package of fruit snacks to a Ziploc bag, rummaging through the drawers to find the sticky notes. Snacks for my snacc lol love you - Y/N. You put the sticky note in the bag to make sure it didn’t get lost before placing his snacks in his work bag.

You had just gotten his thermos out of the cabinet as Akaashi came sliding into the kitchen, sock-clad feet propelling him across the tiles. Arms immediately wrap around your waist and a happy hum filters into your ear. “I don’t think you’ve ever been this happy to go in to work. What's wrong with you?” you laugh, reaching up to play with his hair.

“I was just thinking.”

“About what?” You ask, filling the thermos with the freshly brewed coffee, adding a spoon and half of sugar, just how he likes it.

“About how much I like this. Waking up with you. Getting ready with you. I’d be okay with always going in in the middle of the night if it meant more of this.” He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, never wanting this moment to end.

“I think the lack of sleep is making you delirious. You hate having to go in.” You turn around in his embrace. “But, I like this too.” You place a soft kiss on his lips, eagerly returned by your boyfriend. Pulling away, you place a hand on his chest. “You really do need to go though, Keiji.”

“Yeah, I know.” He begrudgingly lets you go so he can go put his shoes on. You follow him to the door, his coffee and bag in your hands, his coat draped over your arm. He stands up, taking his things from you and grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door. “I should be back by the time you and Katashi wake up. I’ll see you soon,” Akaashi says, a quick kiss to your forehead before he rushes out the door.

You turn to go back to bed after watching him back out of the driveway, flipping off any lights that were left on during the franticness of this early morning. Between the thick blankets and what little warmth remained on Akaashi’s side of the bed, it didn’t take long for exhaustion to start to weigh your eyelids down.

Fresh sunlight and the sounds of something clattering to the ground brought you quickly from your deep slumber. A sigh left your lips as your eyes fell to the empty spot on the bed next to you, sheets still crumpled from his early start. You get out of bed, making your way to the kitchen only to stop completely in your tracks to fully take in the scene in front of you.

Katashi was perched on top of one of the dining room chairs so he could get a better look into the kitchen cabinets. A frying pan had been tossed to the ground, likely the source of noise that had yanked you from sleep’s loving embrace. “Katashi, what are you doing?” You ask slowly.

“Making pancakes,” he stated plainly as if the answer should’ve been obvious to you.

“Why?”

“Because Dad and I always have pancakes for breakfast. But, he’s at work, so I was going to make them so they’d be ready when he got back.” Katashi jumped down from the chair, the box of pancake mix in his hands.

You pick up the pan and bowl from the floor, setting them on the counter before taking the mix and putting it back in the cabinet. Taking in his defeated expression, you give him a warm smile. “Why don’t we make your dad some special pancakes?”

“Special pancakes?”

“Yeah. Like, not from a box. We’ll make them from scratch.”

“We can do that?”

“Yes,” you laugh, grabbing the needed ingredients. “Do you like chocolate chips in yours?”

“Yeah, but Dad doesn’t.”

“I forgot he was weird and didn’t like chocolate chip pancakes.” You scrunch up your features, making Katashi laugh. “Okay, I need a scoop and a half of flour,” you say, handing the boy the measuring cup before busying yourself with measuring out the other dry ingredients.

Katashi dumps a heaping scoop in the bowl, creating puffs of flour, dusting his dark hair. He giggles happily, staring at you with those same sleepy eyes that his father had. You never took the time to really look at his son, a near perfect carbon copy of the man that you’d fallen in love with. It almost looked like someone had plucked Akaashi from his baby photos and stuck him in front of you. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You just look so much like your dad,” you sigh, turning back to finish adding ingredients to the batter.

“That’s what Gran says too.” Katashi slides the bowl over to himself, taking the spoon and stirring everything together. “She’s always showing me pictures of Dad when he was my age. It’s so boring,” he whined.

“It does get a little old, doesn’t it?”

“You’ve seen them too?”

“So many times,” you laugh. “The first time I ever met your gran, I thought we were going to be there all night. She just kept pulling out photo album after photo album. I didn’t think she was ever going to stop.”

“What’d you do?”

“Your dad was super embarrassed and wanted it to end just as much as I did. I think he made some excuse about having work the next day when we all knew he didn’t.”

Katashi laughs, leaning into your side as you separate some batter out for Akaashi’s boring pancakes. Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. Your hand goes down to run your fingers through his curls, a small smile finding its home on your lips. Any reservations you previously had about your relationship with Katashi and your role in his future were quickly erased. It already felt like you had been a part of his life for years and you couldn’t have wished for a better start. “Hey, hold out your hand,” you say, poking his cheek softly.

“What? Why?” He asks, looking up at you.

“Just do it.”

Katashi cautiously holds out the hand that wasn’t hugging your waist out towards you, bouncing in excitement as you shake some chocolate chips into his hand. “Dad never lets me do this!”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” You wink down at his smiling face and pop a few of the chocolate pieces in your own mouth, dumping what’s left in the batter.

The sound of a car engine whirring and cutting out is the interruption to the perfect morning. A loud beep as a door is locked has Katashi ripping away from you to greet his father at the door. A tired smile complimented even more exhausted eyes as Akaashi knelt down to embrace his son. “What smells so good?” You hear Akaashi ask as he stands up.

“Mom and I made pancakes!” Katashi exclaims, grabbing his dad’s hands and dragging him towards the kitchen.

“Mom? Why is your mom here?” Keiji stumbles into the kitchen behind his son, fully expecting to see his ex-wife sitting at the dining table with the glare that she always greeted him with nestled on her face. But instead, he was greeted with your sleepy features as you set the table, divvying up steaming pancakes between the plates. You had flour dusting the front of your t-shirt, a smile causing your eyes to crinkle when you looked up and saw him in the doorway. His confusion settled into a softer expression as he stared at the perfect morning unfolding in front of him. Absolutely beautiful.

“Huh?” Katashi asks, looking up at Akaashi. “Oh. Sorry, I meant Y/N.” The boy just shrugged, letting go of Akaashi and sitting down in front of one of the plates, digging into the pile of pancakes that you had placed onto his plate.

Akaashi set his things down and let you wrap your arms around him. A short peck on the lips and sleepy smiles were exchanged. “How was everything?” You ask, running a gentle thumb over the small purple bruises on his cheeks, a side effect of the long hours of his surgical mask digging into his face.

“Six hours in the OR for an emergency CABG," he sighed, his hands trailing along your sides.

"Six hours? Isn't that a little long?"

"Yeah. It was a pretty nasty blockage, but it's bypassed and he should be back on his feet in a few days."

"And that's why you're the best," you say, a soft smile giving him any reassurance he could've possibly needed. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving. My 'snacks for my snacc' wore off quite a while ago," he teased, poking your sides, making you blush as you squirm away from him. He laughed, letting you pull him over to the table to join Katashi for pancakes. "Alright, Katashi. Who's pancakes are better? Mine," Akaashi pauses, giving his son an exaggerated nod. "Or Y/N's?" He shakes his head, making a disgusted face which is quickly replaced by a look of hurt as you smack his thigh.

Katashi giggles, shoving the last bit of pancake in his mouth. "Y/N's, for sure. She should come over every time I'm here!" He finished his glass of orange juice and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. "May I be excused?"

"Depends. How do you spell 'because?'" Akaashi asks, not looking up from his plate.

Katashi groaned, slinking down in his chair. "That's not fair. You know I'm not good at that one! Pick something else!"

"Okay. Spell 'choledocholithiasis.'" Akaashi smirks, now looking at the shock on his son's face. "What? You wanted a different word!"

"Something I would know!"

"Your options are 'because' or 'choledocholithiasis.' I know what I'd pick," Akaashi shrugs, take a bite of his pancakes.

"Okay, Doc, we get it. You know how to spell coal-docter-antithesis," you say, rolling your eyes, Katashi laughing as you poke fun at his father.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Y/N. Katashi, how about 'today?'"

"Ooh! I know that one! T-o-d-a-y!"

"Very good. You're excused."

"Yes!" Katashi jumps up from his seat, setting his plate in the sink. "Thank you for breakfast!" He gave you and Akaashi quick hugs before running off to his room.

"You make him spell to leave the table?"

Akaashi shrugs. "Not always. Sometimes he has to do an easy math problem. It may seem a little . . . Much, but it helps him retain what he learns."

"Well, I think it's nice that you care so much about his school work," you say, rubbing his shoulder as you sit back in your chair.

"Thank you." He smiled, reaching for your hand.

His thumb runs over your knuckles, a shaky inhale catching your attention. "You tired?"

"Yeah. It's been a long morning,” he sighs, running his free hand through his messy hair.

"Go back to bed, Keiji. You need some rest."

He nodded, stifling a yawn, but rather than getting up to heed your advice, Akaashi takes a deep breath, turning in his seat to face you. "But, not right now. I want to talk to you about something."

Akaashi watches as your eyes widen slightly, feeling your hand start to shake a little as you’re suddenly caught off guard. "Is this about Katashi liking my pancakes better? He just wanted-" The sound of his laughter cuts you off.

"No. This isn't about that.” He takes a moment in an attempt to compose himself, a few stray chuckles escaping as he tries to continue. “I was thinking about this morning. The whole time I was at work, it was all I could think about. Well, not all I could think about, but you know what I mean. I just- maybe it's silly, but I genuinely enjoy having you there with me every time I get called in. Before, I always had to do it all by myself, which is fine, of course. I don't expect you to get up and help me, but you do, and I want more of that and I want more of this,” he says, giving your hand a light squeeze. “Seeing you this morning, I realized just how happy I am when you're here. And Katashi, he really likes you. I don't know if you heard, but he called you 'mom' earlier and-" Akaashi pauses, the wide smile on his face saying everything for him. He was completely exhausted, the lack of sleep tearing down his normal quiet demeanor, letting all of his emotions flow from his mouth like a waterfall.

"I love you and I don't think I could ever say it enough for you to know just how much I do." He stopped again, patting his pockets with his hands. "Hang on." He gets up and starts rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers. "I know I put it in here somewhere. . . When did I buy this?" He pauses, holding up a small little kitchen timer that looked like a penguin. He just shrugs, setting it down next to the stove. “Did I really put it all the way back there?” He grumbles, leaning over to get a better look into the back of the drawer. “Oh, wait. There it is! Come here,” he says, taking something and hiding it in his hand. He's practically bouncing like a little kid on a sugar high as he pulls you to stand with him in the middle of the kitchen floor. "This isn't exactly how I planned on doing this and I get the middle of my kitchen isn't the most romantic place, but-" Akaashi’s quick words are cut off by your lips pressed against his, hands holding his face, the feeling of your body melding perfectly against his.

"Keiji, it's okay," you whisper, a calm smile soothing his nerves.

"Thank you," he whispers; a second kiss, shorter, less intimate than the first, but still carrying the same amount of complete adoration for you. Akaashi breaks away, kneeling down in front of you. He holds a delicate ring in one hand, your hand with the other. "I know this is probably not how you imagined this moment. Honestly, it's not how I imagined it either, but," Akaashi takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes, the dark circles from lack of sleep more pronounced in the poor lighting. "I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up with you, even if it is at stupid hours in the morning. I want to come home to you making pancakes with our son. I want to talk about you to the others in the OR, but not just as my girlfriend, as my wife. So, what I'm trying to say is that I love you and I love that in such a small amount of time, you've made my family become our family." He smiles, his sleepy eyes filled with nothing but love for you and everything the two of you had built together.

"Will you marry me?"

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #akaashi #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi #akaashi x reader #keiji #fukurodani #setter #fluff #imagine #x reader

221 notes · View notes

fleckcmscott · 4 years ago

Text

Homemaking

Summary: In the middle of the night, Arthur finds comfort in routine. When Y/N follows, he doesn't mind at all.

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

Words: 4,640

A/N: This request came from @jokerownsmysoul! She asked me to expand on a paragraph in Ch. 25 of Watch What Happens. Thank you so much! I hope this meets your expectations!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Changing the sheets and pillowcase on the couch at regular intervals. Emptying the ashtrays littered around the apartment. Taking the trash to the dumpster in the alley next to the building. Dusting, dusting, dusting. There'd always been a chore to do in 8J.

Outside of therapy, Arthur rarely mulled over the past, instead putting to use the skills he'd been learning to make the present worthwhile. But when he did, he could recall the moment keeping house had become important to him. More than a task to be completed.

Dinner had been freezer burned chicken nuggets and rice mixed with ketchup. Milk had served as an additional side. His mother had pecked the top of his head and told him to be a good boy. "Happy, I'll see you in the morning."

The length of her upcoming absence had registered once the door was shut. While she'd not been an attentive parent, she normally hadn't left him alone for more than three or four hours, plunked in front the television with a blanket, a cup of juice, and a toy. What had he done to make her leave for an entire night? Had she been mad at him for laughing during a presentation on the school's dress code? Was it because he hadn't finished his food? Then he'd feared the neighbors would start fighting, and he'd have to listen to their yelling again. Ickiness had built in his tiny body. He'd had to do something.

He'd dragged the step stool to the front of the sink. Squeezed too much yellow detergent in it. Turned on the water and tested the temperature with his wrist, the way he'd seen Penny do it when he'd dried dishes. Once his old stuffed giraffe sat on the counter next to him, he'd carefully scrubbed the swirls of dried tomato off the plates. Washed the stuck-on crumbs from the forks. Wiped the streaks off each glass. He'd felt calm when he was done. Grown-up. Accomplished. It hadn't taken him long to grab a rag and get started on the breakfast bar.

As he'd grown, housework continued to help him maintain his composure on days he'd needed distraction from his intrusive thoughts. The stresses of survival. But he also liked the sense of control it imparted. A mentally ill, disabled, put-upon caretaker who also worked fifty to sixty hours a week didn't have many choices. The lack of options left him feeling unmoored. As if the wind would blow and he would have no alternative but to go along with it.

Buying the good sponges, the ones with the green, abrasive side, was a decision in his hands. Doing the laundry on Saturday was the schedule he set. Serving dinner at seven (unless he had a late job) was the hour he picked. Small victories in a life of losses.

But now the days were filled with fewer defeats. His paradigm was shifting, albeit incrementally. Chores were no longer only a soothing necessity. Having a girlfriend meant they were also shared activities. Indications of partnership done together. (Except for cleaning the toilet, which Y/N, bless her, continued to do.)

She moved the floor lamp when he vacuumed. He put away their clothes after she folded them. With her at the office full time while he gigged and tried to break into comedy, he liked doing extra. Taking care of her. Contributing to the household they were building. He'd been the man of the house since he was fifteen; it was a role he continued to take pride in. Especially with all the "thank yous" and "I'm happy to be home with yous" she gave him.

Dishes had quickly become his favorite errand. They took turns washing and drying. He'd splash her lightly and she'd whack him with the towel. Random kisses abounded. Frequently, he'd reminisce about her coming to his apartment unannounced last November.

Surprises made him nervous. But it had been nice to see her a whole two days sooner than planned. He hadn't been certain of what to do. His intuition was to hang onto the doorknob to remain grounded and not err. When she'd said she'd missed him, however, some of his anxiousness had dissipated. Without that, he wasn't sure he would have gotten the nerve to invite her in, no matter how badly he wanted to.

The visit had gone well, their conversation sparse but kind. Even though she'd spotted his medication, she'd let him kiss her. Pin her against the counter and embrace her. Inhale the strawberry scent of her shampoo and thank whoever might have been listening that she existed. God, he'd felt like a teenager.

At that point, he'd imagined being intimate with her countless times. The evening after she'd introduced herself, he'd tuned into a variety show, tried to enjoy the music. Penny was already in bed. He'd been alone, laying on his beige and brown sofa, blanket strewn across him, cigarette smoke floating in the air. Y/N's pleasant visage had taken shape before his eyes. Their handshake lingered in his senses, making his fingers twitch.

He'd tried to ignore the hunger it'd caused. The acute ache. It struck him as wrong, somehow - he'd just learned her name. But his arousal had overcome any residual guilt.

The warmth of her cuddling his side as they watched TV had permeated his skin. He'd entwined their fingers. Put his arm around her shoulders. During a particularly slow song, her touch drifted to his thigh. He'd twisted to admire her lips, full and smiling at him. She'd been beautiful. Happy. His. As he'd lowered her to the cushions, his hand had sneaked into his briefs. It was the first of many occasions that he'd had to muffle himself so his mother wouldn't hear him moan Y/N's name.

It had been years since he'd felt a morsel of hope. But one had welled in him. Like the fool he was, he'd kept it. And for once, hope hadn't cheated him.

~~~~~

They'd gone to bed a couple hours prior, after the news and the late show. The normal five or six minutes of cuddling had ensued. With a soft "sleep well," Y/N had rolled onto her left side and turned out the light. He'd drifted off within a few minutes, ignoring the blare of a passing siren.

But then he woke to faint giggling. Drowsy bafflement fogged his brain as he peered in her direction. Whispering her name and pulling on the cover didn't quiet her. He shushed her gently, chuckling. She laughed harder. He wondered what she was dreaming, if she was amused by him or one of his jokes. Following a messy kiss to her cheek, he left to putter about the apartment.

Goosebumps rose in response to the breeze, but Arthur, sitting on a metal step on the fire escape, enjoyed the drags from his cigarette regardless. The nights were getting cooler as autumn approached. Y/N had told him the climate was much hotter in her part of Missouri. Did the leaves change there, too? They'd have to go to Gotham Park so he could show her the bright colors, so different from the city's usual grays.

He decided to keep himself busy - it was better than getting frustrated because he wasn't tired. But he didn't feel like journaling more. He checked the kitchen. Dishes had already been put in the cabinet. The counters were clean. She'd swept the linoleum and he'd wiped the table. There wasn't much left to do. Hm. Maybe the shower door could use a good scrub. It had been a while since either of them had tended to it.

As he worked, his circular movements on the pane of glass slowed, his stare glazing. They'd last been in there together a couple weeks ago. Though he'd acted spontaneous, he'd planned the whole thing. The radio was tuned to the station with Dr. Sally's show (which had been set to start in twenty minutes). He'd measured out a capful of Y/N's bubble bath, which he'd never seen her use. Facing each other, they'd lain in the tub, talking and trying to fit comfortably.

The faucet was quite low, though, and he'd bumped his head on it when he'd leaned back. Not too hard but loud enough to startle Y/N. She'd speedily washed and climbed out to give him more room, despite his insistence he was fine. "We'll listen together another night," she'd said with a smooch, kneeling next to the bath with her towel under her armpits. "When we're not so squished." Once she was out of the room, he'd submerged himself completely with a sigh.

Arthur had learned of Dr. Sally about four years ago. She was controversial, according to Murray Franklin, but ended up becoming a reoccurring guest. The frankness and positivity with which she'd spoken about sexuality had shocked him. (And made him wish Penny had gone to bed early, so he wouldn't have to watch it in front of her.) Outside of the handful of adult films he'd seen or magazines he'd gotten, he hadn't heard anyone talk about it without making dirty jokes or being evasive.

Sitting at the corner table in his living room and listening to her pleasant voice as she doled out advice became a habit. He'd made notes here and there. One thing she'd said stuck with him, though he couldn't recall the exact wording. The meaning had been clear - and what he wanted. Sex was the closest two people could be physically. It was important to connect mentally, too. To communicate.

He'd been tempted to call in. To ask how the hell he could meet or attract a woman. He had cologne. He wore pinstripe pants. What else could he do? It would have been nice to no longer have to deal with his circumstances and illnesses alone. But he'd abandoned that idea. He hadn't wanted to reveal himself as pathetic to the whole of Gotham. Weakness put women off. By his early thirties, he'd known discovering that part of himself would nev-

"If you wait until the alarm, I'll be happy to help you." Arthur turned and found Y/N standing in the doorway. Their floral comforter was wrapped around her shoulders, only partially covering her short nightdress. He noticed the deep V-neck its straps formed as she took a step towards him. "Was I snoring that loudly?" she asked, smiling wryly.

His cheeks burned and he stepped to the sink to rinse out the sponge. "I'm almost done. And you were laughing." The confused expression she wore as he studied her in the mirror prompted a slight smirk. "What was so funny?

She hugged him around the waist, and the heat of her caused his eyelids to flutter. "I don't know. But I didn't mean to wake you," she said, tone apologetic. Her fingers splayed on his stomach, and she pressed her lips between his shoulder blades.

A huff left him as he shrugged, patting her hand. "I don't mind," he rasped. Whenever he felt the tenderness of her touch, minding wasn't possible.

"Good," she said, her hold on him tightening. The promise of her next words sent an arc of electricity up his spine. "Because I'm not tired."

~~~~~

"And so my teacher, Mr. Howard, took me in the hallway, and told me I'd tucked my blouse into my sanitary belt." Snorting, Y/N adjusted the bed cover on her lap and crossed her legs "I fixed it and got back in there to take my algebra test." After a long sip of the chamomile Arthur had made her, she poked him. "All right. It's your turn. Tell me something embarrassing."

It was nearing three o'clock, but the time had flown by, sitting with her there on the couch. Neither had bothered to turn on a lamp. Instead, they enjoyed the intimacy provided by the faded, orange streetlights coming in through the windows. He liked how the play of shadows accentuated the girlish curve of the apple of her cheek, quite dissimilar from his own sculpted features.

The escalating game of twenty questions had started off easy, the information shared tame. She'd confirmed her favorite color was lilac, and when she'd asked for his preferred subject in school, he'd merely stated, "I hated school." She'd left it alone. He'd inched closer as she said he was funniest when he didn't try. And he'd admitted her divorce puzzled him, casually saying, "Why would anyone want to be without you?" A soft sound had caught in her throat and she'd leaned into him.

But she was challenging him now - the glint in her eye was obvious, sparkling even in the dark. It was his own fault, really. He'd been the one to take the game to another level by getting personal. Resisting the chance to learn about her was not an option.

Fiddling with the handle of his mug of decaf, he furrowed his brow. "Um." He'd fucked up around people a lot. Whenever his condition had made an appearance during a meeting at work, he'd wanted to sink into the floor. Sophie's conversation with him after he'd trailed her had been distressing, notwithstanding her kindness. It was difficult to pick a safe answer.

But after some deliberation, he found one that would fit the mood. "I used to- Used to dance in my living room." He scoffed at himself. Put his arm on the back of the sofa and brushed his hair back. "And pretend women - a woman - noticed me." He pulled at a loose thread in the cushion.

Y/N didn't miss a beat. "Was it me?"

"No," he said with a shake of the head. "I didn't really know you. Not yet." Her nod was slight, her stare going to her lap. A few seconds later she chuckled, covering her face. "What?" he asked.

The flush rising through her shoulders, to her neck, to the top of her ears intrigued him. While he was proficient at making her blush (a fact that tickled him), she never seemed to be shy about anything. She put her cup on the table, ran her hand along her forearm. "I was just remembering when you left after our dinner."

His eyebrows shot up and held there. "What happened?"

She waved dismissively. "I was swooning like a woman half my age." Her gaze flicked to his and his pulse flipped. "I'd intended to change so I could start putting everything away. But..." The corner of her mouth lifted. "I ended up on my bed. Wishing you were with me."

He exhaled sharply. "Oh." Had the details in her imaginings been similar to his? He wondered if candles were lit. If they'd gone slowly. If she'd told him she loved him. How close had it been to what he'd yearned for after spilling his heart all over his journal?

He surveyed her. Took in how she massaged where her neck met her shoulder. The way she opened her legs further as she shifted in her seat, the bed cover falling away. The desire in her half-lidded eyes made his mouth go dry. "I wished for you a lot, too," he said quietly, glancing at the carpet.

Given what he sometimes sketched in his notebook, painful things he didn't understand the impetus of, he'd worried his impulses would be freakish. That they'd be off-putting, like the rest of him was. But Y/N assured him they weren't and told him not to worry with her. That him getting up and telling her to never hit him when she'd slapped his ass in the heat of the moment hadn't offended her. That it was normal to like it when she nibbled his collarbone or the tendons of his neck. That her not being able to come sometimes had nothing to do with him.

The hesitation currently churning in his gut was ridiculous. While he was getting better at initiating, having built up some confidence (and feigning it when necessary), it wasn't yet second nature to him. He needed to now, though. And there was no reason for caution with her. Her sensitivity and consideration had borne that out.

It was that thought which finally spurred him to scoot closer to her, cradle her cheek, and kiss her firmly.

Her response was swift, as though she'd been waiting for him. The insistence of her tongue prompted the parting of his lips. She carded through his hair, tugged at his curls as she curved into him. Her nipples grazed his front through the chiffon of her nightgown, and he savored the fire stoking in him at the contact.

His fingers whispered lower, wandering between her legs to caress her through her underwear. The cotton was soaked through. She met his touch insistently, sighing his name. He couldn't recall hearing anything sweeter. Blood was rushing to his cock, lending him some daring. "I want you," he rasped, compelling himself to be assertive. And relishing the hint of power it evoked in him.

He focused on the front of his blue pajamas being untied. The slide of them and his briefs past his narrow hips. They gathered about his knees as she curled her fingers around his erection. "Shit..." He thrust into her grasp with a grunt. The swipe of her palm across the head felt like he was burning, and he twitched in her hand. She was smearing his slick over him, along his rigid length.

Demand was already building in his abdomen. Needing to last longer than three minutes, he withdrew to stand. The bedroom was too far to go. He moved the coffee table back, towards the television, and grabbed the comforter. "You really are in a hurry," she teased, stripping off her nightshirt while he clumsily arranged the thick cover on the carpet. Their eyes locked and he offered his hand. She took it eagerly.

With a soft grin, he guided her to lay beside him. He ran his palm down her back and cupped her bottom, adoring being immersed in her. He pressed her into the soft fabric beneath them as he settled on top. When he rutted against her heat, she hissed and sealed their lips.

A low groan left him. Would the sensation of her supple mouth ever become mundane? His former co-workers had often complained about their wives. Had become bored with them. Fed up. He couldn't fathom ever tiring of the taste of Y/N's smile. Or the excitement of having her feminine form so close to his.

He kissed her neck, stopping only when he reached the swell of her chest. Nuzzling her cleavage, he pushed her breasts together before taking a dusky peak between his teeth. She moaned and clasped his biceps. The increasing canter of her pelvis, how she asked him to enter her without words, was driving his fervor higher and higher.

But he was enjoying himself. The playfulness from their earlier game hadn't yet left. After pecking a line down her stomach, he boosted himself up. She was panting raggedly, clearly fighting to keep her eyes open as she ground into the air. "Please..." she breathed.

Voice thick with arousal, he asked, "Please what?"

She bucked against the grip he had on her hips. "Put your mouth on me."

He laughed lightly, grateful to be at ease rather than flustered. "You mean here?" His soft lips met her navel. "Or here?" A smooch to the top of her thigh. Backing away, he kissed her knee. "Maybe here."

Halting his retreat, her calf caught him by the shoulder. "You're such a tease," she said. Wantonly, she arched towards him, and he grasped the waistline of her panties. The tang of her scent hit him as he pulled them off. He shivered, then threw her thighs over his shoulders. He was ready to give into her, to give into what they both desired. But she shoved a couch cushion at him. "Here."

After a pause, he took it with a murmured "okay," the last syllable elongated. She propped herself on her elbow, helped him get it under the swell of her bottom and lower back. When he asked what it was for, she explained he could strain his neck. He pushed his face into her leg, snorting. That had happened last time, after a long day at work. He didn't think it would happen again. It was sweet of her, though, to consider him, so he didn't argue.

His gaze flitted to her vulva. While he couldn't see much in the low light, he was well acquainted with her body. The first time he'd really seen her, he'd been a little surprised. She wasn't like the models he'd seen in photographs. Her inner lips were visible, extended past her labia, especially when she was turned-on. Her clitoris was easy to find, thank god. Once, she'd told him she used to be self-conscious about it, the result of a doctor making a disparaging remark when she got her first IUD. She claimed it no longer bothered her, but Arthur knew the lasting sting of unkindness. And wanted her to know she was beautiful.

"Mm," he breathed, kissing her pubic bone gently. Then he dipped lower to press his tongue to her plump folds. She rolled up to meet him with a sharp cry. "I love your taste."

She giggled and his eyes darted to hers. Thankfully, it had become easier to watch her while he did this. Her pleasure at his compliment was obvious, what with the flirtatiousness of her gaze. He thought he could make out a growing ruddiness in her cheeks, and admired the round shape her lips formed.

It was impossible to lay still. His nose brushed her as he nestled in her short curls, gripping her thigh and skimming the soft skin. Her bud was engorged, jutting out slightly from its hood. The tip of his tongue darted out to flick at it, and her hand flew to his curls as she called his name.

He altered his angle, tilted his head to the side while he stroked her labia. She was getting wetter, her arousal more abundant under his attention. Knowing he satisfied her filled him with pride. Those lonely nights listening to the radio had been good for something.

As his fore- and middle fingers traced her entrance, slipped inside her, she whined and bore down on him. Groaning, his thin lips enclosed her clitoral hood. He concentrated on getting the rhythm right, coordinating the movement of his hand with the passes of his tongue. The clutch to his locks grew stronger as she rocked, pulling him harder to her flesh. One of her legs wrapped about his upper back, the other braced on her foot by his side. His thrusts quickened and he bent his knuckle, her increasing cries emboldening him further.

At her short wail, he lifted himself to look at her. Observe her frame as she bowed backwards. The rise and fall of her breasts with the exertion of her punctuated gasps. The way she blindly reached for purchase. He yanked the cushion out from under her. Unable to wait any longer, he crawled over her until they were face to face, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and lined himself up with her opening.

His eyes screwed shut as he sunk into her searing, snug walls. He let out ragged breaths, tinged with low rasps. "I love you," he blurted.

She grasped his sides. "I love you, too."

Hips snapping into hers, he gritted his teeth. "Fuck, I love you."

"Fill me up," she whispered, her heels at his ass. "Fill me up."

Quickly, he reached between them to toy with her nub, wanting his actions to match the urgency of her pleas. But she took hold of his wrist, ran her thumb along it as she pecked his chin. "I'm good so enjoy yourself," she laughed. Then she pressed her forehead his. "I just need to have you."

Her hands cherishing his back, caressing and holding him close, elated him. She always managed to do that, to make him feel esteemed, even on days he didn't value himself. Sometimes he pined for their coupling to be endless. Being a part of her felt like home.

But he couldn't stop. She was gazing at him unblinkingly, adulation clear in the flecks of her irises. Begging him to come inside her. Saying she needed him. The scorch of her was potent, the friction staggering. Somehow, the undulations of her pelvis managed to meet his pace...

The tempo of his rushed movements became uneven. His brain suddenly went white, only aware of her surrounding him. Cock throbbing with pleasure, his hips stuttered involuntarily while he emptied into her, a gravelly moan on his lips. After those too few, exquisite seconds, he fell onto her, gasping and thoroughly spent.

Y/N's calf left his waist, and she let out a long breath. "I need a cigarette and I don't even smoke."

Arthur grinned, mind awash with dreamy stupor. "You're not gonna start. 'It's a nasty habit,'" he said wryly, quoting her. He rolled off and lay on his back by her side. Stretching the loose part of the comforter over his middle, he chuckled. "You know, of the few things I thought I'd be okay at, this wasn't one of them."

The smile she gave him let him know what she was thinking. She'd said she wanted to hear him compliment himself more, that he deserved it and didn't do it enough. When she nibbled his earlobe he jerked slightly, a tickle in his neck. "Gotham has no idea what it's been missing." Her tone turned serious. "But you can make it about yourself, too. I'd enjoy that."

Brows pinching, he frowned slightly. She'd appeared pleased just a minute ago. Had he done something wrong? Or was he misreading her now? He gaped, about to ask what she meant.

But she started again, smoothing her hand across his stomach. "Hey, I'm not complaining. I'm here for you, though. If you need to fuck a bad mood away, it's fine. If I don't want to, I'll tell you."

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the stray couch cushion. "You never don't want to." He put it under his head, adjusted his neck until he was a version of comfortable. While it has true he had bad days, he tried to shield her from them. He'd be lying to himself if he pretended her suggestion hadn't crossed his mind. It'd never stuck, though - he couldn't bear the thought of using her. With her permission, maybe it would be all right. He pressed his lips together. "But I'll keep it in mind."

Eventually, Y/N sat and stretched, placed her palms on her back as she popped it. "I'm going to drift off at my desk if I don't go to bed." She stood shakily, grasping the arm of the sofa. "And I'll need a hot water bottle if I stay on the floor." After she gathered her clothes, she turned to him. "Are you coming with me?"

He pulled on his briefs with a shake of his head. "I can't sleep now."

There was a pause, then she gave a small shrug. "Keep me company until I do?"

Stilling, he looked up at her, a smile spreading across his cheeks. "Yeah," he said warmly, his heart in his throat at the request. A request couldn't deny. "I'll be right there." She bent and pecked his forehead, then scurried off into the bedroom, comforter in hand. He watched as she retreated, listened as she flopped down on the mattress. Hurriedly, he put the cushion back in its place and followed, already impatient to have her in his arms again.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve, @howdylilflower, @sweet-nothings04, @stephieraptorr, @rommies, @fallenstarsabyss, @gruffle1, @octopus-plasma, @tsukiakarinobara, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile, @another-day-in-chuckletown, @hhandley80, @jokerownsmysoul, @64-crayon

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

66 notes · View notes

chelsfic · 4 years ago

Text

Unseemly Desire - Chapter 3 - Guillermo x Nandor

To read past chapters: WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Nandor and Guillermo deal with the fallout of their makeout session and the almost-attempted mind wipe. Guillermo discovers the untapped well of anger living inside him!

Warnings: Angst, Blood drinking, gratuitous use of the word Fuck, Angry kissing

A/N: Look how frickin handsome Nandor is in this gif. No wonder Guillermo can’t resist this idiot. Also, I wrote this really fast and barely edited it sooooo ehhhhhh sorrayyy.

---

Shit! Fuck! Damn! Fiasco!

Nandor retires straight to his coffin after storming out of his familiar’s room. He’s still fully dressed and the little hair pins in his bun stab the back of his head as he lies down.

Fucking guy!

Who gave him permission to have those kinds of feelings, anyway? Nandor’s almost certain he included something about not falling in love in Guillermo’s employment contract. He’ll have to check on that tomorrow evening. He growls in angry frustration as he realizes the contract is locked in one Colin Robinson’s basement filing cabinets. Maybe he doesn’t need to worry about checking. He’s positive that he mentioned it to Guillermo before he became his familiar. No falling in love with me. End of discussion!

How dare that little guy ruin his perfect plan? What does he think, just because he has smooth, tan skin, a disarming smile and perfect wavy hair he can just go around forcing Nandor to be horny for him all the time? It’s unacceptable!

Nandor turns onto his side in a huff. He has half a mind to go back there and mind wipe him after all. But the vision of Guillermo’s tear streaked face as he begged Nandor not to hypnotize him floats before his eyes in the darkness and he feels that stabby, annoying pain in his heart area again.

And now he’s having more confusing heart palpitations again. Great!

---

The movie is still playing on Guillermo’s discarded laptop. Claudia shrieks after learning that she can never grow or change as a vampire. It’s his favorite movie. He’s watched it hundreds of times. And Guillermo is only just now contemplating the real world evidence of that phenomenon. Nandor may have centuries of life experience but emotionally he is still the same repressed, spoiled, arrogant 13th century warlord he was when he was turned, just with a few new pop culture references under his belt. Can he really never learn or change? And if that’s true then what the fuck is Guillermo doing here?

He’s frozen in place where Nandor discarded him like so much refuse. His eyes are fixed on the curtain in fear or hope--he’s not certain--that Nandor might come blazing back into his little room, filling it up with his massive presence for better or worse. Salty tear tracks stain his cheeks and he’s still half wrapped up in the dumb snuggie. His face crumples and a silent sob escapes his throat. He’d been so stupidly happy there for a moment. Nandor--his dream boy, his vampire, his Nandor--kissed him and held him like Guillermo had always dreamed. But the memory tastes bitter in his mouth now as he remembers the cold, blank mask of his face after Guillermo mistakenly confessed his love.

He fists his hands into the soft material of Nandor’s snuggie, burying his face in the fabric as his tears start anew. He begged for this, didn’t he? How pathetic is it that he pleaded with Nandor to let him hold onto the memory of yet another rejection? He falls asleep like that, crying silently and clinging to the only physical evidence of his master’s fleeting, mercurial affection.

---

When he opens his coffin the next evening Nandor finds Guillermo waiting to attend him like always. The vampire hides his surprise and holds out his hand for assistance with all of his typical haughty self-importance. He spent all day plagued by nightmares of his familiar running away into the sunlight. Packing up his computing book, his cute little sweaters and his pizza rolls and fleeing from Nandor like he was some kind of...monster.

Ridiculous, of course.

Guillermo won’t leave him. He’d said so last night. He’d promised in exchange for his pathetic memories. But then Nandor notices the human’s hands are shaking as he adjusts his cravat and Guillermo won’t meet his eyes. There is also a strange new smell coming off of him that he usually only encounters around victims.

Fear.

“Guillermo…” Nandor wrinkles his nose “Have you been cleaning the cell? You should really shower afterwards. It’s not hygienic to be dressing me after being around all those human juices.”

His familiar finally looks up at him, eyes narrowed in confusion as he tries to parse his master’s thought process.

“No…” he finally answers and his voice is like a ghost, thin and ephemeral. “I haven’t been cleaning the cell master.”

He self-consciously leans down to sniff his own armpit and Nandor grimaces in disgust.

“Well, then why--” he stops himself, his deep brown eyes going round as he finally makes the connection. Guillermo is afraid of...him? It is like his nightmares are coming to life!

“Guillermo! Snap out of it now! This is very upsetting and...unprofessional. Why are you afraid?”

Guillermo flinches as if struck by Nandor’s words. He didn’t realize how transparent he was being. His first instinct is to deny it but a flare of anger takes hold of him and he’s speaking before his ingrained habit of suppressing his true feelings can kick in.

“Why am I afraid!? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you almost erased my memories last night? And you could do it any time you want and I’d be powerless to stop you?”

Nandor’s brows knit together and he scoffs, “But that’s always--”

He stops himself, guiltily averting his eyes, but it’s too late. Something changes in Guillermo’s face. The anger bleeds away and his skin goes pale. He almost looks like a vampire or… or one of his victims. The thought sends a shiver down Nandor’s spine.

“Master…” Guillermo’s voice is calm and cool but Nandor has a feeling that what comes next will determine something very important.

“Have you--” He swallows against the lump in his throat. “--Have you hypnotized me before?”

Nandor grimaces, baring his sharp fangs in an uncomfortable smile and looking like the vampiric embodiment of a dog shaming video.

---

There’s the time he dropped Guillermo while he was helping him dust around the spider houses…

...the time Guillermo saw Nandor fall down at the roller rink and the human children all laughed at him…

...when he shamed himself while Guillermo helped him adjust his orgy suit…

And countless other small, trivial moments that now seem to add up to quite a lot.

And, of course, there’s the other night when Nandor admitted that Guillermo is special to him.

---

“...Once or twice.”

Nandor watches his familiar’s face fall and his eyes start leaking. Guillermo angrily scrubs the tears away and shakes his head, throwing off the hurt as he’s learned to do all his life. From elementary school bullies to the love of his life, Guillermo has been rolling with the emotional punches for as long as he can remember. This is no different. So what if the last five years are a lie? So what if he can't trust his own memory? Guillermo is resilient. Guillermo is rubber. Guillermo kills ‘em with kindness and lives to fight another day. Or...

“Fuck you, Nandor,” he reaches up to finish tying the cravat, angrily cinching it around the vampire’s neck with a painful tug.

“Ouch! Watch it with that!” Nandor complains, batting Guillermo’s little hands away. Guillermo crosses his arms over his chest and glares back at him with fierce, thunderstorm eyes. Nandor’s never seen his familiar like this. So forceful…he shakes his head violently, banishing the stupid horny thoughts attempting to take over.

“Alright! So I hypnotized you a few times. So what? Kind of comes with the job there, Guillermo. Did you even read your contract?”

“You mean the one you scribbled on the back of a Panera menu?” Guillermo rolls his eyes. “How did it go? ‘I.O.U. one unholy transition. Signed, Nandor the Relentless’?”

Nandor scrunches his face up and he shifts his eyes as he tries to remember. There must have been more to it…

“I don’t think…” he falters, losing steam for a second before riling himself back up through sheer force of will. He is Nandor the RELENTLESS! “That’s neither here nor anywhere, Guillermo! The point is...eh...the point is you should have expected the occasional hypnotic trance when you took the job! It is common sense!”

“You’re right, master,” Guillermo says in the tone he uses when he doesn’t mean the thing that he is saying. “Silly me, expecting that you’d treat me any differently than one of your victims.”

Nandor feels like he’s rapidly losing the thread of this conversation. Or, more realistically, that the thread ran out from between his fingers long ago and he’s grasping at the empty air. Guillermo thinks he treats him like a victim? After all the troubles he went through to get the smelly red flowers and the music for his dirty biting fantasy? After he saved him from Nadja’s horrendous aim? After all of their chess games and strolls through the moonlit hunting grounds and the countless hours Nandor has spent listening for the soft thump of Guillermo’s human heart? This is what he thinks?

Nandor curls his lip and hurls his next words to Guillermo’s feet with disdain, “Didn’t you say you were jealous of my victims, Guillermo? Well, now you do not have to be. You are one. Perhaps I should finish the job.”

Guillermo barks out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “Oh, please! You’re not going to kill me anymore than you’re going to turn me.”

Guillermo turns away, the job of dressing his master left unfinished and he starts to leave. Nandor looks at his familiar’s back and he sees him running away, abandoning him just like in his dream.

“No!” he roars, lifting off the ground several inches as he flies at Guillermo, tackling the human into the wall of his crypt and knocking a 700-year-old sword to the floor. He presses his hands into Guillermo’s shoulders, pinning him in place and marveling at the soft give of his flesh layered over strong muscles. “You are my familiar and I have not given you permission to leave!”

Guillermo’s eyes harden and he parts his lips to deliver what Nandor is certain will be a devastating blow. He’s going to leave him. He’s going to quit. All because Nandor wasn’t aloof enough! He can’t let him do this! If Nandor’s heart could beat he’s sure it would be bursting from his chest this very second. He squeezes Guillermo’s shoulders too hard, painfully grinding the bones beneath his palms as he lunges, burying his face into the pristine, smooth expanse of his familiar’s neck and biting down with all the force in his body. Guillermo screams and flails against him, but it’s pointless. Nandor is too strong and he’s hell bent on giving his human a bruise to match the one on the other side of his neck.

Guillermo’s blood was made for Nandor. It floods his mouth, coating his tongue like a thick, sweet nectar. He swallows it with a savage groan and presses harder against Guillermo, digging his growing erection into the softness of his belly.

Guillermo is lost in a confusing tangle of rage, sadness, fear and arousal. He can’t fucking believe that Nandor is doing this, basically proving that Guillermo is nothing more than another human victim. And it really, really shouldn’t turn him on this much. His words ring in Guillermo’s ears as the life pulses out of him. Perhaps I should finish the job. Guillermo doesn’t believe for a second that his master is planning to kill but just in case…

He fists his hands in the vampire’s shiny, soft hair--hair he’s lovingly brushed and arranged every night for the last five years--and he yanks it back with all of his might.

“Ouch! Fucking--” Nandor rears back, blood pouring down his chin and his eyes blown with hunger and lust. He captures Guillermo with those eyes and the familiar is drawn in like a moth to the flame. Why is he always chasing the thing that will hurt him?

Before he can second guess himself, and before Nandor can do something stupid like turn into a vapor, Guillermo grabs the vampire’s collar, tugs him down to his level and slams his mouth against his in a brutal, angry kiss. Fuck you for throwing an axe at my head. Fuck you for making me feel inadequate. Fuck you for kissing me and then trying to erase it from my memory. And really, truly, deeply, fuck you for making me love you anyway.

Guillermo’s hands paw at Nandor’s bearded jaw, holding in place as their lips slide together, tongues seeking and massaging. The salty copper taste of Guillermo’s own blood fills his mouth as Nandor plunders inside. The vampire moans, his hands straying down over Guillermo’s chest, his stomach, reaching around to settle over the round curve of his backside. Guillermo whimpers into Nandor’s lips as the vampire squeezes his fingers into his buttocks and simultaneously rolls his pelvis. There’s a sound in the distance trying to attract his attention. As if Guillermo would let go of this moment for anything in the world.

In the next instant, the door to the crypt flings open and Laszlo ducks inside, slamming it shut again just in time to keep out his shrieking, furious wife. Nandor breaks away from Guillermo, jumping back and holding his hands aloft with an obvious, guilty expression.

Laszlo takes one look at Nandor’s blood stained mouth and Guillermo’s utterly ravished appearance and snorts in amusement.

“I fucking knew it!”

#nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandor x guillermo fanfic #guillermo x nandor fanfic #wwdits fanfic #wwdits #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless

25 notes · View notes

huntergatherercreator · 5 years ago

Text

The Takedown | Part Six

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood and weapons

Notes: Took a little break after the last part as I’m working two jobs again, but now that I’m settled I can go back to a part a week from now on.

If you enjoy this please let me know, all feedback is appreciated! :)

Catch up here: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Part 6 - 1,902 Words

As soon as his men cleared out I dropped back into the seat, the pain from my arm hitting me along with the first twinges of a headache. None of the other patrons had batted an eyelid at my injury, and even now, after clearly being able to work out the situation, remained sitting at their respective seats finishing their drinks unhurriedly. The fact that this must happen so regularly for them to have a calm attitude about murder and no internal compulsion to aid the police chilled me. There was a lot more going on here than we could have imagined.

Zoey brushed past with a muttered instruction to meet her in the back. I watched her pick her way over to the door that led to the back hall, head deliberately held high as if she wasn’t affected by any of this either.

I placed the bottle of vodka back behind the bar and for once I wasn’t able to solidly hold back the small spark of temptation. The urge to take a sip, just enough to taste it on my lips slithered through my barrier. A deep breath and I managed to push it away.

I bundled my used napkins into the bin at the end. I hoped that when my blood was found outside the captain wouldn’t press for a warrant to get in, it’d only worry him finding these in the trash. If he was quick enough that is. I knew logically the place would be wiped down long before they managed to get the DNA results back.

Grabbing my wind breaker I followed Zoey’s path into the narrow back hall. The sconces were dim and suffused with pink light giving everything a rosy appearance. Despite what the adjoining rooms were used for the only sound was the same jazz music filtered into the bar. I passed several with ties attached to the handles before reaching the end door labelled ‘Private’.

When I entered Zoey was pacing back and forth around the room. It took me a long second to recognise it as an office, especially as my eyes adjusted to the harsh strip lighting. The room was surprisingly bare. A lone desk with a table lamp and computer gathering a fine layer of dust was the main item. The soft leather of the chair perched behind it was still fresh and crisp as if no-one had sat in it yet. I hadn’t been expecting incriminating documents to be lying about, but there was nothing. No filing cabinet, no calendar with stock delivery dates, not so much as a rogue business card. It made sense now why we’d never been able to pin anything on them. I would place a bet that the hard drive on the computer was completely clean too.

I watched the furrow between her eyes deepen before she came to a stop before me, arms tightly crossing.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she barked.

I sagged back against the wall as a sigh bubbled up. “I didn’t have a choice. If I let him get killed then it’d be case closed.”

Lips tightening she threw me a spearing look as she stalked closer, “That’s not what I mean and you know it. Why were you antagonising him? You’re supposed to be ‘undercover’ which means laying low.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes to the critical look boring into me. I could feel my headache worsening.

“Laying low won’t work. I don’t have the time to be working through the ranks, it could take years now that I know he’s set out strict guidelines for all his men.”

“That doesn’t mean you go from zero to sixty and start riling him up. He’s dangerous.”

Annoyance flaring I straightened up, forcing her to back off. “You think I don’t know that? The whole reason I signed up for this is because he’s dangerous. We can do as much police work as we want but we’ll never take him down. If I get close to him like this I can level the field with the information I gain.”

“You can justify it as doing your part for the city all you want, but what I saw back there wasn’t you, you enjoyed challenging him.”

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Had it been that obvious? If she’d picked up on it had he too?

“Just as I thought,” she shook her head but her features softened. I angled my face away, stepping around her to stand at the desk as heat flushed my cheeks.

“Being undercover isn’t for everyone. It’s mentally and physically stressful. No-one would blame you if you had to back out.” I refused to turn. The sympathy of her tone cut through me.

“There is nothing wrong with me. I can handle this case just fine.” I retorted through gritted teeth as my hackles rose. I repeated the words internally to myself. I was fine. This case wasn’t getting to me.

“I’m sure you can, but at what cost?” I heard her curse under her breath as she shuffled around me to get within my line of sight again. “I can’t let you endanger my case anymore.” She’d already signalled this when Melissa had been pulled up but it cut more now knowing she was making the decision because she couldn’t trust my judgement.

“I think it’s best I let you out the back exit. A team will be here soon.”

The exit she’d referred to was one used solely during the prohibition. It came out a street over in a back alley, the hatch that let me up to street level was hidden by a prop dumpster light enough to be pushed out of the way even with my injured arm.

Hearing the sirens of a cruiser I circled around the streets for a while, unsure of where I was really going until I saw the steps for the Tribeca Bridge. It was still dark, not long past one now and I knew it was a risk to be out in the open especially after the events of the night but still I let my feet guide me around to The Battery and over to a stretch of the railing. The water was inky black, reflecting the lights of the city behind me but giving nothing away about its depth as it lapped at the bay. A cool breeze rippled off it stilling the sweat on my skin. Hands gripping onto the cold metal of the rails I took several deep breaths to try push away the lingering nausea floating in my stomach and fuzziness in my head.

I couldn’t help but replay Zoey’s words but I still refused to acknowledge what she’d been saying. I may not have full control over the situation, I never expected to in a case this versatile, but I knew what I was doing. I was a detective, it was my job. For her to second guess my instincts and my training rankled me. I was and would work this case to the best of my ability and if I ever felt I was in too deep then I’d take proper precautions.

Holland had added another to his death tally tonight, albeit indirectly, and I had no doubt the bodies would keep piling up, getting younger and younger as each side tried to recoup their loses by recruiting whoever they could to keep their ‘businesses’ going. I had to get to the heart of his operation before that became a reality.

I had gained such a valuable negotiating tool in saving his life, now I needed to take time to work out what I could exchange it for.

****

Despite closing the curtains the late morning sun had snuck in around the edges and lit the room enough to wake me. Checking my watch on the small end table it showed I’d been asleep for six hours. My body ached as I stretched out on the thin sheets, protesting as I jerked my arm too fast. A normal day and six hours would have been heavenly, now it barely took the edge off.

Reluctantly getting out of bed I stripped it down, my bandages having soaked through to leave large spatters on the sheets. I’d eventually managed to take a proper look at it after a scalding hot shower when I’d got home. It had passed clean through the outer edge of my arm, missing anything critical but carving out a large chunk of tissue between the entrance and exit wounds. They were small wounds so I’d opted against sewing them shut, simply cleaning it out with more medicinal alcohol from my first aid kit and bandaging them up with gauze pads and wrap and taking a few pain meds to take the worst of the pain away.

I bundled the sheets into the laundry basket along with my clothes from the day before, already pre-soaked and scrubbed to get the majority of the blood out. They were the only things in the basket, not enough for a full load but it made me itch thinking they still had remnants of the night before lingering on the fabric, as if washing them would make the events disappear a little.

As I thought about leaving them until after breakfast the itch grew until I finally threw on a pair of joggers and hoodie on over my nightwear and shoved the items into a bag. I trudged down to the basement, threw them on a high wash and marked the machine with my basket.

I hadn’t passed anyone on the way down. From what I could tell most of the tenants in the building worked all day or just never left their apartments so we never crossed paths. Which was fine with me, it meant one less person to keep up the pretence with. However now, as I reached my landing, there was a man wandering along the hall. I made to move out of the stairwell behind him until I noticed the hesitant way he was walking.

Shifting back into the doorway I watched him pause at a door for a second before moving on. It wasn’t until I caught the slight tilt to his head beneath his hood that I realised he was listening at each apartment. Unease creeping in I took time to properly assess him. Dressed in a perfectly sized hoodie and crisp jeans warning signs flared. Despite the attempt to appear casual this was someone who had spent more than the usual couple of dollars on his outfit. It was a disguise, and a bad one at that for this neighbourhood. They reached the end of the hall, stopping again outside my apartment on the right before turning to head back with a visible shake of their head. It was then I caught a glimpse of their face. Frustration swelled backed by an edge of anger that he’d turned up at my home, that he’d somehow been able to track me, I almost revealed myself but now that I could see his front I froze. His hands were shoved into the front pockets, one taking up more space than the other meaning he was holding something. I didn’t need a police badge to know that the additional bulge in his pocket was a weapon.

------

Taglist: @spideylovin @lukesbabylon @panicattheeverywherekid @keep-bears-wild

Part Seven up now!

#mob!tom #mob!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

71 notes · View notes

tattersofthequeen · 4 years ago

Text

Buried Treasure: A Love Story

Inspired by the true, hilarious, story of Pharaoh Tutankhamen. I kind of ran out of steam near the end but WHATEVER I’M TIRED OF LOOKING AT IT.

-----

Alisdair Massom wanted to go home.

The wind whined through the trees bordering the oasis. It smelled of baked stone and desiccated plant matter. The desert wasn't all one kind of landscape, instead ranging from stony hills to pure sand. The ground wasn't as pleasant to sit in as one might suppose: since this wasn't dune country, it was hard as rock beneath a layer of sand, dust, and pebbles.

He scrubbed at his nose with his sleeve, trying to stifle another racking sneeze, and only succeeded in smearing more grime across his face. Everything out here was dusty, from the tents to the people, unless it was flooded. His neck itched abominably where it met the collar of his khakis; he suspected he was starting to get a rash.

On paper, the idea had been thrilling: a month-long trip with Cat, excavating the tomb of a long-dead Egyptian king, had set his imagination on fire. He still remembered sneaking into the Cineplex with her as children and huddling in the dark, her warm hand in his, staring wide-eyed up at the midnight showings of The Mummy's Curse, or Antony and Cleopatra. The glow of the screen had made her face look like an illuminated sky.

He wondered if she knew how many of those trips had just been an excuse to spend time with her, braving his worries that somehow they'd be found out. He wondered if they meant as much to her as they had to him.

The fact that their flight left at an unholy hour of the night, and their assigned seats were three rows apart, ought to have tipped him off that the excursion wouldn't measure up quite as well as he hoped. The fact that he had barely been outside of the same area code, much less the country, should have been another. Still, even after the abundance of forms, the interminable waiting for passport clearance, and the mad scramble for the gate (huffing and puffing under the weight of Cat's luggage), his enthusiasm remained undampened. He'd rested his head against the window of the plane for most of the ten-hour flight, picturing golden idols glittering in the dark, his name in the papers over an unprecedented find, Ca'tra flinging herself into his arms in celebration.

The reality -as he discovered almost from the moment their plane hit the tarmac- was less glamorous.

"Having fun yet, bro?" Archi called, his back set nonchalantly against the trunk of a dead tree. He had to shout a little, to be heard over the clinking of chisels and the calls of the archaeologists gathered in the dig site. Unlike Alisdair, he seemed entirely unbothered by the dirt and the relentless heat, idly juggling a handful of dried dates. Not waiting for the answer, he softballed one at Alisdair's face with a jovial cry of 'catch'.

"Oh, yeah." Alisdair rolled his eyes expansively, and tried to fumble the date into his mouth and not the sand. "Between the bugs and the dirt and the saliva, I don't think I'm ever going to want to go back. How are you not dying of heatstroke?"

Archi rolled his head back with a long belly laugh, slapping his hands against his midsection loudly enough to make the camels shift and grumble in complaint. His grin was a half-moon glow of chemical white against dark, tanned skin. "Oh my god, you should have seen your face, man! I don't think I've ever seen that much spit come out of anything!"

Alisdair folded his arms huffily across his midsection, his face warming as he hunched his shoulders. "It's funny when you're not the one who spent all night cleaning mucus out of your hair," he muttered, and cast a baleful eye at the offending camel. It chewed placidly on the missing lower third of his sleeve, and stared unblinkingly back, daring him to provoke a rematch. The blond's frown deepened, and he shuffled another cautious step toward the dig. Just to be safe.

"Have you seen Cat at all?" he asked. Other than shifting the topic away from his recent humiliation, he'd barely seen her at all since they arrived. It seemed like they'd only just gotten through customs before Tenax- before Professor Almaizan had smarmed his way in ahead of him, and chivvied off his 'field assistant' to discuss the itinerary for their trip.

No matter where he turned, it seemed, their chaperone was always there, watching him intently with sharp amber-gold eyes and full lips quirked in what the younger man was sure was contempt. He could barely get a bloody word in edgewise with her, much less an invitation to sit with her at dinner, or maybe to hold her hand- to help her across the street, of course; God knew what these people spent their money on but it clearly wasn't city upkeep. Any time he'd tried to steal his way up to the second floor of the hotel, where the girls were rooming, Tenax had blocked the way with an unctuous smile and a long, elegant, firmly barring leg. "Terms of the contract," Alisdair's ass.

Worse, all she ever seemed to talk about anymore was how excited she was to be working with the creepy old foreign professor, and how much help he'd been with her thesis. She barely even glanced at the blond youth when he'd squawked in pain at the temperature of the Turkish coffee- much less listened to his concerns.

Alisdair kicked at the sand, his lips pursing at the memory. It simply wasn't fair.

Archi shrugged, pulling his attention back to the present as he nodded across the base camp to the foot of the tomb. "Hasn't come out since they started, I guess." He cast a long, sly glance at Alisdair's dissatisfied fidgeting, freeing a tattooed hand to smooth his beard back into shape. "I mean, she's probably having the time of her life, right? Did you know she licks the rocks she digs up?"

"She does not!" Alisdair gasped, scandalized, his eyes wide. He gave the sand pile another kick, for good measure, sending an industrious dung beetle scuttling for cover.

"Oh yeah, bro, she totally does. Rocks. Bones. AND all those little brushes. She just sticks 'em in her mouth." Hand raised, fingers together, Archi moved his chin up and down behind his hand in a slow, wicked nod. "I've seen her do it. Go check if you don't believe me. Bet she's already licked your old man's shaving whisk."

Alisdair thought about the possibility for a moment, toeing at the sand. There was something under there, he thought, shifting under his boot. He hoped it wasn't a scorpion. "Man," he said at last, "it doesn't even matter if she did. It's not like he ever uses it." Despite the gentle nudges he and his mother had given, the senior Kallus' facial topiary continued to grow, and the expensive father's day gift gathered dust in the bathroom cabinet.

"God." Archi's face scrunched like one of the dates he was juggling. "Do you think he's got.... you know, a second sideburn growing on his chest or something? Just.... taking everything over?"

"Oh," Alisdair shuddered, wishing -not for the first time- that his parents had elected to install a second bathroom. "He does, actually. It's a whole thatch. Thanks so much for reminding me."

A date rebounded off his shoulder as Archi missed his toss with a look of horrified glee. "Bro, are you fucking serious? Are there pictures?!" His grin widened until it threatened to eclipse his face, visions of blackmail dancing in his head.

Alisdair rolled his eyes, stooping to retrieve the fruit. It wasn't a conscious decision: years of hearing his mother's vendetta against litter had him moving almost mechanically. He wasn't even sure where to throw it once he had it; it wasn't as if an Egyptian desert had compostables bins lying around. His fingers closed around the date, and brushed against the object he'd felt before, just under the sand.

On a whim, he worked his fingers deeper into the debris. It was hard, flat, and rigid: definitely not a scorpion. It didn't feel like much of anything he recognized.

For a moment -just for a moment- the embers of his fantasy caught light again. He saw himself pulling a jewel-studded length of belt free from the sand, or an ancient scroll containing a map to forgotten treasure. He imagined Cat's eyes widening at the sight of it, her mouth falling open in astonished wonder at his luck and talent, apologizing profusely for not having seen how valuable an addition he was to the team. Yes, that would do nicely.

Rocking back on his heels, he opened his hand, dusting away the last of the grit to discover-

"Izzat a piece of beef jerky?"

Archi leaned over Alisdair's shoulder, squinting down at the object. It was not a Pharaoh's belt. It was not a scroll case, either. Instead, he was holding a coal black, withered stick the length of his hand. His nose crinkled in disappointment and revulsion, hand dropping dejectedly to his side. He nearly dropped the thing into the sand before Archi plucked it away from him, bringing it up to his nose like he might an expensive Cuban cigar.

"Blech! It smells like my Uncle Rau's attic!" His friend jerked his head back, expression curdling, and leaned close to shove the object near Alisdair's face. "I mean, I'd still eat it, though. Bet me twenty bucks?"

"Archi, I don't want your-" Alisdair had only just managed to get his feet underneath him before his nostrils were assaulted by something both acrid and faintly herbal. He retched, slapping his hands over his nose, then retched again as he realized the smell was clinging to his palms. "Oh, god, that's VILE!"

"I know, right?! About that bet...."

Alisdair swiped the jerky from his hand, dropping it into a pocket of his khakis, not so much because he actually wanted the disgusting thing anywhere near him as wanting to keep his friend from following through on the threat. "I'm going to go find Cat before you find anything else to shove into your mouth."

Turning sharply on his heel, ignoring Archi's braying laughter, he lengthened his stride across the hard-packed earth toward the dig. He tried to think of Cat's bright blue eyes, her dark curls flecked with glittering dust, and not early memories of his father or the possibility that Archi's little sister had graduated from licking rocks to sampling the shaving cream.

At one point -back when it was first built, Alisdair supposed- the tomb must have been truly magnificent. Sandstone pillars lined the front entrance, still standing firm despite their age, each section painstakingly hand-shaped and still sporting the chisel marks of the artisans who'd sculpted them.

Cat had tried explaining, over the groaning of the camels, the particular types of pigments that would have once decorated them- but he'd been too focused on keeping the constant sway of the animal beneath him from upsetting the contents of his stomach to listen. Now they were the color of dust, the same as everything else in this wasteland.

Most of the structure was still intact, but the section Professor Almaizan had them working in had been dug out in the past year. The pillars near the opening listed slightly, either displaced during the previous excavations or by age. It made them resemble the bones of some ancient, long dead beast, or the nave of a ruined church, open to the moon. Here and there, colored thread was strung out in careful grids, marking off grids for the researchers to work. Near the northern corner, he could just about glimpse the lean figure of Professor Tenax Almaizan as he inspected their work, his dark shalwar kameez billowing in the hot, dry wind.

Steps had been carved into the excavated stone, or cobbled together from what wood they'd managed to cut, leading down into the guts of the structure perhaps some twenty (steep, gritty) feet. If there was any consolation, he supposed, it was that at least there was shade below the first level. Sweat cooled on his forehead as he passed out of the scorching midmorning sun. The shade smelled of hot bricks and chalk dust.

Steadying himself against the wall with a hand, he tried to picture what it would be like to be the first person to set foot in the burial chamber: torchlight glittering off ancient golden idols, gems the size of his hand, his archaeologist companion pressed close for protection as the withered old pharaoh began to stir-

A hand clamped down on his ankle.

Alisdair's undignified squawk echoed from the walls as gravel crunched under his feet, boots skidding on sand. The attempt to correct his balance, far from serving its intended purpose, nearly sent him over the edge and into the excavation pit. Hands flailing, he grabbed for the scaffolding and dug his heels in, a flush of embarrassment and adrenaline flooding his already heat-blotched face. "Ca'tra," he gasped, voice several octaves higher than he'd intended. "Don't grab me like that!"

Ca'tra Akaata (graduate student, aspiring archaeologist, current leading cause of premature heart attacks) was exactly where Archi had said she'd be: sat in the dirt, having the time of her life. One leg braced beneath her, she stretched the other out as far as it would go, marking her place with her toes as she arched up to grin at him. "Hi, Alisdair! Don't come down, I'm still finishing this section." Her voice was oddly muffled.

Lips twisted into a pout at her clear and total lack of remorse, Alisdair ignored her admonition, edging down the last set of steps- though, as a concession, he was careful to avoid the dig points marked out around her.

As she came into clearer focus, he realized her brother had been correct on another point: The horsehair shaving brush WAS in her mouth. Lengthwise, to be specific, teeth clamped firmly on the mahogany handle. He suppressed a wince at a fleeting image of his father, mouth downturned in a perplexed grimace as he loudly asked where the indentations had come from. Turning her head, she casually spat it into her hand, wiped it clean on a corner of her brightly patterned head scarf, and set it back down in the toolkit. "If you step on anything," she warned, "I won't be held responsible for what the Professor does to you."

Tossing his hair, Alisdair let out what he hoped was a sufficiently dismissive snort. "Oh, what do I care what that musty old pedant says? I was just making sure you didn't need to be rescued from traps or flesh-eating scarabs." Cat blinked at him for a second in mute astonishment, then threw back her head and laughed, dimples forming at the corners of her mouth. The movement revealed a stray, coal-black curl escaping the confines of her hijab. His hand twitched, resisting the urge to tuck it back into place.

"Scarabs don't eat people, Alisdair," she said, once her ebullience had faded enough to talk. "That's just the movies." Her teeth flashed, lower lip pinned in concentration as she picked dirt from a tiny clay figurine. "Then again, they might make an exception for you. Skittering around in the dark, hankering for your succulent flesh." She wiggled her fingers at him. "Skitter skitter."

Alisdair swallowed, hard, and stood up on his toes, shuffling a little further away from the nearby hole in the wall. Not that he believed her teasing, of course, just that he had heard that. Snakes. Liked to hide in holes in the wall. That was it. Just to be safe.

"You are so mean," he huffed. "At least tell me you found old Pharaoh What's His Nuts so we can go back to the hotel and celebrate."

The young archaeologist hummed, gently blowing the last of the dirt free of her figurine, and glanced up at Alisdair with arched brows. "I hate to disappoint you, but old Pharaoh What's His Nuts was excavated years ago, as I told you repeatedly on the way over.” She paused, and hummed thoughtfully, in the back of her throat. “Most of him, anyway."

"What?!" Alisdair gaped down at her. His knees sagged, back dragging over the rough stone as he dropped into an undignified squat at the edge of her workspace. "But I- but you said-" The champagne and press conferences he'd envisioned evaporated like a heat mirage, leaving him suddenly very aware of how hot and dusty and tired he was. "I thought you said this was exclusive!"

Cat rocked back on her heels, resting her forearms on her knees, and gave him a look that might have been pity. "It is exclusive, Alisdair. This is one of the most important digs of the decade. It's a miracle it hasn't been stripped completely bare by looters, or other archaeological teams. It's an amazing opportunity to get hands on experience in the field. I don't know how the Professor pulled it off."

"I think I've had quite enough experience in the field for one lifetime, thank you. I honestly don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't scorpions, or heat rashes, or all this sand. I don't like sand, Ca'tra."

Cat put the toothbrush back down with rather more force than was strictly necessary. "It's a desert, Alisdair. It's going to have sand. If you weren't prepared for some rough conditions, you could have just stayed at the hotel."

"I wanted to come with you!" Alisdair's voice rose, threatening to become a whine. "I know Professor Musty thinks I'm just a glorified pack mule, but I didn't think you agreed with him."

She sighed, expansively, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "I know you don't like him, but he's really taking a chance with me on this expedition. It's not my fault someone got here before us."

Alisdair knew he couldn't really argue with her reasoning, but it didn't quell the bitter disappointment pooling in his gut. It threatened to rise into his throat and choke him. He stared down at the toes of his boots, hands fisting at his sides, and tried to convince himself the stinging in his eyes was just from heat.

"Oh, your professor's so great all right," he snapped. "He's so great that you've been ignoring me this entire trip and dragged me out here where there are scorpions and snakes and heatstroke and spit, and you and your professor'll go on to become rich and famous, and I'll probably die from the curse and all I found out here was a piece of ancient beef jerky!" Without thinking, he plunged his hand into his pocket, flinging the leather down in the midst of her carefully plotted workspace.

Cat's face flushed with anger, her eyes seeming even more intensely blue against the darkening of her cheeks. Snatching the object from among her grid stakes, she pulled her arm back, clearly intending to hurl it right back at him.

Then, abruptly, she stopped dead. Her arm was still poised, fist wrapped around the leather in preparation to send it back in his face. Slowly, she lowered her hand, staring down at the stick in utter bewilderment. "Beef jerky?" she repeated. Before he could stop her, she raised her hand to her face. He had a nightmarish vision then, of her tongue flicking out, flicking out to taste-

"CAT, NO!" He lunged at her, nearly ploughing into her dig, feet skidding as she shot him a murderous look. He teetered at the edge of the colored twine as she brought her hand up to her face again, sniffing once, and then again, more deeply. The flush faded from her cheeks as her eyes went wide.

"Alisdair," Cat said, her tone slow and deliberate. "Where did you find this?"

His brow furrowed in confusion as she held it out to him. "Lying in the sand, who cares, Cat, it's just a piece of jerky. I was going to throw it away."

"Alisdair." Her expression sharp, she leaned forward across her workspace to lock eyes with him. Her hair had slipped even further from the hijab, shading her eyebrow; he took the jerky from her in bewilderment. "Where EXACTLY. Did you find this."

"The entrance to the tomb, I guess?" Alisdair glanced down at the sad piece of leather and wrinkled his nose in renewed disappointment. "It’s hardly the royal jewels, isn’t it?"

But Ca'tra was looking at him now with an expression of astonishment that didn't look like it was born out of mockery, eyes flicking back and forth at some internal dialogue. "No," she breathed, the hints of a smile beginning to grow on her face. "It's so easy. Oh, my god, that's so stupid, I don't believe it."

"Cat?" Alisdair eyed her, warily, his hand still poised in front of herself. He nearly jumped as she lurched to her feet, crossing the dig in one long bound and reached out to grab his shoulders. Silently, she shook him, her face breaking into a grin to rival Archi's. It scared him more than her anger had. "What are you talking about?"

Cat shook Alisdair again, and grabbed his wrist in excitement, her expression very nearly gleeful. "It's been a mystery for years, Alisdair, ever since the Pharaoh was moved from the burial chamber. All those theories! And it was right here the entire time, I could kiss you!"

Alisdair felt his face heat, his anger and frustration leaving him in a rush. His palms prickled as she threw her arms around his shoulders, almost knocking the jerky from his hand. "Oh, well. Um. You're welcome," he mumbled. "What... um. What is it, then?"

"I said they found most of Pharaoh Khem-Adas. Most of him." Cat pulled back, holding him at arm's length, her eyes twinkling. "You said it yourself, Alisdair. The royal jewels! The royal jewels of Old Pharaoh What's His Nuts!" An hysterical laugh bubbled in the back of her throat. "The embalming, the composition, its size- stay right here, I'm going to go find the professor!"

For an instant, still suffused in rosy warmth as he was, the words failed to sink in. Repeating them back to himself, however, Alisdair felt a trickle of dread coil up his spine. He stared down at the mummified leather in his hand, small and roundish and not altogether unlike the treats he sometimes gave Mrs. Almaizan's pomeranian.

Treats that were made of.... of....

"Cat!" His voice cracked slightly, as his flush was replaced with a sickly greenish pallor. He could feel bile rising in his throat. "Are you saying this is.... that I'm holding a-"

“Don’t worry, Alisdair!” She grinned at him, wide and wild, pausing with her hand on the scaffolding. “I’ll make sure you get your picture in the papers! PROFESSOR ALMAIZAN, GET THE CAMERA!"

For such a small woman, Cat's voice echoed across the tomb- across the entire base camp as her feet pounded up the rest of the steps to the upper levels. As his vision began to tunnel, Alisdair thought they could probably hear her all the way back in Cairo.

"ALISDAIR FOUND PHARAOH KHEM-ADAS' MISSING PENIS!”

#metro writes #not nano 2020 #character: Alisdair Massom #character: Ca'tra #character: Archi Akaata #their banter is so much fun to write

8 notes · View notes

imagine-organization-xiii · 5 years ago

Text

Organization XIII - As Cats

I was inspired by two things: the first was this post by boodalinski because I was watching the kill count on youtube and happened to come across it while scrolling through the tumblr tag for Friday the 13th.

I was also inspired by a fanfiction by nyargles called Phil Coulson is Not a Crazy Cat Lady - an MCU fanfic with the avengers as cats, which was fairly entertaining and I highly recommend if you’re an MCU fan.

oOoOo

Buy me a coffee here! (now with an updated and working link)

oOoOo

Xemnas

Xemnas was your first kitty, a regal black feline that had a look in his eyes that said he was a lot smarter than everyone around him. The old lady you adopted him from couldn’t tell you how old he was, only that she had him for years and that he really didn’t seem to age and didn’t act like an elderly cat. She promised that he was mostly self-sufficient and, honestly, came and went as he pleased, which he does.

You can go days sometimes without seeing Xemnas. You’ll refill his food and water bowls because the contents steadily disappear and there’s evidence that he’s been using the litter box, but you don’t actually see him even when you search high and low through the house.

There’s nothing that you can do. He is the king of your house and he will make it known. When he does bother to show his face, he watches your ever move, obviously judging everything you do. Gets pissed if you don’t give him the highest quality of food - wet. salmon. only. or he’ll just refuse to eat and meow at you like a little asshole until you give in.

Does not get along with the other cats you eventually adopt. He acts as though they’re business partners and gets some of them to do his bidding.

That cat that would stand next to that expensive glass vase that your mother gave you and slowly reach out his paw while you’re like “don’t you dare,” and he’ll just blink slowly at you like the little asshole he is before he pushes the vase to the floor and lets it smash into a hundred pieces.

Xigbar

Xigbar was a wild stray when you first found him lurking on the roof near your rain gutters. His hair was long and matted and he had more scars across his body than any animal should ever have, but he had a surprisingly good attitude when you clicked your fingers and enticed him with cat treats. Turns out the treats were useless, because he just took one look at you and the treats, turned his nose up at you, hopped down from your roof and waltzed past you just to head directly to your front door, meowing in annoyance until you let him inside.

Didn’t mind it when you dragged him into the bath, meowing wildly at Xemnas from where your first cat perched himself on your bathroom counter, watching with an intense eye that almost made you uncomfortable. Xigbar, however, didn’t put up a fight against the water and happily allows you to scrub at the dirt and grime in his fur.

This little asshole gets into everything. You can lock the cabinets and the doors and put padlocks onto the bags of treats but somehow still manages to eat his way through a whole bag of cat food and treats and oh god the bag of catnip like the rat bastard he is.

Xaldin

Xaldin is a large fluffy cat with the darkest hair you’ve ever seen - hair that seems to get tangled no matter what you do, so you need to keep him brushed constantly because he’ll go absolutely ballistic if you try to get it trimmed by a groomer to make it more manageable.

His hair gathers static electricity like whoa, so be prepared to get a static shock if you get close to him, which happens a lot because he gets in moods sometimes where he loves cuddles? But he doesn’t want you to know he loves cuddles. He’ll plop his ass in your lap and expect you to give him a few cuddles and squeezes before he’s done for the day and goes about doing whatever else he does.

A jealous cat, like horribly jealous whenever you pay one of the other cats more attention than him. He needs a lot of affection even though he’ll fight you tooth and nail through it all. He wants to be an independent kitty, okay, but he gets lonely easily, so don’t be surprised if he sneaks in to your room at night to sleep at the foot of your bed and somehow ends up half on top of your pillow with you.

Vexen

A cat that is on the uglier side because of a surprisingly pointed face with a nose that is always up in the air. He has a constant pout and is on the older side, even though you’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly how old he was.

Talks a lot. Meows at you, at the other cats, at himself, at walls, at empty air, at his toys, at everything. He never shuts up. His meow sounds like the disgruntled croak of someone who smoked eighteen packs of cigarettes a day, literally one of the ugliest meows you’ve ever heard in your life.

But that’s okay!!! He isn’t the most handsome cat in the world but by god he’s so smart and endearing. You can’t believe how intelligent he is. He’s the one who locates all of the treats and catnips, Xigbar tears open the bags, and the two of them share in the spoils of their victory.

An indecisive cat. Meows relentlessly to get your attention because he gets lonely. “Y/N pay attention to me!!!” But then when you do he’s like HA SIKE and nips at your heels or hands before he bolts away because he can’t decide if he wants affection or if he just wants to be a naughty boy for no reason.

Lexaeus

You find Lexaeus at the same time you find Zexion, the gigantic cat covering the smaller gray kitten protectively with his huge body against the storm raging outside and against you. They were hiding somewhere under your porch when you heard the tiny kitten mewls from somewhere nearby, and you somehow managed to entice them into the house with warmth and treats.

Lexaeus is one of the biggest cats you’ve ever seen. He’s protective of Zexion - and later, the other cats, too - and he’s quiet and surprisingly agile for his huge size. Of all the cats, it takes him the longest to get used to your presence. He doesn’t trust you at all for what feels like weeks, but slowly he gets used to having you around and... well, he knows that you’re now his primary food source so he begrudgingly accepts you.

But when he does get used to you? He’s a purring machine. Sounds like a small car engine with how much he purrs. The smaller kittens love to lay on him or under him or around him because he’s like a vibrating massager.

Plops everywhere. Plops on your lap when he wants cuddles, which is often. Plops on top of the older cats when they annoy him or if they’re getting out of control. Plops on top of the little cats when he can tell they’re getting anxious. Just a blob of fur sometimes.

Zexion

A teeny baby!!!! Such a sweetheart. Quiet and smart and wary of the entire world around him even though he is so curious and wants to get into everything because he has to be in everyone’s business. He likes to explore even if that means he’ll disappear and appear hours later covered in dust and dirt.

Another one of your rare cats that’s fairly okay with baths. A little lukewarm water and his favorite squeaky toy and he’ll be good to go when you need to wash some dirt out of his hair.

His favorite spot in the world? Perched on top of Lexaeus’s head. You don’t know why, but you think he might like the view from so high up since he has fairly short legs.

Not really a fan of toys in general, but he loves blankets and anything fluffy that he could dig himself in and hide. The more fluff, the better, which is probably why he likes Lexaeus so much. If you can’t find him, chances are that he’s somehow gotten into your bed and burrowed under your covers because WARM

Saix

Saix was a wild stray when you found him lurking near your rain gutters one late, rainy night, with matted fur and an odd scar across

Likes to keep to himself. You don’t own him, he owns you. Doesn’t like to be touched except for on very rare occasions. He’s self-sufficient, similarly to Xemnas, but unlike Xemnas who judges you for long distances but will begrudgingly put up with you if you pat his head, Saix is NOT afraid of swiping at you with your claws.

“Omg, Y/N, are you okay?” And your friends will just stare down at the tiny scratch marks that cover your palms and your arms and your calves. “Oh, yeah, that’s just Saix.”

Likes schedules. Somehow knows your schedule better than you do. He’s your alarm clock in the mornings, waking you up with piercing meows right next to your ear at 6:30 on the dot. Are you late for feeding time? Unacceptable. Get your ass in the kitchen and pour food into his bowl before he takes it upon himself to jump onto the counters and find something to eat for himself.

One of the cats that brings you dead animals because, my goodness you really are useless aren’t you? Here, let me just plop this dead mouse right into your shoes so you can have some sustenance.

Axel

Axel comes as a package deal with Roxas at the animal shelter. You go in to volunteer for a bit and leave with two cats meowing enthusiastically back and forth to each other.

Equally as vocal as Vexen, but his meows are a bit cuter and more high-pitched. Eagerly races after you through the house as he trills in excitement - never has any idea what’s going on, but he’s always happy to be around you!

Axel is arguably the best cat around other human beings. He’s a curious cat when it comes to people and thinks, hey this is another person to give me some sweet pets so I better be nice to them no matter what!!! Also one of the only cats that will actually show themselves when there’s a little child in the room. Sits patiently while the kid will pat him a little too roughly, well-mannered and begrudging as he noses his way around the room.

Best cat around other human beings, yes, but it takes you a while to realize it’s because he’s a nosy little shit and has to be in the middle of everything at all times. Will definitely be winding through people’s legs and whining for attention because he has to be the center of attention or else.

Demyx

Such a dumb cat. Like probably the dumbest cat you’ve ever seen in your life, but it’s gone around from being super dumb to kind of being endearing, because Demyx is such a loving cat and wants all the cuddles and love that you can give him, but he has no common sense whatsoever.

The last of your cats that likes water, and he probably likes it the most out of all of them. Scrub scrub scrub, just let him drown in that warm water, he will thank you with the best cuddles and rubs against your leg.

Follows you everywhere because he wants to be with you because he loves you! Are you heading into the bathroom? Into the kitchen to fix dinner? Into your attic? Out to your car? He’ll be right on your heels.

Makes the cutest noises when he sleeps, like little squeaks and chirps that happen when he gets too excited even when he’s unconscious.

Luxord

Shameless attention whore, without a doubt. Follows you around the house. Follows the other cats. Follows deliver people and your friends out to their vehicles. Tries to follow you to work. He has definitely made you late more than once because he absolutely knows how to sneak past you out the front door.

Most susceptible to bribes of treats. Dangle a few treats in the air and Luxord could quite literally be eating out of the palm of your hand. He gets kind of zealous, though, so get him to do what you need him to do before he starts literally climbing up your pant leg.

Shockingly territorial. He likes things to be a certain way, so if one of the other cats happens to sneak their way into his spot on the cat tower? He can get kind of violent. However, he’s also easily distracted, so fights with the other cats are few and far between.

Marluxia

A sweet, lazy cat who would much rather spread out in your garden in a patch of sunshine than run around with the other cats. He’s an observer, through and through, and keeps himself super groomed. Loves being pampered and doesn’t mind bathing, but it isn’t his favorite thing in the world.

His weak spot? His ears. Rub behind his ears for a little bit and he will literally melt into a pile of fluff across your feet. A scratch behind the ears is instantly calming for your sweet Marluxia.

Cleans himself all the time. Expect to be groomed when he grooms himself because, man Y/N you need to take care of yourself! He’s a handsome boy and he knows it, so he thinks that he’s the epitome of good hygiene. Will also try to help groom the other cats - only half of them put up with it.

Larxene

Your first female cat and Larxene immediately takes up a role as queen. She won’t let any of the other cats take advantage of her, so your boys will either avoid her completely, watch her warily from a distance, or do their best to befriend her and get on her good side.

Static. Electricity. You don’t know what Larxene does when you have your back turned, but every time you go to pet her, you always end up getting an electric shock. She’ll chirp at you and give you a lick before running off to go curl up near the window, but you’re left with your hair standing on end.

Most active at night. When all of the other cats are snoozing, she likes to be up, roaming and wandering the house and exploring. She likes being aware of her surroundings!

Larxene is also the best when it comes to car rides. She’ll stretch out and snooze where your other cats will cry, hiss, swat at you, or hide under one of the seats.

Roxas

Roxas isn’t a stupid cat - he’s actually really smart! - but he’s so clumsy. Trips on air, on his own two feet, on the other cats, on his toys, on his food bowl, etc. He jumps long distances and misses his destination, runs with an intention of leaping but slips on the floor and runs face-first into the wall. Bounces back pretty fast and is fairly resilient, so he rarely injures himself no matter how much he trips and falls.

Most likely to be found: dangling by the scruff in Axel’s mouth, meowing indignantly. Axel took a shine to the little kitten and you aren’t quite sure why, but if you’re looking for either one of them, the other shouldn’t be far behind.

Squeaky toys. Oh, man, all the squeaky toys. Has he disappeared? Just give his favorite toy a squeak and wait a few minutes. He’ll bolt down the hallway and squeak squeak squeak squeaksqueaksqueaksqUEAK

Xion

Oh, my God, the cutest kitten, almost too cute to be real. She’s small and has stubby legs but is surprisingly agile for her size and age. Probably the youngest of all of the kitties.

Has a sixth sense when it comes to human emotions. Knows exactly whenever your upset and she adjusts her behavior accordingly. You’re sad and she wants you to be less sad, so be prepared for constant purring and cuddles until you feel better. Sometimes recruits Roxas to come and snuggle with you.

Hates water, but isn’t afraid of it? Like she doesn’t want to be in the water at all, but she gets scared for you whenever you take a shower and wants to rescue you, so she’ll definitely be meowing at you until you take her into the shower with you, putting her somewhere dry where she can watch you and make sure that you’re okay.

#organization xiii headcanon #kingdom hearts headcanon

62 notes · View notes

willow-salix · 5 years ago

Text

Isolation update! Who was it that wanted John with a beard? Because you're going to get all five of them...

Day 68 of isolation on Tracy Island.

“Oi,” I grumbled as something prickled my shoulder. “What the heck are you doing?

John ignored me and continued to rub his chin against my shoulder like a cat scent marking, not bothering to put down the book he was reading. I watched with mild interest for a few moments as he rolled his face all over me, his scratchy stubble rasping at my skin.

“Are you done yet?”

“No.” He started again.

“Dude, I’m not a scratching post.”

“I know,” he continued as if I hadn’t said a thing.

“And yet you're not stopping. I’m getting stubble rash over here.”

“Oh, so now you’re complaining?”

Scott snorted out a laugh but didn't get involved.

“You still didn't answer my question of why.”

“I’m itchy.” He stopped his sandpaper attack and went back to his book, although he continued to periodically rub his cheek against his own shoulder or mine as the morning wore on.

What the heck was going on with him? Normally he hated to feel stubbly, shaving twice a day when possible to avoid it. I know that lockdown has made the whole world a little lazy but if it was bothering him, then surely it was time to pick up the slack on the grooming front?

A movement to my left caught my eye as Scott scratched absently at his neck. Huh, he was looking a little darker on the chin too. I glanced around at the others and for the first time I noticed that they were all doing the same thing. It was like watching a pack of stray dogs, all scratching at themselves like they were fighting fleas. Gordon was sporting about a centimeter of golden stubble, while Virgil had so much darkness dusting his chin and cheeks that I had no idea why I hadn't noticed it before. I was putting it down to lockdown blindness, where you see someone every day with no break and so they just all blend in together and you don't even really notice them any more.

“OK, something’s going on with you lot, why are you all looking like castaways?”

They all looked at each other exchanging shifty glances.

“We might be having a beard growing contest,” Virgil admitted.

“How the heck did that come about? Do you guys turn everything into a competition?”

“Pretty much,” Scott shrugged, scratching at his chin. He found his efforts to be unsatisfactory and stole my hand to do the job, since I have longer nails.

“It was my idea,” Gordon told me.

“Why am I not surprised?”

"I’ve always liked the idea of growing a beard, but none of us could because we have to have a smooth seal with our masks and beards could hinder that.”

“Seems legit,” I answered. “So I guess you’re all in the itchy stage?” Understatement of the year there, hun, your arm is currently being manhandled to provide itch relief.

They all nodded miserably, even Alan.

“Well I'm not prepared to sit around for the next however many weeks while you scratch at yourselves, more than usual that is. Or to do it for you. Have any of you even looked up anything about this?”

“It’s growing a beard, not rocket science,” Gordon drawled like he was explaining two plus two. “You just stop shaving and let it grow.”

“Oh you innocent boy, how naive you are.” I grabbed my phone and got to googling.

“The itching should stop in the next week or so and then you’ll have a few weeks of niceness before the itchy starts again.

They all groaned, knowing that they were in for a rough time.

“It’s itchy because you’re shedding skin. You need to shampoo and moisturise,” I advised, sharing my findings.

“Ewww,” Alan made a face.

“Let me guess, none of you have moisturiser or anything remotely related to grooming that isn’t hair gel?”

They shook their heads. Virgil scratched his cheek pathetically.

“Urghh, fine I’ll share. Anything to stop you all complaining and using my body parts as a scratching post.”

I toddled off to the bedroom and came back with a selection of products that I thought might help. I had only been gone for ten minutes but in that time each of them had moved to a different spot on the couches and they were still scratching.

Virgil was using a pencil to rub at his cheek, Gordon was using my hairbrush to scrub his chin, Scott was using the letter opener from Jeff’s desk , John was using the corner of his book and Alan...well he was just fine really but he didn't seem to even have any growth.

I snatched my hairbrush off Gordon

“Please don’t tell me that in the few minutes I was gone you lot ended up in a competition to see who could scratch themselves in the weirdest way?” I was joking, but the fact that they never denied it leads me to believe that they might have been doing just that.

The next half hour was like an Avon party, all of them fighting over the lotions and potions I had scavenged. They were typical men, squirting out a massive handful and slapping it onto their faces and rubbing it in like they were trying to scrub carbon deposits of Two’s hull.

“Stop!” I yelled, unable to take much more of watching them abuse their own faces. I had to step in. Men just don’t know how to be delicate. “Lawd you boys need help.”

“You say that every day for one thing or another,” Virgil pointed out.

“Not my fault you’re all dumb and need a baby sitter.” If you could see them you’d know I was right, picture a bunch of toddlers who got into their mums bathroom cabinet and decided to make a cake in the sink and then smear it on themselves. Yep, that's about it.

“There’s a process, you can’t just slap on some moisturiser and hope for the best. Someone get me a bowl of warm water and a towel.”

If you’d have asked me earlier what I thought I’d be doing today, I definitely wouldn't have said I’d be giving these idiots facials and teaching them how to actually care for their skin. But I've learnt that in International Rescue no day is ever the same and you have to roll with the punches and fly by the seat of your pants. Just take every obstacle in your stride and adapt to the circumstances. Apparently the same can be said for the things that happen during lockdown.

For once in his life John wasn’t complaining that I was using him as a guinea pig as he lay with his head in my lap while I talked them through how to properly wash their faces with a sensitive foaming cleanser, how to stimulate and exfoliate the skin with a gentle silicone scrubbie (apparently nails on an itchy chin are purr inducingly good) and how to rub in moisturiser with gentle circular strokes rather than trying to scrub off their eyebrows.

They all managed to complete their facials with a reasonable degree of competence. They did need some help and additional instruction, although I’m fairly convinced they just wanted to be pampered too, and for the rest of the morning they were itch free and a lot happier. I’ve got a feeling that the next week or so is going to be an absolute nightmare. That and I’m not going to have anything left in the bathroom cabinet by the end of this little competition of theirs. They owe me.

I made them all sit together and took some pictures for the family album, that and as progress shots. This is going to be something we'll definitely want to look back on.

#Tracy bros #Beard growing time #Yet another competition #Thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #isolation island #social isolation #isolation

12 notes · View notes

eddiesasspbrak · 5 years ago

Text

When I’m With You Ch. 17

Eddie can’t stand the barista at his favorite coffee shop. Richie has fallen in love with the man he sees twice a week. Stan is dating someone but won’t let his friends meet them. Ben is in love with Beverly, but is so afraid of scaring her away he’s not moving forward. Chaotic friends navigating college together.

Ch. 1

Read on AO3

5k+ words

Eddie spent all of Friday cleaning his place. Not a trace of dust could be left behind. Stan and Ben came to help when they could, knowing just how bad Sonia’s wrath could really be. Bedding was washed, the bathroom was scrubbed from top to bottom, the kitchen organized and purged of any food that she would deem unacceptable. Eddie removed each shelf from the fridge, cleaning them with soap and bleach until he was sure they were clean. He hid his soymilk at Richie’s the night before, knowing she’d claim he had a soy allergy if she saw it.

Ben took the box of things he’d gathered to hide at Bev’s with him when he left. Stan was the most helpful as his OCD made him the perfect person to clean and organize. He had what they had always called “Sonia vision”. He walked through the apartment, looking for anything and everything she might see and have a problem with. Your dresser isn’t secured to the wall Eddie, what if it falls over on top of you? A trip to the hardware store down the street and it was fixed. Your lamp cord stretches across the floor, Eddie, you could trip. Wrapped around the table leg until it was just long enough to reach the plug. When he finally did a walkthrough that came up clean, Eddie relaxed a bit. He just had to keep it that way until she left.

When Saturday finally came, Eddie was ready to bust from all the nerves that had built up within him. He’d woken up in a panic at 6am from a nightmare that his mom arrived early to find Cheetos in the cabinet and Richie’s underwear on the sofa. He wasn’t able to go back to sleep after that and spent the next hour picking out his outfit for the party that would take place later that night. Richie had stayed at his own place that night so he wouldn’t leave anything behind that Sonia might find. And of course, Eddie couldn’t stay at his place because what if she smelled him on Eddie? He would soon know just how deep her controlling went. Eddie was still unsure about her meeting him at all. If she saw one thing wrong in him, she’d immediately hate him, and Eddie had no plans to end that relationship.

Eddie went about his day, showering, having breakfast, homework. Richie took the opportunity to sleep in and didn’t text Eddie a good morning text until 2pm when he’d already had lunch and was sat on his couch reading a book. He sent along a picture of him in bed, glasses off, and hair looking a mess. Eddie felt a swell of love bubble up in his chest and he wondered how he’d ever spent a second of his life not loving this boy. Every second of their relationship before they were together became a distant memory even though it had only been a few weeks since then. Eddie had never fallen so fast in his life, never even had a proper relationship. If he’d known this feeling was what he was missing out on, he would have tried a little harder, spent less time pretending he didn’t find Richie charming.

He didn’t want to admit it, but Eddie was counting down the hours until he had to leave with his friends to go to this party. Many times, since he’d woken that morning, he thought he might actually puke from the nerves twisting in his gut. Bad memories could easily be forgotten. It was just a stupid mistake from more than a year prior and this was different. This was a different party with different people (except Ben and Stan of course) and he was going to have this boyfriend by his side this time. Everything would be fine.

It was all his own anxiety picking at him, heightened by the impending visit of his mother that could potentially end his world as he knew it. That’s what this was really about, not some stupid mistake he’d made when he was out of his mind with rebellion. Ben and Stan both knew about it and he’d told Richie. He wasn’t hiding it so how could he be ashamed? People give drunken handjobs in bathrooms at frat parties all the time. Though…usually they probably actually want to do it instead of doing it out of some form of unnecessary obligation.

Eddie slammed his book shut and sat up, tossing it to the side. It was just nerves. It was his mother’s presence growing near putting him on edge. There was nothing to worry about. The party would be fine.

The party was…big. Bigger than Eddie had been expecting. Partygoers could be seen beyond the front windows, spilling out onto the porch and front lawn. Music thumped loudly from within and smoke from a firepit in the backyard could be seen wafting above the roof and then dissipating into the night sky. Voices carried from all around and within the house. The last party like this Eddie had been to, was similar but he’d also been high when they arrived having met up with a few temporary friends beforehand, so he hadn’t been fixating on how many people there were or how rowdy it was. He had to consciously work on staying calm and not worrying about how the night would go.

Eddie and Richie had walked to campus, meeting everyone else at Ben’s dorm building. They all walked to the Greek row from there. Bev had a flask in her purse which they passed around on their walk and it had helped a bit with his anxiety. Still, he was eager to get that first real drink into his system so he could loosen up. Richie’s hand in his kept him aware that he wasn’t alone this time and wouldn’t do anything stupid. The last thing he needed was another regret at a party for his memories.

As they walked up the stairs and through the front door, Eddie turned his attention to Ben and Beverly. All of them, except him, had seemed to realize that she’d been invited because the guy in her group wanted to hook up with her. The stories she told about this guy all involved his shameless flirting with her. She rolled her eyes each time and they knew that she only had eyes for Ben, but Eddie couldn’t help worrying. He didn’t expect her to do anything that would hurt him but with all of the eyes already on Bev, there was likely to be a few attempts to kill their relationship from outsiders through the night. Focusing on keeping things calm with them, keeping the vultures away, might be just what Eddie needed to distract himself.

Of course, as soon as they were inside, surrounded by bodies, they were separated. Ben and Bev disappeared toward the front room off the hallway. Mike let them know that he and his boys were going to look for a friend who was supposed to be there leaving Richie and Eddie alone. Being alone with Richie wasn’t the worst thing but Eddie craved more distraction than what Richie could provide. Still, he didn’t object as their friends walked away and Richie began to pull him toward the kitchen.

Surprisingly, the kitchen wasn’t too crowded. Which was odd as every party Eddie had been to, the kitchen worked as a central hub for groups standing in circles leaning against surfaces, drinking and talking loudly about life. He’d always figured it was because a good chunk of the food and drinks could be found there. However, in this case the kitchen only had a scattering of people. A group of three girls occupied one corner, one of them sitting atop the counter and swinging around a half empty bottle of vodka as she spoke. There was a couple leaning against the far wall, staring dreamily into one another’s eyes and speaking quietly. The rest were people filtering in and out looking for people or grabbing food and drink.

Richie’s target was the counter covered with bottles of different shapes, sizes and colors. Eddie eyed the oddly shaped bottle with purple liquid inside. What kind of liquor was purple? He’d seen pink, blue, green, yellow and red but never purple. If he’d been feeling more adventurous, he might have given it a go but the foreign language on the label left him clueless as to what he might be ingesting so he passed.

“What looks good?” Richie asked, letting go of Eddie’s hand to look through the bottles.

“Rum and coke? Something simple?” Eddie rested his hip against the counter, wanting to be near Richie.

Richie found a 2liter of coke and a bottle of Captain Morgan, filling two of the colorful plastic cups he’d grabbed from the stack. When Eddie took the offered cup, he knocked back half of the contents of the cup before looking back to Richie who was watching him.

“You ok Eds?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“I’m fine. Just…anxious in big crowds.” He’d already told Richie he was a little anxious about the party but didn’t want him to worry.

“If you want to leave just let me know and we’ll go immediately and just text everyone later.”

“No, I’m fine, really. I want to enjoy myself tonight. Tomorrow is going to be stressful.”

“If you say so. The second you change your mind you’ll tell me?”

“Promise.”

“Good.” Richie slung an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of his head before steering him back out to the hallway.

From there the night seemed to pass quickly. Eddie perhaps drank more than he should have but the alcohol definitely loosened him up and he was feeling good. Bev managed to coerce him into dancing with her, Ben and Mike got into an arm-wrestling match to determine which one of them was truly the strongest. Stan loosened up more than any of them, which came as a surprise. He danced freely seemingly forgetting they were at a party full of strangers with phones that could record him giving Bill an impromptu lap dance by the bonfire.

When Eddie and Ben went back inside to refresh some drinks, they were all giddy and happy, heads full of booze making everything else melt away. They were carefully making their way back through the crowd to the backyard, each with two drinks, trying not to spill anything, when they heard the yelling. They broke free from the group that had converged on the back porch to see Bev, red faced, standing in front of Richie and yelling at the girl in front of her.

As they got closer, they could hear over the chatter and music what she was saying. “I’m being ridiculous? What about you? Why can’t you just leave him alone?” She was shouting. Richie had a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her.

“I just came over to say hi! We used to be best friends, Bevvy. I can’t say hi to you anymore?” The girl asked.

“Bullshit! You didn’t come over here to say hi to me! You think I don’t know what you pulled a few weeks ago? Richie is my best friend! He tells me everything. I know word for word what you said to him.”

“Why am I the bad guy for trying to get back together?”

Eddie and Ben had stopped a good distance away, just close enough to hear. They exchanged a look. Now they knew who she was. Eddie couldn’t see her face, but he’d met her once before. The dreaded ex. He felt a rock drop and settle in his gut. He had no reason to be jealous or feel threatened but there was just something about seeing his partner’s ex that set off a spectrum of emotions within his alcohol fogged brain. He wasn’t sure if he should approach but Ben was nudging him forward with his elbow.

“You don’t just get to choose when you want to be with someone! You broke up with him and then came to me for support telling me how horrible he was rewriting events I was there for to make him look bad. When I wouldn’t side with you, you lashed out on me! You are the one who ruined both relationships.”

“I apologized!”

“You told him he was overreacting! You told him it was because he was always trying so hard to be funny and to make everyone laugh and you hated that part of him. You blamed your infidelity on him. How is that an apology?”

“Bevvy…listen…”

“No. You need to walk away.”

“But I love him! Don’t you still love me Richie?”

Eddie felt like he’d been punched, the only thing keeping him from running was Ben’s hand on his back steering him back to their friends. He didn’t want to hear the answer. He was afraid of what Richie might confess when he thought Eddie couldn’t hear him.

“No.” Richie said flatly, looking her in the eyes.

They were upon them now. Ben left Eddie, handing Bev one of the cups he was juggling in one hand, trying to steer her away from the confrontation. They all knew that one wrong word from this girl would end up with Bev beating her senseless and no one wanted that. With Ben making their presence known, Richie was now turning to Eddie, his features unreadable.

“I…I got your drink.” Eddie said, holding up Richie’s cup and finally closing the distance.

Richie took it from him with a quiet “thanks”, his other hand snaking around to his back, a move Eddie had come to recognize as a self-comfort thing he often did. Eddie understood it. The need to feel grounded by the touch of another person who loves you. Richie had provided that comfort for him all night, it was time to return the favor.

“How can you say that, Richie? You loved me before.” His ex kept going.

“I told you last time that I’ve moved on. I don’t hate you, Monica. I feel nothing toward you anymore. Now, please leave. You’re making my boyfriend uncomfortable.”

“Wha-…no I…” Eddie started but stopped when Richie gave him a pleading look.

The last time Eddie had witnessed a confrontation between them, Richie had been lying when he called him his boyfriend. This time it was true, but Eddie didn’t think his reaction was any better. He felt like he should say something or do something. Maybe wrap himself around Richie in a show that he was his now. The best he could do, feeling embarrassed at being observed by Monica and their friends alike, was place a hand on Richie’s cheek, making him focus on him. Richie smiled, placing his own hand on top of Eddie’s and pressing a kiss to his palm. Both were vaguely aware of Beverly yelling something as Monica angrily walked away with a shouted “whatever” but their attention was on one another.

Needing space to breathe, Richie steered Eddie away from the crowd toward the edge of the yard where a large tree stood. It was fairly isolated and void of others. Once they were hidden in the darkness provided by the tree, only lit up by the string of fairy lights wrapped around the trunk, Richie set his drink on the ground and dropped his head to Eddie’s shoulder.

“Sorry. I didn’t know she’d be here.” He said, arms coming up around Eddie in a hug.

“Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything.” Eddie’s voice was low as he let his own drink slip from his fingers to wrap his arms around Richie’s back. “Are you doing ok?”

Richie pulled back just far enough to look at Eddie’s face. “I’m fine. More annoyed than anything else. The last thing I wanted tonight was something so stressful. We were supposed to be making tonight fun for you before tomorrow. Guess she kind of ruined that.”

“No, nothing is ruined. We can still have fun.” Eddie smiled. “We’re pretty secluded right now ya know.”

“Eddie Spaghetti are your propositioning me right now?” Richie’s lips split into a grin.

“You bet your ass I am.”

Eddie’s hand on the back of Richie’s neck pulled him down for a kiss, not that he needed much guiding. He was always willing to kiss the beautiful boy in front of him. Fairy lights dug into Eddie’s back and Richie’s hand as he braced himself on the tree, but neither seemed to mind as lips fit together and tongues licked messily against one another. Eddie let out a moan he never consciously would have done in public but with Richie’s fingers digging into his hip and his teeth pulling at his lip, he was flying.

It wasn’t until Bill was calling out, “Get a r-room!” That they were aware they were actually completely visible to the rest of the yard. Richie responded by flipping him off and Eddie erupted into giggles, pressing his forehead against Richie’s shoulder.

B3 were all approaching when Eddie finally looked up. Bev seemed to have calmed a bit but still seemed agitated. Afterall, Monica had been her friend who had hurt her and her best friend. Having a run in with her was bound to put her on edge for a while.

“Sorry to interrupt but Bill needs my help with something. Mind babysitting Bev?” Ben asked.

“I don’t need babysitting.” Bev huffed.

“I’m worried she’ll chase down Monica and jump her if she’s left alone.”

“I got this.” Richie grinned.

Bill and Ben walked away, and Bev watched until they were out of earshot. “I need a smoke now. Know anyone who might be carrying?”

“Joey is here. He’s usually got something.” Richie said.

“Go with me?”

“Sure. I’ll be back, ok?” He kissed Eddie one last time before pulling away from him.

“Please don’t tell Ben I smoke. He doesn’t know yet.” Bev said over her shoulder as she followed Richie back toward the house.

For the first time that evening, Eddie was alone, but he was too happy to care. He was well past drunk now and skating the line of straight up shitfaced. The world had that glimmer around the edges of his vision that always came from drinking too much. History told him that he was around two drinks away from room spinning and he was happy to avoid that but not regulating his drinking enough to prevent it. He was in a zone of ‘whatever happens, happens’ which he’d hate himself for the next morning.

In the past, it had been around this stage of drunkenness when he was searching for someone to lose himself in for a while. Strangers tongues in his mouth, hands on his body and hips grinding against one another until Stan and Ben were dragging him home and putting him to bed. This time they wouldn’t do that because the arms he’d be in would be Richie’s and he was his. They would leave him in Richie’s care and know that they wouldn’t have to worry because he wouldn’t let anything happen to Eddie. They no longer needed to be his protectors, right?

“No fuckin way…Kaspbrak?” The voice cut through his daze, thoughts of going home with Richie dissolving until he was back in reality. He searched, confused for a second, for the source of the voice. Then he saw him. Couldn’t remember his name but he definitely remembered that face.

“Oh…” Eddie said, his stomach knotting up and his fingers digging into the sleeves of his sweater.

“It’s me! Bryce!”

“Yea…right…Bryce…”

“I haven’t seen you at a party in ages! Where have you been?”

“Just…lost interest I guess.” Is what Eddie said but, in his mind, he told the truth. “You. You are the reason I stopped going to parties because I decided I didn’t want my first time to be in a dirty bathroom with a complete stranger while high out of my mind all because I wanted to make out with him for a bit.” He thought.

“I knew it wouldn’t last. You were a party animal, man.”

“You met me once and we barely spoke before I was licking your teeth.” Eddie could feel the pinch of his fingernails through the fabric of his sleeve. “Yea…I guess.”

“Gotta tell you, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. Tried looking you up on social media but you have everything set to private.”

“It was more than a year ago. You haven’t been thinking about me, you just want to get laid!” He didn’t know what to actually say. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid, and he could feel the panic creeping its way up his spine with cold claws. He looked back to the firepit where his friends had been. He only saw Stan and Mike, but mercifully Stan looked up and met Eddie’s panicked gaze before his eyes darted to the guy standing beside him.

“We need to go to Eddie now.” Stan said, grabbing Mike by the arm and dragging him with him.

“What’s going on?” Mike asked before seeing the guy who now had one arm resting on the tree above Eddie’s head, leaning over him.

“Eddie! There you are!” Stan faked happiness as he grabbed Eddie up in a hug, effectively pulling him away from Bryce’s shadow.

“Stan…Mike…I was looking for you guys.” Eddie lied, forcing a smile in their direction when Stan released him.

“Oh, hey. I think I met you last time.” Bryce gestured to Stan.

“Yea. Sure. I remember.” Stan’s smile fell away when addressing Bryce, but he didn’t seem to get it. They did meet that night when he was dragging Eddie out of the bathroom while simultaneously helping him get his jeans up his thighs as Ben stood between them and Bryce to prevent him following. They all knew that Bryce hadn’t actually done anything wrong, but he was a bad memory for Eddie, and he was clueless to the way Eddie reacted around him. He didn’t want to talk to him and short of saying it outright, he thought he’d done a fair job of getting that across with body language and his lack of conversation. Perhaps if he’d seen Eddie that night, on the bathroom floor, his head on Stan’s lap crying about how stupid he felt then he’d understand why his presence was causing an upset.

“Anyway…Eddie and I were talking so maybe we could, like, go talk in private?” Bryce worded it like a question, but his fingers were wrapping around Eddie’s bicep to yank him away from Stan.

“I can’t…I…I have a boyfriend now.” Eddie finally found his voice.

“I don’t see him. Come on.” He cocked his head back toward the house, pulling lightly on Eddie’s arm.

Stan had intertwined his fingers with Eddie’s as soon as Bryce had put his hand on him and was sure as hell not letting go now. As Bryce pulled him, Stan pulled back on his hand to keep him in place. To outsiders they probably looked like children fighting over the same toy. Sure, Stan knew that Eddie wouldn’t do anything with him if he was successful at separating them. He loved Richie and it was easy to see how attached he was the other man. He wouldn’t do anything to compromise what they had, but Stan couldn’t ignore that part of him that had been protecting Eddie for years. Bullies, Sonia, his own rebellious phase, handsy guys at parties. Stan would protect him from them all even if he was afraid himself.

“Dude.” Mike finally stepped forward having caught up in his drunken haze. “He said he can’t go with you. Let him go.”

Bryce’s smile fell away, and he stopped tugging at Eddie, but didn’t let him go. He stood tall, back straight, chin tilted slightly up like he thought he could take all 6ft and tight packed muscles that was Mike Hanlon. “What, you his boyfriend?” He asked.

“I’m his friend and he said no.” Eddie had never seen Mike like this. He was always smiling, warm and gentle. Now he looked like he was willing to knock this guy out for him.

“I just want to talk to him. Mind your own business.” Bryce tugged Eddie hard enough to pull his hand free from Stan’s.

“Are you serious?” Mike chuckled but it was without humor. Stan put a hand on his back, hoping to draw him back. The last thing they needed was for things to get physical and he certainly didn’t want Mike to be the one to throw the first punch. They needed backup. Someone to help keep Mike calm and get this guy away from Eddie without incident.

As if answering his prayers, Richie and Bev emerged from the crowd near the porch, laughing and unaware of the situation. They grew near and, as if sensing the tension sparking through the air, turned from one another to the group in front of them. Richie’s eyes dragged from Mike to Eddie to the hand wrapped around his arm and the guy it belonged to.

“What’s going on?” He asked, his eyes trained on Eddie.

“This dude is getting all bent out of shape because I want to have a private conversation with him.” Bryce said, yanking Eddie’s arm up as he spoke.

“And who are you? His friend?”

“No.” Eddie spoke. “I met him about a year ago at a party…but I haven’t spoken to him since. I told him I don’t want to go with him.”

“Sounds like you should let him go then.” Richie made no jokes. He didn’t crack a smile. He was angry and Eddie could practically feel it vibrating off of him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Bryce asked, not hearing the warning in Richie’s voice.

“His boyfriend.”

At that, Bryce finally released Eddie’s arm and he immediately went to Richie’s side. Bryce apparently wasn’t willing to back off just yet though. Eddie remembered how persistent he’d been the first time they’d met and figured he wouldn’t back down easily, but he just wanted it to all be over. He wanted to go back to drinking and dancing with his friends. He wanted to be pressed up against the tree with Richie’s tongue down his throat again. This was precisely why he’d been worried about going to a stupid party in the first place.

“You need to do a better job at keeping an eye on your boy then. He’s super easy and flaunts it in front of everyone. Not my fault he came onto me.”

That was bullshit. Eddie’s friends knew that was bullshit. Richie knew that was bullshit. He was just mad he’d been turned down and had an audience for it. He was drunk, maybe high, and lashing out on Eddie because he was probably embarrassed. That didn’t make it ok to lie and try to cause problems for Eddie and Richie. Maybe it was jealousy because he was a one-time hookup quickly ignored afterward and Richie had won him over. All of this ran through Richie’s mind cause sure, he was drunk too, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d learned to read people long ago and understand the reasons they did and said what they did. Still, that was his boyfriend he was talking about. His boyfriend that he’d been manhandling. His boyfriend whose refusals he ignored.

“Didn’t look that way to me.” Richie managed to keep his voice even, not let the anger slip out.

“You clearly don’t know your own damn boyfriend then. He’s a tease…a slut willing to hook up with the first guy he sees.”

Anger burned white in front of Richie’s vision. He wasn’t ok with anyone being called that derogatory term, but certainly not the object of his affection. He could have just walked away and found someone who was actually interested in him. Instead he chose to stay and badmouth the boy Richie saw as an actual angel walking the earth. He wasn’t sure what happened next. His mind went blank and the next thing he knew, Bryce was on the ground holding his bleeding nose and his hand hurt.

“Richie!” Bev’s voice was laced with shock.

“We should…probably go…” Mike said, looking over his shoulder at the quickly approaching crowd coming to investigate the commotion.

“Ben and Bill are somewhere still.” Stan said, standing on his toes to look for them.

“You guys go. We’ll find them.” Mike shoved Richie by the shoulder toward the gate leading to the front yard.

Eddie was shocked but conscious enough to know they needed to go before Bryce’s friends caught on to what had happened, and a bigger fight broke out. Hopefully he’d forget just who punched him by the next morning. Richie began to move his feet when Eddie pulled at his hand and soon, they were running. Passed the gate, across the front lawn on out onto the street. Eddie was vaguely aware of the stiffness in his still healing ankle and that he shouldn’t be running but his priority was getting Richie away from the scene as quickly as he could manage before trouble caught up with them.

Richie sat on Eddie’s couch, quickly sobering up from the run through the cold night air and the pain in his hand. He’d never punched someone before. Been punched, yes, but never punched back. He’d never really had the urge to hit someone before. He couldn’t even remember doing it but knew that he had. He just went into a blind rage when that douche said terrible things about Eddie. The fact that he’d only taken one hit was a miracle. At least, he thought he was only one hit. The blood on his knuckles was definitely not his own.

Eddie emerged from the kitchen moments later. He’d been flitty around the apartment gathering things ever since depositing Richie on his couch. Richie wasn’t sure what he was feeling. He hadn’t said anything since they’d left the party. He wouldn’t blame him if he was mad at him. He didn’t take Eddie for a lover of violence or someone who wanted to date a guy whose reaction was to throw fists. He still said nothing as he sat beside him on the couch, dropping the things he’d gathered between them.

“Let me see.” Eddie finally spoke, reaching for Richie’s hand. He held it out and watched as Eddie used the damp towel in his hand to wipe the blood away. When that was done, he sprayed an antibacterial on it that stung, making him aware of the small cut he had sustained. Eddie brought his hand to his lips and gently blew on it until the sting subsided and it was dry enough for a bandage. He’d grabbed a gel icepack from his freezer and pressed it to his skin where it formed around his knuckles.

Richie watched his face as he fixed him up. He didn’t seem angry. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, feeling like he needed to. “I’m not usually like that. I kind of acted without thinking. He just…he shouldn’t have said those things about you.”

“It’s ok. I’m not mad.” Eddie was still holding Richie’s hand, his other hand on top of the icepack. “I’ve never had someone defend me like that. I mean, Ben and Stan have always stood up for me but not like that. It was…” Eddie trailed off, dropping his gaze.

“It was what?”

“…kind of hot.” Eddie said in a small voice. “Is that fucked up? It was like…you were defending my honor or something.” His face was red, but then his cheeks always colored red when he drank.

“Well damn, Eds. I would have been punching people from the start if I knew it turned you on.” He joked, finally cracking a smile and using his unbruised hand to pull Eddie just a bit closer.

“Oh god…please don’t ever punch anyone again. I swear, I thought my heart stopped. I thought for sure he was going to hit you back before he fell.”

“As you wish, my dear.” Richie nuzzled Eddie’s hair with his nose, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I won’t start anymore fights unless they call your chastity into question.”

“Good.” Eddie’s voice was low as he tilted his head up and captured Richie’s lips with his own. He felt lightheaded from the alcohol still coursing through him and the feel of Richie’s tongue pressing past his teeth. There was something important he was supposed to remember but Richie was running his good hand through his hair and sucking on his lip and all rational thought flew from his brain. All he could think was to swing his leg over Richie’s lap and wrap his arms around his neck, pressing his hips down hard. Every worry he’d had, every bad feeling he’d had throughout the night, left him and only one thought filled his head. Getting more Richie. He whispered through kisses, “bedroom?” and Richie didn’t need a second request as he scooped Eddie up, icepack dropped and forgotten on the floor.

#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #It (2017)#it (2019)#Ro writes

10 notes · View notes

noona-clock · 5 years ago

Text

One of Those Days

Genre: AU/Fluff

Pairing: Yunhyeong x You

Warnings: None

Words: 2,282

It had just been one of those days.

Well, actually, it had all started last night.

When you’d gone to bed last night, you had connected your phone to the charging cable as you always did. You had set your phone on your nightstand as you always did. You turned the lamp off as you always did. And then you turned over to kiss your fiancé goodnight before snuggling against his chest to go to sleep.

So, on the surface, everything was the same as any other night.

The only difference was that the charging cord had been wiggled free from the plug, and your phone hadn’t charged all night.

You hadn’t noticed until you got to work, though, which would have been fine... if you hadn’t taken your charging cord home for Yunhyeong, your fiancé, to borrow just two days ago.

So, now you were stuck with a phone at 5% battery and no charging cable.

And to make things even worse, your boss asked you to meet with some of your co-workers at a different location, so you wouldn’t be able to access your email. Basically, you would be cut off from digitally communicating with anyone until you got home that evening.

As you rode on the subway to your assigned site for the day, you suddenly realized you hadn’t yet told Yunhyeong your phone was practically dead, so he wasn’t going to hear from you until later. The guy was a total worrywart, so you knew he would notice when you didn’t answer any of his texts throughout the day.

You slid your phone out of your pocket and navigated to your messages, quickly typing one to Yunhyeong to let him know that your phone was almost out of battery, and you would be away from your desk all day so there was no need to worry about you not replying to his messages.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you pressed send. You were now on 2% battery, so you had made it just in time.

But instead of the message showing up as delivered, a red exclamation mark appeared next to it.

Not Delivered, it read.

Not delivered.

Your eyes flitted up to the corner of your screen, and your heart sank. You should’ve known.

You were on the subway! Underground!

No service.

You kept trying, hoping maybe you would hit a pocket or something. But nothing. Every time you tried to re-send it, that red exclamation mark would pop up again.

Not Delivered.

The second the train saw the light of day, you rapidly pressed the Send button again... But it was too late.

Your screen went blank before your thumb had a chance to connect with it.

Oh, great.

Okay, hold on. Not all hope was lost just yet. You could use one of the office phones to call Yunhyeong and let him know --

Wait, never mind. You didn’t have his phone number memorized.

You let out a sigh as the subway train slowed to a stop; you knew Yunhyeong would worry, but... what could you do? You would just have to try not to think about it, though spending the day at another site would probably help with that. You had a lot to get done today, according to your boss, so... maybe your phone dying was really a blessing in disguise.

Maybe your phone dying was a blessing in disguise for you, but for Yunhyeong?

It was the opposite.

He first tried to text you around 9:30 that morning, which was pretty typical. He liked to send you little messages throughout the day letting you know he was thinking about you and he loved you. Sometimes you simply sent back some heart emojis (if you were pretty busy) and sometimes it spurred on a whole conversation about whatever was on your mind.

Today, he sent you a message saying Hope you have a good day, my love 💘 I can’t wait to see you when you get home!

Yunhyeong let out a soft, happy sigh after he pressed ‘Send,’ leaning back against the couch in your shared apartment. Since he was a cooking instructor/YouTuber (with his own cooking channel, of course), he got to spend quite a bit of time at home. He only taught a few classes a week, and he only filmed for his channel when he was making something delicious for you.

Usually, you replied back pretty quickly. Most of the time, you were just sitting at your desk, so your phone was right on hand. Every once in a while, you wouldn’t respond for about an hour, but you would always apologize profusely and tell him your boss had you running errands or something of the sort.

After about ten minutes, Yunhyeong figured today was one of those days. You hadn’t responded back or even read his message, so obviously, your boss was sending you all over the office to get things done.

So, he set his phone down on the coffee table and decided to get some cleaning done. By the time he was finished vacuuming the entire place, you would’ve responded.

Yunhyeong pushed himself off the couch and headed over toward the hall closet to retrieve the vacuum -- his precious, lovely vacuum. You’d given it to him for Christmas the first year after you’d moved in together, and that’s when Yunhyeong had officially, truly, absolutely, without a doubt known you were The One.

After he made his way through every room in the apartment, Yunhyeong turned the vacuum off and put it back in its home. He whistled quietly as he strolled back toward the living area, and when he reached the coffee table, he bent to pick up his phone.

When he turned it over... his brow furrowed. There was no reply from you. And when he navigated to his conversation with you, you still hadn’t even read it.

It was a bit odd, but he would try not to worry just yet...

Instead of worrying when there was probably no need, he decided to give the kitchen a good scrub down. He used it so much, he cleaned the place at least once a week, and now was as good a time as any for a proper, deep clean.

If anything, it would help keep his mind off of the fact you hadn’t yet read his message.

Once again, he set his phone down on the coffee table before turning and heading to the kitchen.

Over the next two hours, Yunhyeong cleaned just about every single inch of the entire kitchen. He mopped the floor, wiped down the counters, scrubbed the tile, de-greased the oven, dusted the cabinets, shined the cabinet handles, and he even cleaned out the fridge, freezer, and pantry.

It was bruising but satisfying work. And it had also successfully kept his mind off your absence...

Until now.

Yunhyeong brought one arm up and wiped his brow with his sleeve before shuffling back out to the living area. He could just picture picking his phone up and seeing at least five messages from you. His eyes would light up and a warm smile would tug at his lips when he read them.

He actually held his breath when he got to the coffee table, and he reached out for his phone. He almost hesitated to pick it up, but he knew you would’ve replied by now, so he went ahead and did it. He picked it up, brought it up to his face, and --

Still no message from you.

And, opening up the conversation, you still hadn’t even read his text.

Okay. It had been over three hours now. Something was wrong.

He knew it was totally fine for somebody to not respond to your texts right away, but... with you, it was a cause for concern. You always answered him within an hour, especially when you were at work. You always read his texts, and you always replied, even if you were mad at him for some reason. That’s just what your relationship was like. You genuinely liked talking to each other, in person or through text message, and if you just didn’t feel like reading or responding to his message... Well, it would be a first.

Yunhyeong couldn’t help but worry now.

He inhaled sharply before tapping on the screen and typing another message to you.

Everything okay, baby? Busy day at work?

He decided not to let you know he was already getting worried because it wouldn’t make you read his message any faster, would it?

With a sputtering sigh, Yunhyeong put his phone back down and...

Well, what else could he do? He decided to deep clean your bedroom.

He washed and changed the bedding, decluttered his closet, tidied up your vanity, wiped away the dust bunnies under the bed, cleaned the windows, straightened the pictures, and even dusted the blades on the ceiling fan.

Still no response from you.

Where are you? Did I do something to upset you? Please, just let me know you’re all right.

He scrubbed the bathtub, took a toothbrush to the grout, rearranged all of his skin and hair products under the sink, cleaned the mirror, washed the towels.

Still nothing.

He called you this time, his heart pausing when it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, I’m getting really worried. I just need to know that nothing’s wrong. Please answer me back as soon as you can.”

Yunhyeong dusted the air vents, used a dryer sheet to clean the baseboards, steamed the couch cushions. He baked chocolate cupcakes, cooked up a pot of chili, brewed some coffee.

He did everything he could think of to take his mind off this.

But then he realized... the whole apartment was clean. Dinner (and dessert) were ready for tonight. There was nothing more he could do... except wait.

It was now a little past the time you usually got home, which made Yunhyeong worry even more. What if you’d gotten into an accident on your way into work? Surely, he would’ve gotten a call from the police or the hospital, though, right?

What was going on, then?! Why hadn’t you read his messages or called him back all day?!

To be honest, by the time you arrived at your apartment door that evening (later than usual since you weren’t coming from your normal office building), you had kind of completely forgotten about the death of your phone?

But then you got out your key and remembered.

Yunhyeong was going to be a mess.

You quickly unlocked the door, swinging it open as your brow furrowed deeply in preparation for your lengthy and emphatic apology.

Unsurprisingly, Yunhyeong was pacing around the living area, clutching his phone in his hands. He paused when you entered, and the expression on his face immediately morphed into one of total and utter relief.

“Oh, my god,” he breathed as you hurried over to him.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, walking into his embrace and burying your face in his neck. “My phone died this morning, it didn’t charge last night, and my boss sent me to another location so I couldn’t email, and I don’t know your phone number so I couldn’t call, and I was so busy.”

Yunhyeong simply clutched you tightly to his chest, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, hoping his silence wasn’t the beginning of a Silent Treatment.

“It’s okay,” he replied softly before moving to press his lips to your temple. “It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

It was a relief to hear his voice, to hear he wasn’t angry. But, still, you knew you’d caused him a lot of grief today.

You pulled away slightly, reaching up and taking his face in your hands. You pressed your lips to his, and you almost immediately felt the desperation in his kiss.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, whispering against his lips. “I’m sorry, and I’m okay.”

Yunhyeong leaned his forehead against yours and let out a very deep sigh, his breath fanning over your lips and chin. “I wasn’t,” he replied. “But I am now.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. I knew you would be worried, and I tried to text you on the subway, but I didn’t have service and then my phone died before I got a chance. When I plug it in, I’ll show you -- the message I was trying to send is probably still there in the text box,” you told him, blindly reaching into your bag to retrieve your phone.

Your fiancé quickly put his hand on your wrist to stop you.

“Don’t worry about it now,” he whispered. “You don’t need to prove anything. I’m just -- I’m glad you’re all right. That’s what matters most.”

You stood on your toes and kissed him once more, your brow furrowed deeply. You tried to convey just how much you loved him in your kiss, and Yunhyeong responded by holding you tightly, his thumb gently caressing the small of your back.

...But then you realized you smelled chili.

“Did you make dinner already?”

A slight flush colored Yunhyeong’s cheeks, and he smiled bashfully. “Yeah. You know I cook when I’m stressed.”

“And when you’re happy or sad or scared or angry or --”

“I made chocolate cupcakes, too!” he interrupted.

You gasped softly, your eyes widening as you grasped Yunhyeong’s arms. “Really?!”

“Really. You hungry?”

You didn’t even answer him. You simply grabbed his hand and dashed to the kitchen to fill up a bowl with his delicious chili.

...And get a cupcake for an appetizer.

#kwritersworldnet #yunhyeong scenarios #yunhyeong imagines #yunhyeong au #yunhyeong fluff #yunhyeong fanfic #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #ikon au #ikon fluff #ikon fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #yunhyeong #song yunhyeong #ikon

108 notes · View notes

prophetandprincess · 4 years ago

Text

"A.J, dear, what a surprise," Mrs. Malone said with a smile as Alex walked into the restaurant Thursday afternoon, enveloping her in a huge hug. "It's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too." Alex hugged her back with just as much force and love. "Actually, I'm meeting with my tutor here, but I also missed you and wanted to check in to see how you and the fam were doing."

"The indestructible A.J. asking for help? You have truly changed in the last year. I hardly recognize you," Mrs. Malone laughed as he directed her into a booth and sat down with her. "The family is good. Sandy has gone through two babysitters already, which is its own source of stress, but Sandy's strong will is going to serve her well as she gets older. Right now though, thrusting her onto friends while I and her father are working makes me feel like a bad parent."

"Well, now I feel guilty," Alex said with a smile, but there was this guilt gnawing on her heart. "You know I would still be watching Sandy if I could. I love that kid."

"Oh, dear, I know." Mrs. Malone reached out and took Alex's hand, squeezing it. "You're doing so much already, with school and your internship, I would feel guilty if you were coming all the way to Queens to watch Sandy as well."

Alex squeezed Mrs. Malone's hand back, but her reassurance didn't help relieve the guilt at all. Maybe Alex would be able to find a new babysitter. She knew a bunch of women in Monica's sorority that would probably have the energy to keep up with Sandy. They were busy women, but there had to be one of them, maybe studying for early education, that would be fit for the job. Alex knew from experience that the Malones paid well. Alex added that to her ever-growing to-do list.

Mrs. Malone gossiped a bit about the restaurant and some of the regulars that Alex knew before there was an issue with a check that the owner had to take care of. Olivia walked through the front door a few minutes later, taking a long moment to scope out the old speakeasy turned restaurant before spotting Alex in the booth. There was something about the way she surveyed the place again when she sat down that made Alex think Olivia had seen some things during her life. Things that taught her to always have an exit strategy. Maybe she could teach Alex more than just Russian.

"This is a cute place," Olivia finally said when her eyes settled on Alex. "I just don't get how this is any less public than the local Starbucks."

"I used to work here, I know the owner, and I know the lovely Nariah Lawson who is coming to take our orders," Alex smiled as Nariah walked up to the booth. "How are things? Has the boyfriend proposed yet?"

To answer, Nariah held out her left hand, the silver ring with two emeralds flanking a diamond stood out against her dark skin. There was the obligatory cheering and fawning over the ring while Olivia sat there with a polite smile on her face. Nariah took their drink orders before she headed off, a bounce in her step.

"Sorry about that," Alex said when she turned back to Olivia.

"It's your money," Olivia shrugged as she reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook. "Now, are you ready to get to work?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alex said with only a hint of a laugh. Olivia was a very serious person, not in a bad way, but it was jarring as most of the people Alex spent her time with these days were warm and comforting.

The two of them shared a plate of fries as Alex stumbled through her first lesson, which was literally the very basics of the Russian alphabet and the building blocks of the language. After the hour was over, Alex felt as if her brain was about to explode, but Olivia stated that she was already seeing some improvement in her pronunciation. Olivia agreed to stay for another half an hour to help work on Alex's Russian assignments, and by the time she headed out of the restaurant, Alex thought that she might just be able to pass this class.

While she finished her fifth glass of Coke, she tried to figure out where she would be sleeping that evening. As she was weighing the different options, her phone dinged. It was Mr. LeBlanc stating that the renovations on her apartment were finished today and she could move back in. There was probably no furniture in there, but Alex wanted to at least stop in and see what it looked like now that it was clean and repaired.

The answer was it looked cold and empty. Everything that had been salvaged from the apartment was stacked in one corner and it was a rather pathetic pile of mostly clothing. Luckily, her grandfather's trunk had survived with only a few more dents than it had previously. It would have been pretty depressing if a trunk that had made it all the way through World War II had met its untimely end in a studio apartment in New York City.

The new cabinets were nice, they didn't squeak when Alex opened them, but all of her food had been taken away during the cleanup. She should have gotten an actual dinner while she was at Malone's. Still, the apartment was a completely clean slate that Alex could actually decorate how she wanted and take her time doing so. While the whole situation sucked, Alex decided to find the silver lining in it all. She was still upset about the missing laptop and notebook, but knowing that it could have been her life she decided to not be too bitter about that either.

Alex decided that while nothing was in the apartment, she would clean it from top to bottom. There were a thousand other things she should be doing, but she did make the effort to find a Russian news program to listen to as she walked to the store for supplies and a sandwich in the vain hope it would somehow teach her subconsciously. All it probably did was put her on a government watch list. The main living area was covered with the white powder that marked any renovation and dust. The bathroom hadn't been ransacked, but it was still a mess and Alex scrubbed until her arm hurt. By the time she was done, the apartment smelled of bleach and new paint.

Opening the window helped clear Alex's head a bit and she realized that night had fallen while she was cleaning. She crawled out onto the fire escape and took a minute to sit there, the cold air drying some of the sweat off her forehead. It was not the most comfortable place to sit, but it wasn't like there was anywhere to sit inside either. Alex silently contemplated if she should risk putting Monica in danger again by staying with her or risk leaving her alone only to find out that she had been attacked in the night.

A thump above Alex made her jump. At first, she thought it was someone else just coming out onto the fire escape or setting out a plant. However, looking up between the iron, she saw that something large was moving above her, jerking and staggering, and it was heading her way. That's when Alex remembered that the thing that was killing scientists had been able to climb buildings without a problem. She was scrambling to get back into the apartment. While she was pretty sure that Mr. LeBlanc wouldn't renew her lease if it was torn apart again, she wanted to be alive enough to worry about being homeless.

It was only a few moments after Alex closed her window that something slammed into it. A scream escaped her lips as she scrambled to grab her switchblade where she had left it with her things. The blood was pumping in her ears so loudly that at first, she didn't realize the thing at her window was saying her name. That was enough to turn her whole body cold.

Alex yelped again as her phone started going off. Peter's name was on the readout and she quickly accepted the call.

"Peter, whatever it is, it's outside my window," Alex whispered into the phone.

"Alex, no it's not," Peter's voice sounded breathless and almost wheezy.

"Yes it is, it followed me down the fire escape!" Alex didn't have time for him not to believe her right now. Why must men always question everything women say!

"No, it isn't because that's me on the fire escape. I've had a run-in with our friend and could use a bit of patching up," Peter said again before coughing, which Alex now heard through the window as well. "You think you could let me in?"

Alex went over to the window, ready to rip Peter to pieces, but one look at him killed any reproach that was on her lips. He looked like hell, even if he did a little finger wave as he smiled at her through the brand new window, Spider suit still on. It took Alex a minute to figure out the lock to get the window open and then Peter literally tumbled inside, bloody handprints on the frame where he gripped it and smeared it all over the freshly cleaned floors where he dropped.

"Jesus, Peter, you need to go to the hospital," Alex knelt beside him as he attempted to sit up. There were deep claw marks all over his arms, back, and chest that were weeping blood.

"How exactly would I explain this?" Peter asked as he tugged off his mask, bruises already forming on his face, lip split, and so pale that Alex wondered how he was still conscious. "I heal fast, which I also won't be able to explain to a medical professional without being shipped off to a lab to be studied. I just need somewhere to take a breather."

"Why didn't you go home? Your aunt is a nurse and I doubt May would ask too many questions," Alex got up and went into the bathroom where she now kept a fully stocked first aid kit. She had learned the importance of having one last year and while she doubted it would do anything to help Peter, it would at least make her feel better.

"I don't want to make her worry," Peter explained when Alex came back into the room with the kit and a wet towel. "I'm pretty sure she knows what I do, but we've never talked about it. I'd rather not give her a heart attack showing up at her door looking like I lost a fight with a mountain lion."

"But you're alright with giving me a heart attack? I'll try not to take it personally Parker." Alex started to help Peter peel his suit off because he was so badly battered that he was having a lot of trouble doing it himself. The damage was even worse without the red and blue fabric hiding the bruising and depth of the cuts.

"But I come bearing information. The monster of New York that caused your current decorative preferences in your apartment refers to himself as the Jackal," Peter coughed and something snapped in his chest.

"It speaks? With those fangs?" Alex started to gently clean the cuts as Peter focused on propping himself up against the wall. "Did he have a lisp?"

"That's your question?" Peter laughed weakly. "Out of everything you could have asked me about a near-death encounter and it's if he has a lisp. As if I wouldn't have started with that."

Alex laughed, though it sounded a little hysterical, as the towel started to drip with blood while it was doing very little to help clean up his chest. After a couple more seconds she gave up and just started bandaging what she could. She grabbed a wad of gauze and pressed it to Peter's chest in hopes of stopping some of the bleeding since it wasn't like she knew how to stitch up a person. He might say he healed quickly, but there was a whole pool of blood on her floor that stated otherwise. She toyed with the idea of calling the ambulance without him knowing, but how was Alex going to explain the carnage without the police arresting her, Peter, or both.

"I don't think the fangs are attached, more like mouth guards that he wears, which makes the lack of lisp even more impressive," Peter said after a couple of minutes of hissing in pain and breathing heavily with his eyes closed. "His suit also has some sort of armor weaved into it because it hurt like hell when I got a hit in. Those claws, however, were the big issue, as you can easily see. He's strong, fast, and a bendy bastard. He also really hates me for some reason. I mean, most people hate me, but this guy really dislikes me and it seems really personal."

Before Alex could come back with a witty comeback, there was a knock at her front door. They both went very still, hoping whoever it was would go away. Alex tried to figure who the hell it could be. Monica would have called or texted Alex first and none of the other residents would have any reason to come see her. What if it was Steve or Sam, how would she explain Peter to them without revealing his identity? Worse, what if it was Micheal coming to check on her? He was a police officer and would be able to get past the front desk easily. Shit.

One look at Peter and Alex knew he wouldn't even be able to get himself to the bathroom in time as another set of knocks came to the door. Alex had no choice but to try to get rid of whoever it was. She gave Peter a warning look to stay quiet before she got up, attempted to get the blood off her hands, and walked over to open the door.

Jacob Harper was standing on the other side of the door, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and a huge smile on his face. "Surprise!"

"Jake, I thought you said you were coming up around midterms," Alex got out as she stared at her older brother's smiling face, trying to catch up to this unexpected turn of events. "How did you get past the front desk?"

"Apparently we look enough alike and I'm charismatic enough that the old bulldog at the front desk let me come up," Jake laughed, looking past Alex into the apartment. "Is there a reason you're not letting me in? Are you hiding a boy in there?"

"Yes! Yes, I am," Alex looked over her shoulder to see Peter attempting to peel himself up off the floor. "So, do you think you could wait down in the lobby until I get him out of here?"

"Absolutely not," Jake laughed as he attempted to push his way into the apartment.

Alex attempted to bar the doorway, but she was so surprised that Jake was able to get the door open enough to look inside. Peter was in the middle of the living room, his suit barely clinging onto his hips and legs, bleeding everywhere, and not a single piece of furniture in the apartment. Jake and Peter stared at each other for a moment before Jake gently took Alex's arm and pulled her out into the hallway. He waited until the door was closed before they locked eyes, his expression dark.

"Alexandra," Jake said in a cold and measured voice. "I've tried, really hard, not to ask you too much about your life here in the city because I know you want your space. Lord knows that I don't want to know about your sex life. However, there is a bleeding man in your empty ass apartment and I need to know if either of you are in trouble."

"Oh, Jesus, Jacob," Alex threw open the door to find Peter in the exact spot where she left him, blinking like a deer in headlights. "It wasn't rough sex you freak. Peter got jumped on his way home and came here to get patched up."

"By who?" Jake dropped his duffle bag by the door while Peter gave him a little finger wave. "And what's with the tights?"

"I go to Julliard, ballet. I'm sure you now see the problem," Peter said quickly, saving Alex from a way less convincing lie. "You must be the older brother. This is not how I expected to meet."

"Well, I have no idea who you are so likewise." Jake smiled at Peter before he took in the carnage of the apartment. "I'd say sit down, but it doesn't look like that's an option with Lexie's minimal decor. Why don't you hop up on the counter and we'll see if we can't get you patched up."

"Lexie?" Peter raised an eyebrow but did what he was told as Jake took the bloody towel into the bathroom. Alex heard the water running, so she figured they'd have a few minutes to talk without him hearing it.

"You ever call me that, Parker, and I will kill you myself," Alex whispered as she brought the first aid kit over and surveyed the damage again. "You know, this all doesn't look as bad as I first thought."

"Fast healing, remember?" Peter groaned as he peeled off the rest of his suit, including his web-shooters, and sat there in just his boxers. "Hide this somewhere before your brother starts questioning the ballerina angle. You could have given me a little warning that he was coming."

"It wasn't supposed to be until after midterms," Alex whispered as Jake reappeared with a towel and a couple of washcloths.

"Alright, buddy, we're about to get real familiar with one another real quick," Jake said with a smile before surveying the damage. Alex took a moment to go into her grandfather's trunk, saying she thought there might be more gauze in there, and stashing Peter's suit and web-shooters into the false bottom.

The Harper siblings worked in tandem to get Peter back into one piece. There wasn't a lot of talking, just a hiss of pain or a groan from Peter while Alex and Jake muttered for a bandage, gauze, or the pair of scissors. Alex made comforting sounds now and again if something obviously hurt Peter badly, but luckily there weren't more instances of that. He wasn't a stranger to getting the crap beat out of him apparent.

"What kind of weapons were these guys carrying?" Jake asked while he finished bandaging up Peter's arm, the last wound that needed covered. "I haven't been in a lot of knife fights in my time, but the injuries I have seen didn't look like this."

"To be honest with you, I didn't get a good look at it. It all happened so fast." Peter shrugged, and then winced, as they started to clean up the towels and blood. "One minute I was walking toward the subway, still in my gear because practice ran over, and the next I was getting the ever-loving shit beat out of me. They took everything and only ran when someone shouted something at them. I didn't want to scare my aunt so I came here."

"Let me see if I have something you can put on and then we'll figure out how to get you home," Alex said as she took all the blood-soaked items into the bathroom and tossed them into the tub, letting the water run to try and clean them off.

After going all the way to the back of her closet shelf, Alex was finally able to find a pair of gym shorts and a hoodie. It was the first outfit that Alex had given James when she brought him in out of the rain. It seemed to be her emergency outfit for wayward superheroes. Hopefully, Peter would be the last one she ever had to give it to.

"Well, Peter can't walk home in this state and we can't sleep here Lex, so what's the plan?" Jake asked when Alex handed the clothing to Peter.

"You know, Jacob, I really hadn't gotten that far yet," Alex sighed as she looked over at the window. "Maybe you can take a cab with Peter and get a hotel room for the night? I'll help you with the cost if you need help."

"Lex, I am a welder with work, I'm pretty sure I have more money than you do. Also, what are you going to do, sleep on Gramp's old trunk? How long have you been living like this?" Jake sounded frustrated as Alex took the bucket from under the skin and took it into the bathroom. She swapped out the towels for the bucket, wringing out the last bit of water before laying them out to dry before bringing the now full bucket into the living room.

"There was an electrical fire that ruined the place. I lost a lot of my furniture in the fire, putting it out, and the cleanup. It only happened last week and I was just back into the place today," Alex explained as she poured some bleach into the water and started to scrub the floor furiously. "I've been crashing with friends and if you would have told me you were coming I could have warned you."

"If you told me anything about your life, I would have known that your life was in shambles," Jake shot back as he and Peter watched Alex scrub the blood furiously. "Like what the hell, Lexie? You couldn't even shoot me a text message?"

"And if I did, you would have told Mom and Dad," Alex said between clenched teeth, dunking the scrub brush into the water before bringing it out and scrubbing some more. "That would have led to emails and phone calls about how I should come back to the farm and spend the rest of my life raising calves and babies."

"You don't give them enough credit, Lex," Jake said with a sigh. "You don't give any of us any credit."

"Really? Because I'm the only one cleaning the apartment while you just stand there lecturing me." Alex threw the scrub brush in the water, sending it splattering everywhere. "I'm sorry that I didn't move to Miami and just have everything fall into my lap perfectly, that my life is a shit show and it is inconveniencing you. My humblest apologies."

"You think that everything has just fallen in my lap? Seriously?" Jake was properly angry now, his jaw clenched underneath the stupid ass beard of his. "You spoiled brat."

"Excuse me," Alex was on her feet before she even realized. "Spoiled? Is that the word that just came out of your mouth?"

"Um, bleeding guy over here," Peter cut in before Jake said anything else. "If you two are going to royal rumble in the apartment, that's your prerogative. I just need someone to help me get into the lobby and I'll take it from there."

Alex was so angry she could feel the heat radiating off her face, but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. "Sorry, Parker. Let's get you out of here and back home so you can get some sleep."

"Well, finish your cleaning first. It will probably take me that long to get off this counter," Peter laughed as he slowly started to scoot toward the edge. "I also don't want you to lose your security deposit."

"I think that ship has sailed," Alex gave him a shaky smile but grabbed some wet Swiffer pads to finish cleaning up the floor before taking the blood off the walls and window sill. By the time she had finished, Jake had helped Peter get up on his feet, gathered his bag, and packed a bag for Alex as well.

The group didn't talk as they made their way to the elevator, Peter held up by the Harper siblings. Alex knew that he was in bad shape when he didn't even make a bad joke while they rode down to the lobby. Thankfully, Henry was busy with another resident so the group hurried out into the chilly autumn air. Peter took ages to get into the cab, swearing colorfully under his breath, but soon they were on their way to Queens.

"Now, after we drop Peter off, where are we going to spend the night?" Jake asked softly.

"Do you think it's the best idea for us to be in the same room unsupervised?" Alex hadn't forgotten what Jake had said to her in the apartment and she was still pissed about it.

"I'm not going to let you sleep curled up on the floor in your apartment like a stray cat," Jake gave her a look over Peter's head, as he was slumped down with his eyes closed. Alex didn't believe for a moment that he was asleep, he just didn't want to deal with the Harper siblings bickering. God, she wished she could do the same.

"Well, as I live here, I don't know any of the places to stay in the city that don't cost an arm and a leg," Alex huffed.

"If you're just looking at a place for the night," the cabbie said over his shoulder. "The Chelsea Inn's rates are pretty low right now. One of my other fares stated that they got a great deal after their AirBnB fell through at the last minute."

"Sounds great," Jake said before Alex could ask any more questions. "Take us there after we drop our other passenger off."

The cab was an uncomfortable silence after that, Peter still pretending to sleep while Jake and Alex looked out of their respective windows. Even the cabbie didn't try to speak with them, turning up sports radio as they moved through New York City traffic. Peter needed help getting out of the cab, but was able to make it up the stairs and into his house without assistance. He didn't say goodbye or thank you, but Alex didn't blame him. The fact that he was standing at all was a bit of a miracle.

The ride to the Chelsea Inn was even more uncomfortable and Alex had never been happier to see another person as she was to see the concierge at the hotel. She must have just started her shift because she was extremely chipper and pleasant as she checked the siblings into the "guest rooms", which were two rooms with Queen beds that had a connecting bathroom. That was probably the best arrangement for both siblings to make it out of the hotel in one piece the next morning.

Jake allowed Alex to unpack the bag he had bought for her and change for bed in blissful silence. However, she knew that it wasn't going to last. It wasn't until she was out of the shower, saying a silent thank you that the cabbie hadn't noticed her hands were stained with blood, that Jake pounced.

"Alright kid, I went down and got gummy worms, gummy bears, soda, and two slices of cheesecake as bribes. Then I went to a super shady alcohol store and got those little bottles of booze to add to the soda. We're having a conversation no ifs, ands, or buts about it." Jake motions to the spread of junk food on his bed. "You could go and slam the door like when you were a teenager, but there is no escaping me, so we might as well get it over with."

Alex sighed heavily, but she hadn't eaten since those fries with Olivia and that sandwich before she started cleaning. She was starving. The promise of alcohol was also not something she could easily pass up given the events of the last couple of hours. However, she would rather die than let Jake think that this was anything but a complete and utter inconvenience on her life, so she made a big show of flopping down on the bed and pouting just a bit.

"You're such a brat," Jake shook his head, but sat down on the other side of the bed, pawing through the goodies he had purchased. "Now I know things got a little heated earlier-"

"You mean when you were being an asshole?"

"But," Jake raised his voice and continued, "just take a second to look at it from my point of view. You went through hell last year and none of us knew. We saw what it did to you, how unlike yourself you were. So I show up a bit early to make sure everything is as alright as you say it is. I walk into an empty apartment that's covered in blood, and a man half beat to shit standing there like this is a bad play. Can you blame me for being a little on edge?"

Alex really couldn't blame him, especially because he still didn't know the whole story about what happened the year before or why Peter had the ever-loving hell beat out of him. While she didn't think Jake would be able to deal with all the superhero stuff, and pparently he thought she was a spoiled brat, part of him did care. If she had seen him in the same scenario when she went to Miami, she would also be upset and concerned. She should throw him a bone, only so he'd stop digging.

"First, you have to promise not to tell mom and dad," Alex said as she popped open the cheesecake container. "Second, you can't freak out."

"I promise not to tell mom and dad, but the second one is a harder sell." Jake dumped gin into his bottle of Sprite and Jack into the bottle of Coke before handing it to Alex. "I am a big brother, after all, so depending on what you tell me, it's my duty to freak out."

"Well, you remember when you told me about the news story with something ripping apart scientists' apartments?" Alex said slowly, looking at the cheesecake instead of her brother.

"Oh, I do not like where this is going," Jake said before taking a long sip from his drink. "There wasn't an electrical fire in your apartment, was there?"

"There was not," Alex said with a sigh. "Whatever the thing was tore everything to shreds, which is why I didn't have any furniture anymore either. Police still don't know what it wants, but the important thing is that I'm fine."

Jake took a deep breath before tearing into a pack of gummy bears and ripping a couple of heads off with his teeth. Alex let him stew with that statement while she polished off the cheesecake and debated whether he was angry enough to not realize she had eaten his piece as well. She decided not to test him when he was already on the edge and moved onto the gummy worms. Jake continued to stay worryingly silent.

"Did you break a mirror or something while I wasn't looking? Maybe got on the wrong side of a witch and got hexed? How is it that you always end up in these situations?" Jake finally said after finishing over half of his drink. "This isn't like the motorcycle gang when you were sixteen, you did that yourself, or that asshole last year that you dated for some reason. This danger is just seeking you out. It's a moth and you're a freaking flame. Unless you're still lying to me, which is also very much like you."

"I'm not telling you a lot of things, but this is everything I know about this guy. He calls himself the Jackal and no one knows what he has against the scientific community," Alex laid down on her stomach to get more comfortable, still eating gummy worms between sentences.

"Maybe he is a mad scientist like in the James Bond movies. Who cares?" Jake shrugged as more poor brave gummy bears lost their heads. "Whatever the reason, you think he'll come back to your place? If so, maybe you should think about staying somewhere else until he's caught."

Now Alex had to decide how honest to be with her brother. Did she tell him about the Jackal's nocturnal visit after murdering someone else? That didn't seem like a good idea, but he'd be able to read about the murder in the paper so she couldn't lie completely. What was the half-truth that wouldn't end in them screaming at one another about what was best for her safety?

"I don't exactly have money to stay anywhere else for however long it will take the police to figure this guy out. Besides, he hasn't hit any of the other scientists twice." Alex took a deep breath before continuing. "But, I am going to tell you something so that you can't say I'm holding anything back or lying to you. The last scientist who's apartment he got into, the scientist was there and he killed them."

Jake downed the rest of his Sprite and Gin in a single gulp. Alex thought that was a good idea and downed her Rum and Coke, which had substantially more liquid in it than Jake's did. That led to hiccups, which made Jake laugh as he got her some water to help. They were both giggling like idiots while Alex attempted to drink the water and hiccuping at the same time, which led to more laughing and more hiccups. It was a vicious circle, but it broke the tension.

"You good?" Jake asked once the both of them got themselves under control, Alex wiping tears out of her eyes as she nodded. "Alright, good. I don't know what's going on in this crazy-ass city, but now that I'm here, I'm going to take care of my baby sister. That means that tomorrow we're going to thrift stores or Ikea or wherever and getting you some furniture. Then I am going to buy you dinner to make sure you eat. You're looking a bit gaunt.."

"I'm insulted that you think I haven't been eating well," Alex put on mock outrage before laughing. "I'm not saying that you're wrong, hot pockets are my main food group, but the fact that you'd point it out is just rude. However, that's all going to have to wait until I'm done with classes and my internship."

"You can't take one day off? Play hooky like high school?" Jake rolled his eyes. "You need to move to Miami and chill out, kid."

"Not all of us can smoke weed and surf all day," Alex smiled as she started to clean up the carnage of their snack session. "Some of us are still in college as well as having to pay rent."

"Jealousy is not a good color on you, Lex," Jake smiled as he laid down on the bed. "How early are you going to have to roll out of here in the morning?"

"Well, the class is at eight in the morning so probably earlier than I would like. Luckily, I'm not going to have to figure out how to get there." Alex stretched as she tossed out the trash and headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"And that's because…" Alex didn't have to look at her brother to know that he had an eyebrow raised.

"Because after the attack on the apartment, Mr. Stark was kind enough to grant me the use of a vehicle and driver to ensure my safety too and from work." Alex didn't think that Jake would even believe her if she tried to explain that Steve Rogers had talked Tony Stark into it. As much as she joked about being the smarter sibling, not a lot got past Jake, especially if they were talking face to face.

"Well, it's the least he could do after working for him puts you in constant danger," Jake muttered.

"We don't know that. All the other scientists have been working at Oscorp." Alex didn't know why she was defending Tony Stark, a lot more powerful people had said a lot worse things to and about him.

"So he just picked you out at random? That is what makes you feel better?" Jake shook his head. "All those academic accolades and you still are an absolute dumbass."

"Goodnight to you too, jackass." Alex rolled her eyes before closing the door to her room a little more forcefully than necessary.

Alex's sleep was far from restful, even though the bed was comfortable and the room was pleasantly cool. Peter didn't return any of the text messages she sent him after telling Mrs. Nazari about her change of location. She only slept for forty-five minutes to an hour before she was awake again, checking her phone and sending another text message to Peter before staring at the ceiling and listening to the air conditioning hum. When her alarm went off, Peter still had said nothing and Alex was almost sick to her stomach about it. Jake was snoring peacefully when Alex slipped out for a run and muttered something when she came back in but didn't wake up.

Jake's eyes were at least open when Alex came out from her shower, though he was still flopped on his stomach and didn't look as if he planned on checking out any time soon. He asked something about breakfast, but Alex just told him to go back to bed. It wasn't that she wasn't hungry, but trying to wake Jake up was like rousing a bear from hibernation and she didn't want to keep Mrs. Nazari waiting. Jake was totally happy with going back to sleep.

"Any reason you're in a hotel today, Miss Harper?" Mrs. Nazari asked, her face concerned as she opened the door for Alex. "You weren't attacked again, were you?"

"Only by a surprise visit by my brother," Alex smiled as she slipped into the car. "And please, call me Alex or A.J. I'm not put together enough to be referred to as Miss Harper by someone I see every day."

"You are technically my client, but if you insist," Mrs. Nazari smiled as she went to close the door. "There are some treats for you in the pocket if you haven't eaten yet. I'm not sure if this hotel has continental breakfast or not. My children don't think I notice when they stuff them there when they don't want them."

Alex smiled as she pulled out sliced apples and mangos from the pouch in the back of the SUV. She also found a small toy horse that she assumed belongs to one of the children as well. Alex tucked it back into the pouch without a word. Mrs. Nazari probably would be embarrassed if Alex brought it up. So, Alex happily munched on fresh fruit while Mrs. Nazari made clicking and humming sounds in response to whatever the news was telling her.

It wasn't until Professor Warren came into class and Peter still wasn't in his seat next to her that Alex went from being concerned to be truly scared that Peter had overestimated his healing abilities. It was one thing not to answer her text messages at night, but to not come to class? His superior healing powers be damned, she should have dragged his battered ass to the hospital the moment he tumbled into her apartment. She was going to murder him if he wasn't already on his death bed.

By some grace of God, Professor Warren was also off his game and even ended class early complaining of a headache. Everyone was so surprised by this that they all sat in their chairs staring at one another as if they were worried it was a test. The poor teaching assistance probably thought that they were all hypnotized when he came in for their lab section. He even asked if everything was alright before launching into how close they were to midterms and how they should book their time with the computers if they didn't have their finished analysis already.

Alex was sure whatever they learned was extremely important, but all she could think about was Peter Parker and as soon as she was able, she was running down the street and begging Mrs. Nazari to drive her to his home and not Stark Tower. It took a little bit of convincing and a call to the lab before Mrs. Nazari was persuaded to head to Queens.

#marvel #fanfic #My writing #A Spider Sat Down Beside Her #Update 16

2 notes · View notes