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jungkookiebus · 4 years ago

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Grain of Sand | jjk

Genre: smut x fluff x established relationship x slice of life Pairing: blind!jjk x reader Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: cunnilingus, (light) ass play, fingering, jungkook fucks you against the kitchen sink so i guess that can be a warning, creampie Summary: Blind since the age of 18 from a genetic disorder, Jungkook walked through life as if he never lost it, but on one fateful day seven years ago he literally almost runs into you. He fell in love nearly immediately. Fast forward to the present and it’s just another day in your quiet life with him by your side.

Bright, warm sunshine filled the hallway of your home from the windows that lined the wall. It was one of the reasons you picked this house. You imagined hanging pictures up on the wall for the morning sun to rise upon and, at night, you could still easily see them in the light of the moon. And that’s exactly what you did when you moved in two years ago. Jungkook walked ahead of you, fingers delicately skimming the wall right beneath the pictures. The wall there looked more worn than the rest, a little oily sheen to it from his fingertips. Walls all over your home had these trails. They were like highways for him, directing him to the living room, kitchen, and every room in between. Sometimes, like now, you’d run your fingers along his path lovingly, grazing your fingers underneath your wedding photo.

“What would you like for breakfast?” he asked, and you saw as he tilted his head a little, knowing you were following quietly behind him.

You hummed in thought. You never really were that hungry as soon as you woke up, but the smell of breakfast always made your stomach growl.

“What about…eggs and bacon?”

“Toast?”

“Oh, yes, Taehyung gave us some fresh strawberry jam he made.”

He hummed in a content agreement, turning the corner ahead of you, two fingers brushing the dull edge as he continued down the hallway. The light overhead was still off, and the early morning sun had yet to reach this part of the house, but Jungkook moved by memory and his worn wall path before moving into the kitchen. As he walked into the room, you reached for the light switch and flicked it on.

“What would you like me to do?” you asked. You leaned against the counter as you watched his hands skim the cabinets, and you knew he was counting in his head, until he got to the one he wanted. He pulled out a pan as his other hand reached for the stove, hand finding the burner, before moving it to sit the pan down.

“Uh, if you want to grab the ingredients, that will help.”

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

Jungkook laughed as he reached for the oil that sat by the stove.

“I should be calling you pet names.”

“You do all the time and you’re just too cute not to.”

Opening the refrigerator, you pulled out the necessary amount of eggs and bacon as not to cause confusion with a clutter of items.

Jungkook lost his sight at the ripe, but terrible age of 18. Retinitis pigmentosa was the cause of his progressive vision loss. Around 10, he started showing signs when he complained about not being able to see outside when he played later in the afternoon, even when the sun was still bright on the horizon. His parents’ worst fears were confirmed with his diagnosis and the heartache of explaining to their son that he would lose his vision completely was devastating. But Jungkook proved strong and focused on studying Braille and doing whatever he could to prepare himself. Over the years, his vision worsened, he didn’t get to get his driver’s license with his friends, and he missed out on many things, but that didn’t stop him from pursuing his passion in music. He felt a connection when he made music because without his vision, it made him that much more acute in his studies. You met Jungkook in college, both music majors, and the reason you had met was because he had accidentally thwacked you with his white cane.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” he had said reaching in your direction.

You had laughed and at first his face was set into a confused expression until you spoke.

“Oh, that little thing couldn’t even leave a mark if you had done it intentionally.”

His face screwed up as he tried to hold in a laugh but was unable to do so at your incessant giggling. When you spoke again was when he thinks he fell in love with you, but there were too many moments to count for him.

You nudged the end of his completely white cane with your foot, no red or other markings. “Completely blind, huh?”

You hadn’t said it with any disdain or judgement; you had said it as if you were just having curious, casual conversation. Most of the time Jungkook felt as if his blindness made him invisible to people as if it were some curse to have and if they accidentally came close to him, they’d hurt him or themselves. Of course, he had his close friends and family that didn’t even remember he was blind half the time, but society always kind of sucked that way.

But you, you were the first girl he had ever met that so blatantly astonished him within the first few minutes and his heart flipped in his chest. He didn’t even need to see you to know that you were perfect, and he would end up with you one day. And, sure enough, five years later you were married and looking for a new home.

“How does this one sound?” you asked one night over your tub of chocolate ice cream.

You both sat at your small kitchen table in your small apartment. Jungkook had one headphone in listening to an audiobook, head resting in his hand as his other played absently on yours. You were scrolling through houses on your phone, trying to find the both of you the perfect one. Jungkook hit pause on his book and looked in your direction. Despite his blindness, nothing about his eyes had really changed; they were still a beautiful brown and they were your favorite to see in the evening light, sunset set his eyes aflame.

“Babe, as long as the layout is easy to memorize and it’s what you want, it’s perfect for me.”

“I love you,” you whispered. Tears filled your eyes at the content look on his face, a slight smile played on his lips. You were truly happy with him, sharing every moment together, and to the fullest, but parts of you did feel sad that he couldn’t see it.

“My god,” he whispered somewhat dramatically and suddenly your tears became a small laugh because you knew where this was going. “If your love were a grain of sand…”

“Mine would be a universe of beaches,” you whispered back.

Now, here you were, in your home with its innocuous fingertip paths lining your walls in an intimate artwork that was priceless to you.

With your back to the counter you leaned and watched as he moved. You only offered help occasionally and when he asked for it, but you were content to watch. His hands always moved lithely, so smooth, as he reached for objects. He cracked the eggs easily into the hot pan as he began to hum. He’d sometimes hum, sometimes sing, but he’d always choose a song about the same length each time and that was how he timed his cooking. The bacon popped loudly.

“Oops, fire’s too high.” He turned the knob to lower the flame before carefully putting his hand back on the handle of his pan. He picked his song up a few seconds after where he left off. The eggs were frying perfectly in the pan, not that you expected any less.

You pushed away from the counter to start grabbing plates as he neared the end of his song. Before long, he had both plates perfectly set with eggs and bacon as you carried the toast to the table. You buttered and spread the strawberry jam on two pieces, dropping one on his plate as you brought them over. He followed behind you, hand on your waist lightly before sitting down at the table.

“What are we gonna do today?” you asked as you bit into the toast. “Holy shit Taehyung knows what he’s doing with this stuff.”

His smile was bright as he cut into his eggs. “What do you feel like doing?”

The sun was now up over the horizon, spilling into the windows and across your kitchen. You had hung various glass artwork throughout the house and right now the stained glass flower you had hung above the kitchen sink cast an array of colors into the room. Jungkook looked like moving artwork across from you. The colors shifted and changed as he moved, leaning back in his chair then forward again, elbow on the table, moving for a napkin, and each time he did splashes of red, green, blue, and yellow painted his skin.

You hadn’t realized you had fallen silent until Jungkook cleared his throat. “Babe?”

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“The stained glass is casting a lot of pretty colors on you right now and I got distracted.”

“I bet it looks wonderful.”

He smiled softly as he reached for his glass of milk.

“Describe it to me?” He pushed his plate to the middle of the table as he finished. Placing his head in his hands, he looked in your direction, his eyes averted just down from your eyes and somewhere near the apples of your cheeks. Even if he rarely ever made eye contact, your soft voice always lulled him in and pointed him in the right direction.

“Remember when we’d get those cheap plastic kaleidoscopes as kids?” You pulled his plate towards you and stacked it on your own.

He laughed softly at the memory. “I used to think they were so cool, but the pieces inside were just as cheap as the outside.”

“Well think of that…just prettier.” His smile grew wider as his eyes closed and you knew he was thinking back on a memory. Probably a summer day down by the shore, the salty sea air, and the sun on his face. His mom is with him and everything is so bright. He sees the water and the way it stretches to the horizon, but in his peripheral it’s a little darker. For now, he’ll enjoy the waves.

You stood up and took the plates to the sink and began pulling the pots off the stove and putting them under the water with the rest. The sun still shone through the stained glass in front of you. You got lost in thought, hand still under the water waiting for it to heat up as you stared unblinking and the slightly swaying piece of glass. You jumped when a pair of hands softly caressed your hips.

“Shit,” you whispered. You were snapped out of your daydream and you shakily grabbed the sponge before pouring soap over it.

His lips came down on your neck. “Did I scare you?”

“Yea that was real dickish of you.”

He laughed against your neck as he snaked his arms fully around you and held you close. You began scrubbing at a pan as he hummed lightly, placing yet another kiss to your skin. He inhaled deeply and let his warm breath out slowly.

“You smell good,” he murmured.

“Well, I did take a shower last night….” You put the pan in the drying rack before reaching for another one.

His arms tightened around you and he brought himself a little more flush with your body. He hummed again as he moved his lips along the top of your exposed shoulder.

“What, pray tell, are you doing?” you asked in a mock accent as your hands dove blindly into the water as you searched for more dishes.

“Kissing you,” he said between small pecks.

“Okay.” You pulled a spoon from the filthy depths of the dish water when Jungkook’s hands moved back to your hips and his fingers dug lightly into them.

“Don’t move,” he whispered before dropping to his knees behind you.

Folding his fingers under the waistband of your shorts, he slowly began to pull them past your hips.

“What are you-“ You tried to turn around but keep your hands over the sink at the same time and you could only swivel so far at the hip.

“Shhh.” He kissed the small of your back and then the swell of your ass as he began to palm your ass cheeks. Slowly, he spread them further and further as he placed kisses along your skin. Your body had gotten whiplash; one second you were washing dishes and the next Jungkook was on his knees behind you. You shook slightly and your internal temperature began to rise. Suddenly, having your hands in the warm water became overbearing. You pulled them out and then clung desperately to a dish towel, but there was no way you were drying your hands right now. You felt his lips again and they were on the underside of your ass this time. You clutched the edge of the sink as you stared into the intricate flower in the glass.

Behind you, Jungkook spread your ass and dipped his head, tongue finding your cunt immediately. He hummed into you and you clenched. He spread them further as he licked at your center before he moved to your ass.

“A-ah,” you stuttered as you leaned more into the counter. His face was buried in your ass eating you out until he almost had your thighs shaking before he moved back to your now embarrassingly wet cunt. His moan was deeper this time as you dripped deliciously onto his tongue. Your mind seemed to exit the room as he shook his head, deepening this lewd kiss. He pushed himself up more on his knees, wanting to get as deep into you as he could. Your cries rose in pitch as your thighs began to shake. Your palms dug into the edges of the counters but all you could think about was him. He moaned the more you clenched, getting closer and closer to the release he wanted to give you. You could barely breathe now, and you were nearly on your tiptoes. All the while, Jungkook had his hands firmly on your thighs now with his face anchoring him to your body. You rocked back into his face and his moans began to pitch now, hands almost kneading at your thighs as he wrapped his hands around the front of them, pulling you harder into his face. Your mind felt as if it were on the brink of shutting down as your whole body began to shake. Every muscle in your stomach tensed as you felt yourself tumbling forward.

Different variations of his name fell from your lips in rapid succession as you crested the hill of your release. You fell over it when a large breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your body shuddered and it felt as if all the blood inside rushed to your cunt. Jungkook was still eating you out as you came on his face, nearly crying into the kitchen sink. His grip on your thighs loosened first and then his tongue slowed. Your body shuddered every now and then from the aftershock. He kissed the underside of your ass again before standing. He pulled you into him again and held you close as you caught your breath. He kissed the side of your neck as his cheek rested against your skin.

“You taste good, too,” he mumbled.

You let out a shaky laugh. He had said it so nonchalantly as if he weren’t on his knees, face nowhere to be seen, just minutes before.

“Now, my kaleidoscope eyes,” he reached for the back of your knee and brought your leg upwards, “I need you to rest this here.”

He had your leg up on the counter comfortably and then he dipped his hand back between them. Your hips jerked involuntarily as he played with your painfully swollen clit. He circled the tips of his fingers on it softly. He kissed your skin delicately, reverently. The sun rose higher in the sky and from behind your eyelids you could see various colors of orange, blue, and red.

“You always describe the world so beautifully to me,” he whispered.

“I-I don’t want you t-to miss out.” You were a mess and he was making you an even bigger mess.

“Your vision of the world is far better than anything I could dream up.”

His fingers pressed a little harder and you wanted to clench around something only to be met with air. You whined a little as his breath picked up against your skin and he rutted into you. You felt his cock through his sweats and your mouth instantly watered. He hummed again as you began to drip on his fingers as he dipped them before pushing inside of you. He let out a shuddering breath as you swallowed his fingers fully, clenching hard around him. He pushed into you again, cock hard against your ass and he leaned into you as you pressed further into the counter.

“Tell me what you want,” he said gruffly as he pumped his fingers inside of you.

Your toes curled against the countertop, knee hitting a mug across the marble surface but neither of you bothered to acknowledge it. Jungkook was rutting into you now and breathing hotly into your ear. His other hand was on your breast kneading it roughly.

“God, Jungkook, just fuck me already.” You were doubled over with him hot on your back. His fingers pumped faster and faster and you were on your tiptoe again. You pushed your hips into him as he gave two more hard thrusts into you before pulling his fingers away.

His hands were only gone for what seemed like seconds before he had one on your hip and the other rubbing his cock between your folds. You moaned as you anticipated him. You didn’t have to wait long before he was sliding inside of you easily. His body was hot against yours and his skin against your ass was even hotter. His hand was at your breast again kneading as his heavy cock slid in and out of you slowly as if he were trying to make this moment last forever.

“What colors do you see now?” he whispered. His voice sounded strained like he was holding back. How were you supposed to concentrate?

You squinted when you were finally able to open your eyes; the sun was higher and brighter in the sky since you last looked. All you could think about was his cock softly nudging against the nerves inside of you, but he wasn’t going fast enough to really stimulate anything. You pushed your hips back into him again, but he didn’t take the bait as he pinched your nipple through your shirt. His other hand was anchoring your leg to the counter so you couldn’t move it from where he placed it. Plentiful soap suds were all over the sink and slowly popping but there was enough for the colors to be cast in a strange refracted way. The angle of the light caused more rainbows to shine from the hundreds of tiny bubbles. You reached out and braced yourself on the windowsill above the sink before you spoke.

“All of t-them. They’re shining on the soap now.” You were no stranger to describing things to Jungkook, but during sex was a new one.

He seemed satisfied as his pace quickened. His lips were on your neck, wet, and travelling upwards until he bit your earlobe between his teeth. Once again, you were pushing your hips into him as much as he’d let you. He was much too strong pushing you against the counter and his hand on your leg limited your movements.

“Jungkook, please.” You were breathless now, travelling up to that peak again but you needed more than this. He didn’t need to ask to hear your underlying question. He pressed against you harder while at the same time quickening his pace. The hand on your breast splayed across your chest before he moved it slowly down your stomach. Your breath caught in your throat as your stomach tightened. He was dipping his fingers between your legs again and pressed two fingers to your clit. Your chest came flush with the edge of the counter now and you felt Jungkook’s cheek on your shoulder blade. You reached for anything to brace yourself after your sweaty palm slid from the windowsill. You knocked soap and various other items down, sending some splashing into the water and others into the empty side of the steel sink. Jungkook ignored the clattering of items as he began to snap his hips harder. The pressure he had on your clit was barely there but enough to have you straining and willing your body to fall, but you just whimpered as you cried into the sink. He controlled your orgasm and all you could do was fall into the delectable pleasure he was giving you because you knew he always delivered. There was no way he was letting you physically walk away from this.

The room grew hotter the higher the sun climbed as it cast its menagerie of colors onto your face. The ends of your hair gathered the water droplets collected in the sink as your body shifted with each thrust. Without his sight, Jungkook was acutely more aware to other parts of your body. Like the way your cunt would flutter and tighten like a vice the closer you got your orgasm. He could practically feel the muscles in your back tense up as you focused all your attention to the burning in your abdomen. He pressed his fingers a little harder before moving them faster on your clit. The nerve endings inside were lit on fire, sending the hot flames licking in your core and up into your chest as every hair on your body stood on end as your skin flushed with goosebumps. You began to tremble, thighs cramping as you brought yourself fully up on your toes, other leg sweating against the marble counter. Jungkook’s large hand was still firm on the back of your thigh, keeping your leg up on the edge as he fucked into you faster and harder. You were crying loudly now, not holding anything back as he led you towards the end. Your orgasm hit with an explosion of colors behind your eyelids, aided by the stained glass. Jungkook’s fingers abandoned your clit in favor of bringing you more upright to turn your face enough for a searing kiss; his lips skated across your cheek before he found yours and you moaned into his mouth. He still thrust, ready to follow you down the other side and you clenched harder around him almost making it impossible for him to stay inside, but he had his hips hard against yours and into the counter in front of you. He braced himself against your thigh, his other hand on the counter now, and his lips still on yours as he spilled inside of you. Hot cum began to leak immediately around him and onto the floor. Usually you had your closed legs to keep it contained but now he was dripping all over the kitchen floor. Not that you minded. His moans dropped in pitch as he continued to thrust, overwhelmed by the feeling of you and his cum filling you up and then spilling out. With hips stuttering a few more times, he stilled. Without his movements you could now feel the slip of his cum as it came out of you. Slowly, he let go of your thigh and eased it to the floor. You winced as your cramped muscles begged for relief, but he was gentle in his movements, letting you adjust. He kissed your temple and the side of your face while you tried to regain your breath. Your legs felt as if they’d give out at any moment as they wobbled dangerously, but his steadfast grasp around your waist kept you upright.

The early morning sun still climbed in the sky, now out of view of the stained glass. The kitchen was yet again cast in the muted glow as it hid behind the trees, a display of leaves now covered the room in a strange dance. Jungkook was silent behind you, but still holding you close as he waited for your legs to regain their strength. The dishes sat scattered and forgotten in the sink and on the counter. The last of the soap bubbles were popping away and any hint of the colorful display was gone except for the stained glass now hanging somewhat plainly in the window.

He pulled you impossibly closer, face nuzzled into your neck as he hummed a nonsensical tune.

“Thank you,” he whispered. You were silent, knowing he had more to say. “Thank you for bringing color into my world.”

You squeezed his hand that was around your waist. You didn’t have to say much for him to understand, but what he didn’t know was how much he had brought into yours.

“If your love were a grain of sand…” you began.

“Mine,” he said with a whisper and a kiss to your exposed shoulder, “would be a universe of beaches.”

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook #blind!jungkook #jungkook x reader #reader insert #established relationship #nonidol!au #slice of life

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flying-nightwing · 5 years ago

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Decorum (3/3)

Attaboy gang, thanks for the support! Here’s the final part of Decorum. I can’t believe I cooked my boy Dick for +10 000 words, I kinda feel bad now lmao (I did add a bit of saving grace for him here, I’m not a monster) Anyway, you were served appetizer, main course and finally dessert with a generous syrup of Jason.

Part 2

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader, Dick Grayson x reader (ish)

Word count: 3994

Warnings: swear words, non graphic sexual content but strong implications

Summary: after making sure Dick gets the message, you finally get closure.

Dick couldn’t believe he was in the right place. He had checked many times to make sure he was in the right neighborhood, but his coordinate were clearly indicating he was. He looked around the dusty, unkempt buildings in the deserted street and thought to himself that you would--you could never stay around here. Sure, you had left with only a small part of your own fortune and left the rest to the benefit of Wayne Industries (the reason he was still legally married to you), but it was enough to guarantee you a better life than… This. Especially with your upbringing, he didn’t think you’d know how to live that way. Even for him… Hadn’t he had his training, he would easily have been uneasy walking those streets.

It had taken everything for him to make Bruce reveal him your location. Obviously he could have done it himself, but he didn’t think you’d take it very well if he did. But after a year and a half without any news from you but bruce’s assurance you were still alive and well, his patience had ran out. So despite warnings from the family and his own better judgement, he went after you. It was eating him inside, and he had to see you. So he tracked you down to a small town in Argentina, where you now had an address and ID.

It was the sound of a slow, bassy beat that caught his attention first. He followed it through a small alley and finally ended up on a backyard party, where the music was loud and the people happily chatting. All of them appeared to have some carnival masks, and a drink in their hands. It was some kind of celebration, he deducted. His eyes were then drawn to the people dancing around the bonfire, their face barely illuminated by the warm glow of the fire. They were dancing in pairs to the slow reggaeton blasting from the stereo, and he could have sworn…

No way.

He dropped his bag and took a few steps forward to make sure he had seen well, only to confirm he did. After all, his eyes were well adjusted in the dark. There you were, dancing with some guy he did not recognize. It was you, he was sure of it even behind that mask. You were laughing at something he said, and you didn’t push him back when he kissed you. His eyebrows drew together at this out of character behavior, but his head truly began to spin at your next actions. You broke away from him just enough to beckon someone hidden from him on the chairs around the fire. He couldn’t see the person, but the voice that followed, louder than the party somehow, he knew too well. Way too well.

“No puedo decirte no, baby”

Soon enough, a maskless Jason with his shirt wide open joined you. He poured some tequila in your mouth, before kissing you. Sloppily, passionately. It made Dick see red. Not only he knew where you were all this time, pretending he didn’t, but he was shamelessly making out with you, and god knows what more. Dancing with you so close, without a care in the world, his mouth on your neck…

“What the fuck”

He said it loud enough to grab yours and Jason’s attention, as well as a few of the party goers that weren’t too drunk yet. Jason gestured for them that there was no problem and took a few steps forward, pulling you with him by the hand.

“Dick! Attaboy!” He greeted, opening his arms. You giggled at his antics as you stabilized the bottle in his hands so it wouldn’t spill. “What in el inferno are you doing here? Want some tequila?”

He looked in between you two, his eyes squinted in confusion at the mess in front of his eyes. Jason, well, he was Jason, nothing was surprising there. But you? You were wearing a crop top and some cut off daisy dukes, your hair was a mess and your feet dirty from dancing barefoot in the soil. You would have never been caught dead looking that way.

“No I don’t” He refused the offer with a scoff before setting his eyes on you again. “I came to check on you”

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow. “I’m living my best life, Richard”

Jason made a funny face at your use of his full name, while dick only rolled his eyes.

“Here, with him?” He pressed. “You don’t even speak spanish”

“Well, ahora si malparido” You replied without missing a beat, and Jason almost spit out the cigarette he was trying to light with one hand. “And yes. He’s much better company than you”

“You must be fucking kidding me” He sighed to himself. “Why?”

“To make you feel like shit”

“To fuck my brother’s wife, man”

“Also, his ass”

“Hard same”

You were sure you could see the smoke coming out of his brain at this point.

“Before you judge me… Actually, you have no right to. Case closed” You gave him a tight smile. You knocked back the remaining of your beer before turning on your heels and heading back to the party. But before you could go far, he called your name again.

“We need to talk. Both of you” He said, but it went straight over both of your heads. “Sober”

“Sure sure” You brushed off, pulling Jason back with you. “See you tomorrow. You can crash on the couch inside or whatever”

“Or you’re welcome to join the fiesta, hermano!” Jason called to Dick. “But not with that attitude! And get yourself a drink!”

You laughed as your good mood returned in the heart of the party with Jason. Dick was forgotten the second he disappeared from your sight, and it was better that way. Just thinking about him left a bitter taste in your mouth, so you pulled Jason by the collar and kissed him hard. He welcomed the contact, only bringing you impossibly closer against him. He tasted like tobacco and tequila, and it was intoxicating in the most delectable way. His hand on your skin, burning a fire you had never touched before.

He was everything Dick wasn’t, and it was amazing.

Life was so much simpler ever since you had left Gotham. You did your thing, with no pretenses or decorum to uphold. Jason would drop occasionally, sometimes for a few days, other for a few weeks, to show you the best of times every time without a fault. You had no ties, no engagement, no bullshit; only fun. And it made it all the more exciting. He had so far not disappointed on his word that he was, in fact, a piece of heaven.

“Look who joined the party” Jason nodded to someone behind you, and a quick look revealed Dick looking very uncomfortable, but nevertheless with a drink in his hand. He tried not to make it obvious, but he was watching you and Jason. Your thoughts were only confirmed when you crossed glances for a second too long. “What do you say we put up a show for Boy Wonder over there?”

You grinned at his words, knowing what he meant. You now danced to make Dick jealous, which meant dancing sensually, provocatively, obscenely with Jason like you probably never did before. His hands were going wild as you practically grinded against each other. It was working, because soon enough you caught a glimpse of Dick retreating back to the house. Your eyes returned to Jason’s hooded ones, and you bit your lip. You lowered the mask pulled up on his forehead and kissed him again, drunk in lust for him.

“Let’s go back to the bedroom, handsome” You muttered in his ear and a smile graced his face.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, darling”

As you pulled him back to the house, you couldn’t help but think the master bedroom was right over the living room.

------

The next morning followed your usual routine when Jason was around, regardless of your unannounced guest. You woke up early and burned the rest of the alcohol from the party through a run. A few miles before the heat became unbearable, then training in a private part of your garden. There were trees and fountains, which made it cooler than the rest of the propriety as the sun climbed higher in the sky. You were sweating alcohol and fire smoke as you were facing Jason on the fighting mat, but nevertheless, your energy and determination to put him on his ass was still very alive.

He was circling you, much less on guards than you were. He was waiting for you to make the first move, but you had to find the right one. You knew that almost whatever you did, he would stop it without much of an effort. So you had to take him by surprise, which was easier said than done.

“Come on darling, don’t tell me you’re sore from yesterday” He teased before lightly tapping his chest. “C’mon, hit me”

“Cocky bastard” You jumped right in and threw a few punches as a distraction that he dodged easily, before going for the leg sweep. But alas, his training was once again far superior than yours. You don’t know how it happened, but a few moves from him had you trapped under him.

“I’m starting to believe you like me manhandling your sweet ass” He grinned as he started to stand up from his position. You took the opportunity to grab his neck in a chokehold with your legs, and bring him down with his own momentum. At least, that worked, because in a flash he was on the ground, trapped in between your thighs.

“You were saying?” You huffed.

“Oh, I definitely like ending up here, babe” He drawled out suggestively, and you rolled your eyes. “But business first, pleasure later”

Your eyes widened as he easily rose from the ground… With you still around his neck. Before you could shriek, he threw himself forward and slammed you down on the ground, saving his own fall with a roll. For a moment, you could only lay flat on your back, trying to process what had just happened. Beside the wind being knocked out of your lungs on the initial contact, you weren’t hurt. Just… Shocked, with good reasons to be.

Well, that was a new one you weren’t prepared for.

The sun was then blocked by Jason, who offered you his hand and a shit eating grin. You took the hand and pulled yourself up, dusting off your backside. He raised an eyebrow in challenge, and before he could predict your next move, you threw a round kick, one he barely dodged. Judging by the surprise on his face, he had not expected such quick recovery from you. You took advantage of your attack momentum to throw hits and jabs everywhere you could see open. Your only advantage was that he was unprepared and off balance, but god did it feel good to see him not so smug for once. You finally backed him up into a wall and snatched the blade he always kept in his waistband, pressing it against his neck.

��I don’t know if i should be impressed, or proud, or both” He huffed. “But I’m definitely turned on”

“You dog” You scoffed humorously, taking a step back and handing him back his blade. He took it and tucked it back in the waistband of his short, still grinning at you. “Are you surprised I got the best of you?”

“I’m hard to beat, babe, of course I’m surprised” He teased, earning him a push on the chest as you made your way back to the house. But you noticed your training session had gained a… Spectator. “Oh hey Dick. Came back for act two?”

You snorted at his reference to the night before, and you could have sworn Dick blushed when he momentarily looked away.

“I didn’t know you knew how to fight”

“Obviously” You rolled your eyes as you walked past him into the house, undoing your sparring gloves. “I'm never getting kidnapped for one of you again"

"That's… good" He nodded, glancing quickly at his brother who had now taken his shirt off.

"I'm going to take a shower, I'll be back" You called as you made your way to the stairs.

"Comin with ya" Jason jogged after you, but stopped when you turned around.

"Not today, Jay Bird" You tsked teasingly. "Now be a good host to our guest while I shower"

"It's not even my house" He protested weakly, before sighing and backtracking to the kitchen. He paused there, giving his brother an once over before making a bee line for the fridge.

“What have you done with her?”

Jason slowly straightened up from his search for food, unsure of if he heard Dick correctly. He furrowed his eyebrows and turned to face him. “Come again?”

“I said, what have you done with her?” Dick repeated, putting emphasis on his words. It made Jason snort at the sheer irony. “She would never…”

“She would never what, Dick?” He sighed in annoyance.

“You turned her into you and you know it”

This time, Jason didn’t hold back the laughter. He grabbed an apple, spun it in the air and caught it back before biting in it, trying to find out where the hell his brother had found the audacity. “I didn’t do shit, Dickie. It’s all her”

“I don’t believe it” He objected, but Jason wasn’t on the defensive like he had expected. Instead, he was the one to be.

“What did you expect?” He shrugged. “You broke everything that held her into the mold, and now she shines. I mean, I’ve always suspected she was a wild little vixen under all that pretense, but boy was I in for a nice surprise. You really missed on something there, I almost feel sorry for you”

“So you’re together now?” Anger was audible in his voice. He remembered way too well how they danced the night before, and how Jason had totally done this to prove he could. “Or you use her to fuck?”

“Aren’t you just the cutest” He smirked, throwing the apple core in the bin. “I’m just helping her enjoying life outside the stupid decorum she was born into, brother”

“And you’re taking nothing back out of this?” He challenged, as to try and find something against him. But so far, he had nothing concrete.

“Of course I’m taking something out of this” He scoffed derisively. “She’s hot, and she’s amazing at sex. That I taught her, since you clearly didn’t. Guilty as charged on all counts of bedroom fun positions… Fuck, you really did miss the jackpot”

“And you cheat on her, does she know that?”

“He doesn’t cheat on me” You walked in right after his question. “Not anymore than I cheat on him, because we chose our relation to be that way. Not that it concerns you”

“See? She’s shining” Jason taunted Dick as he brushed past him in the direction of the shower at his turn, leaving you alone with your… Legal husband. He looked uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. You weren’t nervous to face him.

“Uh, you look good”

Dick wanted to facepalm himself. That’s all he could say? Of course it was. Your skin was glowing like it never did before, you didn’t look tired or stressed, and most importantly, he wasn’t there to hurt you. You truly looked good, healthy and happy. And it made him miserable to think his absence from your life was one of the main reason for that, and the other, Jason.

“I do” You replied without an ounce of shame, because you did. “So I guess we’re doing this long overdue conversation now”

He nodded slowly as you gestured for him to take a seat to the table. You joined him and sat on the other hand, crossing your fingers in front of you. It was better now than later, and you could close this horrible chapter of your life once and for all.

“It’s weird. I barely recognize you” He began.

“You would have had to know me in the first place for that” It wasn’t harsh, the way you said it. But you had to make it clear where you stood, and lying would have been counterproductive. “You never spoke more than ten words to me, except when we’d fight. How could you possibly have any idea about what I was like before?”

“Right. I deserve that, I guess” He mumbled to himself. “I just… I just would have never pictured you fighting, I remember you didn’t like it”

“Because it wasn’t the proper thing to do” You admitted. “I felt like I didn’t belong in that training room, like I didn’t belong in your world, you see”

“Are you doing that to make me feel like shit too?”

It sounded… Defeated. He was talking about you and Jason, with the underlying question of why him. You knew it must have felt weird, to see you together. But while he was ignoring you, Jason had been the only one who didn’t pretend like everything was fine. Well, he did to some extent because he had to, but he would always be there if you asked for him. When he accepted your invitation to come and see you in Argentina, he helped you change your world around, to discover who you were on your own terms. It had been the first time you could choose, you could dare to be bold, you could dare to make mistake and stupid things without fearing what blow it would deal to your reputation. He gave you a taste of freedom, and you never wanted to let it go. It wasn’t like you were a couple either; you had just found a best friend that could understand, and that could give you a little extra more…

“I’ll admit it’s a side effect that does not displease me, but no” You answered. “I’m doing this for me, because this is who I am”

“Is that what you think? Or what he told you?” He asked expectantly.

“You have to stop with that. You have to understand the only times I was ever myself were when you weren't around” You sighed, dropping a truth you had wanted to reveal him for a while now. “You never made the effort to know me. Jason, despite his flaws, did. So once again, whatever judgement you think you’re entitled to, you’re not”

Silence followed your words. He was thinking about them, processing them, while you were just relieved you could finally get it out in the open. Sure, you had talked about it with Jason, but Dick needed to hear it from you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...” He held his head down, finally speaking. Whatever hope he had with this talk just disappeared in smoke, seeing as he had nothing to give you. “I just… I just can’t bear to know that I’m the reason you had to turn to him, you know? I hate to see him giving you everything that I wouldn’t because of my own damn stupidity, while I could have been the one to… Be there.”

He finished in a whisper, and you didn’t reply straight away. You knew he had been sincere in his feelings back at the hospital, and it hadn’t changed. Somehow you knew he was truly trying to change, that he was trying hard to make up for his past actions. If only he had showed that behaviour a little sooner, you had no trouble believing he would indeed be the one beside you right now. But history made its course, and he wasn’t.

“Well, we gotta own our mistakes, don’t we?” You hummed. “... Now I’m just asking of you that you respect my choices as my own, you owe me that much”

He hummed in agreement before reluctantly standing up. He glanced at the door, then back at you. “I should go now. Just let me know when you’re back to Gotham, okay?”

“Dick” You called before he could go any further. He spun back to face you, but your expression probably cued him it wasn’t because you had a change of heart. “I’m not coming back to Gotham. Ever”

“What?”

“I should have told you this at the hospital the night before I left” You confessed. Your choice had been made a long time ago, you had just hoped he would have given up before you had to do this. You stood up and went to the small desk beside the window, fetching a white, unmarked envelope. You went back to him and handed him it. “I never had the intention of coming back. Here’s… Everything you need to move on as well. Only thing left to do is for you to sign, the rest had been taken care of”

Wordlessly, he pulled out the folded documents, staring at them frozen in place.

“The second document stipulates you and Wayne Enterprises get to legally keep my share of the family money” You explained. “Please sign it too”

“You’re divorcing” It was all he could say, and you nodded.

“We both need this”

“But--”

“Listen, I see that you are trying to make amends, and it’s why I decide to forgive you for whatever you’ve done. It’s in the past now” You gently cut him off. “I understand you are trying to be better, and I know you will be for whomever life puts on your path next. But I’m not a part of this journey for you, not anymore. So you have to let it go”

For the first time since you met Dick Grayson, you could look truly him in the eyes, and him in yours as well. It felt strange, to have talked with him when you never used to. You believed you had learned more about him today than in two years of marriage, but somehow it felt like the closure you and him needed. You didn’t need to know why he had been a jerk to you, it wasn’t important anymore. You had seen what you had wanted, a glimpse of who he truly was, and that was satisfying on its own. You just hoped he’d remember his lesson, and would be careful for the times that had yet to come. As you watched him leave your doorstep, one thing was clear, you were at peace with what happened with him. Who knew, perhaps in a few years from now your paths would cross again. You’d say hello, he’d say hi back. Maybe you’d go take a coffee and talk about your lives, and possibly share a laugh over silly details you had overlooked from your shared history.

But for now, you’d rather forget Dick and enjoy what you had. You closed your eyes as arms wrapped around you from behind, and Jason’s shower gel took over your sense of smell. It made you realize how content you were with the life you had, and how glad you were to have left the life that had been designed for you.

“How did it go?”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t listening” You smiled, resting your head against his chest. You felt the vibration of his silent chuckle as he swayed you lightly. “But it went well. We cleared things up. And i gave him the papers, I shouldn’t stay miss Grayson for long now”

“Aw man, there goes my “affair with my brother’s wife” fantasy” He joked, and you half heartedly slapped his chest. “Ow”

Some things never change.

“I’m just glad it’s over” You sighed, turning around in his arms to face him. “Thank you”

“For what darling?”

“Everything, Jason. Thanks for everything”

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willow-salix · 5 years ago

Text

Random bit of fun that popped into my head. Grandma Tracy + Selene + cooking sherry =

Selene checked the recipe again and nodded to Grandma. It couldn't be that hard could it, to be all domesticated and shit? She had many manly men that she had to cook for, not that she went in for all the "a woman's place is in the kitchen" stereotypes, but she did think it was important that they came home to something better than their Grandmother's cooking attempts after a tough rescue, and this one looked like it would be a nightmare mission.

She could cook most things, basic and homely she called it, having learnt baking from her Nan, although she did like to challenge herself now and then.

She had decided in her infinite wisdom that if she was capable of making simple dishes like lasagna, chilli's, soups, burgers, pizza's pancakes, breakfasts and the like, coupled with the fact that she was actually good at baking, she could manage to help Grandma in her mission. It shouldn't be that hard to make their boys some lovely fresh donuts, something they all loved. Yep, that was a plan!

Grandma Tracy had wandered back and forth while Selene was assembling the ingredients, flour, salt, yeast, eggs, milk and melted butter and insisted on helping, trying to add her own selections to the mix which Selene gently vetoed, hiding them in the microwave. It would be fine, with her overseeing the proceedings Grandma couldn't get into too much trouble, could she?

Selene directed Grandma as they slowly added the wet ingredients into a big mixing bowl, one at a time until they made a relatively smooth mixture, then Grandma added that little by little to the flour, Selene mixing with her hands until they had a rough dough.

She dribbled some oil onto the worktop, dumped out the bowl and began to knead the slop, gradually feeling it grow thicker and less gloopy, more springy. Damn this was hard work!

"Let me have a try, you youngsters don't know the meaning of hard work."

Selene stepped aside to let Grandma T take her turn, but within a minute the older lady was huffing as bad as Selene was.

They tag teamed back and forth for a few minutes but her fingers were cramping and she was sure that she had inhaled so much flour she'd be sneezing bread rolls. She went to wipe her forehead but her hands were so greasy with the oil she gave in. She didn't want to resort to cheating, but needs must.

She whispered a little chant under her breath when Grandma made her excuses to go to the bathroom and watched as the dough kneaded itself, plumping up and down and flipping itself over as she washed her hands and settled down with a can of cherry coke. The dough flopped itself back into its bowl after a few more minutes and she covered it over and placed it on the windowsill to rise for an hour.

And she promptly forgot about it, wandering off with Grandma to catch up on "The bold and the beautiful" a TV show that Grandma watched religiously and that had become Selene's guilty pleasure whenever she was on the island.

Upon returning to the kitchen after learning that Chico was Marion's secret son and that Charlie's amnesia was fake, they found the bowl overflowing and the dough creeping its way towards the floor.

"Stupid magic kneading!" Selene dived at the dough, nudging Armstrong out for the way just as he tried to bat at it with his paw. "No! Bad cat. Leave it!"

She cradled it in her arms like it was a baby, a big, messy, yeasty baby that was determined to get the fuck out of dodge. She balanced on one leg as she tried to hold it up with her knee, kneeing it like she was playing keepy uppy with a football.

"Grandma, get a bowl! A big one!" She gave it a big push upwards as Grandma shoved a huge bowl under it, catching the evil, still growing blob.

"What's wrong with it?" Grandma asked as she poked at it with her finger, diving back when it looked like it would consume her whole hand.

"Nothings wrong with it, I'm sure it'll be fine."

Against her better judgement, and Selene wasn't known to be entirely sane at the best of times, she grabbed the biggest saucepan they had and filled it with oil, setting it on the stove to boil. Should only take a few minutes....

She watched as the oil began to bubble and smoke, knowing it was about as hot as it would get. Witches didn't like boiling oil, call her silly but that had always been something to avoid in the olden days, which was probably why she had taken the few minutes to kit herself out in a huge apron, Scott's spare bike helmet and a pair of Virgil's thick work gloves. Couldn't be too careful.

She dug her hands into the dough, hitting it with her elbow when it looked like it might try to be the one to eat her before they cooked it. "No! Down! Bad dough!"

She was sure it would be fine once it was cooked, witches made everything a bit more lively, the boys could attest to that.

"Watch out Grandma, don't get too close."

She scooped out a handful and rolled it into a ball then holding it at arm's length, dropped it in the oil like it was a hand grenade. Boom, the oil jumped up to meet her and she stepped back with a squeak of shock. Not good. Nope nope so much nope. Not doing that again.

"Oh don't worry, it always does that when I cook too," Grandma shrugged as she crossed to the fridge to get herself a drink. "Keep going, it'll be fine."

After rolling another ball, which she caught before it rolled off the counter and across the floor yelling 'cry freedom', she sourced a pair of BBQ tongs to hold it with and dropped it carefully in the oil.

"That seemed to work," Grandma encouraged. "Keep doing that."

Ball after ball followed and her roll, grab and drop operation was going so well she completely forgot that the oil was actually cooking the damn things.

"Uh…little too brown maybe…" she fished them out and dumped them into a bowl lined with kitchen towel. She poked them, were they OK?

"They'll be fine with some powdered sugar on them," Grandma proclaimed wisely, although Selene wasn't too sure. "Do the rest, that's nowhere near enough to feed my boys."

Grandma supervised as Selene slowly worked her way through the dough mass, which seemed to have lost its determination now she had effectively scooped half of it away, though it was still making a strange wheezing noise as it attempted to grow some more. She'd soon put a stop to that! She quickly rolled and tossed more balls into the oil, having perfected her drop and duck technique. Paranoid that she'd burn the next lot she got them out earlier...Perhaps a little too early, as they stuck to her tongs as she slapped them into the bowl.

"Damn it."

"Jelly will fix them, " Grandma nodded sagely, "Jelly fixes everything."

Selene threw the last of the balls, now looking slightly less ball like and more like lumps of dough that she was too fucked off with to fix, and began to search the cupboards for something to insert the jam inside the balls.

She located a turkey baster that Parker had insisted they needed to cook a decent Christmas dinner, and that Alan had secretly been using to squirt the Gordon with. Selene had filled it with whisky that one time and used it to fire at Scott from opposite ends of the couch in an attempt to reach each others mouths. She grinned at the memory.

As if reading her mind- maybe she was a witch too- Grandma vanished and reappeared with half a bottle of cooking sherry.

"Would you like a little taste? I find it helps me relax sometimes when I'm cooking, you're too tense."

Well, that might explain a few of Grandma's more adventurous dishes.

Selene looked at the bottle, she could actually do with a little of that right now. She held out her coke can and Grandma poured a healthy splash into the remains of her coke.

"Don't tell John," Selene warned as she gulped down some of the drink for strength as she faced the fried dough balls she was supposed to fix.

She grabbed a pot of smooth jam out of the cupboard and sucked some up into the baster -not that easy to do it turned out- and holding one of the cooked balls she stabbed it with the end of the rubber syringe. It went right through.

"Shit!"

She tried again, splitting another one.

"Fuck!"

"Language, Selene!"

"Sorry, Grandma."

"Let me try," Sally managed to get the tip in one and squirted a generous amount into the donut. But didn't count on the force of her squeezing making the donut shoot off the end and fly across the room to smack Armie in the eye.

"Fuck!"

"Grandma!" Selene was shocked, but had the terrible urge to giggle.

Sorry," Grandma apologised, both to Selene and the cat, trying again.

***

The bowl was a jammy, powdered sugar covered, slightly oily mess and Selene was on her third can of sherry and coke and honestly, she no longer really gave a shit.

Who's stupid idea had this been? It was the thought that counted right?

Grandma had given up over an hour ago and gone to bed, knowing the boys would be heading home soon and Selene desperately needed a shower. She had jam in her hair, sugar sticking to her hands and she'd lost the will to live.

She plonked the bowl in the middle of the kitchen counter.

"Sexy spaceman of mine," she texted, "sorry they look like shit…yeah, can't really explain what happened there…but I'll be naked in bed if that helps." She snapped a picture to go with it and called it good, promising to clean up in the morning.

And she wound her way on slightly unsteady feet, up the stairs and into the bathroom to shower off the remains of her one and only attempt to cook something you could buy easier, promising herself a trip to Krispy Kreme in the very near future, and flopped on the bed wrapped in nothing but a towel.

***

"John?" Gordon stared at the text that had popped up on all their comms less than 30 seconds ago.

"I don't even know."

Their brother's long suffering, defeated tone just made the whole thing even funnier.

"Think you had better get down here, bro," Virgil chuckled. "We'll be home in five."

"Yeah, that's probably wise," Scott added.

Even EOS seemed to find the whole situation amusing, which in itself was a little bit worrying, as John rode the elevator down to the island.

Alan and Gordon were staring at the bowl as if it might explode any minute. John spotted the empty sherry bottle in the sink and sighed.

"Grandma got the sherry out."

"That's not good," Scott agreed as he too entered the war zone, formerly known as the kitchen, his eyes taking in the precariously piled bowls, the flour that coated every surface, the oil patch that Alan almost slipped in and the grease splattered stove top, the pan of oil sitting abandoned. His bike helmet was on one of the stools and one of Virgil's gloves peeked out from the bottom bowl of the stack, though it was so covered in dough you could barely tell what it was.

Virgil brought up the rear, his nose wrinkling at the slightly smokey, oily smell that hung in the air.

"Dare you to eat one," Gordon nudged Alan.

"Hell no! John should, it's his girlfriend that made them."

"Fiancée," John automatically corrected, poking gingerly at the contents of the bowl. "And no, I don't think so."

"Scott, you're the brave one, you like to take a risk now and then, you do it."

"Like the rescue wasn't risky enough? No way. Virg, you try, it's like modern art, appreciate it."

"Nope, I like my taste buds where they are, Gordo, you do it, it was your idea."

Gordon paled as he looked into the bowl. "All of us?" he asked hopefully.

The boys exchanged glances and then one by one they all reached into the bowl, their competitive streak unable to resist, selecting the least offensive looking offerings.

"On three?" Scott confirmed. "One…two…three!"

As one they all tossed their donuts into their mouths, chewing madly, their faces contorting into identical grimaces of horror and disgust.

Alan raced to the trash can, opening his mouth to let the offending evil drop out of his mouth.

"Urghh, it was raw inside," he shuddered.

Gordon followed suit, spitting his out. "Mines burnt."

Virgil managed to swallow his. "Mine was all sugar which pretty much hid everything."

Scott had a dribble of jelly running down his chin to drip onto his uniform, his mouth hanging open as if he didn't dare close it again. Virgil handed him a paper towel and he grateful spat out the offensive food.

"My God, that was foul."

They all looked at John, who was still chewing his dough ball, now matter how much he worked it, it never got any smaller. In the end he too gave up and spat it into the trash. "It was like trying to eat a rubber ball."

Virgil tossed the remains into the trash to spare Kayo and Brains the same horror. "At least they tried."

Too tired to actually be bothered with real food, Scott handed round some bowls and Virgil grabbed a box of cereal and some milk.

They all ate quickly, eating in companionable silence, standing up, leaning against various cupboards and furniture, knowing if they sat down they would likely never get up again.

"Damn!" John moved suddenly, breaking the silence of the room, dumping his half eaten cereal in the sink.

"What's wrong?" Scott frowned, instantly worried.

"I just remembered the rest of her message," he was already running towards the stairs, "I've got a naked woman waiting for me."

Alan shuddered, gagging on his mouthful of cereal. "I did not need to know that."

#thunderbirds are go #No idea how this happened #Lets blame Grandma #john tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 2015 #fanfic #fan fiction #fandom #fan fic update #funny post #funny writing #funny

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inkribbon796 · 5 years ago

Text

Jackieboy Man Origins: Chain Letter

Another Origin story, I did one for Silver a while back and I wanted to do one for Jackie.

Summary: For an Irish web developer, it’s been a long night. A long night that turns into a strange morning when he wakes up in the hospital and no memory of how he got there.

~::~ 25 Years Ago ~::~

As a young man was dragging himself and his friend back from a haunted, twisted mansion in a half-dead hypnotic stupor, an Irishman was sitting at his computer in the dark early morning. Unseen to him, something in the wires of his computer were waiting, watching him for the slightest mental distraction, a fatigue to help it.

For the man at the computer, it was late. Later than Sean usually liked to be up. Especially in the cabin he lived in with its thin walls and out in the middle of absolutely nowhere, Ireland.

At the moment he was getting a call from his old friend, Chase. Both of them worked as coders and web designers for the same company.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t believe ye,” Sean told him. “It’s just that yer full of shite.”

“Hey, I did what I could, an’ it’s not workin’,” Chase answered, contacting him over the phone.

Sean audibly groaned, “Fine, send it. If it’s because yer wife downloaded another virus again, I will personally come over to Brighton and kill ye and yer computer.”

“If yer gonna buy me a new computer, then bring it,” Chase dared.

Sean groaned, “I’ll tell you when I’m done with it. Prolly gonna be done later in the week. I’m tired as shit.”

With a goodbye and a couple barbed insults, Sean hung up. He was about to shut down his computer and go to bed. Closing up programs until the email from Chase came in.

“Come on,” the Irish man groaned, and against his better judgement opened up Chase’s email and started reading through some of Chase’s notes.

Two paragraphs in though his eyes started to get itchy, and his throat began to feel dry.

“I’m tired,” Sean muttered, not meaning to say it out loud.

“I’m tired.”

Sean looked around, trying to find the voice.

“Tired”

The Irishman was looking around for his glasses, his eyes tired and having problems focusing. It made it look like the whole monitor was going fuzzy with static.

“Tried”

“Ugh,” Sean groaned, scratching at his own throat. “Arrrghhh!”

“Aren’t you just sooooooo tired?”

Sean stared at the screen, hazy with static and it seemed to be reflecting his smiling face back at him.

“Ch—” Sean scrambled for the phone. Something was wrong, as if thousands of strings were being tethered to every muscle in his body. “Chase—”

The Irishman’s head hit his desk and then . . . like a stiff marionette puppet being suspended by strings . . . he got back up again.

The next thing Sean became aware of was lying down on a slightly cold surface, with a beeping noise echoing off the walls.

“Ugh,” Sean coughed out, more and more of his body aching by the second. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you’ll wish you were when the guards get back in here.”

Sean startled and saw another of his friends sitting in the chair next to him was one of his friends, and his roommate, Marvin. “Marv, the fook happened to your face.”

Scored down Marvin’s face were long claw marks, stitched to hold the wound closed. Marvin glared at him, looking like he was about to punch him in the face.

“Yah get inta a fight with a cat or somethin’,” Sean tried to joke.

Marvin leaned over him, glaring murderously at the other Irishman, pointing to his own face. “You did this to me?”

“What?” Sean tried to sit up, but found out that he had both hands closely handcuffed to his hospital bed.

“Yah scratched up my like a fookin’ demon cat,” Marvin spat at him. “Ye almost tore yer own throat out, an’ then ye tried to take my eyes out.”

“I didn’t,” Sean tried to defend, but a sinking pit formed in his stomach. As if his body knew what he’d been up to last night, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember a single thing that had happened. The web designer was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep at his desk while working. “I wouldn’t—”

Suddenly, Sean felt like a lump was forming in his throat, and it itched. The urge to reach up and scratch the skin of his throat was eating at him. His brain spiraled into a panic attack, and it felt like his body was physically spinning out of control.

It took Marvin, two nurses, and a doctor to calm Sean down again. Now with Sean knocked out, Marvin was left to think. He’d known Sean for a long time, and the last thing he expected the other man to be, was violent. Marvin was pretty sure Sean didn’t actually have a violent bone in his body. He could get loud and belligerent, but never violent.

But thing Marvin had stumbled upon while entering the cabin, that wasn’t Sean. It had taken everything Marvin had to convince everyone that Sean wouldn’t have purposefully tried to burn the cabin down, or attacked Marvin or the officers. Which got harder when his blood work came back clean as a whistle.

But everyone was letting Sean rest. Sean was still sleeping while Marvin had to think. Yeah, he’d talked Sean out of getting thrown in a cell for arson and attempted murder. But that wouldn’t stop it from happening again.

Desperate for anything to help, Marvin ran out to a store he typically got his candles and magic supplies.

“Hey, Marv,” the girl behind the counter smiled at him, using his stage name since he could count on one hand the people he told his actual name to.

“Hey, Clara, ye still got those weird doll parts?” Marvin was already running towards the back of the shop.

She just stared at him, “Yeah, why? You inta puppets now or somethin?”

Then she got a good look at the scratches on his face, “What the hell, man, what happened ta yer face?”

“If I told you you’d stop me,” he told her, and handed her the money to walk out with his kit.

“Be careful,” she warned him.

“Will do,” he promised, and then rushed back to the hospital, smuggling in his kit back into Sean’s room.

“Okay,” he took a steadying breath, over Sean’s still unconscious body. “This is such a bad idea, but yah can thank me after it works.”

Then Marvin began working, trying to make the doll look as close to what he saw in the cabin. The dark, glowing green eyes, the slit throat, the wraith-like form. Once he was done with the life-sized model, he waited for the nurses to make their rounds and check on Sean. Marvin smiling, having the doll hidden from them in the bathroom. Cause a life-sized model of a guy was a sure fire way to get him supervised in the room at least.

Then Marvin waited for them to leave before setting up the room for his Plan A: exorcise his friend and roommate. If he needed a Plan B, Marvin would burn that bridge when he crossed it.

“Hey, Jackaboy,” Marvin tried to smile. “You awake?”

No answer.

Marvin frowned, then he took out a spellbook, “Good.”

He uttered a quick summoning spell, standing outside the containment spell he’d drawn on the floor. Sean began to convulse and scream, his skin literally buzzing.

Sean’s screams were so loud, the door flew open as a passing nurse came in, “What the fook?”

Then a force of pure static electricity shot out of Sean, as a creature that looked almost exactly like the Irishman still passed out on the hospital bed, except for the gash on his throat. The being of malic and chaos just floated in the air above Sean’s bed.

“Well, well, looks like I found myself a street magician too big fer his own britches,” the creature cackled. The nurse was still at the door, staring at the creature in horror. It smiled back at her.

“Hey, you almost got my friend arrested,” Marvin tried not to show any fear.

“Still got time fer that,” it dismissed.

“Here’s the deal, ye go into this image I made, and I don’t destroy you,” Marvin threatened.

The doppelgänger just cackled, sounding like Sean just with a crackling, static-like tone to it. “An what? Let yah rip me apart, I don’t think so Two-Bit Copperfield.”

“Yer going to do it, or I’ll make yah,” Marvin threatened.

It just laughed again, the very air charging with static electricity, and the creature lightly touched down on the floor, looking at the symbols and lines that were keeping him in. “Yah pay for those magic tricks?”

“None of your business,” Marvin finally started actually getting brave.

It took one of its feet and stubbed out one of the lines, blowing back the power onto Marvin, who flew into the wall.

“Cause, ye got yerself ripped off,” it cackled and moved closer to stand over Marvin’s pain wracked body, the magician slumped against the wall as muscles in his body shook and trembled with electricity.

“When you want ta learn some real tricks, call me,” the thing took its claws and scored a name into Marvin’s arm: ANTI. Marvin screamed in pain and watched the cop that had been taking questions early bust in.

Anti looked back at him, standing up and walking back over to Sean’s bed. Marvin heard Sean make a confused groan. “Well, this place has gotten a bit stale. I’ll be seeing you around Copperfield.”

Marvin tried to pull himself back up, his arm burning. “Wait,” he growled.

“Hey, get away from them,” the officer barked, rushing for Anti.

“No, I don’t think so,” Anti grinned, his head almost glitching. “So, buddy, yah got a gun or a TASER? Cause I’m itching to have some fun.”

There was a loud grunt, and everyone, even Anti, looked over to see Jack struggling weekly against the cuffs tethering him to the hospital bed.

In the distraction, the officer grabbed onto Anti, trying to wrestle him onto the ground, and got jolted with visible electricity for his troubles. The officer dropped and convulsed on the ground, screaming in pain. The nurse closest to the door rushed to him.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” Anti smiled at Sean as he walked over to him.

“No,” Marvin panicked, trying to weakly scramble with his good arm for anything to make Anti go away.

“I’ll be with you in a second, Copperfield,” Anti summoned a dagger from almost a violent tear in reality itself and threw it. It perfectly nailed Marvin’s other shoulder. Effectively disabling him. Marvin screamed.

Another dagger got the mannequin Marvin had made, electricity catching it on fire. “And there we go,” Anti’s smile got wider, “get rid of that eyesore.”

With another step, Anti was leaning over Sean, barely out of reach as Sean. “Hello, well, it has been fun, but I’m tired of you. So, let’s have a little fun with you and your friends before I go.”

“Get away from them,” Sean threatened.

“Oh? Puny little human,” Anti cackled, grabbing the Irishman still cuffed to the hospital bed and started to jolt him. As the glitch demon shocked and coursed electricity through him, his whole body glitched the very air around him. “What ye gonna do about it?”

Sean screamed and sudden his whole body seemed to move, as if every part of his body was just vibrating and shaking, rattled by the electricity.

Three things happened almost at the same time, and to Marvin’s perspective they did. Time seemed to slow down as Anti reached for his throat. Sean gave a final tug and the cuffs came free. As quick as he could, Sean hit Anti in the face, what felt like electricity coming off his entire arm, but he didn’t see anything.

The glitch demon recoiled back, mostly in shock, holding the side of his face and just staring at the Irishman who was struggling to get out of the hospital bed and to get in front of Marvin. Adrenaline was coursing through his body, keeping him upright.

“Yer goin’ ta regret that,” Anti warned.

“Get away from him,” Sean told him. “Yer not gonna hurt him again.”

Anti cackled, his body glitching, “What are yeh goin’ ta do? Bleed on me?”

Sean took a nervous step back, almost stepping on Marvin’s leg, Marvin was able to pick himself up enough to lean against Sean’s legs, placing a hand on the back of his leg, and starting to draw something, his hand shaking as he screamed out in pain.

“When I kill you, I’ll enjoy it,” Anti promised.

“If I hit yah once, I can hit ye again,” Sean threatened, just hoping that his body wasn’t nearly as hurt as he thought it was. The police officer seemed to finally be getting up, coughing and holding his arm. Sean hoped it might help get Anti under control, even if he didn’t think whatever Anti was could even be arrested.

Anti just walked over, “I will enjoy tearing you apart.”

Sean winded back for another punch, but when he tried to hit Anti, the glitch just stepped to the side. Giving Sean an amused, chortle.

“Little fly,” Anti chuckled, the glitch demon’s eyes glowing, the iris of his mostly black eyes green. “Somethin’s never change.”

Then, Anti scratched Sean across the chest, making him stumble back as Anti floated above him and gave him a smug look. Sean already felt drained, a mix of the painkillers, his throat, and the fact that he’s been mentally out of it for hours. But his body also felt absolutely wired with adrenaline.

He lifted his arms but Anti froze, jolted by something. His eyes almost crackling with static. “You!” he snarled at Marvin. “What’d yah do ta me?”

Marvin let out a chuckle. “Plan B, thanks fer jumping outta my friend.”

With a harsh scream, Anti began to glitch and distort, screaming as he was trying to reach out for Jackie but burst into static and seeming disappeared.

“Is he dead?” Sean gasped.

“Prolly not,” Marvin coughed. “Should leave us alone fer a while, though,” Marvin slumped over onto the ground. Sean just sat down as two nurses raised over to them.

“Well kid, yah off the hook,” the officer said. “I don’t think the boys are gunna take ghosts as an excuse. Sorry I couldn’ta been ‘a useful back there.”

“No prob,” Sean told him. “I’m tired, can I got ta bed?”

“Try to stay with me a bit longer,” the nurse told him, checking his eyes and all the deep scratches on him. The nurse that had been treating the police officer was now treating Marvin, calling on the radio for back up. Sean’s tied mind losing the voice in all the medical jargon.

“What’dya do back there?” The officer asked. “I lost sight of yah and suddenly yah were in front’a yer friend.”

“I just hit him, think it surprised him,” Sean admitted. “Marv’s got a spellbook or whatever the hell he calls it.”

Looking over, Sean saw the cheap journal Marvin used to store and record his “notes” lying all the way across the room. “Give me a sec,” Sean said. “Maybe Marve took some notes on the bastard.”

“Wait, you shouldn’t,” the nurse began but Sean was already up.

He took a couple steps and faster than his brain could process it, Sean had slammed into the opposite wall, knocking him flat on his back. At the sudden loss of air in his lungs, Sean began coughing, trying to roll over but found that the adrenaline in his body was already starting to drain out. “Ugh,” Sean groaned in pain.

The room went dead silent.

Then, the nurse swore. “Did you just?”

“Ugh, everything hurts,” Sean complained, and then passed out.

Next thing Sean process was that he was in a new room, about three doctors in the room and sensors monitoring his pain. But at least, he had enough painkiller not to feel how absolutely destroyed his body probably was.

“Hey, jackaboy,” Marvin greeted, he was sitting next to him, his shoulder and arms bandaged up. “So, quick question, yah have any secret identities I should know about?”

“No, why?” Sean asked, already feeling pretty loopy.

“Good, cause I’m pretty sure some suits have been in here, and they walked away with a lot of yer blood,” Marvin told him. “Mine too.”

“Pretty sure, they can’t do that,” Sean reminded.

“Well they just did,” Marvin told him, “I tried to fight them, but they were about to arrest me if I didn’t comply.”

“Fer what? Doin’ magic without a license?” Sean tried to joke.

“No, cause you went 0 to 15 with just yer feet, before colliding with a wall and took a chunk outta the plaster,” Marvin told him.

“Huh, yah’d think I’d remember that,” Sean thought out loud. “But hey, if I did, I can maybe become a superhero or somthin’. Wouldn’t that be funny?”

“He awake?” a woman’s voice got Sean’s attention.

“An’ drugged ta hell,” Marvin warned.

“Then this won’t take long,” she said and walked over to where Sean could actually see her.

“Hey,” Sean smiled.

“You’re Sean McLoughlin, from Althone, Ireland?” she looked at him, studying him up and down.

“Yeah?” Sean answered. “Who’s askin’? Is this about the wall I broke?”

“We’re more concerned with how the wall broke, than who broke it,” she corrected.

“Shit,” Sean shrugged, immediately regretting it because of how sore he still was, even with the painkillers. “Ow. Why did I do that?”

“Are you still hurt?” she asked.

“Nah, it’s just sore,” Sean correct. “What were we talking about?”

The woman didn’t seem to even be frustrated. “Do you know what happened, Mr. McLoughlin?”

“Nah,” Sean dismissed. “I think there was some glitchy reject video game character, an’ now everythin’ should hurt, but doesn’t cause’a these awesome drugs.”

She looked at Marvin, but Marvin shrugged, “Hey, guy’s as high as a kite, what do ye want from me?”

“Mr. McLoughlin, my name is Agent Laine,” she told him.

“Kay,” Sean smiled.

“We’ll let you get back to sleep,” Sara told him. “I’ll be back.”

“Hopefully with an actually reason to take our blood,” Marvin reminded.

“Only if we find anything out of the ordinary,” she said and left.

“Finally,” Marvin growled.

“She doesn’t seem nice,” Sean commented.

“Alright, you might not remember this, but last night you moved fast, like superhuman fast, and I did actual magic. It was amazing.” Marvin smiled. “Unfortunately the suits figured out.”

Sean just laughed, “Yeah right, an’ I’m a superhero.”

Marvin shrugged, “Sleep it off, I’ll try and keep the suits from locking you in a padded cell.”

“Yer the best, Marv,” Sean told him, and they just kept talking, more joking than anything else until Sean got tired again.

In five days Sean would run through town in a colorful, oversized hoodie and an old Halloween mask he’d find in Marvin’s box of things. In five days, Sean would race around the city, testing out his newfound super speed.

But today there were just two friends in an isolated room, talking and laughing. Both of them enjoying the little bit of peace they had while it lasted.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Egoton Origins #Jacksepticeye #Jackieboy Man #Chase Brody #Marvin the Magnificent #Antisepticeye #Possession #accidentally getting superpowers from a glitch demon #pre-divorce Chase

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doubledeaky · 6 years ago

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Under Pressure

Roger Taylor x Reader

A/N: Hi, everyone! So this is my entry for the @writingfortoomanyfandoms 1k writing challenge! The prompt I chose is “Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them,” and the pairing is Roger and reader (duh). Hope you all enjoy and if you’re interested, join the challenge! The deadline is July 15th, so there’s still plenty of time to enter! Thank you all for the support! As always, feedback and requests are much appreciated! Much love! -m:)

Summary: Working with Queen would be more fun if there wasn't a certain blonde drummer constantly driving you up the wall. Roger’s antics are starting to wear you out and when your anger finally boils over you learn a lot about the rock star, including the reason why he’s always in your hair.

Word Count: 1,814 words

Warnings: cursing

Being hired as the assistant tour manager for the biggest rock band in the better part of all seven continents was truly a dream come true; but, at times, it could be a nightmare. The constant work load and sometimes absurd demands of the band members were beginning to grind your nerves. They definitely kept you on your toes and sometimes it was beneficial. Now, it was driving you mad. You enjoyed your job, truly, but right now, Queen was insufferable. No, Roger was insufferable; the other three band members were actually quite pleasant employers.

It was Roger who put in an insurmountable effort to piss you off every day. His antics were constant. From the moment you’d begun working for the band six months ago, he was constantly in your hair; teasing and ridiculing you mercilessly. The other three musicians tried to assure you that it was all in good fun and you trusted their better judgement, having known Roger a lot longer than you, but under the current circumstances, the things he’d usually pull were an especially sharp thorn in your side.

Today was no different. You were sat at your usually spot, concentrating on creating a rough draft of potential tour dates. It didn’t take long for Roger to find you; he should be busying himself with songwriting, but annoying you was always his first priority. He waltzed into the small office, a practiced nonchalance to his stride. He smirks mischievously when he finds you right where you’d usually be on a normal weekday. His arms cross over his toned, sun-kissed chest and he shifts the majority of his weight to his right hip.

“Y/L/N, you’re here early.” He quips, the grin contorting his features evident in his speech. You roll your eyes and sit back in your seat, closing your eyes and bracing for impact. His smirk only grew, looking forward to what you were prepared to spit back at him.

“I’m not, but thank you for the good morning, Taylor.” You huff, focusing your attention back to the pile of scribbled notes and typed documents. He bites his lip to stifle a satisfied smile, stalking over towards you to continue his cruel game.

“What’re you working on?” He asks, words carrying a small amount of sincerity. You were slightly taken aback by his question, but still cautious as you answer him.

“A potential tour schedule. Just writing down a few dates for the American leg.” You explain, holding out the rough, handwritten schedule to him. His expression is smug, and you regretted trying to make civil conversation with him the moment the paper left your hands. He furrows his brows as his baby blue eyes scan over the length of the paper. He smirks, shrugging with a relaxed ease as he hands the now crumpled piece of paper back to you.

“Looks good, but your handwriting is shit.” He says, snickering as he leans onto the cobalt painted wall. Your cheeks begin to burn, the anger that had been steadily growing within you over the past few weeks close to spilling over. You ignore his comment, turning in your chair to continue jotting down important notes.

“I was planning on discussing the dates later with the four of you. This is just a draft. It’s subject to change.” You mumble, continuing the previous conversation as if he hadn’t just insulted you. He’s not listening though, only brainstorming ways in which he can anger you further.

“Don’t know how we’ll be able to read your chicken scratch.” He mumbles, as if gossiping to a friend of his behind your back. You grit your teeth hard, jaw setting painfully as the grip you have on your pencil tightens. You ignore him nevertheless, eyes still glued to the papers before you. He sees it appropriate to continue, unsatisfied until your trembling with anger, calling him every vulgar name in the book.

“I mean, how old are you? I’ve never-“

You turn your head suddenly, the action stopping Roger’s words dead in their tracks. You narrow your glazed over eyes, aflame with anger and disdain.

“Piss off, you annoying prick.” You hiss through gritted teeth, the words leaving your mouth in a manner harsher than you had intended. Roger backs away, a bit dazed from the heavy blow your words brought upon his head. You grimace, feeling a bit guilty and turn towards him fully in your swiveling desk chair.

Roger’s head is tilted back and he’s exhaling in short puffs from between clamped teeth. You raise both brows, confused, until you realize he’s trying to prevent hot tears from streaking his face. You breath out sharply in disbelief, nearly a scoff. He had to be joking if he thought this crybaby act was going to fool you. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms over your chest, challenging him.

“Oh, Roger, c’mon. You know I was just fooling. You can’t-“ you try to explain, hands gesturing animatedly but he cuts you off with a bitter laugh.

“Save it.” He hisses, wiping now angry tears away with the heel of his palm. Your eyes widen, taken aback by the venom in his words. You were confused beyond words and guilt was biting annoyingly at the floor of your stomach. You sigh and fold your hands in your lap. You look back up at him, his cheeks are red hot and tears glisten and tremble in the corner of his eyes. His breathing is uneven, and his pointed gaze is focused on anything other than you.

“Roger, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would upset you this much.” You mumble, picking at the skin around your fingernails. You were never very good with apologies, your pride much too large to give in to the idea that you’d been the one that fucked up and not the other party.

Roger scoffs, turning his head to the side and then meeting your eyes. His once baby blues were now a deep navy, surrounded in a pool of angry red wires. You felt nervous, more than certain he was preparing to chew you out.

“Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” He spits, shaking his head in swift nods right to left, blond hair shifting with the movement. His finger comes up to his face, bruised knuckle wiping away a stray tear. You're frozen in your seat, his words sending a shock through your system.

“Roger, I-I’m sorry I-“ you stutter, now desperate to apologize to him, afraid he would have you fired or worse, afraid he’d never speak to you again. He was quick though, already out the door in a flash of bright colors before you could finish your warbled sentence.

Yes, Roger could be annoying; insufferable even, but you’d grown fond of him. The small crush you’d developed for the blonde only growing with each interaction, no matter how heated each one had gotten you. Now, the one time you respond to his harmless teasing, you bring him to tears. You chastise yourself harshly as you sit up from your chair, following the trail you assumed he’d taken out of the door. You pace the interior of the studio frantically until you reach the back exit, opening it with haste. He was right where you should have expected him to be, sat against the exterior brick wall of the studio, smoking a cigarette. You sigh, walking up to him cautiously before plopping down next to him. He doesn’t move or flinch, only stares at you with irritated, red-rimmed eyes. You turn to face him, expression harboring shame and guilt. His demeanor softens, but his expression remains stoic and the deafening silence is an unspoken indication for you to speak.

“Look, Rog. I’m sorry. I’ve been stressed and today just wasn’t my day. I-“

“I get it, Y/N. I’m sorry for being such a prick, really. It’s just…I’ve had so many people in my life call me annoying and I can brush it off most of the time, it doesn’t bother me. It gets to you at first, but you move on. It’s different when the only person you actually fucking care about says it, though. It hurts differently.” He confesses, eyes never meeting yours.

You freeze, stunned by his words. Roger had essentially just said, without a hint of his usual sarcastic wit, that he cares about you and exclusively you. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you try to choke out a response.

“What?” You breath out, all systems in your body stalling for a moment from his unexpected words.

“I just like you so much that I get nervous and say stupid shit. I want to be around you all the time; I wanna talk to you. I know trying my best to piss you off probably wasn’t the best way to win you over but, I guess you know how I feel about you now.” He grins sadly, puffing desperately on his cigarette.

“You like me?” You whisper, still a bit stunned. Eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape.

“Yes, haven’t I made that quite obvious now?” He quips, letting out a sputtering laugh. You sigh, breathing out an airy giggle and rubbing your cold hands over your face.

“Roger, we’re grown adults. If you wanted to tell me that you liked me, you could have just said so.” You laugh, shaking your head softly in disbelief.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He laughs, turning his body to face you, hands brushing softly against yours.

“You are so lucky I like you too. I don’t know why, but I do.” You joke, brushing some blonde hair away from his slightly sweaty forehead. He grins, eyes closing softly as he leans into your touch. He sighs, composing himself and flicking his spent cigarette onto the pavement.

“Let’s start over, yeah?” He asks, hopeful, eyes now redeemed of their childlike glow.

“Yeah.” You smile, lacing your fingers through his, the heat of his touch warming you despite the cold air surrounding you both.

“I’m Roger Taylor, and you are my girlfriend. Sound good?” He asks, pointing at you playfully and scooting closer to you. You smile widely, mimicking his actions.

“Sounds great.” You whisper, finally bringing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. He immediately kisses back, the tension in his chest finally dissipating as he melts into your touch. He pulls away, eyes closed and smile wide and bright.

“Who knew being an annoying prick could get you a girlfriend?” He breaths, laughing as he pulls you up from the ground and into a hug. You giggle, pressing your finger to his chest gently.

“Only you could manage that.” You say, settling into his warm embrace.

“Guess I’m just smooth like that.” He quips, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You roll your eyes, grabbing his hand tightly in yours.

“You wish.” You joke, smiling sweetly as you lead him back inside to release six months’ worth of pent up frustration.

- Thank you all for reading! If you’d like to enter the challenge go here! Happy writing! -m:)

#courts1kwritingchallenge #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #queen #queen imagines #queen band #john deacon #brian may #freddie mercury #borhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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as the stars align 2/? (branjie) - rujubees

A/N: also on ao3

It was seven am on a Monday in late March, the first day of production on As the Stars Align, and it just had to be the day that Brooke’s cat Apollo decided to fall ill. He had been vomiting for a few hours now, and Brooke didn’t want to take any chances, deciding to call the vet when she was ready to leave for set and he still hadn’t stopped.

Naturally, her next step after that was to call Nina.

“God, what if he ate something poisonous? What if he’s really sick?” Brooke asked, tears filling her eyes at the thought.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, sweetheart. Can you imagine if you called the doctors every time you threw up? He probably just has a hangover,” her friend teased.

“That’s not helping, Nina.”

Brooke placed her on speaker, ushering Apollo inside of the cat carrier.

“Dammit, there’s no way I’m getting to work on time. Fuck,” Brooke cursed. She positioned the phone between her ear and shoulder, carrying Apollo out of the house.

“Relax, I doubt Katya Zamolodchikova has a single angry bone in her body, or Asia for that matter. No way are they gonna care about the star of the show being half an hour late.”

“God knows how long his appointment is gonna take, though.”

Brooke slammed her car door shut, thinking about how it was way too early in the morning to be this sweaty and this exhausted.

“Um, Brooke? Don’t act like you don’t have someone on speed dial who can take care of him for you.”

“I can’t force him to socialise, not right now. He hates people, he barely likes me.” Brooke let out a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a sob.

“Can’t you at least get a chauffeur or some fancy shit?”

“They don’t drive fast enough. Too concerned about safety and laws and shit.”

Nina laughed.

“Brooke Lynn, I love you, but if you land your speeding ass in a cell they’re gonna set your bail super high and I don’t think I could afford to pay it, even if I wanted to.”

“I gotta go. I love you too.”

—

Brooke made it to set at exactly nine twenty-two am, nearly two hours after her call time of half seven. It could’ve been worse, especially as they didn’t have much to shoot that day, but by the time her hair and makeup would be done it would already be approaching afternoon. It was a significant delay for sure, and some people would be pissed. Thankfully, Brooke had made some phone calls while waiting at the vet’s, and Katya and Asia were perfectly understanding. Even Michelle, who came down hard on punctuality, was able to sympathise.

What still sucked, though, was that she didn’t know what was wrong with Apollo yet. They’d kept him around to do some tests, and Brooke had reluctantly left his side, knowing that she was of no help anyway if she stuck around. At least work might serve as a distraction.

It was easier said than done, however, as she showed up to work unable to focus on anything but her baby, feeling like fragile glass that could shatter at any moment. It was a situation that was sure to culminate in either a mental breakdown or a lashing out aimed at the first person she came into contact with.

As soon as she saw Vanessa’s fiery brown eyes looking her up and down in a judgemental stare, she decided it was going to be the latter.

Before anything more could happen, Brooke felt a hand on her arm, and turned to see Katya inviting her into a warm hug.

“I’m so sorry,” she said warmly.

“It’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Brooke reassured her, squeezing back, trying to convince herself too that it would all be okay.

They let go and Brooke went off to take her place in hair and makeup. She made easy conversation with her makeup artist, Yvie, while waiting for her hairstylist Shuga. Yvie showed her a portfolio of looks she had put together, leaving Brooke in awe of her creativity.

“I should paint you like this for the movie, bitch,” Yvie said, pointing to various gruesome effects she had used in her makeup. “Can you imagine Michelle’s face when I stick you on set looking like a fucking Cyclops?”

Yvie let out a deep, contagious laugh at the mental image, and it wasn’t long before Brooke was joining her. It took her a minute to notice that Vanessa had also entered the trailer and sat down a few feet away in her own makeup seat, looking especially irked at the scene before her.

“Really, bitch? Two hours late and all anyone wants to do is fuckin’ cuddle and kiki with you.”

Vanessa was pissed as hell, and Brooke could feel her own face heating up.

“Mind your own fucking business,” Brooke snapped, wishing she was able to come up with a wittier response.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Out here wasting all of our times and you don’t even have the decency to apologise or feel bad about it.”

Shuga, along with Vanessa’s makeup artist Aquaria and hair stylist Kameron, started shuffling into the room. Brooke decided to hold her tongue and simply direct Vanessa with the most venomous look she could muster. She was surprised when her co-star didn’t back away in response with even so much as a flinch.

As the minutes traipsed by, keeping quiet was harder than Brooke thought it would be — all she wanted to do was go at it with Vanessa, sparring insults back and forth for hours. She wasn’t normally the confrontational type, but Vanessa was testing her.

They both kept to themselves for the rest of their time in the trailer, the silence being filled instead by the hair and makeup artists talking among themselves, clearly sensing the tension between the two leads.

Brooke couldn’t comprehend why Vanessa was being so harsh on her for being late one time. She doubted that anyone had told her the reason for her lateness, but Vanessa was hardly in a position to complain — she had been paid to sit around doing nothing while Brooke had been worrying her damn guts off. Okay, sure, she hadn’t been the most friendly to Vanessa the first time they’d met, but she’d remained perfectly professional. Since the chemistry read, her mind had flashed back to her first encounter with Vanessa an unreasonable amount of times. She couldn’t stop thinking about her annoying smug smirk that had seemed to be mocking her or those long, thick eyelashes fluttering all over the place, acting like she was all innocent. She knew she was making no sense, but something about the girl had just irked her from the start, and Brooke couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

Much to Brooke’s relief, she received a text from the vets at some point during the time she had been mentally cussing Vanessa out: Apollo was going to be fine. She let out a shaky breath but wasn’t gonna let herself get emotional over this — at least, not now in front of the damn trailer party.

After a while, Shuga, Yvie, Aquaria and Kameron left the pair alone, instructing them to wait for their makeup to dry or something that was probably a load of bullshit.

“If y’all lock this door on us on your way out, I swear ima whoop your ass,” Vanessa warned them.

Brooke turned to her, feeling calmer than she had been earlier, but Vanessa still had a lot of work to do in order to get on her good side.

“Can we go film this shit?” Brooke said, cringing as it came out more coldly than intended, even to her own ears.

Vanessa clenched her jaw, paused, and then stood up.

“Fine, but know that I don’t like you.”

She took off without a second look back, and it all stung just a bit more than Brooke was expecting.

—

“A’keria was right. She’s the worst,” Vanessa conceded a few days after she first started working with Brooke Lynn. She had been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt after their initial encounter, everyone has off days after all. But not only did she have the sweet nerve to show up late to their first day on set, she also followed it up with no apologies or explanations and instead went snuggling up to Katya and giggling with Yvie. Vanessa had felt a stab to the chest when she walked in on Brooke with the latter, the pair acting like they had known each other for years and laughing without a care in the world. Vanessa knew she was a handful and that her personality wasn’t for everyone, but Brooke hadn’t even made an effort to get to know her. Vanessa couldn’t wrap her head around it. It made whatever Brooke had against her feel all the more personal.

“I never said she was the worst,” A’keria corrected her, pulling Vanessa from her thoughts with her annoyance at either being misquoted, or having her favourite reality show interrupted, or both.

“Well, she’s the most rude, stuck up, unprofessional hoe I’ve ever met,” Vanessa huffed dramatically.

“I mean, if it doesn’t affect her acting…” Silky offered pityingly.

“I dunno, I feel like it’s fucking with mine. I’m surprised Michelle hasn’t fired me yet. How am I supposed to pretend to be in love with the bitch when all I wanna do is rip that stupid blonde hair out of her pretty little head?”

A’keria and Silky exchanged a glance Vanessa couldn’t decipher.

“Just… channel all of that anger and turn it into a different kind of passion,” Silky advised with a shrug.

“Whatever,” Vanessa said, feigning indifference, her cheeks warming at the thought of the passionate scenes she would be sharing with Brooke soon enough. She couldn’t let herself think about that yet, forcing her mind to practically shut off whenever the topics of Brooke Lynn and Kissing would start to overlap. She’d cross that bridge when she got to it.

“Speaking of passion…” started A’keria, wiggling her eyebrows unsubtly. “How’s your man, V?”

“He’s fine, but what does that have to do with passion?”

“You’re so romantic it makes me sick,” Silky quipped sarcastically.

A’keria chuckled in agreement before turning serious again.

“Seriously, Vanj. If you’re that bored, just stomp your little legs over to that white bread boy and say, ‘I dump your ass!’”

“I’m not bored!” Vanessa argued defensively. “Things are nice between us, you thirsty hoes would get it if either of you had been in a relationship that lasted longer than three months.”

“Okay. Then tell me, when was the last time you got laid, girl?” A’keria questioned with a knowing look as Silky pursed her lips.

“I — I…” Vanessa stammered and inwardly scolded herself for being so obvious. She loved A’keria and Silky, but also hated them for always seeing straight through her. Moreover, she hated herself for actually needing to think back in order to find the answer to that question.

A’keria turned her attention back to the TV, clearly satisfied with herself, while Silky gave her a look that screamed ‘I told you so.’

“Fine. You know what?” Vanessa stood abruptly as Silky and A’keria watched on with bemused expressions. “I’m gonna go see him now and we’re gonna have the hottest, steamiest fuckin’ sex, the sun is gonna wish she was me, bitch.” She stalked off on a mission, too embarrassed to seek out her friends’ reactions but feeling their confused expressions on her anyway.

—

When Vanessa walked through her apartment door, she was already regretting ditching her friends in order to prove a point. It was a particularly muggy evening for spring in LA, and she wasn’t in any type of mood to be getting even sweatier.

“Oh! Hey babe,” Matt said, surprised to see her home so soon just like she had originally hoped for. She’d had a whole plan to show up out of nowhere and seduce him, right there and then, hoping that the spontaneity would mean that they would actually go through with it for once instead of scheduling sex into their busy diaries and putting it off each time. Vanessa would be lying if she said she was still feeling her original idea, but decided to try and slowly ease herself into it instead of jumping his bones right off the bat.

“Hi,” Vanessa greeted him with a peck on the lips.

“You’re back early. I thought you were hanging out with the girls tonight.”

“Yeah, well… I missed you,” Vanessa replied weakly.

“Oh?” Matt asked, a hint of flirtation in his voice as he pulled her onto the couch with him and brought his lips down to meet hers. They made out for a few minutes, and it was comfortable. It was nice. Silky and A’keria were wrong; Vanessa had no reason to get rid of this. So maybe it wasn’t a love story on par with The Notebook, but Vanessa knew better than most people how fake and constructed those were. If there was one thing her and Brooke could agree on, it was that the two of them were a testament to that fact.

Vanessa was thankful when Matt pulled back; she could tell this wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

“How was work? You seem stressed lately.”

“You would be too if Satan’s daughter was your colleague,” Vanessa sulked.

“Aww, I’m sure I can make you feel better,” Matt answered in a voice Vanessa was sure he thought was sexy. He began sucking at her neck as she sat there, her hate boner for Brooke rekindled now that he had brought the subject back up.

“She’s just so fucking infuriating, you don’t even know. Whenever it’s just the two of us, the bitch lets me have it, but then we get on set and she’s a fucking angel because she knows that I can’t just switch it on as quick as her and I’m left looking like a hateful bitch.”

“I’m sorry, V,” Matt responded with genuine concern, before ruining it by latching onto her neck again. Vanessa rolled her eyes and pushed him off of her.

“I’m at breaking point here, Matt!” Vanessa snapped. “Could you stop coverin’ me in drool for one goddamn second and listen to me?”

Matt looked hurt, and Vanessa instantly felt guilty. She hadn’t meant to take her frustrations about Brooke out on him.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I — it’s just been a long day.”

“It’s chill. I get it,” Matt sighed. Vanessa’s heart ached as she realised just how much she didn’t deserve him.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Vanessa decided, squeezing Matt’s hand briefly.

“Night. Love you, V.”

“You too,” Vanessa called back automatically. It wasn’t all that late, but she needed the sleep; hating Brooke was becoming a full time, all-consuming job, and she was tired.

—

Brooke and Vanessa carried on at each other’s throats for over a week — fights in their trailers, digs at table reads, and even a collision between the two women at the canteen which almost resulted in a vicious food fight. Brooke tried not to let their feud ooze into their time on set, opting instead to keep a polite, professional demeanour around her co-star that sometimes strayed towards subtle taunts at how worked up Vanessa would get over her.

It was almost as if Brooke was in her own angry bubble with Vanessa, and she was pretty sure she hated her almost as much as she loved fighting with her.

It was naive of her, really, to think that the animosity between the two of them would go unnoticed by the hundreds of people she was with each day as much as she was with Vanessa. The fact that it came as a complete shock to them made the eventual intervention that was staged all the more humiliating.

Brooke and Vanessa were seated at opposite ends of the couch, while Michelle and Asia stood before them, both of them attempting to look strict with only Michelle managing it with any level of success. In a slightly out of place scene, Katya simply sat on another couch curled up to a blonde girl Brooke didn’t recognise. Plastique and Scarlet, two other actresses on the movie who were apparently also being affected by Brooke and Vanessa’s rivalry, were also present, along with Yvie, Shuga, Kameron and Aquaria, each of them looking various degrees of disinterested. A few minutes in, even Nina joined them, and a woman named Ra’jah, who introduced herself to Brooke as Vanessa’s manager.

“So, I’m sure by now we all know why Brooke and Vanessa are here with us today,” Michelle began curtly.

“Would somebody care to explain it to us?” Brooke asked feebly, wondering whether there was any hope of getting out of this with her dignity intact.

“Don’t play dumb, bitch,” Vanessa retorted. If she wanted to do this in front of everybody then so be it, Brooke thought.

“This is exactly why,” Michelle said with a sigh, stepping in before Brooke could clap back.

“Now, you two don’t have to be girlfriends in real life,” she continued, and out of the corner of her eye Brooke noticed Vanessa’s little hands balling up into fists at the patronising speech they were being given.

“You don’t even have to be friends. But this war that you guys have going on is disrupting the atmosphere on set and off. I don’t know whether you had noticed, but you’re not the only ones working here and this negative energy is putting your cast and crew in a bad mood and making everyone’s jobs and lives a lot harder.”

Brooke swallowed, staring into her lap, the shame beginning to settle in.

“Vanessa? I’m Nina, Brooke’s manager and friend,” Brooke heard, looking up to see Nina pulling a chair up so that she was sat in the gap between Vanessa and herself like a goddamn mediator. Asia quickly followed in her footsteps and Brooke couldn’t believe it had actually come to this.

“I really think it’d be in both of your best interests to put this… tension between you in the past,” Asia started. “And while Michelle here has reassured me that it’s not your acting that she’s concerned about, imagine how much more you could be capable of with a little less hostility inhibiting your performances?”

Vanessa snorted and scowled at that as if she was deliberately trying to remind Brooke why she had disliked Vanessa to begin with. At least Brooke was taking this seriously.

“Moreover, it’s not a cute look for the movie’s leads to be enemies, especially since this could be groundbreaking as far as gay representation in mainstream Hollywood goes, and you two are our romantic leads. Sure, we could use it to generate a few headlines, but that’s not the narrative we’re trying to create here. This thing is Katya’s baby and she’s hoping it will be a source of light in a lot of people’s life. Don’t let it be clouded in darkness, because you know that nothing stays a secret in showbiz,” Asia finished.

“And let’s not forget about the press tour. And the premiere… y’all will get coupled up for interviews the whole time. If nothing else gives your drama away, those will,” Ra’jah chipped in. Brooke could feel herself relenting, the reasons on top of reasons starting to prove that the pros of ending this pointless feud outweighed the cons.

“Brooke,” Nina appealed to her directly, “I know you feel how important this story is and I know you don’t want its legacy to be tainted. You’ve always been outspoken about the media and how they pit women against each other and if you keep this up, you’ll be making their job a lot easier, far easier than it deserves to be.”

Vanessa’s eyes finally met hers for the first time in what felt like forever, and until then Brooke hadn’t realised how badly she hated it when Vanessa behaved like she wasn’t there.

“I… shit, I agree with Nina,” Vanessa confessed, much to Brooke’s surprise.

“You do?” Brooke asked quietly, needing the confirmation.

“Don’t get excited, girl, I don’t like you all of a sudden,” she snipped. “But… I guess I can stop acting like I want to kill you so much.”

Brooke wanted to laugh at that. She had to give it to Vanessa — she may have only been five foot three, but Brooke didn’t think she’d ever met anybody so fierce.

“I suppose I could try that to,” Brooke replied. She gave her a nod in affirmation, thinking that a smile might be going a little far.

“Well, now that that’s been dealt with, you’re all free to go,” Michelle announced and most of the room got up to leave — Brooke was pretty certain that at least half of them had tuned out for the majority of the intervention anyway. Nina gave her a wink, signalling that she would meet her outside.

“Just one more thing, ladies,” Michelle added, gesturing for Brooke and Vanessa to stay behind. “Now that you’ve cleared the air, I’m sure you’ll be delighted to hear that you’ll be shooting your first on-screen kiss later this week. I’ll see you then.”

Brooke froze, damning Michelle and her poor timing. Just as she and Vanessa were starting to patch things up, she had to go and make the air thick with friction again. Brooke was expecting an insult, a barb, but instead —

“I can’t wait to find out if you’re as good at kissing as you are at picking fights,” Vanessa deadpanned, her voice even lower and more raspy than usual, before strutting off without waiting for a response.

Which was a good thing, because at that moment, Brooke didn’t think she could find the words if she tried.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #fluff #smut #angst #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #as the stars align #rujubees #concrit welcome

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diego-hargreeve2 · 6 years ago

Text

light in the dark

Part Three

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (Netflix)

Ship: Diego Hargreeves x Original Character

Warnings: Language, abuse (emotional and physical), mental illness, violence and, in later chapters, smut.

Maybe it was because she was like them, the only other one like them he’d met born with these strange abilities. Maybe it was because she was such an easy target for the thugs he despised - she was still so wide-eyed and fragile looking, exactly the sort of person who would be targeted if somebody didn’t keep an eye on him. Or maybe it was because she seemed to like him, admire him, encourage him even - no judgement or standoffish airs.

Whatever it was he kept coming back to her, usually first thing in the evening. She’d hop in the car and they’d grab a drink, or just sit there with the radio on, one ear listening for trouble when she’d disappear, and he’d get stuck in.

That evening he hadn’t gone to the shelter first – he’d heard something on his way and diverted. It was the early hours of the morning as he headed back to the gym, he called home when he passed the shelter – and saw her, perched on a step outside despite the hour. Face creasing in a frown he pulled over sharply; at this hour even the city’s streets were quiet which was a blessing as it didn’t occur to him to check for other traffic. “Kid, what’re you doing out here?” He said, speaking the moment he opened the door even before he’d finished getting out the car. “Wasn’t the point in taking you to a shelter to get you off the street?” he reminded her.

Eve had been hunched over, folded in on herself, lost in her thoughts – but her head had snapped up as the car pulled up. Had it not been Diego she’d have moved, as it was she merely offered a shrug and a faint smile.

“The shelter was full and somebody else arrived. They needed the place more than me” she explained as she scrambled awkwardly to her feet. “They’d freeze out here” she pointed out. It was a cold evening, dry and crisp, and every breath she exhaled had mist rising before her.

“Don’t you need to keep warm? Keep that fire stoked?” He asked, giving in to some curiosity, and Eve smiled as she shook her head. “I’m never cold” she assured him. It wasn’t that she needed the heat to survive, the heat was inside her and nothing stopped it – the cold didn’t bother her like it did other people, because she was toasty regardless, and the heat never upset her either. Eve couldn’t be too warm, as far as she could tell. Diego nodded, accepting that at least, but he still looked annoyed.

“You might not be cold but it's not safe,” he told her, scolding and she blinked, abashed.

“I’m fine” she assured him. “I’ve slept rough a lot – honestly. I’m awake, and if somebody came, I’d go bang the door of the shelter – they’re just full tonight. Even the chairs are occupied”. Cold nights are the hardest if you live on the street.

“It’s not fine – I spent all evening seeing how dangerous this place is, and you think you can just stay out here all night?” He was annoyed enough to raise his voice and Eve stepped back, shrinking into herself automatically. You might think a lifetime of being shouted out would render her immune, but Eve had no ability to withstand confrontation, and her automatic response was to try to hide, to make herself invisible.

Diego was frustrated, but from concern rather than true anger – which gave him enough control to pull back and he signed, flexing his fingers before nodding toward the car.

“Get in. C’mon. You might not be cold, but you can’t just sit out here” he said, his tone brusque despite the kind intent behind it. The mixed signals had Eve hesitating, eyes wide as she bit her lip nervously. It was a strange combination - she’d grown up with the opposite, honeyed tones and stinging words.

“Kid. C’mon” he repeated, softening his tone further. There was something shaming about seeing her react to him like this. Normally, Diego liked to be seen as intimidating. Appearances could be half the fight. It didn’t bother him, he was proud even of his ability to threaten others, but with Eve…well, it was not impressive, it just felt wrong. Like scaring Bambi – it was too easy, too cruel and nothing to be proud of.

The nickname helped a little, that ridiculous moniker he’d given her, and Eve stepped forward and nodded slightly. Part of her wanted to point out that she was fine, that she didn’t need him to take care of her. That she had managed for years and he didn’t have to add to his burdens by caring for her. Right now, though, arguing was beyond her. Eve had very little ability to enforce boundaries or stand up for herself, and so she slid into the car silently.

“Where are we going?” she asked when both doors were closed, her voice subdued. “Since you’re too selfless for your own good, and I’m done working for the night – we’re going to my place. It’s not fancy but it’s safe” he assured her as the car pulled forward.

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

Most people would have found the room warm, the boiler in the corner meaning even this sparse, cement basement had heat - but Eve was unaffected, though she looked around the place with a keen interest that had Diego’s eyes rolling. “Yeah, like I said, it’s not fancy” he repeated, gruff even though it was clear she wasn’t judging him. It was his home, it served its purpose - interior design wasn’t high up his list of priorities after all.

“Would you even want fancy?” Eve questioned. It had been a quiet journey, not an awkward silence or one filled with anger, just quiet, and that space had given her time to collect her thoughts and find her tongue again.

Diego snorted at her words. She had a point.

“Nah. I grew up in fancy. Who needs all that shit” he said, thinking of the rooms that belonged to Reginald Hargreeves. Their father had kept their bedrooms sparse and simple – well, most of them anyway, his favourites being an exception – but other areas of the house had betrayed his wealth and fondness for material possessions. Heavily framed paintings, suits of armour and stuffed creatures, damask upholstered furniture, gilt ornaments, and dark wood – very fancy. But not his style.

Eve’s acceptance of the space, and Diego’s choice of how to live, only lasted so long. As he approached a counter and picked up an egg she turned to ask another question, her mouth opening – but her expression grew horrified as he cracked the shell and poured the raw contents directly into his mouth.

“Did you just – eat that egg – raw?!”

She had never thought of herself as fussy. Growing up it was very much a ‘don’t eat that, don’t eat’ the environment, no catering to preferences, and when you sleep rough…well, you almost reduce yourself to eating what you can get. The past few years she’d grown used to street vendor hot dogs and junk that wouldn’t perish in a nuclear apocalypse, so you could certainly trust it shoved in a backpack. She had thought her only standard was not eating other people’s leftovers from the trash (and even that marked her as particular in the eyes of some homeless people) but she had never in all her days seen anybody eat raw egg and Eve learned that her standards were set slightly higher than she expected at that moment.

“It’s protein,” Diego told her, defensive at the look on her face.

“It was raw!” Eve repeated, finding it impossible to find any other response.

“It’s a bodybuilding thing – it takes work to look this good, sweetheart,” he told her, slapping one hand against his stomach. Eve’s gaze dropped to his hand, hearing the solid sound made by his palm against the muscles there. A weird feeling twisted inside her, finding herself wondering exactly what ‘this good’ would look like. Her cheeks coloured at her own thoughts and she glanced away, silent for a moment – and entirely missing the slight smirk that twitched Diego’s mouth from the corner as he guessed a pretty accurate idea of what she had suddenly found herself imagining.

“OK, so…fine…protein…” she said after a moment, trying to return to the conversation and to forget the image of him shirtless she had been contemplating. “But surely you can still cook it”.

“Look around – do you see cooking facilities?”

There he had a point. This was not a room that had been built with creating fine cuisine in mind. But she did have an idea.

“I think I might be able to help,” she told him, crossing to the sink and filling a mug that sat there with water. She dropped another egg into the water and slid her hands around the mug, hugging it with her fingers as though seeking warmth – it was quite the opposite actually. Focusing, a crease between her brows and her teeth nipping at her lower lip, she stared down at her hands as they began to glow – and the water began to bubble, slowly at first then faster.

Diego figured it out pretty quick, and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“That’s what you use it for?”

“You know, I’d never thought to before” she admitted after a moment.

For a beat of silence, he watched the cup, the boiling water – but his gaze rose to her face and that held more interest. She was so focused and intent as she tried this. Most of the time she just looked young and lost, the huge blue eyes in a heart-shaped face making her look younger than she was. He called her ‘kid’ on instinct, there was something about her that meant he felt older despite the fact they were the exact same age. But concentrating this hard, she had a fire in her expression that matched her palms. For a moment he let himself watch her, study her…and then pulled his mind and eyes away, turning abruptly and speaking with his back to her as he began to unbuckle the knife harness.

“How long you’ve known you could do it?”

“I…I think I was about…nine? When I realised I had some control over it”.

“That late?”

“I could do it earlier,” Eve told him, her turn to sound defensive. She had read Vanya’s book and knew they’d been far younger when their abilities first manifested. “But before then I didn’t realise it was me”.

“You thought fires just started?” Diego scoffed, turning back to her as he hung the harness over a chair back.

Eve swallowed, considering her answers. They weren’t strangers now. She thought they were friends – she’d had too few to be certain. And friends shared things.

“No…I…they said…” She lost her focus, her eyes glazing over slightly as she turned inward looking for the right words to describe. In doing so she began to remember. Being four years old and crying. Kneeling on the ground outside, naked, the rest of the Church circled around her praying. And the Prophet, their leader, standing tall with a whip in one hand and vial of holy water in the other as he tried to expel the demons from her. Back then she had believed them when they told her devils were using her, demons worked through her, that there was a core of evil in her heart – she had thought it was those monsters that created the fire.

It was a bad memory to visit. Her palms flared hot, too hot, and the china cracked beneath her fingers. The sound yanked her back and she yelped and, some instinct taking over, all but threw the cup into the sink – where it shattered, as did the half-cooked egg.

“I’m sorry”. The words left her lips quickly, too quickly, revealing how many times she had apologised for mistakes and clumsy moments in her life.

“You okay?” He learned toward, tilting his head so he could see her face as one hand moved to her shoulder. Diego figured something had happened in her head, had seen that sort of look before – the moment before the crack, she’d reminded him of Klaus. Her expression had that same haunted, heartbroken air that made him feel as though part of him as cracked as surely as the mug.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry” she repeated, her voice half a whisper and he very gently shook her, no violence or malice in the movement, just trying to get her attention.

“Hey, kid – the mug doesn’t matter. You alright?”

Eve blinked, turned her gaze to him slowly. He might have found her expression familiar, but Diego’s was all new to her. The level of concern, the softness and compassion, the want to help and the need to know she was okay – Eve had never seen anything like that before. Meeting his gaze she found it hard to swallow, hard to breathe for a moment.

“I’m alright” she managed to reassure him. Diego squeezed her shoulder gently before letting go, offering a weak joke to mask the concern he’d just displayed and break the tension he’d felt as well as she met his gaze.

“Good thing I don’t mind my eggs raw”.

@lovinglydiego

If anyone else is reading and would like to be tagged just let me know

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves fanfic #the umbrella academy fanfic #light in the dark

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grubdj · 6 years ago

Note

I’m gonna be that first bitch in your askbox - how about some drunk Micah antics?

Word count: 1341

Warnings: Alcohol use and slight violence

So, the original version of this was way better and when I compare this one to it, it makes me kinda hate it but I hope it’s not awful, anyways I hope you enjoy and I’m sorry for the wait!

Waking up from your recovery nap was difficult, the sun had gone down hours ago but the camp of Shady Belle was lively as ever - the boys must’ve come back. They’d left early this morning without a warning and when you asked Sadie about it she only replied with “Something about easy money”. You didn’t need more of an explanation really, with Dutch acting as rash as he is lately, him kicking the boys into action in the early hours of dawn wasn’t of a surprise.

There was little to no one in camp during the day, most of the girls went into Rhodes with Pearson for a robbing shopping trip, the men out on a job and the remaining bodies at camp were either ‘unable’ to work or simply refused - which left you and a very demanding Grimshaw. She caught you having a drink of coffee when she gave you your orders for the day, which was guard duty.

Usually, being on the lookout wasn’t as torturous as some would let on, dull and tedious sure, but never enough to make you want to pull your hair out - this time being an exception. Your usual 4-hour shift quickly turned into 5 hours, then 6 hours, 7 hours, 8 hours. Eventually, you just stopped looking at the watch in your pocket and tried to keep your eyes open and on the treeline.

Soon after you had officially claimed you’d had enough to yourself and planned to go throw your rifle into Grimshaw’s face, Sadie came and relieved of your duty. She took the rife from you and gave a sympathetic smile, “Go get some rest, Y/N”. You could barely manage a thank you and settled with a nod and a grateful smile before you practically ran to your bedroll on the splintered floor. Your body switched off as soon as your head hit the pillow and you fell into a much-needed nap.

You dragged yourself out of your bedroll and smoothed down your clothes, tidying your hair up slightly as to make yourself look presentable enough to show your face to the band of outlaws. Pushing open the rotten and splintered wood of the door, you stepped outside and took in the celebration for yourself. Most of the gang was around the campfire, sharing stories and jokes. Others were in their own little cliques, gossiping and laughing between one another.

You were a bit torn as to were to insert yourself, there was little to no room at the fire and you didn’t exactly want to intrude on someone’s conversations, as close as you may be with them. Pearson was at the chuckwagon and noticed your conflict so he decided to call you over. “What’s up, Pearson?”, “You look kinda lost, Y/N” His tone showed that he didn’t mean any offence. “You could say that, just had a hard day”, “You lookin’ for something to do?” You eyed him with suspicion, cautiously replying with “That depends”, he laughed and raised his hands in surrender “Nothin’ like that, just some dishes that need washin’. You don’t got to, just a suggestion”

You pondered on his question for a moment, it was something to do - better than sitting with a bunch of drunken outlaws, for your health anyways. And you could always use it as an excuse to get out of work at a later date. “Sure, why the hell not”, he laughed at your enthusiasm and threw you a cloth, jokingly telling you to “Get to work!”

You walked around the side of the chuckwagon to the basin and the pile of dirty dishes and mugs, rolling your sleeves up and making sure your hair was out of your face, you got to work. To try and distract yourself from the gross act of picking dried food off of dishes, you let your mind wander from those painful memories of your hours in the sun to your opinions on the conversations by the campfire you could overhear.

Soon enough, you were setting the last mug down to dry and picking up a cloth to wash the dirty water off your hands. Before you could set it down rough hands grabbed at your waist, pushing you into the table and hot breath fanned across your neck. You froze, mind racing with questions, the most prominent one being, who the fuck had you pinned against a table?

It was quickly answered when your captor began to speak, “I ever told you how good you look when you work?”, his breath reeked of whiskey and tobacco, you rolled your eyes and turned around to face him, placing your hands onto the table behind you to steady yourself, “No, Mr Bell, I don’t believe you have,” his reply was unsurprisingly slurred, “Well, you do”. You didn’t know whether to thank him or push him away, you were more focused on his flushed cheeks and hooded eyes but managed to catch yourself before he noticed.

“Is there a point to this, Micah?”, he chuckled and dragged on of the hands on your waist to your jaw, tilting it upwards and taking a moment to take in how your face looked illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns and your own blush. “Sure there is if you’d let me just..” He leaned down and you knew exactly what was coming but his lips never made contact with yours. Instead, he was dragged and thrown a few feet away from you onto the muddy ground of Shady Belle.

“You get away from her, you drunken creep.” You didn’t need to look at Micah’s attacker to know who it was, you could tell just by the gruff voice that it was Arthur. You stood in silent shock trying to process what exactly was happening whilst Micah swayed back onto his feet, nearly falling over in the process, “This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, Morgan!” His shout was closer to a growl and he lunged at Arthur, about to throw an unsteady punch when Bill rose from his place at the campfire to hold him back. They struggled for a while until Micah pushed him off and stumbled away, ego bruised and embarrassed.

You were about to follow after him until you noticed Arthurs concerned gaze on you, “You alright, Y/N?”, “I’m just fine, Mr Morgan.” You sounded snappier than you intended and he picked up on it fast, “You can’t be seriously annoyed that I broke it up, can you? He’s a fool, Y/N. Ain’t worth your time, if you ask me.”, “Well I didn’t ask, Arthur, I can handle myself.” You walked past him and followed Micah’s trial.

You were running out of patience for the gang’s judgements of Micah and yourself. Sure, he was an ass but what did they expect when all they gave him was the same shit. You were told that you were silly for liking him even by your closest friends in the gang, that you were ‘living in a fantasy’ when you spoke about a possible future with him. Now this, he’d finally made a move (even if it took an unhealthy amount of whiskey to give him the courage to do so) and he was dragged away from you and humiliated.

You found him sat against a tree, head low and one knee drew to his chest, softly snoring - looking every part the town drunk. You shook your head at the sight and sat down next to him, head leaning on his slumped shoulders looking across the moonlit swamp. You almost wished you were as drunk as him, maybe it’d help quiet the storm of thoughts ravaging your mind.

Were the others right? Was he really just a horrible man incapable of change? Or did he just need a little bit of kindness and love? You weren’t even close to finding the answer tonight. Maybe, it didn’t matter what your answer was. Maybe you were doomed the second you started taking a liking to him.

#micah bell #micah bell x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #request #grubdj

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 5 years ago

Text

Book Two: Famine (Prompto x Reader) Chapter Nine

The next morning when Prompto woke up, he realized he and (Y/n) were in the same position as when he fell asleep the night prior. When he lifted his head from her chest to look up at her face, he noticed she was asleep. "What...?" He gasped in shock. He remembered her saying the Four Horsemen didn't need sleep, but that didn't mean she couldn't sleep.

Slowly and gently in order to not disturb (Y/n), Prompto removed his arms from around her and maneuvered out of her own embrace. When he saw her blissful sleeping face, he couldn't help but admire her beauty.

With a smile, Prompto brushed a few of her golden strands behind her ear that were obscuring his sight of her. He pecked her on the cheek before pushing himself off the hard ground. He made sure he still had his handgun and the summoning orb before leaving the haven.

He didn't even make one footprint in the snow before (Y/n) woke up. "Where're you going this early in the morning?" She slowly pushed her body up into a sitting position, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"I was gonna take a short walk and clear my head a little," he confesses.

(Y/n) could tell he wasn't lying and nodded with a smile. "Okay. I'll be here waiting for you. Stay safe, Prompto."

The boy smiled in return, grateful for her understanding. He was overjoyed to have such an incredible girl by his side who is willing to stick with him and confess she still loves him after learning the truth about his true origin. His heart raced with pure joy as he trekked through the snow, happy to know she'd be there whenever he needed her and vice versa.

(Y/n) watched Prompto trudge through the snow before turning her attention to the fire. It had extinguished something during the night, but neither of them noticed. She relit the campfire in a desperate attempt to stay warm in Prompto's absence.

As she was rubbing her hands together, Aranea came and sat beside her. The ex-mercenary stared into the dancing flames as she huffed a sigh. "So, how's loverboy doin'?"

"Fine. He went for a short walk to clear his head."

"Glad someone's here to whip his ass into shape." Aranea tore her eyes from the fire and eyed (Y/n). "What's a Horseman doing on Eos, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be some kinda fairytale?"

"We're no fairytale. Sometimes I wish we were, though. My sisters and I left the Inner Sanctum in search of the monsters that managed to escape. Once we take down our targets, we'll be granted passage back to the Inner Sanctum. Someone's gotta keep the other monsters from escaping."

"These monsters you're looking for... what are they?"

"The Phantom Knight and the Gashadokuro. I've encountered the Knight, but not the other. It is concerning since the Gashadokuro is the one I'm most worried about."

Aranea's eyes narrowed at hearing the mouthful of a name. "That damn thing in the capital isn't a daemon?"

Famine's eyes widen when hearing her question. "Hold on... What do you mean?"

"That Gasha-whatever is currently being held in Gralea. The lovely chancellor plans to try and control it," the older woman explains.

Horror pumped through her veins as she remembered where the others were heading. "Noctis and the others are heading to the capital... There's no way they'll survive an encounter with that thing."

"How dangerous is this thing?" Aranea shrugged.

"Let's just say no human has ever faced the Gashadokuro and survived. There's no way a mortal could slay such a monster."

"It even had me shaking in my boots when I first saw it. The chancellor's lost his damn mind if he thinks he'll be able to control it. The empire's done some crazy shit, but I think this tops everything."

"Well," (Y/n) sighed. "At least I know where it is now. The damn Knight ran before I could finish it off."

Suddenly, the woman stands up and walks to the snowmobile. "I've got my own goals in mind. Better get moving if I want to finish off this new model."

"(Y/n), Aranea." Both women turn when they hear Prompto's voice. "I'm ready."

"Guess your walk was very eye-opening," the Horseman responded with a small smile.

He nods and walks up to the two women, eyes glued to the love of his life. "I thought about what you said, and I've decided to face my fears once and for all. I can't choose where I came from, but I can choose where I'm going."

"I'm glad to hear your resolve, Prompto. It makes me happy to know you've accepted who you are." (Y/n) moved her gaze over to Aranea. "Hope you don't mind us tagging along."

She smiles at them. "Don't see why it'd be an issue. Let's get going." The ex-mercenary waltzed over to the snowmobile while Famine summoned her steed.

Limos neighed when she appeared and immediately sauntered over to Prompto. She sniffed him and nuzzled her muzzle against his chest. Then, she nudged it against his cheek. "H-Hey, that tickles!"

"Seems she really likes you," (Y/n) grinned. "A lot."

"This is the same horse from Altissia. Is this...?"

"Limos, one of the Horses of the Apocalypse. She's my partner." The horse continues to sniff Prompto as Famine spoke. "Guess you were more focused on finding me and completely forgot about meeting her. Not to mention, she helped you carry your friends to safety."

Prompto's cheeks turn red, knowing what she said had been the truth. "I-I was really worried about you. The city was collapsing and I... I thought... you might've been killed when I didn't see you at the docks."

(Y/n) walked over to him, Limos stepping aside, and grabbed his face in her hands. She pulled him down to her height and kissed him on the lips. "You're too adorable for your own good."

"Alright," Aranea sighed. "C'mon, lovebirds. We've got business to attend to."

<----------<<<<<<<<<<<

The trio make their way to the Annex research facility. Prompto decided to ride with (Y/n) atop Limos since the horse seemingly wouldn't move until he climbed onto her back.

As they arrived at the facility, (Y/n) and Prompto hopped off Limos while Aranea dismounted the snowmobile. The blonde boy stared at the facility with a determined gaze. "Alright-this is it. We're going in."

Prompto, (Y/n), and Aranea fight their way through the imperial soldiers guarding the outside of the facility, then operate the main gate's controls to gain access to the inner courtyard. After taking down several more soldiers and a MA Veles magitek armor, they access the control panel to a large blast door, open it, and then head down a long, downward sloping corridor.

"According to my intel, they're housing the new model here," Aranea stated.

"It's some kind of magitek armor, right? What's so "new" about it?" Prompto inquired.

"This one's got a ghost in the machine: Chief Besithia himself. Managed to fuse his soul with the core."

"That... does not sound good," (Y/n) chimed in.

"Far from in," the older woman sneered.

At the bottom of the corridor, they find an elevator. Stepping inside, they ride the lift down. "The daemons this guy created destroyed Insomnia. If we don't take him out now, he's liable to destroy the whole world," Aranea turned her gaze towards the Horseman. "We're lucky you were able to break free from that cage. He planned on using your body to house a daemon with knowing your ability to heal as an immortal."

"Makes sense. Create an immortal daemon by filtering it into a body of an immortal," Famine comments. "But my body would've absorbed the daemon anyway. It couldn't possibly possess my body."

"Why's that?" Prompto asked.

"The Four Horsemen were created from souls of the damned. Corruption cannot overtake the deepest form of corruption. My body would've just absorbed the daemon and I would've been perfectly fine. Guess the empire hasn't done their homework."

"But they still plan on using that Gashadokuro against all of Eos. You said it couldn't be controlled, but the empire doesn't know that. There'll be a lot of bloodshed before they realize that," Aranea commented.

"Which is why once we're done here, we have to find the others," (Y/n) said, gazing at Prompto.

The elevator comes to a stop and the trio step off. They enter the hallway leading out of the room the lift dropped them off in and suddenly hear an eerie, mechanical howl. Prompto froze when the sound echoed around them. "What was that sound?"

"Our cue to go," Aranea said.

Eventually, the trio enter a large open room. A familiar and startling automated voice spoke to them.

Target detected. Eliminate immediately. Commence elimination of compromised unit.

"You're pretty popular, Prompto," (Y/n) lightheartedly chuckles.

"I don't wanna be popular!" He wailed in return.

The three wipe out numerous magitek troopers and a MA Hoplomachus magitek armor. Once the companions annihilated the enemies, they quickly push forward.

They enter the facility's final set of halls. Descending a short set of stairs, Prompto, (Y/n), and Aranea enter into a short hallway illuminated by red lights. The same eerie roar from earlier causes their surroundings to tremor. Unlike before, it was louder and they knew whatever made the noise was nearby.

"It must be close," Prompto said.

"One of the empire's test subjects, I presume?" The Horseman asked.

"Wouldn't be surprised if it is," Aranea replied.

Prompto, (Y/n), and Aranea enter a large open room. The trio is greeted by a large half-mammal, half-magitek creature-the Unit SAS-0822: Barbarus. Alongside the abomination were the remains of dead magitek troopers littered throughout the room. The fusion of mammal and magitek immediately attack them.

"Y'know, I'd never thought I'd see the day where mammal and machine became one. Now I wish I hadn't," (Y/n) said as she summons the Sword of Judgement.

"You and me both," Aranea chuckled, conjuring her lance.

"Bring it on!" Prompto whips out his pistol and aims it at the hybrid.

As it swung from beam to beam, Prompto shot at the creature. Using their close-range weapons, (Y/n) and Aranea get up close and personal with the horrendous creature. The Horseman charged up her blade with lightning and jammed it into one of the creature's mechanical legs. Once the blade was far enough inside, she twisted it and discharged the lightening. The attack was enough to cause its right leg to go haywire.

Aranea plunged her lance into the arm the creature was using to hang on and forced it to let go of the beam. With its leg on the fritz, it was unable to stand and collapsed on the cement floor. (Y/n) approached the adversary and went to chop of its arm with her sharp blade, but it backhanded her before she could even raise her sword. Her body was sent flying and slammed into one of the cement columns. A few pieces of rubble rained down on her as she grunted from the painful impact.

"(Y/n), you okay?!" Prompto yelled out in worry. Regardless if she was immortal, he would always worry about her whenever she got hurt. He shot a few more rounds at the hybrid before going to check on her. When he reached her, he pulled her out of the debris. He scanned her for injuries and only found minor ones, which healed within seconds.

"Look out!" Famine cries. She grabs ahold of Prompto and tackles him to the side. Looking back to where they once stood, a large and furry hand slammed against the ground. The hybrid released another howl before dragging its body rather quickly across the floor towards the two. "Move! Move! Move!" (Y/n) grabbed Prompto's hand and ran away from the approaching adversary.

Aranea impales her lance into the creature's back, forcing its attention onto her. "C'mon, you damn experiment. Come and get me!"

The Horseman mentally thanked the ex-mercenary before releasing Prompto and regaining her bearings. The boy did the same and rejoined the fray alongside the girl. He kept his distance and fired round after round while (Y/n) and Aranea dealt blow after blow with their weapons.

"This thing sure is stubborn," Famine groaned as she released another shockwave into the creature's body. "I'll give it points for persistence, though." (Y/n) twirled her sword in her hand before charging at the creature. This time, her blade was shrouded in an intense flame that could melt through the toughest of metals. She thrusted the sword into the monster's chest and allowed the flames to consume it from the inside out.

While the creature's body burned, (Y/n) sliced off its right arm. Blood spurted from the missing appendage, spraying across the room. They all stepped back to avoid the thick, crimson substance.

They watched as the creature tried to crawl its way to them, but the immense blood loss caused its speed to decrease and its vision to blur. Not only were the mechanical parts of the hybrid's body malfunctioning, its entire body was consumed in flames.

It released a weak, defeated howl before its body stiffened. (Y/n) waltzed towards the hybrid, nudging her foot into its side. When it didn't move, she looked at its back. Seeing the monster wasn't breathing, she knew it was dead. "Well, guess that's over with."

Prompto hunches over, hands on his knees as he was gasping to catch his breath. Aranea, on the other hand, was composed and wasn't out of breath. The blonde heaved a heavy sigh. "Made it out alive." The room suddenly begins to shake, the large tremor causing everyone to stumble. A few pieces of the ceiling descended upon them. Prompto's eye dart up to the ceiling. "What's going on?"

The facility's automated voice echoed throughout the large room.

Unit XDA-1002: Immortalis. Plasmodic miasma transfer complete. No psychic obstructions detected. All systems operational. Activating Immortalis.

"It's outside!" The marksman bellows. He, (Y/n), and Aranea run back to the surface. Once there, they see what Verstael's "life's work" has amounted to-an enormous magitek-powered machine that resembles a worm. In place of a head, it features an enormous cannon with seven rotating components resembling drill bits spinning around the core.

"It's gigantic..." Prompto muttered, eyes wide in horror.

(Y/n) stared at the machine with the same expression. "Oh, dear Astrals above..."

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #ffxv #prompto x reader #prompto argentum

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flightlessangelwings · 6 years ago

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Lost Souls, Kindred Spirits Chapter 11

Bucky x Reader

Chapter 11

Masterlist

Bucky was up early the next morning, as usual. He sat up in our shared bed and studied your sleeping form for a few minutes. Your chest rose up and down in a soft rhythm and your breathing was heavy from sleep. He gently brushed a lock of hair off your face, careful not to wake you. Bucky had to admit to himself that he slept better with you next to him, even if he still didn’t actually spend much time asleep. He always made sure to be up early to scan for threats or changes in your surroundings.

The sun was just starting to rise in the sky, so Bucky decided to head into town before you woke up. Without a sound, he got himself out of bed, dressed and out the door. He couldn’t help this nagging feeling in the back of his head, and he wanted to get ahead of anything that could be lurking. Bucky was absolutely not about to have a repeat of the club in New York, not if he could help it.

The city was still rowdy with people still partying. Bucky had never seen anything like this place before; not even New York was this wild. He kept a low profile as he retraced his and your steps from the pervious day, and kept a lookout for anyone suspicious. Shop owners were out in front of their stores to set up for the day, coffee shops were just starting to brew the morning batches, and bars were still open from the night before and still serving drinks. Nothing was out of the ordinary so far as Bucky made his way down the main street. He stopped when a man setting stacks of newspapers and magazines at a kiosk caught his eye.

“Mind if I look through this?” Bucky asked the shopkeeper as he picked up a newspaper.

“Go ahead, pal,” he barely looked up from what he was doing.

Bucky flipped though the paper with yesterday’s date on it. It was full of mardi gras news and photos from the parade. He frowned when he came across a particular picture. It was what he was afraid of. Bucky reached into his pocket for some money and slammed it harder than he meant to on the counter.

“Keep the change,” he didn’t even pay attention to the shopkeeper or even to how much money he set on the counter. He had more important things on his mind. Bucky quickened his pace as he made his way back to the bungalow.

***

The sun was higher in the sky, so Bucky figured you may be up by now. It became a routine for the two of you in the morning: he would get up early and scope out the area, and you would be awake and making breakfast by the time he got back. He called out your name as he walked through the front door to your small home in the woods.

No response. The bungalow was quiet. Bucky went on alert as he silently crept through the living room. With no sign of you in the living room, he decided to check the bedroom. He stayed along the wall as he made his way around the perimeter of the space to the bedroom doorway. As soon as he entered the doorway, a fast-moving blur ran towards him out of the shadows. He responded instantaneously as he tacked the blur and pinned it against the wall.

“Bucky,” you gasped out under his grip as you tapped against the wall to get his attention.

His face softened as he realized it was just you and he immediately let you go, “You’re getting better, but you still move loud, doll,” he caressed your neck lightly, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine,” you stretched your neck out, “Damn, I thought I had you this time,” you chucked.

A smile flashed over Bucky’s face but quickly faded, “Listen,” he said with a heavy sigh, “We gotta talk.”

Concern took over your face, “What is it?” you sat down on the bed.

He said nothing as he sat down next to you and pushed the newspaper into your lap. It was folded open to the photo that worried Bucky, so you saw it immediately. It was a picture of you in the parade from the day before. You were on the float, mid-dance, with a huge smile on your face.

“So, what does this mean?” you asked in a serious tone.

“It means we gotta get out of here,” Bucky couldn’t look at you when he said it, “Hydra has to have some sort of face reignition so they’re bound to find this.”

You let out a deep breath, “Ok, then we leave.” You knew this would happen sooner or later. You knew that wherever you were, you couldn’t stay for long. Sure, you were sad about leaving this city, but you trusted Bucky’s judgement.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he finally turned to you. You could see in his face that it was eating him up to tell you this. It reminded you of that night in the hotel in New York when he first told you this whole story.

“Don’t be,” you caressed Bucky’s face, “I got to have my fun here. I guess I screwed up though by letting my picture get taken like this, huh?” you tried to make a joke of it.

“It could be a worse picture,” he replied with a smile. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but Bucky was actually very grateful that you were here with him. You made everything seem better than it was, and he sometimes found himself forgetting how much danger you both could be in. He knew he was being selfish by thinking that, but he couldn’t help it. The more time he spent with you, the more you meant to him.

***

The highway was quiet as you drove a newly acquired car down the road. Bucky sat silently in the passenger seat, his guard still up even though you left the city over an hour ago. He had a gun in his lap, ready for anything. You said nothing and focused on the road, too nervous about breaking Bucky’s focus to speak. Most of your things were left behind at the bungalow; each of you only taking a backpack full of clothes and personal items. Before you left, Bucky cut out the photo of you from the newspaper and slipped it in his pocket.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he looked in the rear-view mirror, “Speed up, doll.”

You swallowed hard and did as he told you, “Everything ok?” you asked in a meek voice.

He didn’t answer for a moment and just kept his eyes locked on the rear-view mirror, “This car’s been trailing behind us for too long,” his voice was hushed as he clocked the gun in his hand, “Just keep driving, ok?” You had been the only car on the road for miles, and he had a bad feeling about this car trailing behind you.

“Ok,” your voice was a whisper. Your arms tensed up as you tried to focus on in front of you instead of behind you. You tried Bucky with your life, and in the time you spent with him you learned a lot about how to defend yourself, but that didn’t mean you still weren’t nervous in a situation like this.

The car sped up when you did, which made Bucky even more tense. It was a black car and as it got closer, Bucky could see that it had tinted windows. It was more and more suspicious, but he didn’t want to make the first move in case he was wrong. As the car got closer, the window rolled down slightly and something shiny stuck out.

Bucky was fast to react. Once he confirmed that the car was a threat, he immediately turned himself so that he was facing backwards and fired a shot from out of his window. It was a direct hit to the passenger side of the car behind you, which took out the gunman sitting there. He ignored your shriek for a moment to focus on the incoming threat before he glanced over quickly to check to make sure you were ok. He couldn’t tell how many others were in the car besides the driver, so he had to assume it was full. He didn’t want to lose focus until everyone was taken out. Without much delay, one more gun pointed out of the window of the other car from the back seat and another man popped up from the sunroof with a larger rifle.

“Shit,” Bucky cursed as he tried to think of a plan on the fly.

You tried to keep your composure as best you could, but you couldn’t help but shake in your seat. You swallowed hard as you hit the gas to try and put some distance between you and the assailant car behind you. “What do we do, Bucky?”

His eyes darted back and forth as he formulated his next move, “Try and weave around a bit, throw off their aim.”

“Ok,” you tried to hide your nerves. You still weren’t super confident in your driving skills, but right now you had no choice. If you and Bucky wanted to make it out alive, you had to just fake confidence. You spend up more and started to weave the car across the road.

It worked, with your car swerving around, the gunman’s aim was thrown off. Bucky used their hesitation to fire another shot which took out the man on the sunroof. The man in the back seat fired back, but missed when you veered to the right. Bucky smiled to himself, proud of how well you were doing right now. He kept his focus, however, and shot at the incoming car through the rear window.

The only one left in the car now was the driver, who had yet to produce a gun, but Bucky was ready for when he would. Clearly, the driver was not happy that Bucky took out the rest of his crew, and he floored it to catch up to you. You inhaled sharply as you saw the black car fast approaching in your rear-view mirror.

“Steady,” Bucky’s voice was calm, his gun ready. He watched the car pull up on yours like a hawk. He didn’t have a clear shot yet, and as much as he did not want to let the car get too close, it was exactly what he needed. “Just trust me,” he said your name so warmly.

“I trust you,” you didn’t even hesitate in your reply. You were stiff from nerves, but that didn’t change the fact that you honestly did trust the man sitting next to you. The car pulled up right next to you on your side, the window was rolled down so the driver could have a clear shot. Before he got the chance, though, Bucky reached his arm across you and fired. The bullet hit the driver in the head, killing him instantly and sent the car flying sideways off the road. You exhaled deeply once it was over.

“You ok?” Bucky rested his hand on your lap comfortingly.

“Yeah,” you took a few more shaky breaths to calm yourself, “I think that’s enough excitement for one day,” you added.

Neither of you said much for a while, both too tense about the attack to let your guards down. After several hours, the atmosphere in the car started to soften and you started a conversation again. You shared stories of your childhoods, and you were so happy for Bucky that he was able to remember more and more about his past. As the sun started to go down, you pulled over for gas and Bucky offered to drive during the night.

“Where were you heading, by the way?” he asked as he got himself settled in the driver’s seat.

A smile ghosted your face, “Florida,” you answered, melancholy in your voice. It was ironic how that was the direction you chose to go. You ended up doing the same thing Bucky did when you first met him: when you have no direction, go back home to what you know. It was a bittersweet feeling for you, since you hadn’t been there since you were a child.

Bucky reached across and took your hand in his, knocking you out of your thoughts. You met his eyes and could tell that he was thinking the exact same thing you were. It was a comforting feeling for you to have someone with a semi-similar story, and Bucky felt the same way. You found yourself thinking that maybe that was the reason you two ended up together. As you thought about going back to your first home, another thought came into your mind. It didn’t really matter where you were physically, as long as you were with Bucky, you felt home. This was the first time you really understood that home isn’t always a place, sometimes it was a person. Little did you know, Bucky felt the exact same way.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #Avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #avengers x reader

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dothewrite · 6 years ago

Note

Scenario for akaashi and makki with a sarcastic s.o who likes to bicker with them about literally anything and it kinda gets on their nerves but its also extremely endearing? Thanks!!

I fully believe that Akaashi is fully capable of channeling a little shit whenever he wants to. Which is quite often, imho. Hope you like!

It’s a quiet day outside in theheady heat of mid-summer and the sun is muted graciously by the shroud of greyforms lounging above the mountain caps; the ground so warm from the morningsunshine that the raindrops almost hiss as they hit the concrete, one waveafter another.

They’re the only ones still outside.In a stroke of luck, the café they had discovered the day before yesterday hadremained open despite the warnings on the news channel the night before and thecorroborating showers, but most of the chairs for outside seating have beentucked away underneath massive square-shaped umbrellas to preserve the delicatewood from soaking through.

Akaashi can feel the baffled, andoccasionally disgruntled, gazes lingering on the back of his head from the wise,sensible patrons who had opted to sit indoors in such weather. It’s a grumpy,good-natured sort of gaze, gazes from people who can’t really be bothered to beparticularly critical when there’s warm coffee tucked between their palms, afresh set of newspapers sprawled over the narrow tables, and a comforting humof steady rain against the tinted glass on an early afternoon.

He can taste the rainwater that’ssplashed into his own cup of black coffee, but it’s too bland of a taste forhim to consider buying another one and brave the grouchy looking owner who keptthe store. He takes a quick sip, and with a hand that brushes away the moistbangs that plaster to his forehead, he watches her lean forwards on the slattedtable, a yearning on her face almost as if to leap out into the dense showerand become one with the storm.

He keeps his phone tucked carefullyunderneath his jacket to keep it safe from stray droplets and lounges backagainst his stiff backrest, the scent of damp pine rubbing its tendrils into hisback.

“If you stick your head out somemore,” he cautions before taking another deep sip, “you’re going to look veryinteresting with only your face wet.”

He can see her shoulders shake oncewith a possibly befuddled laugh before she shrugs them.

“The dewy look might be in vogue.Think I’d look more interesting than you?”

He flicks his thumb up to move ontothe next BBC article. “Hard to say. I can be a very interesting man.”

She cranes her neck to give him aglance-over: a navy shirt, just like the one yesterday, and oh! Happycoincidence! The same one as the day before that too. His pants have changed,she’ll concede. Sometimes. On days when she hides the rest. His watch, the sameone he’d been wearing for the past four years—it being a graduation present isnot a viable excuse for lack of fashion—matched the small coloured twine aroundhis other wrist. She’d forgive that one though, considering she’d given it tohim as a matching anniversary present when they were young enough to rely onallowances for gifts. He hadn’t taken that one off either, ever. Not even forshowers, white-water rafting, nor torrential rainy days.

“Mhmm.”

They share a serene moment ofsilence before Akaashi puts away his phone and sighs, heavily, from the bottomof his old, weary heart. “I can hear you holding your breath all the way overhere. Go on, say it. What’s wrong with my outfit today?”

She shrugs again, this time muchmore dramatically. Empires could rise and fall on those bony little shoulderswith a drama that even Caesar would envy. “Nothing.”

“Is that so,” Akaashi says dryly. “Doesthat mean I can wear this again tomorrow without hearing another word fromyou?”

“It really depends on what sort ofwords,” she grins, and vaults a leg above the other to twist around just theright amount for Akaashi to catch her sharp profile against the drizzlingbackground. “If you’re filing a complaint, I can always replace those tricksywords with other ones you might find even less appropriate.”

“Yeah. And what exactly is wrongwith my shirt again?”

“Nothing,”she repeats emphatically, “if you’re on a tight budget and brought a single shirt on holiday with you toEurope.”

“I see. So, if it’s anywhere butEurope—”

“Then you can wear that same shirtall week at home with the exception of Sundays when you have practice?”

“Possibly.”

“Ah yes,” she says, throwing herhands up in exasperation. He’ll give it another few minutes before they startdrawing frenzied little diagrams in the air with her finger as a wand. “Let thescent of your armpits saturate into the corners of your shirt, and may itattract some unwitting females during mating season.”

Akaashi doesn’t give in to the urgeto lift his arm to double check his armpit. He is a much better man than that,and an even better one when he shouldn’t be. He leans back and settles down withthe comfortable knowledge that he’s washed this shirt quite thoroughly, and hisgo-to deodorant hasn’t failed him yet if she’s still willing to endure hispresence.

“You like how I smell,” he mentionswith a small smile, “but if you insist, I can always buy several more likethis. To reduce my, ah, scent.”

He is an expert indeed in keeping astraight face after many, many years of practice with exasperating fellowsaround him, and he lets it rest on his face with ease when she squints at him,brows stretching between a raise and a furrow, and her blunt fingernails diginto the armrests to keep her uncomfortable twist in place.

It does make her look rather poised,with crossed legs and a carefully positioned arch to her back. Akaashi keepshis eyes politely on her face, but his peripheral vision goes off, as they say,and swallows every inch that he can. He wonders if it’s part of why she oftenchooses to be so prickly about everything, even in good humour; if he took thatmuch care to look half as good when indignant about something, he’d probablyinstigate a lot more rows too.

For now, he thought, bringing hiscup to his lips, he was content with simply admiring.

“You’re insufferable,” she says,rolling her eyes.

Akaashi pretends to be stung. “Me?Do I smell that much?”

She grumbles something under herbreath, but she’s not quite taken her eyes off him just yet. He watchespatiently as she comes up with a different approach to the problem. After all,they have all afternoon, as long as they’re willing to shell out a few morecups of coffee.

“I smell fine, don’t I?” Akaashiprods. She really brings out the worst in him, and deep down he finds itendlessly entertaining. “Unless you want me to wear more cologne? Should Ichange my shampoo?”

“No.”

“Oh, that’s great,” he says, turninghis phone back on with his worst attempt at sounding enthused to date.

“It’s just…” she adds, and he hearsher chair grate against the coarse ground as she tugs it closer to him. “It’s always blue. And always a shirt. I know you wash your clothes, but youcan’t possibly expect that from anyone else.”

“Navy is a nice colour. What’s wrongwith blue?”

“It reminds me of the thing with thefriends on American television, but every day, all day.”

“Foster’s home for imaginaryfriends? He’s sky-blue.”

And muchless fit,he thinks, but he is a humble man, not prone to lapses in judgement, so thatcomment stays obediently in the back of his mind as he swirls the last dregs ofhis coffee around, watching the course grounds dance in a storm. The poker faceremains where it is, performing its role perfectly and any tells stay strictlyaround his lips in an unwilling upturn.

She’s far too busy rummaging aroundher mind for more analogies to properly notice, anyhow.

“Pictures,” she says triumphantlyafter a minute or two. Akaashi looks up from his sports news and gives this newattempt of hers another go. “Maybe I might be mistaken if you’re aiming for thetime-traveller look, but you’d look exactly the same in all the pictures wetake. New landmark? Same shirt. New city? Same shirt. New girlfriend? Sameshirt.”

“New girlfriend?” He repeats with aneyebrow raised. She meets his look defiantly, her angled chin daring him to firesomething back. “I wasn’t informed that I was in the market for a replacement.”

“Well perhaps you should read thebook, then.”

“Have you?” He asks incredulously.“Have you really finally gotten around to it?”

There’s definitely a small twitch toher mouth as her eyes narrow, twinkling a bit at the corner. “Wikipedia is thenew SparkNotes. My point still stands, time-traveller.”

Akaashi thinks about it for a while,tapping his fingers against his chin. “It’s not such a bad concept, really.”

“Your mum would be disappointed withthose photos. You know it.”

“But you’re so very good at makingme look attractive.” He rolls his eyes ever so slightly. Not enough to get himinto trouble, but enough so that it’ll stop pushing at his eyelids for freedom.“Or is it all just me? Or maybe, is it alljust this shirt?”

“Okay, let’s test that.” she thrustsher arm out at him and beckons imperiously with two fingers. Her eyes flash asif daring him to do otherwise. “Hand over that shirt, I’ll try it on Tetsu thenext time I see him.”

“As if he needs any help.” Akaashidoes a full-on roll with his eyes this time, with a smidgen less amusement. Hedoesn’t want to think about it—as much as he loves his irritating as all hellfriend—least of all in his own shirt, stolen unrightfully, and with her all over Kuroo. Alright, maybe shemight not be, but the imagery is very much unappreciated all the same.

He swallows the rest of his cooledand watery coffee in a single gulp and rests it on the damp table with morefocus than intended.

“Just my shirt? Does nothing elsebother you more than my fashion this morning?”

She gazes at him with an inscrutableexpression whilst Akaashi refuses to avoid her eyes, unyielding as hechallenges her in silence for something else to nag about, another tiny littleproblem that seems almost impossibly insignificant underneath the madness thatis drinking hot coffee on an equally hot and equally soggy noon. A slightbreeze, however, has begun to blow somewhere between their bickering, grazingalong the soft weeds that frame the banks of the Danube they face, and the rainhas quietened into a gentler morning shower. It would be walkable, albeit onlytowards their temporary home considering they’d be soaked to the boneafterwards, and Akaashi almost considers asking her. Almost.

He waits to see if she’s gotanything more to say that’s smart, snappy, and altogether exhausting onoccasions.

She’s still staring at him with aspectrum of emotions flickering in her eyes when she speaks again, words tingedwith a beleaguered sigh.

“If I think about it, then maybe thiscoffee. It doesn’t taste so good with rain. There’s this weird salty taste toit, but salt doesn’t evaporate, so it’s possibly entirely in my head.”

“A lot of things might entirely bein your head,” Akaashi replies, and he takes the side eye she shoots him withcomposure and grace. “Like how I’ve only got one shirt, ever.”

“You wore it yesterday. And the daybefore.”

“The washing machine is broken,love,” he reminds her patiently. “Our host hasn’t responded to me yet.”

“Alright, maybe not navy, but they’reall shirts,” she insists. She twirlsher empty cup around her fingers, seemingly unaware of how precariously it sitson her fingertips, and Akaashi can’t quite recall when she’d managed to finishit earlier than he. “I’m not saying you’re a boring person—” she shoots him alook heavy with meaning, “—but dressing to reflect that wouldn’t be a bad idea.On the contrary, in fact.”

They had been brainstorming in therain for activities they could head for to replace their outdoorsy excursion toseveral palaces that day, but Akaashi thinks he’s got the right idea in mind.Never say that he’s an inattentive, inconsiderate partner. A shade petty whenpiqued, perhaps, but that all pales in the various hues of sarcasm she paintswith when unoccupied.

Still, there is the way her nosescrunches up when she frowns, and the brisk way she rests her weight on herarms that has her stretched out into fine lines and soft edges that Akaashikeeps safely to himself whenever he watches her as inconspicuously as he canmanage. It just about makes it worth it, he wagers, tossing his new idea back andforth in his mind, to listen to her furrow her brows verbally again.

“Thrilling, you say.” He murmurs. Hereyes follow with suspicion as he slides his phone into his jacket pocket, zippingit up all the way for protection. “Are you sure this isn’t just a ploy to getme to take off my clothes?”

“Not in public,” she says calmly,but the twinkle in her eye has returned, and a reluctant smile eked out of her.“Honestly, as if I’d share.”

His cheeks, despite their longfamiliarity, still flare up against his will and Akaashi tries his best to coolit down with a hand as discreetly as possible. Her smile only deepens, and hehas to clear his throat to prevent his poker face from cracking.

He pushes back on his chair andstands up, abandoning his seat to the elements. When she doesn’t follow, heleans in with a brow elegantly raised and a teasing smile tickling the edges ofhis lips.

“Let’s go home.”

She looks at him as if he’s gone offhis rocker. “The weather,” she says slowly, pointing up at the grey skies, “wedidn’t bring an umbrella.”

Akaashi shrugs a shoulder. “That’sthe point.”

“You’llget sick.”

“Not if we run,” he begins to counton his fingers, “not if we take a shower, not if we turn on the heating, andnot if I make you a cup of hot chocolate after.”

Her eyes are almost sparkling, andAkaashi finds it a hopeless battle against falling right into them. “So, you’vehad the time to come up with this whilst listening to me all this time?”

“I can be a very interesting man,”he repeats sagely, and easily dodges the smack she aims at his arm. “Trust me.”He offers a hand to her, palm up, and a soft smile awaiting her answer.

Multitudes dance along the edge ofher lips, and Akaashi watches every single one as they drizzle past the precipicesof her cheeks and along the faint laugh lines blooming from her eyes. He doesn’tmind for as long as his arm doesn’t ache, and he could stand underneath a beigecafé umbrella with the splashes of rain drenching their trouser hems for amonth if it meant that she would be able to turn that diamond edged glint towardshim and place her palm in his.

She does, after a small shake of herhead, and it takes only a minute or two. He laces her fingers together,slightly clammy from the wet, and draws her up against him. He can feel herwarmth seep through his dreaded navy shirt, and when he tugs her closer, herhair frizzy from the weather tickles where he’s left the last two buttonsundone.

“You wanted thrilling, remember?” Hebreathes lowly into her hair, and without another warning, he jerks the both ofthem out into the pouring rain. She lets out a startled yelp, but Akaashibarely flinches as he turns towards the street and pulls her along with him ina steady jog.

He swears he’s about two timesslower than his usual morning jogs, taking her lack of exercise into account,but he’s still surprised when halfway there she begins to drag his arm back, clothesand hair utterly soaked and sluiced against her face with breathing as ifsomeone had punched her in the gut.

Akaashi pauses, feeling the rain nowconcentrating on his shoulders, and leans against the railing along the riverbank.

“Need a rest?”

“You—” she gestures vaguely in hisdirection, “—yes. Stop—looking so—”

“Composed?” He offers calmly. “Healthy?Not dangerously unfit?”

“Thankyou, Keiji. We all know how you feel about my cardio.”

“Non-existent?”

Finally catching her breath, shegives him a good glare. “Yes. That.”

Feeling slightly in better humour, Akaashilets his free arm fall and reaches out for hers. “I didn’t want you to get sick,but you love the rain.”

“What I said at the start,” she beginswith a snort, but seeing his confidence slowly melt into a thin layer ofconcern, she leans into him, ignoring his jolt of surprise. “It’s too late now,so let’s not worry about it. I brought medicine.”

“So did I.”

“Well, then.” She’s a good footshorter than him, but with a good firm tug, Akaashi allows himself to be pulleddown enough for a warm kiss on his cheek. “Let’s do a power walk back instead.”

The image popping unbidden into hishead makes him bark out a startled laugh, and he lets his smile stretch out aswidely as hers does, all trembling and chilly and feeling his toes curl fromthe warmth that seems to pulsate from where their hands are joined.

When she throws her head back to whipher hair back from her eyes, there’s a moment where steals his breath away; hisbeautiful little storm witch. She lets her head fall forwards again and thatmoment passes, the only thing that lingers is an absent beat in his veins and aturbulent grin that reaches her eyes.

“I could piggyback you, you know,”Akaashi says when they resume at a brisk stroll, both completely drenched andhis shirt pulling at his skin with each stretch. “I’d probably still be able torun faster than you with your feet.”

She sniffs. “I’m declining that onprinciple, you ass.”

Confident that nobody else will be ableto spot him in the midst of the downpour, Akaashi laughs as quietly as he can,and lets the smile stretch as wide as it wants all the way back.

He did have something else plannedfor the rest of the day; he wasn’t lying by any means. It just so happened thatit would come later at night, when the rain would die down, ready for astreet-lit shopping venture for the very thing that she sniped so much about.

That is, he’d tell her, after they’dtaken a shower, turned on the heating, and each with a mug of hot cocoa intheir hands.

Neither of them was in a particularhurry to do any of those things when their door finally closed behind them.Akaashi had slotted her against the back of it immediately, letting his fingerstrail their way slowly up the rises and dips of her sides. Their lights wereforgotten, the only sound in the apartment a cacophony of the storm outside,their dripping hair and heavy breaths ghosting against each other’s mouths. He leanedin, languidly tasting the rain along her skin.

Despite her unfocused gaze and breathhot against the crook of his neck, she managed a warm laugh, and reached outwith determined fingers to remove that dreaded navy shirt.

#akaashi keiji #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #sfw #female original character #i writes the haikyuu

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storiesbeyondthestars · 6 years ago

Text

@thousand-springs requested Used in ritual/sacrifice with Keith for @badthingshappenbingo

This is more of a modern AU, but is also just...something else.

Check it out on AO3

There was a nervousness that lingered over the town. One that had everyone jumping at the slightest provocations.

It was a small and simple community, the kind shown on Christmas cards in winter when the snow fell and there were light and decorations strewn everywhere. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else.

It was the kind of place that would normally be filled with festive Halloween decorations, but not that year. Sure, things were set up to keep the small children distracted from the events that were soon to come, but it wasn’t like every other year.

The town only got like this once every twenty years, where the dread became palpable.

“Shit.” Keith looked up towards Shiro, who put his finger in his mouth to stop the blood flow from where his hand slipped.

The young man narrowed his eyes at his brother and said, “Careful, or you’re going to end up losing a finger.”

Shiro wasn’t actually Keith’s brother. He had taken him in at a young age after Keith’s mother had vanished, and his father died in the fire that had destroyed his home as a young child. No one had quite known what to do with the young boy, bouncing him around from place to place without officially getting child protective services in on it.

No one welcomed outside things in their town.

That was until Keith had stolen Shiro’s car when he was 12 and Shiro was 19. For whatever reason, that prompted Shiro to take him into his home. Shiro’s then-boyfriend and now-husband had been a bit taken back, but Adam got used to it.

Keith owed Shiro everything, so he wasn’t going to let the man cut his own finger off.

“I’d lose my whole arm if this could be put off for another five years,” Shiro replied, trying not to let his bitterness show through.

The younger of the two regarded him carefully. Shiro worked as the local mechanic, so naturally, that was what Keith ended up doing. There weren’t really many options for people who wanted to stay there, and getting out was hard.

To an outsider, Shiro’s words didn’t make much sense, but Keith knew. Of course he did.

“It’ll be okay,” Keith assured him, forcing a smile onto his face.

“You can’t promise that, Keith,” he shot back, narrowing his grey eyes at him. “You know as much as I do that there’s a possibility they could chose you.”

Of course Keith knew. How could he not? Everyone his age was worried about what was to come.

Their town wasn’t exactly normal. There was a reason why they didn’t really embrace outsiders.

Their town had a demon.

Yes, seriously.

In the middle of the town square was a strangely decorated circle that could just be brushed aside as simple landscaping and décor. That wasn’t the case though. People had tried for years to break it open, to excavate around it to see if they could get at whatever was inside, but to no avail. They knew for a fact that there was some kind of cavern underneath the Circle, that there was a long, vertical drop down to that cavern, but when they looked for it, it was like it wasn’t there.

They all believed in magic. How could they not after things like that?

Once every twenty years, the stone circle slid open, unleashing terrifying snarls and stenches. Stories said that a monstrous demon lived within it, and that the town was originally erected around the lair to appease its appetite so that it wouldn’t escape and unleash chaos upon the world. In return for their sacrifice, they were given the most beautiful freshwater springs, and gardens that were always bountiful.

It struck Keith as a very pagan thing, but the demon was apparently very real. Everyone swore by it, whispering that the sounds it made were horrifying. That it brought a feeling of dread. On Halloween, a single townsperson would be sacrificed to the demon to appease it.

No one quite knew what happened to the person that was given to the demon. The Sacrifice was always revered and remembered by the townspeople, pictures of them labeled as heroes in city hall. The older people toted it as a brave and noble sacrifice.

They would though, they were safe. For whatever reason, the Sacrifices were always around the 18 to 22-year range. Some muttered that it would be easier to just not have children that would fall into that age-range during the time of sacrifice, but then the demon would escape and destroy everything.

Keith was a little bit of a skeptic, but that was because he wasn’t around the last time the Circle had opened. In fact, the last time it opened was the day that he was born, something that a few people noted.

That not only put him perfectly in the age group to be chosen as the Sacrifice, but the date of his birth drew more attention to him as well. There was no exact date when the Circle opened. Sometimes it was an entire month before Halloween, sometimes it was only a day or two. To be born on the day it opened was a hell of a coincidence.

So maybe Keith could understand why Shiro was nervous. His brother had been his guardian, his best friend for the past eight years. Now Keith was a candidate to be sacrificed to the demon, and had been born on the date the Circle had opened last time.

“It’ll be okay,” Keith assured him again. There was a small bit of relief that Shiro was well out of the age range for a sacrifice, though he was sure that Shiro would disagree. He’d try to take Keith’s place without question.

That thought unsettled Keith. That was why, the night before his 20th birthday, he went to Adam, Shiro’s husband.

One would think that a small town would be judgemental of same sex marriage, but most people were okay with it. It had been a small blessing that let Keith not completely hate his home. The outside world was a lot crueler, or so people said.

“Adam,” Keith said to him. “Can I ask you a favour?”

“Sure Keith.” Adam looked up from his book, staring at him quizzically. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s Shiro.” He bit his lip. “I’m worried he’s going to do something…stupid.” Stupid, as in completely reckless. Something like try to smuggle Keith out of the town until someone else was chosen. People had tried that before, and whoever was doing it would be severely punished, and Keith didn’t want that to happen to Shiro. It was pretty much impossible to leave anyway.

Adam frowned slightly and said, “I worry about that too. He’s just scared for you.”

“Just, promise me that whatever happens you’ll stop him?” Keith asked, staring at him with pleading eyes.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Adam nodded his head. “Of course I will. You never have to worry about that.”

That night, Keith had the strangest dream. He was in a brightly lit room, on a massive canopy bed with silks and shimmering fabrics that almost felt like cool liquids in his hands.

He looked up, meeting a pair of glowing blue eyes. A bit of instinctual fear clawed at him, something screaming with him that something was wrong, something was very wrong. Still, he couldn’t look away from those eyes, even as the rest of the world around them seemed to fade. He couldn’t even see the features of who or whatever it was, just the eyes.

Whatever it was leaned close to him, and he saw a glint of razor sharp teeth before everything went black.

When Keith awoke from his dream, he had a strange pebble in his hand. It was impossibly smooth, and was a sparkling blue. Objectively, it was beautiful, but for whatever reason, the sight of it made him want to throw up.

It was in the early morning hours on Keith’s 20th birthday, when the sky was still dark and almost everyone was asleep, that the Circle opened. People were chosen to stand guard over it every night until it opened, and to report back when it did.

Shiro was shaking and tense during the little party they had, where he bought a cake and gave him a present. It wasn’t much, they didn’t exactly have a lot of money to spare, but Keith appreciated the notebook and pencils so that he could draw. He was never one to add colour to his things, but he did love to sketch. He found it therapeutic for the anger that always simmered just under the surface of his skin.

That night, he overheard Adam and Shiro arguing. He hadn’t meant to, Keith had been trying to sneak out to see if there was any wildlife around that he could sketch, and they weren’t exactly being quiet. Normally, he would never need to sneak out, he could come and go as he pleased, but this was different. There were strict curfews during the Ritual.

“Shiro,” Adam spoke, trying to sound soothing, but also a bit annoyed. “Calm down. We don’t know—“

“I’ve gone through the records since we started keeping them!” Shiro stressed. “The Circle has never opened on the same day twice. Not like this. And Keith’s birthday? It’s not a coincidence.”

“It could be,” Adam pointed out.

“It’s not, and we both know it,” Shiro said, sounding so defeated. “If we could just take him and go…”

“They won’t allow that, you know that.”

“I can’t lose him, Adam. I can’t. He’s my brother. Almost like son to me.”

“I know, Shiro. I know.”

Keith hadn’t gone out to sketch that night, a heavy weight in his stomach at the way Shiro’s voice wavered.

That night, he saw the blue eyes and the glinting teeth again. He woke up with a strange silken bracelet around his wrist.

It was the day after Keith’s birthday when they announced that the selection would be the next day. They wanted to hurry and find the one that would be given the honour of being the Sacrifice. There was too much of a risk that parents and guardians would try to take any of the candidates away, and they weren’t a cruel people. They didn’t want everyone to worry so much.

“Keith,” Shiro said to him. “What do you think about hiking for a bit?”

He stared at his brother, knowing exactly what he was doing. The silk bracelet beneath the long sleeve of his jacket almost seemed to burn into his skin, the weight of the stone in his pocket keeping him in place.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Keith answered simply, trying to hide the waver of his voice.

“Some time in prison would be worth it,” he insisted.

Except, that wasn’t what Keith meant at all. A part of him knew. He just knew what was going to happen. He wasn’t worried about Shiro getting arrested. Not really.

He was worried about something worse happening to him.

“It’ll be okay, Shiro,” Keith answered him. “You’ll see.”

Oddly enough, he almost felt like it wasn’t him talking.

That night, the blue eyes were back, watching him as if gazing into his very soul. He still couldn’t see anything else, just the eyes that moved around his prone form. He couldn’t even move properly as it seemed to stalk around him, trying to see him from all angles. It shifted closer this time, causing Keith to shudder. It felt like skin, but it was so cold.

“No,” he managed to choke out as the eyes inched closer, looming over him. “Please.” He wanted to fight, but he couldn’t move.

“It’ll be okay.” Its voice sent a shiver down his spine. “You’ll see.”

Keith closed his eyes, and then cried out when a rush of sharp pain lanced across his shoulder and down his arm.

He awoke abruptly, sitting up quickly and panting. Sweat rolled down from his hairline, and his shoulder ached horribly.

Slowly, he got out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. Grimacing at the bright light, he looked at himself in the mirror, eyebrows quirking up when he noticed how red his skin was at the edge of the collar of his shirt. Keith pulled it aside a bit, and his stomach dropped. He tugged the shirt off, and stared in horror at his reflection.

There was a bite mark that looked almost human, but was bitter, and made with clearly sharp and pointed teeth.

He wheeled around, practically throwing himself at the toilet as he threw up.

Later that day, everyone who was 18 to 22 was gathered together. It wasn’t lost on Keith that everyone that was corralling them was armed. It made him really wish that he had taken Shiro up on his offer to ‘go hiking’, because he couldn’t shake off the dread.

Everyone around him seemed just as terrified, or was trying to be brave. He knew though that they had nothing to worry about.

Keith wondered if it was always like this. If the one that would be chosen knew beforehand. Just in case it was a fluke, and he was fine, he wore a thick hoodie so that no one would see the mark.

For some reason though, he kept that stupid bracelet around his wrist, and that stone in his pocket. He didn’t know why. He felt like he couldn’t get rid of it. That something very bad would happen if he did.

The selection was held in what looked an old, partially dilapidated house. Keith wasn’t quite sure why it was held there, but as far as he knew, it had always been like that. It was an easy place to keep them all inside so no one would run.

They were all ushered inside, the door closed behind them. They were all put into a circle, a man in black robes in the middle of the room. He was a tall, bald man with strange, flowing robes and odd markings across his face. He was said to be a holy man who had no real title and no alignment to any religion, but who apparently knew knew all about the demon, allowing it to use him to choose its sacrifice.

Keith couldn’t help but wonder if the demon was just fucking with all of them. It could probably just steal someone in their sleep, but he supposed that there was probably something significant about the ritual, something that appeased it or made it feel important.

“Welcome,” the man spoke up. “I am Macidus. All of you strong, brave men and women are fortunate enough to be candidates for the Sacrifice. I know it may appear frightening, but do not despair. If chosen, you will be saving the lives of everyone else. Of potentially the world. It is an honour, and you will forever be remembered for it.”

The girl beside Keith sniffled, tears falling down her pale cheeks. A part of him wanted to comfort her, but he said nothing, trying to keep a straight face.

Macidus started chanting something for the center of the Circle that they created. Honestly, he looked a little ridiculous at first. Then the air around them started to cool until it became downright unbearably chilly.

The man was facing away from Keith, and he didn’t see any movement, but a couple of the people he was facing gasped in shock. Macidus moved from person to person, placing his hands on this shoulders and staring at them. It was only when he got closer to Keith that he realized what was freaking everyone else out so much.

Macidus’ normal dark brown eyes were a bright, almost glowing blue. Keith almost left like he was going to throw up as the man got closer and closer to him.

Finally, he put his hands on Keith’s shoulders, and he was unable to hide his grimace as the man put pressure on the bite mark. Those eyes, in such a sickening familiar shade of blue, stared at him intensely.

Keith’s fingers curled into fists as the holy man stayed staring at him longer than the others. He could see looks of terror and relief starting to appear on the faces of the others. They all knew what was happening.

“This one.” His voice made Keith shudder. It wasn’t Macidus’ voice, it sounded like the one he heard whispering into his hear in his nightmares. Almost immediately, two tall men appeared, grabbing Keith’s arms and tugging him away from the others.

No one else looked at Keith, keeping their eyes averted as they were put into two lines to leave, Keith being at the back and help by the two men so that he wouldn’t run.

Then they started moving, and Keith felt like he was going to be sick as they paraded around, Macidus proudly pronouncing the choice of the Sacrifice.

Keith heard Shiro yell his arm, heard him yelling to others. He didn’t dare look over at him. He couldn’t. If he did, he would probably break down, and he was trying to keep a straight face in front of everyone. He didn’t want to see their pity. He didn’t want to see their relief that their own children were safe.

He mentally prayed that Adam kept Shiro safe.

Keith knew the stories. They had been whispered over and over again. It was theorized that the person is consumed by the demon, because gender never seems to matter, nor do they demand someone who is pure. There was no rhyme or reason to its choices beyond the specific age range. It must be food then.

There was something incredibly odd about knowing that you were going to die in a couple days.

They kept him away from everyone else. They kept him locked in a beautiful room with no windows and now sharp objects. Keith could probably figure out a way to off himself if he really wanted to.

He kept thinking of Shiro though. If he didn’t let this happen, would whatever it is lash out and hurt Shiro or Adam? His life wasn’t worth the life of every other person in that town.

Blue yes haunted his dreams every night, but they weren’t as close or aggressive as before. They were waiting farther way, content to simply watch him.

“What are you doing to do to me?” Keith managed to ask during one dream. He almost wished that he only had to wait a day for this, not nearly a week. He didn’t know where his fight instincts went, but he always felt so tired.

The demon said nothing, and he woke up.

This happened again and again, night after night. His days were nothing more than waiting.

On the night of the 30th, Macidus himself came into the room. “Tomorrow, we will do the cleansing before the ritual. You will be given a bag with items to take with you to the next life. Is there anything you request?”

“Do I get to see my brother first?” Keith asked, feeling almost drained from being stuck in a room with nothing to do for nearly a week. He had been given things to read that were all these strange prayers, but that was about it.

“To get you used to a world without all these distractions.”

Right, cause he was going to get used to living without the internet when he was dead. Maybe they just felt better leading someone who was going a little crazy to his or her death.

“You may,” Macidus agreed.

Shiro and Adam were both brought to him later. Shiro wrapped him in a tight hug, burying his face into his hair, shaking as he held him.

“You’ll be okay,” Keith got out as he returned the hug, burying his face into the crook of Shiro’s neck. “Don’t…do anything stupid. Okay? Keep your business, or take Adam and move away. Adopt a kid or whatever. You’ll be a good parent, trust me on that.” Keith blinked his eyes rapidly, not wanting to cry.

Shiro breathed heavily. “We should have ran.”

“It’s not your fault.” Keith looked up as Adam put his hand on his head, the man smiling sadly at him, eyes misty.

“Promise me you’ll take care of each other? Don’t do anything stupid?” Slowly, Shiro nodded his head.

“We will,” Adam agreed.

“You’re my brother, Shiro,” Keith muttered to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Keith.” Shiro squeezed him tightly. “If I could bust you out of here right onw, I would.”

“I know you would.”

He wished that they would, because he felt oddly docile, and realized that his captors might have been doing something to him, with magic or mild drugs, he didn’t know.

It wasn’t meant to happen though. Shiro and Adam were soon escorted out of the room.

“Your brother left you some things to take with you,” Macidus said to him. “We will place them with your bag.”

The blue eyes were in his dreams again that night, except them actually seemed to be in a body. He couldn’t see what they looked like, but they seemed almost humanoid, though completely hidden by shadows, eyes aside.

“Don’t be afraid,” a voice whispered to him. “Everything will be okay soon. You’ll see.”

He wasn’t sure he trusted the thing that was going to be killing and consuming him in the next 24 hours.

Morning came much quicker than he would have liked. It was strange how it didn’t feel any different. It just like any other day. He supposed that it was true to most people in the world. There was nothing special about that day, and time would tick on without him.

Hopefully, thanks to his sacrifice, the people that he grew up with would be safe for 20 more years.

He was allowed a big, hearty breakfast of whatever he wanted. They they went through the satchel he would be allowed. His notebook, pencils, pictures of his family, the knife that his mother had left a long time ago, and a few other things were in there. The silken bracelet was still around his wrist, the stone placed carefully into the bag. Things that were sentimental or important.

It was nice to know that those things were with him.

Then he went through what they called ‘the cleansing’, where every nook and cranny of him was cleaned. He supposed that they didn’t want to give the demon a dirty meal. He hoped he gave it indigestion for the next 20 years.

Keith mused on his food, given his last choice for a final meal. Of course he chose food from the diner downtown. He had always loved that place more than any other place.

It was only when he was put into pure white clothing that the nausea started to well up within him. They were plain but oddly comfortable, just a simple pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt. He looked so worn and washed out in the mirror.

The children went trick-or-treating earlier than night, and once the sky was dark and they were safely inside, Keith was brought out of his luxurious prison and paraded through the town, towards the Circle.

Of course, it wasn’t just the Circle anymore. There was a pulley-system set up beside it, a wooden platform with cuffs on it. Of course they weren’t just going to throw him in. It wasn’t nearly theatrical enough.

Fear and anger rose up within Keith as he tried to back away, but he was pushed forward. Everyone was wearing masks, as if that absolved them from what was happening. Anyone could have stopped it, but no one made any move to try.

The fight finally came back to Keith. He struggled with his captor as they pushed him forward, binding his wrists and ankles to the board. His stomach lurched as it was lifted into the air, hovering over the pitch black pit below. A growl echoed from it, and Keith looked away at the crowd.

God, he hoped Shiro was there somewhere.

Macidus started talking, about noble sacrifices, honour, saving them all, and things like that. Keith didn’t give two shits about what he was saying. He wanted to go home.

He blinked his eyes rapidly to hide the fact that they were watering, giving the man that chose him a vicious glare when he asked if there was anything he’d like to say.

“I hope you rot in hell,” Keith snarled at the man, unable to hide his anger. There was some shuffling and gasps, and he looked up in time to see Shiro trying to make his way forward through the crowd.

It was too late though. The platform was quickly lowered down into the darkness. It seemed to go on forever, and it was like all the sound from above was first muffled, and then completely gone.

He couldn’t help but be bitter towards the people who would go on with their lives the next day like nothing happened. No one outside of their own would ever know. He’d just become another name in the town’s best kept secret.

The farther he was lowered, the more tired he became, eventually closing his eyes

Then he heard something, a shifting in the darkness that had his head jerking up, eyes snapping open. He inhaled sharply when vibrant blue eyes glowed from the darkness.

“Don’t worry,” a voice said, one that was neither creepily deep or eerily high. What felt like a hand was pressed against his cheek, stroking it almost soothingly. “You’re here with me now. I’ve been waiting for you.” Something broke the shackles binding him to the platform and he fell forward, feeling something hold him up under his legs and back. It felt almost human. “Is that what you want? To punish those people? You kept your gifts I gave you. I can give you another if you want it. I can give you everything.”

He thought of Shiro, of those innocent children and people. No, he didn’t want them hurt. The other ones though…

The platform quickly rose back up and out of the Circle above them. Though Keith still couldn’t see anything properly, he was still able to see those glowing blue eyes and sharp teeth that glinted off of the limited light as lips stretched into the grin.

The cavern sealed itself again, and everything went black.

#badthingshappenbingo #prompt: used in a sacrifice/ritual #my fanfiction #keith #shiro #adam #a demon that may or may not be a character we know

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fears--all-the-way-down · 4 years ago

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“All students are to go directly home. It’s going to be bad out there.” There was a teacher standing in the middle of the hall giving marching orders. The crowd had gathered and commenced in boisterous chatter. After all, early dismissal meant freedom. There wasn’t a single student at Hawkins high who wasn’t all in for a snow day. The cheers and chit chat filled every inch of the hall, “Dust, you coming? ...Max?” Mike took down the hallway shouting. His keys hung from his pointer finger. “We don’t have all day you dumb shits.” he called out, cupping a free hand over his mouth to make his already shrill yell louder. As if there was a fire instead of a school day dismissed by 10:30. Lucas was by his side, angrily gesturing for them to hurry up. Turning to glance behind her she threw Dustin a look, brow raised, asking him what his plans were. “I gotta make sure mom’s home safe and shovel out the driveway.” score. She didn’t really feel like sitting in the Wheeler basement with the idiots anyway. Not when a snow day meant an excuse to actually spend time outside in the snow. “Max, give me a ride?” Thank goodness for the way he thought. “I guess if I have to,” she whined, all fake. Last thing she wanted was Lucas or Mike to catch onto the fact that what she wanted most was to be alone with D. “you’re closest to my house, it’s only fair.” whatever excuse he wanted to make out she’d take. “Whatever. You both suck.” Mike wasn’t happy with their refusal. Yet she knew for a fact that once they got in the basement it wouldn’t matter. He and Lucas would be wrapped up in video games sooner than later. They’d blow up the discord trying to get D to join. By the look he’d given her, he wouldn’t be taking in that participation. Mike and Lucas both turned around and headed out the double doors and she finally relaxed, backpack hanging off her shoulder. “Dusty! Hey… Dusty!” shit. Couldn’t they just get out the damn door without anyone else trying to derail plans? Why was that always too much to ask for? “Dusty, my mom’s stuck at work tonight. Wanna come hang out? I could use some help with the driveway.” Carmen’s sing-song voice dolled out till she was standing right in front of him, hugging her school books to her chest and looking up at him through thick lashes. Max wanted to gag. Dramatically she turned sideways, banging her head back against the locker set behind her. She could see D peering around Carmen and biting the inside of his cheek with the finally grown in perls. He was trying not to laugh at her, trying to keep up appearances for Carmen. That was just the type of respectful gentlemen he was and hated to be called. Claudia had done right by him. She didn’t listen to the exchange between the pair. Instead, she saw the saddened expression the senior girl had when she turned from the boy she had her eye on. Had it been anyone but Dustin, Max might have felt bad. No, screw it, she didn’t care for the emotions of petty girls. Instead, she stepped into his light of sight for a second and turned towards the double doors, his eyes traveling her in ways they only did when the boys were out of sight and mind. It made a smirk cross watermelon chapstick lips. “So… your mom took my keys this morning so I wouldn’t drive in the snow today.” she spoke casually as he caught up in pace with her. Out of the corner of her eye she watched his hands raise for a moment, twitch, and then grab a hold of the straps of his backpack. She knew that had they been off school grounds he would have thrown an arm around her, “I think this calls for a race of who can get home fas…” but apparently she wasn’t allowed to finish her thought. The green scarf around her neck was being tugged, softly. His lead was followed. Fresh falling snow crunched under worn old cons. “D…” he was in full control then, pulling her underneath the bleachers and kissing her full force. A kiss that made her head scramble and heart stop. She hated that he had so much control of her to do this type of thing, to make her metaphorically (and literally) fall to her knees. The part about it was, Dustin didn’t even seem to notice that he made her putty in his hands. Max Mayfield was so wrapped around his fingers. Careful and calloused fingers were threaded through red locks as she leaned her head into his hand comfortably. His patchy facial hair that Claudia mourned about still brushed her cheek, neck, and collarbone. ”mom’s home tonight.” he bruised into her neck as if the words held any bearing. As if they hadn’t acted out under her roof time and time again. The wind chill meant nothing, the falling flakes were a background sprinkle. Even his cold fingers felt warm against exposed skin as he played with the denim of her belt loops. She hated him. A slight whine made its way past her lips as he left go of her jeans and moved his hands away from her. The cold of their surroundings coming right back to her as she slid her frozen hands under the dark colored tee shirt and flannel he had on and rested against the muscled flesh there for a moment. “If you’re going to start something D, you’d better finish it.” a practical purr came out, near enough to begging. Not even a moment later she felt it, the chill that stretched down her back and replaced any warmth of turn on that might have lingered. The cold snow clung between oversized white sweater to green lace and all the way down the back of tight jeans. His clearing of snow from the bleacher behind her was going to leave her drenched all the way home. “You son of a bitch.” she bit out, immediately. As he let out a warm and wholehearted laugh, leaning in and pressing a simple kiss again her open mouth, catching her bottom lip. To which she requited, against her better judgement. He picked her up then, causing her to squeak in the way he had once over chocolate pudding. “I’ll make it up to you Sunshine.” she grunted as he laughed, clearly still thrilled with himself.

#continuity: tis the damn season #ttds: flashback

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newscheckz · 4 years ago

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RED FLAGS YOU CAN SEE IN A JOB INTERVIEW AS A WARNING!

New Post has been published on https://newscheckz.com/red-flags-you-can-see-in-a-job-interview-as-a-warning/

RED FLAGS YOU CAN SEE IN A JOB INTERVIEW AS A WARNING!

These are different real situations gathered from social media families from their experiences while attending a job interview.

From their experiences, they say if you see below signs, it is high time you respect yourself and move on. We believe these information could help someone avoid toxic workplaces early in the interview process.

1. Keeping a candidate waiting for too long without making them comfortable. It shows the value the business leaders places in people. 2. Interview interruptions, either from external members of staff or the interviewers always excusing themselves to take a phone call. 3. Pestering the candidate as though you are trying to show them how much they do not know. 4. Interviews being postponed severally or taking too long to be set after the initial conversation is a sure red flag, 5. Impromptu Interviews, eg, being called this morning for an afternoon Interview. It is not necessarily evil, but it should be a red flag of disorganization that shall affect your employee experience in the long run. 6. Interviewees speaking to each other, in their mother-tongue in between your interview.

My story I went for a job induction at an LG electronics dealership and the manager there who I guess wanted me to feel his authority came and told me, ‘ unajua hatujajuana vizuri, akasema wait kidogo I will be back so that we get to know each other.That manager harassed me sana that day by just telling me to take a scenario where am selling a tv on phone then sell it to an employee who was there, I gave it try and it was not to his liking. Kupewa lecture ikafuata for long then akauliza an employee there if nimefunzwa how to respond to such things wakasema bado but they will teach me. The whole day huyo manager tu alikua ananiita ananiambia imgn you are selling a tv ,sell it to this employee. After unaambiwa enda, then unaitwa tena unaambiwa imagine you are selling a tv sell it to now a different employee. Niliharasiwa hivo the whole day hadi nikauzia Kila employee kwa hiyo place scenarios za tv, I felt like a mono joining form one. Hapo nikaloose hope na hiyo kazi

When they give you those “interview assignments” in the name of testing your skills beware. Most want interviewers to give them ideas and work plans then they will go ahead and use it and not hire any interviewers. I got such a job interview and told them due to time I can only do part of the task to show them my skills and thought process. I did the bare minimum but gave it my all. They later followed up that my work was unique and if I can give more details. I told them I got other engagements and I would appreciate if they could give me feedback of the interview from my work and the oral interview. They wrote back saying they can’t hire me at the moment but if I could be interested in giving them more details they would appreciate it. I ignored them coz I knew they were users. You work for them for free in the name of “it’s an interview process.” Pass me with that sh*t! I prepared a whole recruitment strategy for them. Their mzungu called wanting to get more information on what I had written, I gladly explained and that was the end. There was actually an online petition to make them stop interviewing people for ideas and never hiring them. One Acre Fund is good at this. They advertise one position daily only for ideas from candidates and will NEVER hire them.

Look at the shoes of the employees from the gate to the interview room. You’ll learn a lot about the company. Viatu if the salary is low they’ll will be very well dressed but with cheaper shoes, Most people with Low income can rarely budget for a decent pair of shoes… I’ve used it severally, not only for interviews but even in marketing. When approaching a company for a deal I look at the shoes of every person I meet. If most have decent shoes the deal normally goes through if not they people you’ll meet at the office will have very little regard of what you are selling and theur clients…. That thing works like it’s yesterday… There is a firm I found most employees had very nice but cheaper shoes and some had torn ones at the gate, yet the director wore imported designer sandals… By the time I got to talk to him I already knew his answer. Problem is his firm is based on out look, I.e they are in the service industry yet he had invested so little in his employees… Honey, I work for a leather company and am in leather footwear sales…. I know a good shoe by looking at it…If your employees can afford nor to recycle good leather shoes with a quality sole (can even start from 1000/= but with a good sole from 2500/=) then they are paid well. On the same note, you can spot an overworn Leather shoe anywhere. .. Ata viatu za punch, You need like 5 to maintain a good look throughout the week… If a shoe is overworn you’ll know…

Once upon a time(not so long ago) a certain hotel on Mombasa road called and asked if I could attend an interview, I told them I was not interested as I was already working elsewhere…..they were insistent and I opted against my better judgement and went for the interview. They wasted 3hrs, and they had no courtesy of keeping us informed on what’s going on. I went to the Ass. H.R and asked her to give me my c.v which they had from earlier application, she politely did, asked her to go to their system and delete my profile as a viable candidate and to never contact me and I left. The following day they had the nerve to call me and asked why I left……..I just hang up on them.

Business people interviewing young businessman in office

Always inquire about the employee turnover….. No matter how nice the boss sounds as you step in, this might just be a way to win you then use you. I joined a UK-based company in 2018, remote working with staff all over…. First as a backoffice supervisor and in two months I was promoted to asst.PM. Senior PM was an Indian lady based in Abu Dhabi. I used to find too many collisions on calls between her and the boss and I thought she was the issue. In 5months I was promoted to senior pm and she was fired. In short, by the time I resigned after two years, the company had lost 8 senior employees, most just resigned out of frustration. So, just note that if the turnover is high, you’ll either take too much shit or the job won’t be there for too long!

There is this lucrative job offer I got with some tea company..so the day we went to discuss the offer and sign off the contract tukamalizana vizuri with the then to be my boss..He asked me when I would report nikamuambia in a months time…same response I gave in the interview akasema okay..kuenda kwa Hr a kiuk lady..aliniongelesha matope ati you are doing nothing at home yet u need one month to report ati people would give anything to be in your place blabla.. I told her the fact that am not employed doesn’t mean I have notjing else running mayoooo tantrums ati ohh ama u think ur husbanda money is soo sufficient etc..i just told her am sorry I will not take the job anymore!alibaki kinywa wazi..she kept on calling to ask if I had had a rethink nikamuambia ? Rita, know your worth dear..utafika hapo tuu…always remember apart from being a job seeker you are a HUMAN BEING that should be treated with dignity…nothing less..You can imagine the baggage I would deal with coz she already had a formed mentality about me…Mark you I had not applied for the job someone referred me sue to work experience

“Willing to work long-hours and under pressure” on the JD. Won’t even bother applying.

Politely ask how many people have quit the team that’s trying to hire you in the last year. If it’s more than 1, there’s probably a good reason. High staff-turnover is a huge redflag. Run!!

Boss shouting and/or being rude to the teagirl. Also watch the other workers. If they shrink at the boss’ sight, run.

Being delayed at the interview eg you are scheduled to be interviewed at 9am and come 11am you are still waiting worse still if no explanation is being given to you

If he/she tells you that there’s no fixed work schedule (yet the arrival time is fixed), or no fixed job description, just know you’ll be misused thoroughly. Also if you are told a story about how the employee you are meant to replace quit without notice…

I once attended an interview and at some point the panel started discussing something in their native language, in my presence yet am not a Dutch??, really disrespectful i knew i didn’t belong there

No organization will treat you better than they do at the interview. If it’s off then, it’s off.

So many years back, I went for an interview and had this guy smoking in the interview room. The oral went on for more than an hour and the guy was now chain smoking in the interview room. I excused myself from the interview and went home.

Show up at the interview scheduled time…. interviewer running late up to two hours and no explanation is given

the workers look stressed, and underpaid, not smartly dressed…..and if you happen to ask there is a high rate of employees leaving and new ones being recruited….jua iko shida

You go for an entry level job Interview you meet more than 10 panelists.. Honestly for a simple reception job why need such a crowd..yet they have shortlisted more than 20 candidates..that’s a scaam

An organization that keeps on hiring (for same positions) indicates a high level of staff turnover.

If u want to gauge how serious an organization is, read the body language of the security guard n the receptionist!!! If they appear demoralized n dejected, my friend, run.

The type of questions they ask.. one male interviewer kept asking about my personal life e.g “if you say you are not married then are you dating?” And you said you have children, where is their dad?” Questioning for an Administrative position.!!!! I answered like this like this coz I was already pissed..

Reading the comments…this is the way to go..Don’t entertain bullshit..know your worth..Don’t ever look desperate and have confidence .

The best one I went the boss offered me lunch as we discussed my experience and job description. I got the job…I salute that gentleman.

I went for an interview ,fikad there early that time it’s in inda,around 9 it’s when 3 men came with mud all over their shoes ,the supposed directors,instead of apologising for being late one of them told me in kikuyu “mbũra ĩrĩa yũrĩte limurũ”….I knew it was my time to leave…..

I went for an interview once ,the interview which was scheduled for 2pm started at 5pm. Prior to that,us interviewees had been sent a form to sign that we would forfeit 50% of our first salary because we had used an agency, which wasn’t true because all of us had been shortlisted from a career fair. I had been jobless for a while but I knew there was no way we would work peacefully. I did the interview as a formality,counted my fare and time loss and trusted God for better opportunities.

Attended an interview hapa tu Mombasa road ,I was asked my tribe on the questionnaire and there was an interview room which was a red flag for me ,it meant people were either getting fired all the time or they quit all the time . After the interview , I was informed by somebody on the inside that they don’t take luos because wako na malalamishi mingi and luhyas because wanapenda kuenda leave na matanga kila weekend. They only take kikuyu and merus because they are hardworking.

I went for an interview with some garbage collection organization based in mukuru, Kwa gate napatana na matope mob, then the guy I was to converse with was missing and sent his colleague to sit in for him, the guy I think called John looked tired and not interested and at the same time lacked interview skills. From the looks hao ata mshahara wangesema 35k for a HRO position. Those are the kind of jobs I don’t regret not getting

1.”Why do you think this is the job for you?” ( The interview process is for the candidate to learn if they also want to work for you) 2. “What’s your weakness?” (This question is just dumb)

Any company that has a relative to the owner working in a powerful position…..RUN

When employees are speaking in their vernacular languages kwa reception.. Wamama wanauziana bras hapo reception.. I am kinda glad i failed that interview. Alafu interviewers kukaa as if they are being forced to be there.

After the interview,If they tell you “Don’t call us,we will call you” Jipatie shugli and carry on with your life.That call will never come.

Ask what’s the company’s Employee Value Proposition, if the HR has none, take off!! The value a company offers to employees in return for the value they bring to the organization. This is the compensation and benefits from the employer in exchange for the employees skills, experience and productivity. This is a HR plan that determins rentation or loss of talent. If theres none – hapo ni Pata Potea Organisation…

At my job interview yesterday the MD said to me, why do you think i should give you this job?

i said, because my friend Mwangi works in your IT department, and he told me you’re fucking his sister.

???????

When they ask you(a lady) Are u married, do u have children, how many children do u have…& especially when the questions come in quick succession..They don’t want an employee wakuenda martenity ama wakushinda akisema ‘my baby is unwell’.

I was invited for an interview, The Ladies kept asking me if I’m married…one time… two times… third time they got into my veins and I asked them if they are married themselves ?Then they asked for a Three hundred thousand bribe…I told them if I had that money I wouldn’t be sitted There answering questions cz I don’t like questions anyway.Next day I was called to go start the Job

Dirty toilets,no thank you…I always make sure to visit the toilets

Alot of luhyas and kambas very toxic work place ???95% of kambas are the worst people to work with. The two tribes are snitches..will laugh with you but things they tell the boss behind your back…Kambas are sycophants, if they are colleagues unacheza chini, wasikuelewe, afadhali luhyas unajua livelive ni mchochezi, kambas can confuse you ??????????No wonder kaoz were long distance traders…kusambaza tu mushene na kujipendekeza kwa wadosi ..

A lady panelist asked what my family planning plans were.they were tired of female employees coz they have to go for maternity leave..saa hio am newly married ata nilishindwa la ku sema…afterwards they sent me a mail that I was the successful applicant two days letter they withdrew the offer wakasema they will let me know in due cause if I will be employed or not…useless organization..nkt..

I went for an interview at Faulu, it was going well till I was asked, “are you saved?” I said, no but I’m a Catholic. That’s where the interview ended.

You two fat women. I have never forgotten how you looked at me like I’m Jezebel. ????

If you see the job adverts ama your interviewer asks you whether you can work for under pressure ama for long hours wewe hepa tu. Hapo utafanya more than the standard 9 hours and most likely hutapata any overtime

We’ve shared experiences on toxic workplaces. Kindly share the different red flags you’ve seen at a job interview. This could help someone avoid toxic workplaces early in the interview process.

#interview #toxicjobinterviews

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danfanciesphil · 7 years ago

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Phan Teacher AU (Part 2)

(Part One)

Back by popular request!

Two days pass before Dan gets to assist in Phil’s class again.

It turns out that there are a lot of teachers in this school, all of whom are keen for ‘assistance’ (which, Dan has discovered, just means that they want someone to do all the hard work for them while they check Facebook at their desk).

Dan doesn’t mind the other teachers, and generally the hour long lessons pass pretty quickly. All he has to do is wander around the desks as the students do worksheets or write essays, and answer their questions.

It’s far from exciting, and aside from one or two occasions where the teacher might ask him to write something on the whiteboard, or divide the class into groups, it’s a pretty monotonous job.

The teachers lack enthusiasm, despite it only being the first week back. There’s just something in their eyes - a kind of worn down expression that Dan recognises from his own past teachers.

That look hadn’t been in Phil’s eyes, Dan can’t help but remember.

On Tuesday, Dan’s second day, he is helping Jonah, a sullen, troublesome student in a Year Nine Maths class. He’s probably not being that much of a help to the poor boy, as Dan barely scraped a C on his own Maths GCSE exam. Still, he’s trying his best to explain the quadratic formula, when all of a sudden, Jonah looks up at him and grins.

“Hey, you’re the dude from Mr Lester’s class,” he says, brightening immediately.

Dan looks at him in surprise. “Oh, yeah. That’s me.”

“You helped us build the barricades.”

Dan chuckles, remembering this strange activity. “Yeah. That was... interesting.”

“Man, I wish every class was like that.” Jonah sighs, slumping in his plastic chair. “Mr Lester’s actually decent.”

Intrigued by this, Dan can’t help wanting to probe a little further. He takes the empty seat beside Jonah, forgetting the Algebra problems on the desk for a moment.

“You like his class?”

Dan’s only been here for two days, but it’s already become fairly obvious who the ‘troubled’ students are at this school. Before each class, Dan is notified by the teacher about any students that are ‘on report’. It’s still only the second day of term, so there are only a couple in the whole school, currently.

Jonah Frank is one of them.

Being ‘on report’ is like being on probation. It’s a form of punishment for bad behaviour, wherein the student has their work ethic and general attitude monitored for a period of one month. If their reports are generally good, then they can come off the probation period. If they’re bad, the student will face a harsher punishment - often suspension from the school.

Jonah has to get a report card signed by his teacher at the end of every lesson, and at the end of each day, the Principal will check it over to ensure he’s been to, and behaved in, all his classes that day.

Dan has seen Jonah’s report card from last year as well as this year, and it’s not pretty. The teachers often write angry comments beneath their signatures like ‘refused to cooperate!’ or ‘talked back during class’. As Dan was reading over them, he couldn’t help noticing that one of the signatures - a particularly squiggly one - differentiated from the rest.

11/04/2016 History Phil Lester ‘Jonah was brilliant today! Asked bright, insightful questions and got involved in the class. :)’

24/04/2016 History Phil Lester ‘Had a catch up with Jonah about how challenging he’s finding the class. Upon his suggestion, agreed to schedule some one on one sessions during break times to go over some of the more complicated facts. A great idea!’

03/05/2016 History Phil Lester ‘Awarded Jonah an A for his brilliant project on the Romans! Can tell he really applied himself.’

“Yeah, he’s alright.” Jonah says, nodding. “He ain’t like the other teachers at this shit school.”

“He’s certainly... got a unique method.” Dan muses, remembering the whimsical nature of Phil’s lesson yesterday.

It’s only when Jonah chuckles that Dan realises he’s staring into the distance.

“You got a crush on him, sir?”

Traitorously, Dan feels himself blush. “What? Come off it, I barely know him.”

Jonah grins wider, obviously not buying this for a second. “You got a thing for nerdy, history buff-types, Mr Howell?”

“Okay,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s get back to work, shall we?”

Jonah laughs, but reluctantly sits up, sighing as he turns his attention back to the Maths worksheet. “Mr Lester’d never give us worksheets.”

Dan sighs with him, nodding in agreement. “Unfortunately, Mr Lester is not teaching this Maths class.”

Jonah side-eyes him, smirking knowingly. “Bet you’d like it if he was though, yeah?”

Dan smiles good-naturedly, shaking his head. “Alright, simmer down and find ‘x’, you.”

The teachers at this school are, Dan is beginning to find, prone to taking the piss. A lot of them seem to regard TA’s as a form of slave, and don’t hesitate to offload all their crummiest, most time-consuming jobs on to him. Of course, this often means that Dan is forced to eat into his own free time to complete these menial tasks, and so he finds he rarely has a moment to spare.

On Tuesday lunchtime, after forty-five minutes of scrubbing whiteboards and sweeping up debris in the science labs, Dan hurries to the cafeteria to try and grab something to eat before it closes. As he walks in, he notices that Phil is here too, holding a large box full of what looks like old-fashioned Sony Walkmans, and some rolls of glittery craft paper.

“Oh no, you caught me!” Phil exclaims, sounding sheepish as Dan approaches him. “My sweet tooth has a hold over me.”

He holds up the cookie he’s just purchased with some difficulty, almost dropping the box he’s holding.

“Hey, no judgement.” Dan replies. “Looks like a good cookie.”

Phil groans in agreement, his eyes shooting heavenward. An immediate slice of arousal swoops through Dan’s empty stomach, and he swallows hard, turning away in the hopes it isn’t obvious.

“Oh, you have no idea, Dan.” Phil tells him, his voice low and sincere. Then, smirking, he lifts the cookie for Dan to bite. “Try it. Vera, the cook here, she’s like Bake-Off level genius.”

Not knowing how to refuse the strange request without offending Phil, Dan leans in and takes a small bite of the cookie, very aware that they are currently standing in the middle of the cafeteria. There aren’t many students in here anymore, and nobody seems to be paying much attention to them anyway, but still. Who knows what people might think.

Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with a teacher sharing his baked goods with a TA, Dan supposes. It doesn’t explain why his cheeks are burning as he leans away, however.

“Wow,” Dan says in surprise. “You’re right, that’s amazing. What is that, maple syrup?”

“I don’t know,” Phil sighs, taking an enormous bite of the cookie. “But I’m helpless to resist.” Somehow, he manages to sound adorable even around a mouthful of cookie crumbs. “Anyway, I’ve got to set up for my next class, so gotta run.”

Phil shakes the box of items at him, smiling widely.

“Oh, yeah, okay.” Dan says with a forced smile, trying not to let his disappointment show through. “See you later.”

“Yeah!” Phil replies enthusiastically, shoving the cookie into his mouth to hold it between his teeth.

He waves as he exits the canteen, the large box in his hands jostling precariously as he walks briskly out of the door. A few seconds later, the bell rings, signalling the end of lunch. Dan sighs, chastising himself for getting too caught up in conversation with Phil to actually purchase any food.

He tastes maple syrup for the rest of the day.

It’s 8:37am on Thursday, and Dan is drinking coffee in the staff room. He’s still getting used to being up this early, but is finding that getting to school half an hour before the day begins and having a coffee greatly helps him get through the morning.

He’s staring down at his timetable, eyes fixing themselves to the third period lesson, which is marked:

11:00 Year Eight History Mr Lester Classroom 9

The coffee he just made feels hard to swallow, suddenly.

He wonders what on earth Phil will have in store this time, and whether Dan will be able to immerse himself in the madness to Phil’s satisfaction like he had on Monday.

It’s as he’s wondering this, lost in his own half-awake fantasy of what wild, innovative teaching techniques Phil might whip out in two hours time, that someone sits down beside him on the sofa.

“Hey!”

Dan looks up, startled, to find Phil grinning at him.

“Oh, hey,” Dan says, his first words of the morning getting a little stuck under his own tongue. “How’re you?”

“You’re in my class again today!” Phil announces happily, ignoring Dan’s question. “Finally, I have another chance to impress you with my teaching skills.”

Dan chuckles, reaching forwards to place his coffee down on the table in front of them. Phil leans with him, and immediately picks the mug back up, taking a sip.

Dan rolls his eyes, but smiles to himself. Apparently he and Phil are already well past the food and drink sharing stage of their friendship.

“I hope you’ve got some good material lined up.”

“Why? Have I got competition for top of your faves list?”

Dan sucks a breath in through his teeth, nodding grimly. “Fraid so, Phil. Have you seen what Mr Rotterdam can do with a bunsen burner?”

“Damn!” Phil says, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “I should’ve known fire would win you over.”

Dan shrugs, smirking at him. Phil takes another sip of the coffee, smiling back amusedly.

He looks radiant this morning, somehow. Whilst Dan is pretty sure he looks like he rolled out of bed, fought his way through the blistering cold to the bus stop, and stood sandwiched between musty-smelling old ladies for an hour on the bus (spoiler: he did), Phil looks like a fresh daisy just peeking out in springtime.

“How’re you so chipper?” Dan can’t help but ask him, stealing the coffee mug back from Phil’s hands. He tries not to think too much about the way his fingers slip over Phil’s as he does it. “It’s too early for pep.”

Phil laughs, shrugging at him. “I wake up like this.”

“Alright, Beyoncé.” Dan says sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he gulps more coffee.

Phil laughs again, the loud sound of it filling the dull, barren staffroom with life and colour.

“I dunno, I like the mornings.” Phil tells him. “They hold promise.”

“Mornings are for being in bed.”

“You can do that on the weekends.” Phil says.

“Oh, trust me, I do.”

“Maybe I should spend a weekend morning with you, then.”

Dan chokes a little on his mouthful of coffee, and Phil laughs at him. “Anyway, I’d better go get ready for my first class.”

“R-right,” Dan manages, trying not to make it too obvious that he’s shaking as he sets his mug down again. “See you in a bit, then.”

Phil smiles at him for a moment, running his eyes over Dan’s face, like he’s searching it for something. Then, he squeezes Dan’s arm, and hops up off the sofa.

“Hope you’re in the mood for some dress up.” Phil says enigmatically, giving Dan a wink as he turns to go. “See you in a couple of hours!”

Dan watches him leave, mouth falling open. To the almost empty staffroom, he asks: “Dress up?”

The wait for 11am is agonising. Time seems to drag during Dan’s first two lessons, and then there’s a break-time for twenty minutes, the whole of which Dan spends trying to stop himself from arriving early at Phil’s classroom door.

Five minutes before the bell rings, Dan gives in to his own desire, and heads for Classroom 9. The door is slightly ajar, so Dan knocks politely, then pushes it open, peering his head round.

“Uh, Phil?”

“Just a sec!” Phil cries from the depths of the room.

He’s standing on a group of tables that he’s pushed together in the centre of the classroom. On top of the midst of the tables he’s placed a chair, which he is covering in glittery gold material.

There’s a papier-mâché crown on his head, painted glittery gold, with several plastic jewels glued on. He’s also wearing what appears to be a velvet cape around his shoulders.

Once the gold material is covering the chair to Phil’s satisfaction, he turns to Dan, smiling proudly. “Oh, hey!”

He jumps down from the table and jogs over to the door, his cloak billowing out behind him. Dan can’t take his eyes off the crown Phil is wearing. Oddly, it doesn’t seem out of place.

“Uh, should I bow or something?”

“Bow?” Phil asks, tilting his head to one side. Coincidentally, this makes the crown on his head fall off. Dan catches it before it hits the ground. “Oh! Right, forgot I was wearing it.”

Phil laughs merrily, like this sort of thing happens all the time. Heck, it probably does. He hands the crown out to Phil, not sure what else to do with it.

“You should wear the crown for a bit.” Phil tells him, placing it atop Dan’s messy, half-straightened mop before he can blink. He shrugs the cape off his shoulders, wrapping it around Dan. “And the cloak. It’s good for the self-esteem.”

“Uh-”

“Come on, your majesty.” Phil interrupts, taking Dan by the arm and dragging him into the class. “Time to assist me.”

“What should I do?”

Phil stops in his tracks to turn and face him, meaning Dan bumps straight into his chest. He apologises, blushing, and takes a step backwards.

“Whatever I tell you.” Phil answers, smirking. Dan’s heart skips a beat.

He can feel the thumb of Phil’s right hand start to stroke slightly over the skin of his wrist where he’s holding it. Dan just stares in shock, too stunned to speak.

Just then, the bell rings, and the first students begin filtering in through the door. Phil releases his wrist gently, and Dan can imagines he can feel the imprints of Phil’s fingers pressed into his skin.

“Hey, Ben! Hi Victoria, hi Jack! Hey, guys!” Phil says, turning his attention to the students as they enter the room. “How’s it going? How were your summers?”

The students greet him, reluctant smiles appearing on their faces as they catch sight of Phil’s infectiously happy demeanour.

Dan watches him with a faint smile, marvelling at the simple way Phil shows that he cares. Little things like Phil knowing all of his students’ names don’t seem important in the grand scheme of their educational experience, but it’s so obvious that it means a lot to them.

“Everyone grab a chair and gather round the throne I’ve tirelessly crafted over here,” Phil jokes, gesturing to the blanket covered chair mounted on the tables.

The students chatter excitedly as they do this, and eventually they’re all sitting down, gazing up at the ‘throne’ as instructed. Dan stands to the side, happy to watch until Phil needs him.

“Okay!” Phil cries, clapping his hands. He hoists himself up onto the table on which the ‘throne’ stands, sitting there with his legs dangling. “Welcome back everyone! In case you had amnesia over the summer, I’m Mr Lester, renowned for my iconic dad-puns and Hulk-like muscles, obviously.”

The class, including Dan, all laugh; Phil catches Dan’s eye, smiling a little wider.

“And this cool cat over here is Mr Howell, my new Teaching Assistant.” Phil says, throwing a dramatic hand towards where Dan stands; the entire class turn to gawp at him. “Say hi, Mr Howell.”

“Hey!” Dan says, waving at all the curious faces. He tries to suppress his awkwardness, giving them a small wave. “Nice to meet you all.”

“As you can see, Mr Howell is a member of royalty.” Phil says, chuckling. “So maybe we should address him as Lord Howellington for this class.”

The class laugh heartily, and Dan’s brow creases in confusion. Then, he remembers the crown and cape. He blushes slightly, glaring at Phil as he removes the crown from his head.

“Mr Lester thinks he’s hilarious and decided to let me forget I was still wearing this.” Dan admonishes, shaking his head with a smile. “Please do not learn from his terrible behaviour.”

“Are you telling my class not to learn from their teacher, Mr Howell?”

Dan smirks at him. “Of course not, Mr Lester. Please continue with your lesson.”

Phil chuckles, turning back to the class. “Okay then! So, who can guess, based on Lord Howellington’s stunning outfit, what we’re learning about this term?”

A couple of students raise their hands. Phil points at a girl in the back of the class, smiling encouragingly. “Jessica?”

“Kings and Queens?” She asks timidly.

“Yeah!” Phil says, nodding enthusiastically. “Great guess. We’re learning about the Tudors!” Phil turns to Dan, one eyebrow raised. “Mr Howell, could I please have my crown back?”

Dan resists the urge to roll his eyes, but walks to the front of the class to hand Phil the crown.

“The cape suits you. You can keep that for now.” Phil tells Dan, winking mischievously.

Dan chooses not to respond, not trusting himself not to rise to the flirtatious banter in front of a class of twelve year olds. Instead, he sits down on the table beside Phil, wrapping the cloak around himself.

“Okay,” Phil says, twirling the crown in his hands. “So who knows who the most famous Tudor was?”

Around half the class stick up their hands.

“Ben?” Phil asks, nodding at the boy in question.

“Henry the Eighth?”

“Yep! Well done.” Phil says, looking proud. “And who was he?”

Over the next few minutes, Phil teases the scant information these kids already know about the Tudors and Henry the Eighth. They seem to know the basics - he was a King of England. He had six wives. He was pretty mean. He became very fat. That sort of thing.

Then he gives a brief run through of Henry the Eighth’s life, skimming over the details in order to highlight the main facts. His voice is so expressive, and his enthusiasm for the subject so obvious, that Dan finds himself hooked on every word. It helps that Phil is so effortlessly funny, of course, and the class (including Dan) seem to greatly appreciate the terrible puns Phil slips in to his speech.

"Okay, so here’s the plan, famalam,” Phil says, hopping off the table. “We’re gonna band together and recreate the life of our man of the hour, King Henry the Eighth.”

The class whisper amongst one another excitedly, bouncing in their seats with anticipation.

“We’ll start from the beginning, when he was first coronated. Whoever wants to volunteer can sit up in the throne and answer some questions from your loyal subjects.”

Dan can’t help but smile at the idea; it’s innovative and sounds like great fun. He finds himself looking forward to what’s about to happen as well.

"So who wants to go first?” Phil asks.

Almost everybody sticks up their hands.

“Hah, all of you?!” Phil exclaims. “Okay, I’m gonna close my eyes and pick at random.” He squeezes his eyes shut, waving his index finger around in front of him. It lands on a particularly animated girl in the front row, who squeals excitedly. “Amazing! Shaima is our first King. Hop up to your throne, Your Majesty.”

Phil helps Shaima up to take a seat upon the throne, and places the crown atop her head, being particularly careful about displacing her hijab.

“Mr Howell?” Phil says, looking over at Dan, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes?”

“Our King is going to need his cloak.”

The class laugh at this, and Dan blushes, not missing the glimmer of mischief in Phil’s eye.

“Oh!” Dan says, chuckling. “Right.”

He unties the cape and hands it to Phil, who places it around Shaima’s shoulders.

“Today is June 24th, 1509,” Phil announces then, turning to the rest of the class. “I welcome you all here, to the coronation of our new King on this blessed day.”

The class laugh, and Shaima grins happily, aiming finger guns at all of her classmates.

“Now then, who would like to ask our new King some questions?” Phil asks. “Don’t be shy now, he’s prepared to answer any questions his citizens might have.”

A scrawny looking ginger boy raises his hand. Phil turns to Shaima, nodding encouragingly. Smiling eagerly, she points to him.

“Yes, you.” Shaima says in a posh, haughty voice. “What is it that you wish to ask your new King?”

“How old are you?” The boy asks, chuckling. “Aren’t you a bit young to be King?”

“Silence, peasant.” Shaima barks, much to the amusement of her classmates. Even Phil chuckles. “I am... um, nineteen?” She turns to look at Phil for confirmation; he nods. “Yes, nineteen years of age! My father, King Henry the Seventh was a mere eight years old when he took the crown. My extra years of preparation are confirmation that I will be the wisest, most revolutionary King of all time!”

The class continues in much this way, with various students hopping up onto the throne in order to play the role of the King, whilst the rest of the class ‘question’ them. If the person playing Henry VIII doesn’t know an answer, they simply ‘confer with their advisor’ (Phil), before answering.

It’s a fun, innovative method of learning about this historical figure, and as they work their way through King Henry’s years, the students only become more enthusiastic. Their questions become more complex, to the point where Phil is essentially having to whisper all of the answers into the King’s ear before they are able to reply, but nobody seems to mind.

“Okay, we’re reaching the end of ole Henry’s life now,” Phil says, glancing up at the clock. “Who wants to play the final Henry?”

Dan looks over at the clock too, shocked to see that there are only ten minutes left of this class. Where did this hour go? He sighs moodily, not wanting to think about the Phil-less classes stretching ahead once he leaves this room.

“You do it, sir!” Someone calls out, and the rest of the class shout their agreement.

Phil laughs awkwardly, clearly not expecting this. “Nah, come on, I’m rubbish compared to you lot. Let’s get someone else-”

“Please, sir?” Fatimah, the girl who played an excellent Henry during his Anne of Cleaves phase, begs. “We want you to do it!”

Phil sighs, rolling his eyes. “Okay, but just this once.”

He takes a seat in the throne, and Dan diligently hops up onto the table to place the crown on his head, smirking. Phil sends him a secret, withering look.

“Right! Make this quick, because I’m dying.” Phil booms in a menacing voice, lounging in the throne. “Who has a question for your Royal Highness?”

Every student puts up their hand, much to Dan’s surprise.

“Yes, Callum of Rochester?”

Callum, a larger boy with rosy cheeks, giggles. “What’re you dyin’ of?”

“Could be the fact I scoff the entire banquet hall at each mealtime...” The class laugh heartily, and Phil sighs. “Could be the gross boils I keep getting, or gout, or possibly scurvy. Honestly, the doctors are baffled.”

Phil points to a girl with fiery red hair and a smattering of freckles, who raises her hand.

“Who was your favourite wife, Your Majesty?”

Phil clutches his heart, looking agonised. “Why, my poor sweet Jane, of course.”

“Jane Seymour?” The red-haired girl asks, tilting her head to the side. “Why was she your favourite?”

Phil sighs wistfully. “She was true, and fair.” Strangely, he looks over at Dan, catching his eye. “She was demure and sweet, with a smile as warm as candlelight.”

Several students make retching sounds, and Phil drags his eyes from Dan’s to laugh at them all.

“She also birthed me a son, Edward.” Phil continues. “And she was the only one of my wives whose womb did not betray me. When I die, I will be lain to rest by her side.”

He sighs dramatically, placing the back of his hand against his forehead. Dan swallows, feeling strange and shivery for some reason.

“Okay!” Phil cries, sitting up and looking at the clock. “I think that might be all we have time for today.”

The class moan in frustration, sounding disappointed.

“Wait, can I ask you a question, sir?” Shaima pipes up, eyes glinting with cheekiness. “Since you’re still in the throne and all.”

Phil laughs a little unsurely, but shrugs. “Uh, sure, okay. What do you want to know, Shaima?”

“Do you have a Jane?” She asks, sounding a little too hopeful.

Dan hides a smile behind his hand, recognising the look of longing this poor girl wears as she gazes at her favourite teacher.

Phil laughs, running a hand through his messy hair. “Me? No, unfortunately not. I guess I’ll have to appoint one of you as my heir instead.”

They all laugh, beginning to scrape their chairs back and gather their things. Phil stands from the throne and hops down off the table; as he passes Dan, his cheeks appear to be tinged a little pink.

Dan wanders by Phil’s classroom after the last bell of the day, trying to seem like he just happened to pass it on his way out. He knocks on the door just as the last students push their way through it, and Phil, stood by his desk, looks up at him. The smile that appears on his face as he sees Dan is so heartwarming that it makes his heart flutter.

“Forgot your cape?”

Dan chuckles. “I think you pull it off better than I do.”

“Hey now, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure you can pull off my clothes just fine.” Phil says, winking at him as he throws a handful of coloured pencils into his desk drawer.

Dan snorts, immediately reddening as he registers the double entendre. “Jeez, you really have everyone fooled with this ‘innocent schoolteacher’ vibe.”

“If the children only knew of the filth that lies beneath this sweet exterior...” Phil says, grinning.

Phil reaches underneath his desk and hauls out a backpack, covered in some sort of galaxy print. He slings it onto his shoulder, then walks over to Dan.

“Did you need something, by the way?”

Dan realises he’s just standing here, watching Phil get ready to leave like an absolute lemon. He resists the urge to facepalm, blushing.

“Oh, n-no not really I just...” Dan hesitates, shrugging. “I just wanted to say I was really impressed with your class earlier.”

Phil beams at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Phil honestly...” Dan flounders for a non-cringey way to express his opinion on this. “You probably get this a lot, but the way you teach is kind of revolutionary to me. I mean, I’ve never had a teacher that I actually liked, or that I was excited to learn from. I think it’s really cool how you do this... stuff.”

Dan rolls his eyes at himself internally for being so inept at conveying this sort of thing. But Phil is just looking at him with a big smile, like always, clearly not bothered by Dan’s speech impediment.

“That means a lot, Dan.” Phil says sincerely. “I’m sorry you never had a teacher you liked.” He starts to inch out of the door, so Dan follows, and Phil flicks off the light. “But hey,” Phil says brightly, leaning a little bit too close as he pulls the classroom door closed behind them. “Now you’ve got me.”

Phil grins, and then he’s walking away, heading down the long corridor towards the school entrance. He spins around once, waving to Dan, and then he’s gone.

“I wish,” Dan sighs to the empty hall.

(Part Three!)

#okayyyy so this is DEFINITELY going to be continued guys #im gonna be doing several parts to this story because i know what i want to happen #phan #phanfic #my fic #teacher au #also if anyone has a name for this story pls hmu lmao

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