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chasingmidnights · 3 months

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An Offshore Love - Part Four (Last Part)

Title: Till Forever Falls Apart

Summary: Your job at The Jupiter is coming to an end and your life becomes uncertain, for once, you’re unsure of the future.

A/N: This is the final part of An Offshore Love. I hope you’ve enjoyed this little mini series as I’ve had fun writing it! Feedback is much appreciated with a comment or reblog!

Warnings: First, this is 18+, minor DNI!! Warnings are included but not limited too: a bit more angst in this part; minor cursing; Lee being a bit of a prick; Ari Levinson (he’s a warning, okay!); mentions of broken bones; and I think that’s everything. I apologize if I missed anything but you are responsible for what you read and your own media consumption. I do not claim to be a professional writer, any and all mistakes are my own; nothing is beta read.

Wordcount: 1,651

It didn’t take long for word to go around that you and Ari were a thing after you openly kissed him in the med bay. The next day, you found yourself in Bodecker’s office on a conference call with your boss, Carter Baizen and to say Lee was irate, was understatement. You couldn’t help but feel like a child who had been sent to the principal’s office. Lee’s nostrils flared as he sat in his plush office chair and glared at you from across the desk. You could hear the disappointment in Carter’s voice as he spoke.

“I understand your concern, but technically, Baizen Oil Industries doesn’t have a policy against dating.” Carter said after Lee had just given him an earful.

“Well, I still want her gone and off of my rig, she’s a distraction and her judgment has been clouded.” Lee barked back as he continued to glare at you.

“If I may, my judgment hasn’t been clouded and besides my one small infraction, I have been nothing but professional amongst these men here.” You said as you tried to defend yourself, Lee scoffed at your statement and rolled his eyes.

You did your best to remain neutral even though you would love nothing better than to slap this horrible man right now.

“I assure you, you have one of our best at The Jupiter right now and she has helped several rigs under Baizen Oil Industries get back into tip top shape. Surely, you’re not threatened by her being there, are you Mr. Bodecker?” Carter inquired as his voice came through the speaker phone.

You had to keep your mouth from dropping as you heard your boss practically defending you to Lee, and not just that, but calling Lee out on his bullshit. You could tell just by the look on Lee’s face that he was not pleased that Carter didn’t agree with him.

“Look, how about this, I’ll send in all of my notes and I’ll even let Mr. Bodecker look over them as well. If either of you see any kind of biased opinion or favoritism, you can scratch all of it and start all over again with a new person.” You tried to offer as a compromise, hoping it would help. “And I’ll even throw in my resignation if there’s any bias found.”

“I think that sounds fair, although I really don’t think a resignation is necessary.” Carter said after a brief moment of heavy silence.

“Fine.” Lee grumbled as he adjusted in his chair. “But don’t think for a second I’m gonna take it easy either. I’ll be going through everything with a fine-tooth comb, no cuttin’ corners.” Lee barked before he reached for a piece of candy from his candy jar and started to unwrap it.

“Then for now, this is settled, but I’ll make the final call.” Carter said in response and before anyone could say anything else, he hung up the call.

A thick, heavy silence filled Lee’s office as the two of you sat there and stared at each other. More like glaring at each other, but either way, you couldn’t wait to prove this man right and show him that there was no biased opinion in any of your notes.

“I want your notes as soon as possible.” Lee snapped as he popped the piece of candy into his mouth and started to suck on it. “You can go.”

You didn’t say anything to him as you got up and left his office. When you got to the hallway, you were greeted by an anxious Jake.

“God, what happened? We’ve been sacked, haven’t we?” Jake bombarded you with questions as he pushed himself off of the wall to greet you.

“Not exactly, at least, not yet.” You said as the two of you started walking towards the mess hall.

When you got to the mess hall, you and Jake got some food before finding a table to sit at. As you walked through the cafeteria, you could feel people staring at you and heard them starting to whisper. You did your best to ignore them, after all, you did nothing wrong. When you found a table, you explained the situation to Jake and the more you talked about it, the more it gave you a headache. You were honestly just ready for this to be over and done with. Once you were done explaining, you let out a heavy sigh and took a long drink of your tea.

“Suck a fuckin’ prick. There’s no way that they’ll find any sort of biased opinion or whatever bullshit that they’re going on about.” Jake shook his head with frustration. “Well, I’ll help in any way that I can.”

“Thanks Jake, I appreciate that.” You said with a small smile, you welcomed Jake’s support and you were glad that he was willing to help you.

After you turned in your notes to Bodecker and your boss, you didn’t realize that it was going to take days for them to decide. Sure, Lee had said that he was going to go through it with a fine-tooth comb, but you thought he was just being dramatic. Boy, were you wrong. During those days, your duties were put on hold, so you found other ways to keep busy; which mainly consisted of working out at the gym that the rig provided. Jake tried multiple times to persuade Lee during those days, but he struck out each time, which didn’t really surprise you. Lee was a stubborn and hard headed man. You couldn’t help but appreciate Jake’s efforts and how he had your back during this whole debacle. During the days that you waited for Lee and Carter to make up their minds, you found yourself missing Ari and a lot. Ari had been put on temporary leave because of his broken arm from the incident and was sent back home to recover. You wished that he was still here, he would probably be able to put your mind at ease through all of this.

A lot of times, you found yourself lost in thought about how everything turned, but honestly, you wouldn’t change a thing. Even if you lost your job, meeting Ari was worth it in your opinion and being his simply felt right to you. And even if things didn’t work out between the two of you, you wouldn’t change a damn thing. So, when you found yourself back in Lee’s office, you had your mind made up. Lee and Carter had been going back and forth for at least a good fifteen minutes, going over everything. Every time you tried to interject, they would either talk over you or completely dismiss you.The longer you sat there, the more frustrated you became and you couldn’t do it any more.

“I quit!” You exclaimed during a short pause between Lee and Carter.

“Excuse me?” Carter asked and you could hear the confusion in his voice.

Lee looked a bit stunned but that slowly turned into a pleased, smug look on his face.

“I quit. You can call for a boat, or a helicopter, or hell, I’ll swim back to shore, but I quit.” You repeat yourself, a bit fed up at this point.

“I’m sure that’s not necessary, but if you’re ready to leave The Jupiter, we can certainly arrange that for you.” Carter responded, you were unsure but it almost sounded like he was worried.

“Certainly, just tell me when you’re ready to leave and I’ll call for a boat.” Lee agreed, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Great.” You said before getting up and leaving Lee’s office.

Your journey home seemed a lot quicker than when you were trying to get to The Jupiter. You thought about how everything was about to change in your life and for once, it was all uncertain. Jake tried to offer you words of encouragement, but they didn’t really help. On the journey home, you thought about Ari a lot and how you were so glad that you had gotten to meet him. Not just to meet him, but you were glad that you were able to hold him in your arms as often as you were able to. Even if things didn’t work out between the two of you, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the time you had with him. During that brief moment, he was yours and you were his. You wouldn’t want to spend a minute loving anybody else.

Before you knew it, you were walking out of Baizen Oil Industries headquarters with a smile on your face and a weight lifted off of your shoulders. You stopped in your tracks though at the sight of a familiar face. It took a moment before your brain started to function again and you started to walk towards Ari, butterflies formed in your stomach with each step.

“I don’t - I mean, what are you doing here?” You asked, still in disbelief that he was here.

As he took a step forward, you noticed that his arm was still in a cast and sling. “I heard you quit.”

You looked up at Ari, so happy to see those ocean blue eyes once again. “You heard correctly.”

“Good, because so did I.” Ari said with a smirk.

“Well, good riddance then.” You replied, a sense of hope rising inside of you. “What now?”

“Only time will tell, Rogue.” Ari replied before he leaned down to kiss you.

You wrapped your arms around Ari’s neck as you kissed him back, you had missed the way his lips felt against yours. Sure, the future may be uncertain right now, but it seems that at least one thing was certain and that was Ari Levinson. With Ari by your side, you knew that you had each other and you swore to yourself that you’ll be his forever.

#an offshore love #an offshore love mini series #mini series #last part #ari levinson mini series #ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson au #roughneck!ari levinson x female reader #roughneck!ari levinson x reader #roughneck!ari levinson #ari levinson fandom #ari levinson series #chris evans characters #chris evans fandom #chris evans

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ericfuentes · 9 months

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Due to my severe depressive state of being since my mom passed, I found very little motivation to live, let alone go to work. I feel I’m on the 3/4 side of that now but the sting of my harsh reality remains: not finding any value in life, I stopped working. whenever I did work, I took chances. You can’t take chances with other peoples lives. I’ve been let go from Lyft. The only job I’ve loved in all of my life. If ever a hard month I had, it is now. If ever there was a reason to feel sorry for myself, it is now. If ever I needed a reason to quit life, it is now. But I won’t. Calling my mom a tough cookie is like calling the Sears Tower in Chicago, a shack. My mom and I spoke about her death, this past year. It dawned on me that her impending death had ruled my subconscious mind for the past 10 years. Most of you know me to be a strong leader, one who’s solution oriented & one who isn’t still tied down by anxieties or the like. But I am. Incrementally, I have been holding back, holding breath for fear of my mom passing. It was ”That which we may not speak of.” She was fine talking about it. I was, am not fine. I have 3 mothers: Socorro, my biological parent, Olga, creative partner who’s headstrong in her convictions & my oldest sister, & Dora, who’s perspective is invaluable to any great change I make in ny life. Along with Gabriel, my father, hard working, never complains, just faithfully loved my mom, I was served well.

Too well.

There’s a line of distinction that separates healthy love from unhealthy. My parents, immigrants from another country, did the best they could to raise a healthy (on all fronts) boy. She knew what she wanted and she knew how to make it happen. How could she not; she helped her parents raise her siblings and contributed to the financial supporting of them. She’d been a mom 1000 times before I was assigned to her. He: raised on a farm, was very much a cowboy (speak when spoke to and use only the words to convey truth). NEITHER of them knew anything about mental healthcare nor did they address patterns in behavior that they couldn’t identify. They were not taught to look out for societal changes that would dramatically effect how their offsprings would react to this world. They just loved me.

Mexican love is different than other ethnicities. We have developed a miracle cure for everything be it a broken bone, a bee sting, or a broken heart. We call this amazing cure: food. When a mexican loves you, they will identify your biggest insecurity and call you by a nickname derived from that insecurity to help you cope with it. When you lose the love of a mexican, it’s not just a love gone, it’s a whole era gone because through love, we envelop you into our culture, our family, into our history.

My parents did the best they could but the love they shown me cannot be measured because it was off the charts. “No healthy. Too mush. Throw up!” Everything has always been taken care of for me by the small army I call my nuclear family. I don’t know how to adult, still at 47. I don’t know how to do a lot of things. I knew it when my mom was alive & I know it now. And so I feared with great anxiety the day I would be expected to walk on my own, without the presence of my savior. I don’t know how to be “Eric who’s lost his mom” or “Eric without safeguard” I hid from the reality that I am my one person and no one is responsible for my happiness except me. Well….. I walk on this earth known as “Eric, no mom”. But it is only one title. The one I choose to focus on today is “Eric motivated by his mother”. So I’ll use her example and her strength to pull her son out from his dark abyss and I’ll borrow from her accomplishments the confidence it takes to improve the quality of my life. Later, once I’ve reached at least the first plateau, I hope to use her joy, to dance again, her creativity to laugh again, and her foresight to lay down the appropriate foundation for her son to grow old, securely.

I can’t do office jobs and jobs that expect me somewhere at a set time, I will fail. IF YOU HAVE ANY JOB LEADS, please reach out through messenger.

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supersilversleuth · 3 years

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Your Words Aren’t Real (So Why Do They Hurt So Much?) by SuperSilverSpy

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Dick Grayson & Batfamily members, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson Whump, Whump, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I seem to be doing a lot of that these days…, Whumptober 2021, Mind Control, fear toxin, Hallucinations, anyway, Angst, SuperSilverSpy, SilverGrayson, SilverWhump, Taunting, Insults, ”who did this to you?”

Summary:

“Sometimes I wish you were my father, but I know you could never be. Bruce will always be my real father. You were just an inadequate stand-in.”

Dick choked, barely noticing the swift kick to his ribs before he was already stumbling back, ducking around Steph’s fist as he fought to regain his balance.

“You were a terrible brother,” said the voices of Jason and Tim. “All you ever did with me was make mistakes.”

OR Mind Control with a heaping of Angst

No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT… taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”

Series:

Part 3 of 2021 Most Whumperful Time of the Year - Dick Grayson-centric

Language: English Words: 1,645 Chapters: 1/1

Nightwing awoke in a warehouse, surrounded by Batman, Red Hood, Robin, Spoiler, and Red Robin. They were all passed out on the ground, strange devices wrapped around their heads. They seemed relatively unharmed, not a bruise or laceration or twisted limb in sight. He sighed in relief.

Looking around, Dick noted the absence of visible hostiles. He turned to Robin, who was closest to him and inspected the device around boy’s head; whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. He felt along the smooth metal, searching (or feeling) for a way to remove it.

A moment later, several ding! sounds echoed in the warehouse, emitting from the head devices. Damian’s eyes opened, glowing a vibrant yellow. Dick backed up as the rest of his family began to rise around him. He knew mind control when he saw it, though that didn’t stop him from asking, “Uh…guys? You still in there?”

Their faces remained expressionless as they turned threateningly towards him.

“Guess not,” he answered himself. “Looks like it’s just another exciting day in the life of the great and eternally stressed out Nightwing.”

He’d probably have to come up with yet another insightful and compelling speech to snap them out of it, par for the course for him at this point. Oh but how he wished it wasn’t. Every single time somebody in his family got brainwashed, or mind-controlled, or possessed (all of which happened way more often than it should), he was pretty much always the one to talk them down, or get beaten up and nearly killed for his efforts. It had reached a point where he wondered if Bruce was actively trying to get one of Dick’s siblings to accidentally kill him.

Well, at least one thing was different this time—he was facing off against five family members at once, instead of one, or two, or his entire f***ing team. But that was a story for another day.

Maybe, he could actually fight close to his full capability against them, without too much fear of hurting them. He didn’t have to knock them out or sedate them after all, he just needed to damage those device things around their heads.

Hood lunged at him first, guns drawn. Dick dodged, wrenching one of the man’s guns away with a grunt. He threw it across the room, knowing it did nothing for him in close quarters combat wherein he was attempting not to hurt, kill, or maim any of his would-be killers. There was no time for him to contemplate Jason’s likely reaction to the discovery of his ruined gun that would surely come later. Batman was already springing into action, fists swinging through the air in an unnaturally aimed-to-kill way.

Dick flipped around, dodging attacks from the two. He needed to bide his time, wait for the right opportunity to strike. He tried to electrocute them to short-circuit their metal head-band device things, but it didn’t really seem to do anything. He did, however, manage to get in a good hit to Jason’s head, which disoriented the man—and likely the person in control of him. Bruce went down next, Dick slipping the man’s belt out from around his waist in a move no one else in the world knew, and throwing a flash bomb in his face.

Pocketting what he could from the belt before tossing that too away (the emergency beacon didn’t work), he turned to face his new opponents. Spoiler and Robin, the short little duo wreaking havoc to his right, with Bruce and Jason getting back up on his left.

Whoever was controlling his family wasn’t the best at it, though forcing them to attempt murder against their own instincts was a feat in itself.

“You failed me,” said two very familiar voices in unison. It was Bruce and Damian.

Dick was so startled he almost didn’t manage to dodge the sneak attack Red Robin was attempting from behind.

“You failed the mission, our mission, you’ve failed the family I’ve given you, and the city I put in your responsibility.” It was just Bruce now, speaking blankly, words flowing out with no restraint.

Dick swallowed, but forced himself to ignore the man, ignore the words. It was probably just a program to detect negative emotion associated with thoughts of Nightwing and force the mind-controlled victim to...to say the thoughts out loud. Logically, he knew this.

Logic couldn’t prepare him for what came next.

“Sometimes I wish you were my father, but I know you could never be. Bruce will always be my real father. You were just an inadequate stand-in.”

Dick choked, barely noticing the swift kick to his ribs before he was already stumbling back, ducking around Steph’s fist as he fought to regain his balance.

“You were a terrible brother,” said the voices of Jason and Tim. “All you ever did with me was make mistakes.”

His vision had blurred at some point in time, he wasn’t sure when. A fist slammed into his jaw, a bow staff swiped at his feet. Purple flashed in the corner of his vision as his wrist was brutally snapped. Dick opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“They say never meet your heroes. I guess they were right then, hmmm? Except you were never my hero, and yet you still managed to disappoint me anyway.” Steph’s tone was sharp and biting as she jammed a shuriken into his shoulder.

Dick pushed her away, doing a messy backflip to land on Bruce, using what little momentum he had to push off towards Jason, tackling him for the umpteenth time.

“You were unfit to be a mentor, just look at you now. And the students become the masters…” said the scathing voices of Dami, Steph, and Tim. Laughter echoed in his ears, sounding cruelly amused. No, this wasn’t them, they would never say such things…

“Oh it’s all true,” said a voice from behind him, Jay’s voice. “What is it, Goldie, can’t handle the pressure?”

Dick tried in vain to block the voices out, focusing just long enough to knock the device around Tim’s head askew.

The boy fell to the ground, reality mixing with fantasy as Tim’s eyes looked up at him, cold and lifeless, as blood pooled around Tim’s twisted body, as if he’d fallen… Corpse-pale lips parted, harsh words spilling out onto unforgiving ground, “You think I’m just like you, but you’re wrong. I’m better. You couldn’t beat me if you tried. I’m too pure, somehow untainted by your doomed soul, even after all this time.”

Crazed laughter echoed in Dick’s ears, even as he blinked and saw Tim as he actually was, lying unconscious—and alive, on the ground.

“Look at that, failing to protect those you love most? You’re worthless to them, and to me. I should never have taken you in.” The words were growled in a familiar deep register, and yet...the tone was unusually cruel—

Dick found himself sprawled on the ground, back still smarting from where he’d been kicked. He struggled to his good hand and knees, only to hear the sound of a gun cocking. He looked up. Jason stood above him, Steph and Damian on either side.

“Tt, Grayson, always so pathetic.” For a moment, Dami seemed to be wearing an older version of his uniform, from when he was still Dick’s Robin…

Steph tossed her hair back, giggling, and Dick saw her in a different costume, that of Robin, and then it changed to Batgirl. Gah, he was so confused.

She wasn’t. “You’re not going to make it this time around. How does it feel knowing we’d all be glad? You’ve hurt us more than helped us, Dick. It’s time you’ve faced that fact.”

Jason smirked down at him. “Any last words? We all know you don’t deserve them, but, well,” he smirked, “I’m feeling charitable today.”

Dick lunged upward, body tensed as if to tackle, arms outstretched as if to hug. Dick himself wasn’t quite sure what it was meant to be, what he wanted anymore…

Bang!

The gun went off, bullet burying itself in Dick’s side.

Three pairs of feet began to kick at his prone body from all sides. He curled in on himself, clutching desperately at the bullet wound, mind hazy with blood loss and something...else… A scraping noise, close to his ear. Dick barely registered it through the pain of the systematic blows raining down. Another pair of feet entered his vision, Bruce’s Batman boots. Dick panicked, using one hand to staunch the blood flow while the other went to his neck, to where he instinctively knew the real problem was. There was a device, attached to his neck, like a mini version of what the others had, but missing a few parts. He yanked it off, and immediately, he heard the thumps of his hopefully just unconscious family members falling to the ground.

Dick squinted at the device, as he felt himself joining them in the land of darkness. A familiar scarecrow label stared back at him, Jervis Tetch craftsmanship was practically written all over the thing as well…

—

Jason woke, groggy and disoriented. He found himself amongst other bats, all lying on the floor in a circle like some kind of crazy sorcerer spell gone wrong. The others were slowly waking, blinking and shaking their heads as if to clear the fog away. And in the middle of it all, at the center of their little coming-back-to-the-land-of-the-living circle, lay Dick Grayson, covered in blood, close to passing out.

The guy was nearly unrecognizable, but Jason would recognize that ridiculous hairstyle anywhere. Scrambling over to his brother’s side, Jason ignored the way the room spun, placing a hand on Dick’s shoulder and looking down at the man, brow pinched in concern.

“Dickie?” he asked, “Who did this to you?”

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 3 years

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adams

request: Hi! I have a request, could you do one where the reader is a part of the BAU team, and she’s dating Spence, and she’s watching him interrogate Cat Adams, and she has to hear her say that she’s pregnant with Spence’s baby? Thanks!

for: @mggbler

word count: 2,965 reading time aprox: 11 mins

a/n: so i’m back? also another thing, if you are requesting an imagine, id really appreciate it if you had your username listed as it will be much easier to tag you, but it is whatever you’re comfortable with <3

masterlist

My fingertips drummed against the cool concrete frame that lined the two-way window. My feet were firmly planted on the hard floors of the prison as I gazed intensely at the scene before me. An ember lit aflame inside of me as Cat Adams tantalizingly edged closer towards Spencer, diminishing the proximity between their faces. Every tedious inch she took, I dissociated farther and farther away into my headspace; although I could still hear her pretentious tone through my earpiece as she brushed her fingers against Spencer’s eyelids.

“Close your eyes”

This is bullshit.

“Good, now keep them shut. Sit back and relax”

I turned my head aside to look away, pinching the inner crevice of my elbow to regain my sense of reality. My composure was noticeably calm on the exterior, something I’ve picked up in the years of working at the BAU, but the expanding coil of indignation continued to wind as time passed.

My patience had always been one of my greatest virtues, yet Cat Adams was able to deteriorate that virtue with her nonchalant fingers softly grazing the skin of Spencer’s hands, the licking of her lips as she whispered suggestive words on his neck, and that flame in her eyes that convinced her she was all-powerful.

“Now when you open your eyes...I want you to look at me like I’m the first woman you’ve seen after being in prison for three months”

I breathed through my lips, reassuring myself of Spencer’s affections. Yet an insurmountable amount of insecurity peaked into the bottom of my stomach, clawing its way up to my throat. I felt restrained within my own skin, combating the urge to pick and pry at the flesh.

“If she touches…” I muttered to myself, biting the inside of my cheek as my words trailed off into uncomfortable anticipation.

“You’re here! You’re really here” Cat celebrated, welcoming Spencer in her chaotic delusion. A mischievous grin appeared on her lips, Spencer fabricating a benevolent facade as he let himself grow comfortable in her scheme.

“There is nowhere else I would rather be” Spencer replied with many endeavors, sending a chilling shot through my chest.

It’s fake...it’s all fake

“You’re good at this...you’re so good at this” Cat shook her head, gazing at Spencer with much admiration and recognition. “I almost believe you don’t want to kill me” She teased.

“I don’t want to kill you” Spencer hastily admitted, replicating Cat’s gaze of fervor. As ironic as it seemed, it became a game of cat and mouse. Who would concede first?

“What if I let your mother die?” Cat blurted out, gauging at Spencer’s reaction to her explicit words. But to no avail, Spencer expressed no tells or twitches that would give away his robust collectedness. “Then would you kill me?” She continued.

Spencer stared at her with an unimpressed look, unfazed by the mention of his mother. A small smirk resided on the corners of his supple lips, raising his eyebrows in a lack of interest as if the lifeless walls of the room seemed blasé.

“Oh...my mistake” She paused, chuckling to herself as a devious Cheshire grin appeared on her lips. “What about Y/N?” She spat.

How did she…

The once present smirk on Spencer’s face faltered, yet he remained his fortitude. He closed in on her, peering at her in suspicion. “What about Y/N?” Spencer reiterated, using reverse psychology to throw her off.

Cat pushed herself off the edge of the table, leaning back into her chair with an impervious attitude. “Cut the crap Spencie, I know about your little romance” She taunted humorously, rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I know about the little pet you keep around” She badgered, causing a chink off of Spencer’s armor to be revealed.

My fists clenched beside me, absorbing the evident frustration coursing through my veins. I cringed as I bit down on the muscle of my cheeks, the taste of metal coating my tongue momentarily. I kept myself grounded for the sake of the interrogation, but if the life of Diana and Spencer wasn’t on the line, I would be the one interviewing the psychotic bitch myself.

“I thought we were supposed to be talking about my mother” Spencer breathed out, leaning back in his chair to cover up for his slip in character.

“You know what’s the best part, Spencie?” Cat leaned over the table, ignoring the words Spencer had previously spoken and hovered a few inches away from his ear. For a moment she deviated her focus from Spencer and directed it towards the two-way glass. Even in the split second, she broke away from her main target, you could see the mischief and ego festering in the pit of her eyes. “I know she’s watching us...I know how much it’s killing her just watching us” Cat seduced, trailing her fingertips suggestively up Spencer’s arm.

Spencer tore his shoulder away from her roughly, pulling up the cuffs of his sleeves in a sensible manner. “You said you wanted to play a game earlier,” Spencer reminded her, battling the urge to prove Cat wrong and reassure the woman on the other side of the glass. “Is it the same as last time?”

“Oh Spencie…” Cat sighed, retracting herself back to her seat. Suddenly her stare drifted back to the two-way glass, and with as much authority she can harbor, she peered through the mirror with much affliction. “I can’t wait till she finds out about Mexico” She blurted out in faux innocence.

This pricked at Spencer’s ears, leading him to profile the words that spilled out her mouth. “What happened in Mexico?” He inquired, pressing her on the missing fragments of his whereabouts that lead to his arrest. She simply tiptoed around his request, taunting him as she refused to take her blazing eyes off the glass.

A loud bang reverberated off the walls. This caused Cat’s attention to halt as it shifted towards the source of the ringing sound, only to find out that it was Spencer’s hand harshly slamming against the table. “What happened in Mexico?” Spencer reiterated once again, but this time his tone barely held back the chagrin clouding his rationality. The booming volume of his usually gentle voice complimented the aftershock of the wood beneath his palm as it still rattled underneath his force.

“Are you getting a little aggressive Spencie? I didn’t even know you were capable of that” She mocked, tucking her arms to her side while her hands roamed the circumference of her stomach. Spencer glared at her incredulously, deciding that he had enough of her drudging ploys. He pushed his chair back, making the motion to get up and leave the room, but before he had the opportunity to stand up, two words were revealed into the already perturbed air.

“I’m pregnant,”

Spencer froze in his spot, taking a moment to breathe before shaking his head and proceeding towards the door. I scoffed in disgust, waiting for Spencer on the other side of the door. Even for Cat this was low.

I can’t imagine anyone using pregnancy for their own gai-

“...actually we’re pregnant, Spencie”

Everything stilled. Oxygen refused to fill my lungs and my blood ran cold. The same seemed to occur with Spencer as his feet were motionless like he was stuck in a fragment of time. The words kept passing through me like waves echoing from a cymbal, only this time it was endless. No matter what I did, the words never resonated in my head. I became deaf, some may say that I was in denial. But I heard it. I heard it slip past as a whisper on her lips.

I felt numb for what seemed like an eternity. But it was that same numbness that I wished never went away, so I wouldn’t have felt the overwhelming sickness that came after. My stomach boiled with an uncomfortable sensation. The ringing descended into the quiet of my mind as clarity began to flood my consciousness.

That’s not...that’s not possible

Cat did it. She found a way--a loophole.

Can it be possible?

I suppressed the paralyzing thoughts into a small compartment of my mind, letting a small murmur of reason dictate my actions. With naive hope, I rushed to a guard to request a Cat’s health records with much haste. After the small interaction, all I could do was wait.

Wait for answers. Wait for the truth.

Yet again my virtues were being tested. I thought the first time I would harbor an immense uneasiness over pregnancy, it would be my own. I was imprisoned in my own doubts and speculation, but I can’t even begin to comprehend the thoughts that are permeating the dark place of Spencer’s mind.

What does this mean for me and...

No, I can’t think like that. She’s probably lying.

But what if…

I shook the thoughts out of my head, focusing on the grey-tinted walls that surrounded me. I forced myself to fixate on how the overhead light reflected on the shiny tiles beneath my feet, while I let the background noises of an operating prison engulf my sense of hearing.

But nothing could ever prevent my buried thoughts from climbing out from the back of my subconscious. Nothing could stop the anticipation that coursed through my veins, threatening to stop my heart altogether.

Nothing could’ve stopped me from knowing.

The cold zing of the walls was the only thing that tethered me to reality. I felt the way my hip bones would shift under my weight as I sat motionless in the hallway. I felt the pressure and ache that began to build under my knees as they were pressed against my chest. A heavy film cast over my eyelids, making it exhausting for me to keep them open. There was an agonizing shackle tugging at my chest, restraining me from taking a fresh breath. I was battered and beaten, not physically, but mentally.

With two words, Cat Adams had managed to send me spiraling down a sinkhole that I didn’t know how to get out of. I was stuck, encased in my own headspace. I didn't know what was worse: being in prison or being imprisoned by the person you detested the most.

I thought the worst was over when she confessed to her pregnancy. I thought the anguish that I experienced hit its climax. But little did I know that the growing hole in my chest only consumed me further when I found out she was telling the truth.

In bold letters, ‘pregnant’ was displayed on the front of her health records. Now they were measly tossed to the floor in a flurry of confusion and anger.

A choked breath emerged from my esophagus, finally feeling the full impact of the circumstances that I was in the middle of. I was furious, dazed, and somber simultaneously, and I didn’t know if it was for me or Spencer.

Spencer…

Does he know it's true? Would he know?

He wouldn’t have chea…? No, he wouldn’t

As if it was the answer to my inquiries, the clatter of footsteps resounded from the head of the hallway, the clacks against the floor growing in volume as they approached me. Stunned by my own senses, I didn’t even notice the sight of grey fabric coming in from my peripheral view.

It was only until I heard the rhythmic beat of the footsteps faltering in a slower pace till they stopped completely. Suddenly, a tender hand apprehensively reached out from beside me. Warmth instantly radiated off its palm as it battled with the chilled temperature of my skin. Then, a voice, belonging to Spencer, followed the small gesture in a quaint and reserved tone.

“I…” He paused, intertwining his fingers with mine. “I know I haven’t talked about Mexico--or prison for the matter. I know that sometimes I close myself up in a box and hideaway, and you tell me it's okay if I’m not comfortable,” He swallowed his words for a moment, staring at his sprawled-out legs in front of him as he struggled to find the right words. “But I also know how much it hurts you when I do…” He uttered out. “I know that it hurts you when JJ’s the only person I can talk to about what happened” He turned his head to gauge my reception, but all I could bring my attention to was the soreness in my chest at his mentions.

“Did you know?” I meekly whispered.

“I don’t...I don’t know” Spencer answered unsurely. His voice seemed depleted of any assurance he carried with him when it came to his knowledge. I guess that was a common denominator between us in the present circumstance. “I don’t...I don’t know what she did” He sucked in a sharp breath, careful to let his words teeter around the break in his voice.

“She’s really pregnant Spence…” I muttered, squeezing the clutch he had on my hand. “It’s gonna be okay Spence. I know you would never…” My voice trailed off into the uncertainty of my words, yet the hope that was latched onto me prevailed. “There’s more to this, I know it” I stated with much determination.

“What if it’s...it’s mine?” He gasped, a melancholy air following his statement.

“Well, you didn’t, you know-”

“No, I--I would never” He finished the sentence, racking his head for clues.

“Then there has to be someone el-”

“She did something,” Spencer cut me off. “When I was in there, she told me that Lindsey--she got me to…”. By the wavering of his voice, I knew where this was headed. “A-and she told Lindsey to pretend that she was you…” He scoffed, shaking his head in self-reproach.

“Spence…” I tried to stop him from his own demise, but I knew the second he started sputtering words, there would be no mercy to it.

“She started mocking you and my mom, and that’s when...I don’t--I” He paused, licking his lips. “I felt so angry--more than I’ve ever had in my life--and I just,” He retracted his hand from mine in an instant, brushing the stray hairs away from his face. “I pushed her Y/N. I pushed her against the wall and I started--gosh--I started choking her Y/N”. The structure of his tone fizzled out into a meek mumble, an indication that he was battling his internal demons.

The guilt and agony on his face were enough to devastate an entire colony. So much weight and history hung on the surface of his shoulders that it was starting to deteriorate. “I’m...I’m scared that this is who I am now” He lamented, picking at the small pebbles that littered the floor.

“No, don’t say that” I protested.

“Y/-Y/N, you don’t know…” He sighed.

“I do know” I affirmed, reaching out to clasp his hand in mine once again. “I know you had to do things in prison, things you aren’t proud of, but anyone in your position would have done the same-”

“You wouldn’t have”

“Yes. Yes, I would have Spence” I remarked. “If someone threatened my life, if...if someone threatened my chance of seeing you again...”. I placed a gentle hand under his chin, making our eyes meet. “You bet your ass I would. It doesn’t make you a bad person” I finished my spiel, looking into his dull eyes in the hopes he would recognize that I meant every word.

“Then why do I feel like this? I’ve let down the team, my mom, and you…”

I cupped his face in my hands, although he refused to look at me in the eyes. “Spence,” I breathed. “You have not done a single thing to disappoint anybody” I shook my head as my voice trembled under the weight of the conversation. “If you disappointed anyone, then why is the entire team working to get this psychotic bitch on death row? Why are they trying to save your mom? Why do I love you?” I professed, every endearing word flowing out of my lips with ease.

Silence encompassed both of us, but the dense atmosphere still created an evident divide. Suddenly, he met my eyes with his solemn ones, but something was different. A minuscule glint of prospect flashed in the pool of his irises. The color and life began to emerge from the dreariness of his countenance and the warmth of his skin began to crimson his cheeks. A relieved gasp escaped my lips as he peered at me with much endearment.

“Do you really think that?” He whispered. I nodded in response, taking my bottom lip into my teeth as I took in the beauty of his rejuvenating presence. From there I knew Spencer would slowly fill up again. I knew it was going to be hard, but I also knew that I wouldn’t hesitate to take every step with him.

“I know that everything isn’t clear right now Spence. But I think--I know--that you’re the only person here that can solve this”

“You’re wrong” He breathed.

I stared at him with a baffled expression, encouraging him to continue his position.

“I can’t...I wouldn’t be able to do all of this,” He rested his hand on the apple of my cheek, caressing the supple skin with his thumb. “...not without you”

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @linthebinbag @honeymilk-4 @andreasworlsboring101

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serasvictoria · 3 years

Text

So I was supposed to be writing an incubus Hvitserk drabble and instead I got this beast that’s a little in over 2k long…

Under the moon, the wolves gather

“You want me to do what?”

“Chain me up.”

Ubbe held up the thick chains and a heavy padlock. You looked at them and then up at him again in confusion. Why was he asking you to do this? The two of you had dabbled in some kinky stuff a couple of times before, but asking you to chain him up was new and you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to subject him to something like that. What if you did it wrong? Besides, the roles were usually very much reversed. Ubbe wasn’t exactly what you’d call submissive. He had always very much been the alpha in your relationship and you liked it that way.

“Did you get this idea from Ivar?” You grabbed one of the ends of the chain and lifted it up. It looked like the kind of chains that people used to tow cars, not like something that people used in sexual games. “I know that he’s into some sick shit, but this is next level…”

“It’s not about that.” He sighed deeply, growing exasperated with your inability to get why he was asking you this. “It’s about that attack.”

“The animal.”

It hadn’t happened that long ago. Ubbe had been in the woods that stretched out at the back of the house. He later told you that he had heard noises and had gone to investigate while you slept. You always slept like a log so you hadn’t even noticed that he had gotten out of bed to begin with. It wasn’t until he stumbled back in later on, crashing against the door that led into the bedroom, covered in blood and using his shotgun as some sort of makeshift crutch, that you had even realised that he had gone outside.

He started rambling incoherently about how there had been something in the woods that had attacked him, something big and black, something that had scratched him and sunk its teeth into his shoulder. Thankfully Ubbe hadn’t just lain down and given up. Not him. Despite the fact that the animal had a firm grip on his shoulder, Ubbe had started throwing punches wherever he could hit it. From what you had heard from others, he had a mean right hook and he had once broken the jaw of some idiot who had decided to hit on Ubbe’s then girlfriend. It was safe to say that something like that had never happened again afterwards.

Somewhere in between hitting the animal’s muzzle, it had released him and howled in pain. Ubbe had launched his full weight into the animal, knocked it against the ground and had run back into the house. You could only assume that his adrenaline had taken over at that point. While you did your best to clean out his injuries, he was pointing the barrel of his shotgun at the door right behind you in case whatever the hell had attacked him followed him into the house.

It never came.

The ambulance came half an hour later and after spending the good part of the following day in the hospital, where they disinfected his wounds and gave him a rabies shot just in case, he was home again. He did nothing but lay in the bed and sleep for the following two days. You assumed that it was because of shock, but you weren’t exactly an expert. Hvitserk came by to check on his brother daily and he reassured you that you probably didn’t have to worry. He checked the injuries with you and despite the fact that they looked horrific to you, Hvitserk had confidently stated that your concerns were unnecessary. According to him they were healing just fine. Apparently. Again, you were no expert.

It wasn’t until Ubbe eventually woke up, got out of bed and started eating again that you could finally breathe easily. He acted the same way he usually did. Just the same caring and sweet soul that you had first fallen for.

But then odd things started to happen. His sense of smell seemed to have gotten better. Even to the point that when he was out in the woods, which he patrolled almost endlessly in case the animal came back, he always seemed to materialise from out of nowhere because he could smell that you were making him a sandwich for lunch. That had actually happened a couple of times. Didn’t matter how far away from the house he was, he could smell food. His wounds also healed at a speed that seemed far from normal. About a week after he had gotten attacked, all that you could see were faint markings on his skin, like they were old scars. And one night you had found him in the kitchen while he was eating a raw steak that you were going to cook him the next evening.

Odd things. Too many things to count. And now this.

“I know what it was.”

“I thought it was a bear?” Despite the fact that Ubbe had sworn high and low that it was some kind of wolf-like creature that had attacked him, you knew that it couldn’t be the case. There were no wolves near where you lived. But there were bears so maybe he had gotten it mixed up while he had been attacked? It had been night after all. “It couldn’t have been anything else.”

“It was a werewolf.”

“A werewolf?” You shook your head. “Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright?” You instantly recalled a line from a werewolf movie that you had seen a couple of times. “One of those?”

“Not like in the movies.” He held the chain out to you again and you took it with some slight hesitation. “This is real.”

“Come on. Werewolves aren’t real.”

“Just stop arguing with me and do it.” Tired of talking, he grabbed your hand and dragged you down into the basement. There were hooks anchored into the wall down there which one of the previous occupants had installed for reasons that were entirely unknown to you. “Wrap the chain around my chest and arms. Lock them together. Then go back upstairs and don’t come down here to check on me no matter how much noise I make.”

“Ubbe, this isn’t funny.” He wasn’t one to play pranks on you, but there was a first time for everything. “Why are you even asking me to do this?”

“Because I don’t know what I’ll do if I change. Please just…”

“What if I lose the key to this padlock? Am I supposed to just call Ivar and ask him to bring his bolt cutters? How is that going to look?”

“Just do it!” In all the time that the two of you had been together, he had never once raised his voice at you. You dropped the chain out of your hands and stared at it as it lay at your feet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He grabbed your hands and angled himself in such a way that you had to look at him. “It’s just… there’s not a lot of time. I don’t know when it’ll happen, when I’ll change…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You brushed your hand over his cheek and smiled at him. “Do you really want me to do this?” He nodded. “This is definitely one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done…”

Ubbe sat in front of the wall and you picked the chain up off the floor again, but before you could take the remaining few steps in his direction, his face twisted in agony. The chain was instantly forgotten and you made it to his side, cupping his face in your hands to make him look at you, but he pushed at your chest hard instead. You landed on your ass on the hard concrete floor. Swearing loudly, you’d been about to ask him what the hell his problem was, but all words failed you when you looked in his direction again.

He was laying on the floor, back arched, clawing at his chest and tearing at his clothes, like they were constricting him. It wasn’t until he managed to tear the fabric away, that you noticed that his nails had gotten longer and not only that, his hands seemed to have changed. Stretched out and deformed, his palms lengthened to almost inhuman proportions. His shirt gave way and when you saw his chest you started scooting away from him, moving backwards until you were sitting underneath the stairs, your back pressed against the wall behind you.

His claws were tearing at his skin, creating large openings in his skin and fur started poking through somehow. His jeans tore open as the entire lower part of his body started transforming as well, legs getting even longer than they already were. You could hear his bones breaking and he started howling, his own voice turning into something more animalistic the longer he kept going. You slammed your hands over your ears in a weak effort to stop yourself from hearing him, but it was to no avail. Nothing could stop that noise from reaching your ears.

Rolling over, he was on his hands and knees now, his limbs changing to something new, more wolflike. The scream that had kept pouring from his mouth got lower as his rib cage expanded. His face was the last thing to change. His entire skull was shifting. His jaw elongated to properly accommodate his new teeth and where had once been his nose, a muzzle was appearing, pushing itself out of his skull. His ears, longer and pointier, started appearing out of his fur. Somewhere in his howl, his own voice still appeared to be mixed in there, making it sound altogether eerier. Right before he collapsed to the floor, he turned his head in your direction and you saw that his beautiful blue eyes had turned yellow.

You released a shuddering breath when you saw that he wasn’t changing anymore, but when you saw him shift, you were frozen. You found yourself wishing that you could press yourself further back into the wall or that you could get your legs to move. But even if you could make your muscles cooperate, what would you do? He could probably smell you. The fear that was wafting from your pores was bound to be some delicious perfume that he’d be able to follow no matter where you went. On the off chance that you even managed to make it outside, he’d probably pounce on you before you ever got into the car and then he’d tear you limb from limb right there on the driveway.

You didn’t stand a chance.

Where his transformation had obviously hurt him immensely, none of that pain was present now. He got to his feet and shook his head. Where Ubbe had been before, a huge wolf now took his place. A whimper escaped from your lips and he turned himself in your direction almost lazily, big yellow eyes completely fixed on you. His movements were slow, probably not seeing the need to throw himself on you when it was quite obvious that you weren’t going to move anyway. It was almost as if he moved in slow motion and the closer he got, the more that you became aware of the fact that saliva was dripping from his lower jaw. He took in a deep breath, taking your scent in deeply and he blinked once before moving in even closer.

Right before he stuck his head underneath the stairs, you closed your eyes and found yourself silently saying prayers to whichever god you could think of, praying that it would be over soon and that you’d go quickly at least. As soon as his warm breath hit your face, you stopped breathing, too terrified to even take as much as another breath. It wasn’t until your lungs started burning up from lack of oxygen that you finally took in another deep breath. You opened one eye carefully while you waited for him to move. Instead you found him looking at you almost curiously with those new big yellow eyes of his.

Completely out of the blue, he suddenly pressed his muzzle against your neck, taking in another deep breath, before turning his head so he could lick your cheek. You wiped at your cheek when you felt the wetness and he briefly looked down, almost apologetic in his gesture, before fixing his eyes on you again. With shaking hands you reached out, slowly moving towards his head and when he didn’t move, you ran a hand down his jaw. He eased into your touch almost immediately and you saw his back leg move to scratch at his side when you scratched his ear. When you giggled nervously, he fell down onto his side and nudged at your legs with his nose. You stretched your legs out in front of you and he dropped his head down onto your thighs, putting one of his paws over you to make sure you couldn’t pull away.

“What am I going to do with you now, huh?” He cracked open one eye to look at you and you leaned forward to press your lips on his head. “Big bad wolf.”

*****

Tagging: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @methotrex8 (I forgot to do it last night, it was late!)

#vikings #vikings au #ubbe the wolf #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson #mar writes #mar moodboards

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jafndaegur · 2 years

Text

Watched

Sesskag

Inuyasha

a/n: my only entry for the Sesskag Annual Falloween Event. I tried my best, things just were not favorable irl.

Inspired by The Guardians of Time by Manfred Kielnhofer.

Kagome wondered if she was just buying her time. She knew that going in and out of the Bone Eater’s Well would bear the consequences of something beyond her comprehension. Afterall she was just a simple girl from Tokyo. And while that made her more complex than your average Edo girl, at heart she was still no more supernatural or unique than her next door neighbor. Despite her capabilities as a miko or her constant time-traveling, at the end of the day, she knew very little about these things.

Earlier that day she had inquired about her abilities from Inuyasha. To which she received a stout refusal to answer. She wasn’t sure if he really didn’t know the answers either, or if he was wary of divulging that information. They’d traveled together only for just a short bit—so she didn’t blame his caution in particular.

But it did prompt the question of whether he was hiding things from her. In a brilliant bout of genius, Kagome decided to visit one of the few powerful creatures in this time who may be willing to humor a reply. Afterall she hardly knew Inuyasha any better than his half-brother. What was to say she got the whole evil step-brother thing wrong?

Although standing before him now, his lips curled in a sneer, and his eyes judgmental, Kagome was beginning to doubt whether or not there was actually any good in this loser.

“What makes you think I would impart any knowledge upon you, wench?” He leered, tossing his hair over his shoulder.

“That’s right!” Jaken shrieked from the demon lord’s side. “To think you’d have the audacity to presume Lord Sesshomaru would even talk to you human scum is-”

Kagome cut the imp off as the sensation of an impending headache grew. “Keep your enemies closer, right?”

The dog demon’s eyes narrowed and his expression relaxed a bit. “How so?”

“You don’t have to go snooping around to garner Inuyasha’s whereabouts,” she answered, twisting her fingers together. “If I’m here, you’ll always know he’s nearby.”

“You would sacrifice his safety for petty answers?” Sesshomaru demanded, his face drawn and unreadable.

Kagome waved dismissively. “I hardly know him or you for that matter. Both of you could screw me over as far as I’m concerned.”

“An astute observation.”

“So, I may as well take my chances with what I’ve got. He certainly won’t answer my questions.”

Sesshomaru remained quiet while Jaken squawked in outrage.

“Besides, I doubt you’re actually after the jewel shards. Those are all I really care about...keeping them safe.” Kagome bit her lip. “It’s better with those as my objective rather than someone, er, something else.”

“Objectivity is a truth I appreciate,” Sesshomaru said after a beat, observing his nails nonchalantly. “Very well.”

“Wait, that’s it?”

“Did you expect me to force you to jump through hoops? Or that I would eat you?” Sesshomaru gave her a dainty lift of his brow.

“No, not at all.”

“By coming to me, you’ve given your oath that you will not prohibit my conquest for my birthright from my stupid half-brother. In turn, every new moon, I will provide you with my company, for which you may ask a series of questions about this world….or perhaps even yourself.”

“The…new moon?” Her breath hitched in her chest. But Inuyasha…

“I did not stutter, woman,” Sesshomaru nearly purred. Peeking down through the silver strands of his lashes, he gave a cheshire grin. “Unless there is another engagement at the time that requires your attention?”

Kagome bit her lip and shook her head. It was better to not make a big deal of this. She may only trust Inuyasha as far as she could throw him, but the same went for Sesshomaru—and she didn’t want to actually harm the half-demon.

“Excellent. Then we will begin on the next new moon.”

“Wait, since we’re here, wouldn’t it be more efficient to start now?” She piped up, feeling like she got the short end of the deal.

“That was not part of our contract, however loose and verbal it may be,” Sesshomaru began to walk away, Jaken following in his wake. “There are resources I must consider as well for supplementary information. This Sesshomaru will see you at the end of the moon cycle, wench.”

And then he was gone.

Kagome wondered if he was alway going to be a prick. Inuyasha certainly seemed to think so.

The month came and went in regular and methodical fashion. She and the half-demon created a well-oiled schedule on collecting Shikon Jewel pieces in between all sorts of mishaps that they found themselves in. Between Inuyasha sneaking off to visit Kikyo’s newly recreated body and all of the exhausting fights to gather just a tiny bit of fragment, Kagome felt more than justified to rely on Sesshomaru’s help to find out more about herself and the world around her. She certainly wasn’t going to understand much just tromping around the countryside like an uncivilized soldier.

Returning home for the first time in weeks, something felt off about the slip into the timestream. It was colder, crueller. And while within the glowing hold of teleporting from one point on the timeline to the next, Kagome swore she saw something from the corner of her eye. Anytime, however, she twisted for a glimpse of whatever may be there, it was gone. She wondered if perhaps there was another demon like the centipede hiding and waiting for a chance to catch her.

Perhaps this was a question for Sesshomaru. Not that she favored the idea of doling out her secret of origin like candy, but perhaps he was aware of demons that could hide within time. For the smallest bit of time though, she pushed the worry away and enjoyed her family for the little bit of time allotted.

Before she knew it however, the day had come and gone then so had the night. She knew the new moon was just on the horizon and it would be time for her rendezvous with a stubborn demon lord.

She gave her farewells to her family, promising to see them soon, and then jumped into the stream of time that was safely housed within the well.

Again, something bizarre engulfed her as she was slowly pulled toward the Feudal Era. It was a painful thing, needles pricking along her skin and white noise constantly drumming at the back of her head. She turned her head to catch a glimpse of a cowl slipping out of view.

When she turned completely, there was no one there.

As she alighted onto the ground in the forest, a wave of nausea flooded over her. It didn’t matter if it was Inuyasha or Sesshomaru, she just needed to find safety in another’s company immediately. Heart pounding erratically in her chest, she rushed through the forest - not once daring to look behind her. An unsettling anxiety wormed itself snuggly into her chest and she decided she would do her best to ignore it. But like a migraine, it nestled tightly and did not dissipate, despite any attempts on her part. Inuyasha scolded her for being gone too long, and even his rebuke wasn’t enough to distract her from the fight-or-flight sensation tugging at her senses.

Perhaps this was her miko powers?

If she had been paying attention to Sesshomaru’s words the next night, perhaps she would know. He talked slowly about how he understood the differences and similarities between a priestess’ powers and those of a demon like himself. All of it sounded like crucial information. Like pieces to the puzzle she was constantly trying to figure out. But she found she could not concentrate on his words.

Sesshomaru stood suddenly, and that jolted her back to reality.

“Had this one been aware of your disinterest,” he nearly growled. “I would not have wasted precious time.”

Kagome instantly lunged forward, grabbing the sleeve of his hankimono. “Please don’t leave!”

Sesshomaru sneered.

“I’m not disinterested, I swear!” She would not beg. But she had to convey the urgency of the situation. Inuyasha had thought much the same as his brother—that she was starting to lose it. “Please.”

“Explain.” He demanded, lifting his chin.

She bit her nail, hesitating for a second—but as he prepared to leave once more she finally blurted out the truth. All of it. His sneer slowly warped to a placid look, to then one of horror. He knelt before her as she began to frantically explain the creature within the corner of her vision, always disappearing just before her reach.

“And now it’s not just in the well, I’ve seen it sometimes during the day or right before I fall asleep,” Her hand gripped her bangs and she tried not to show her weakness. Inuyasha would kill her for being weak in front of his half-brother.

Sesshomaru gripped her shoulder. “Why did you say nothing before?”

"Because even to me, I sound like some rambling idiot!" Kagome pressed her hand against her forehead in frustration.

"And yet you've already experienced so many more fantastical things outside of your usual norm. Why would you not think this could be another?"

"So it's true?"

Sesshomaru’s lip twitched downward, and Kagome wondered if that was his version of a grimace.

"I've heard legends of creatures that live within anomalies. Perhaps the well is one such place." His fingers idly twirled in her hair. It was almost soothing. "They are ferocious guardians, willing to wait as long as it takes in order for them to return anything out of place."

Kagome shook. "So then I'm…"

"Their objective, yes," Sesshomaru pondered for a moment. "We will need to tread carefully."

"We?"

"Well you don't expect this one's inept half-brother to protect you, do you?"

“I don’t want to sound like some crazy human,” She murmured. “But after all, you hate me.”

He interjected quickly. “I do not hate you.”

“You what?” She didn’t think she believed her ears.

Something dawned in his gaze and he pulled away quickly, his gold stare becoming aloof and cold. "Be prepared for this Sesshomaru’s company starting at first light tomorrow."

And before she could call after him, he disappeared and left her as clueless as she had been prior. She felt his absence immediately.

When she returned to Inuyasha, he’d grouched about leaving him alone during his vulnerable time. Her exhaustion weighed heavily upon her and all she could do was agree she’d been a shitty friend. He quieted as he noticed her drag her feet, and curl into her sleeping bag without a single goodnight. Kagome was too tired and confused to care. Sesshomaru’s dismissal of not hating her had been a surprise, but his sudden distancing had hurt more than the thought of him hating her.

Something moved in her peripheral vision, but she was too tired to care. Sesshomaru would be there tomorrow.

#sesskag #sesshomaru x kagome #sesshomaru #kagome higurashi #inuyasha #kinda suspenseful for spooky month

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amitlee · 3 years

Note

can I please request 11 for ler!tommy and lee!techno, please?

Growing Pains

Summary: Techno had yet to realize just how big Tommy had grown.

Warnings: Tickle fic!

This is a meet up between the SBI similar to the one that Wilbur, Tommy, and some others did a few months ago. So kinda like a real life AU.

The way I threw my own Techno head cannons out of the window🤭

“I used to be ticklish when I was little, but I think I’ve outgrown– shihit!!”

Please do not tag as ship post!

———————————————————————

“-Yeah ok but hear me out. Your exile arc was pretty funny.”

Tommy let out a choked laugh at that. “Funny! I think you mispronounced heartbreaking my friend.”

The pair had been talking in the kitchen of a rented Airbnb while Wilbur and Phil were at the grocery store. They had decided to make a cake as a happy late birthday present for Philza, the twist was that they had to bake it as fast as possible so it would be done by the time the older man got back.

Techno put the cake batter in the oven and set the timer, his shoulders relaxed as they got to slow down. “I’ve never mispronounced anything in my life.” He joked and got out the supplies needed for icing and decorating. The pair fell into silence.

“Well- this is awkward.” Tommy let out his signature laugh and thought of new conversation starters. “Sooo, is this your first time meeting online friends?”

When you think of Technoblade, you don’t think of a social butterfly with strong conversational skills. He was thankful that Tommy had found a way to break the silence so he didn’t dig himself a hole. “Somewhat. I went to a convention one time to meet up with some people but that was years ago. I guess you could say it’s the first time I’ve ever done something like this.”

Tommy nodded along to show he was listening. “Hmm, cool! Well I’m sure you know it’s not my first round. What can I say, I’m a fan favorite.” Tommy laughed as Techno stopped arranging ingredients to give him a funny look.

“Did you just refer to Phil and Wilbur as your fans?” Techno couldn’t rid himself of a smile at the boy’s words, he knew he was just joking around. “I seem to remember you being into their content a little before you became Big Man Mr.Innit.” He turned away from the counter of ingredients, intending to tower over the boy and mess with him a little out of sheer boredom. It was a big surprise when he got closer to his friend and realize he had to tilt his head up to look him in the eyes.

Tommy lifted one eyebrow with a smile, he knew he had the height advantage but it meant nothing compared to how strangely strong Techno was. “I guess I just know how to pick people and befriend them with my awesomeness and the Innit charm.” He said with a smile and ruffled the smaller man’s hair. “Look at you! Little Technobaby!” His voice got higher as he teased the man in front of him.

Techno turned his head away “Shut it. You’re a literal child.” The older boy poked his friend in the stomach to emphasize his words and turned back around to go back to baking, not before seeing the way Tommy jumped back, “See, ticklish just like a kid.”

Tommy did in fact noticeably flinch away from the surprise poke. “Fuck off, I bet you’re no different.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Are you ticklish? I need to know for...science class? Yeah science class, we’re doing a project on statistics.” He silently walked behind the busy man and awaited his response.

‘Hmmm. I used to be ticklish when I was little, but I think I’ve outgrown-shihit!” Technoblade paid no mind to the question, it seemed rather normal to him. He answered honestly in his monotone voice before breaking off in a trail of uncharacteristic giggles when he felt rough squeezes to both of his sides. He dropped the clean whisk he had in his hand and pushed back into the blonde.

Tommy gasped at the reaction and moved his hands to squeeze continuously at his friends tummy. “No way! Awwww Tech~ this is great!” He stumbled for a moment as Techno threw his weight onto him but quickly caught his footing and friend.

Techno yelped at the change of spots. “FUHUHUhuck TohOHOmmy! Be gehentle, OHOHoh my gohohod!” He remembered being especially weakened by firm touches in his childhood, flashes of being wrecked by friends and family swam in his mind. He realized that he had basically thrown himself on Tommy and, in turn, was now trapped. Not that he minded, but the fact Tommy was absolutely wrecking him by pure luck was extremely flustering. He attempted to slide down to the floor and escape Tommy’s grasp.

Tommy chuckled at the man’s hysterics and had no choice but to let him sink to the floor, letting his down gently. He sat down next to his hips. “You know, I think I may need some more stuff for my project. I could always get Phil or Wilbur to help if you’d rather wait though, completely up to you.” He teased, wanting to explore this further.

“I’m sure Phil is already too busy wrecking you to be bothered to try with me, I’ll go along with your ‘research’ though, no need to tell him.” Techno’s natural confidence shined through for a moment until he remembered his situation, becoming a little more recessive. (like the trait I guess lmao idek where I was trying to go with that)

“I’m too large and grown and, large and grown, for him to dare. Wilbur however.. anyways-” He set his hands on Techno’s sides but didn’t move them. “-put your hands up please.”

Now, Technoblade is known for many things, being a nervous lee is not necessarily one of them. He chose to not keep up the conversation purely because he didn’t know what to say, so he opted to try and raise his arms to rest by the side of his head. However, every time they would raise he brought them back down, unable to handle the anticipation. “Ihihi- I don’t think I can.”

Tommy’s smirk turned to a fond smile, this really was just too cute. “No worries big man! Let me help.” He grabbed both of his hands and brought them all the way above his head, “Can you keep them there?” He laughed when Techno avoided his gaze and gave a single nod. “Good, you better.”

It began slowly, diabolically. Tommy let go of the man’s hands, dragging one single finger down each arm until he got to his hollows, swirling his finger in them before moving to his ribs and squeezing. The pressure was as gentle as one could be while still being rough, after all, Tommy wanted to see only the best reactions. It was noted that as the pressure and speed increased, so did Techno’s squirming and volume. Said man had dissolved into light anticipatory laughter soon after his hands had been hoisted up.

“Whahahat am I, ahaha lab rahahahAT- WAHAHAIT!” Tommy had chosen that exact moment to go from squeezing to drilling into the bones and the spaces in between them, Techno seemed to be having none of it.

Tommy’s head lifted up, he decided to carry on the conversation as normal. “Haha, yeah a little lab piggy.” He took one hand away from the sensitive man and pinched his cheeks, similar to how an old woman would.

Technoblade whined, bringing his arms down to cover his face. This proved to be a fate-sealing mistake.

Tommy shot both hands down to knead the man’s hips, sometimes rubbing into the bone. He made sure not to cause any pain, just absolutely destroying the man below him.

“TOHOHOHOMMY! Fuhuhuck, ihihit’s soho bahahahad!” Techno uncovered his face, opting to look at his friend and the offending hands.

Techno took the attack for about 30 seconds before realizing Tommy had yet to speak again. Combining that with the tickles on his hips that seemed to only get more intense as time went on, regardless on the attack staying the same, he got a little nervous.

“Tahaha-Tohohohommy?”

“One rule. And you just haaaaad to break it, didn’t you.” Tommy was obviously just teasing, that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking though.

Techno laughed harder, the teasing was really getting to him.

“And there you go again! I’m having a conversation with you and you’re just giggling away! Unbelievable.” Tommy moved his hands off of his friend to give him a breather before continuing. “I think you need to learn you lesson, little man.”

Before Techno could ask what he meant, Tommy set one hand on his stomach.

The giggles started up again, however, there was no movement to Tommy’s hand. Techno placed his own hand onto of the one Tommy was resting on him, “Tohommy, be gentle, this is my worst spohohot...” He trailed into relaxed laughs as Tommy lightly tickled his stomach, Techno’s hand was still onto of his friend’s so it wasn’t nearly as intense as it could’ve been. He was thankful for this, even though he generally liked rougher tickles on his belly as well, Tommy had already been going to town for a solid 10 minutes.

Tommy’s face morphed into a fond smile when Techno all but melted into him. Maybe he didn’t need a big finale for it to end good. The boy reached his free hand up to scratch at Techno’s neck and flutter his ears when he felt like it.

Techno’s laugh got squeakier but he remained very much relaxed, only twitching every so often or if instinct.

Eventually, Tommy stopped moving the hand on his belly completely, now just fluttering and scribbling gently at his pal’s neck, ears, and collar bones.

Techno began to regain some strength back, confidence coming with it. “Ihihi am sooo geheting you back for that shihihit” He spoke through his giggling.

Tommy let out a mock gasp and moved his hand back down to squeeze and skitter around Techno’s stomach. Throwing him into surprised hysterics.

“TOHOHOMMY! STOHOHOP STOHOP, IM SOHOHORRY! I WOHOHON’T!” Techno pushed at both hands now, batting at Tommy playfully.

Tommy stopped tickling all together as soon as he was told to stop. “Mhm. Yep, you’re sorry and you’re going to let me help decorate the cake.” He said with a smile and rubbed away the leftover tingles that were bound to be everywhere by now.

Techno curled up beside Tommy, small giggles still leaving him. “Ihin your dreams.”

“Ah, well it was worth a shot.” Tommy laughed as well, seeing his normally stoic friend become mush was very entertaining. “You know, not to alarm you, but speaking of the cake...uhh how long was it supposed to be in for?”

Techno stopped laughing at the thought. “Tommy! What if it burnt? I’m blaming you if it did.” He stood up and quickly went to check on the baked goods. The cake was completely fine. He let out a sigh of relief and went to go finish making the frosting.

“It’s crusty now, like crunchy almost! How did that even happen?” Techno spoke up incredulously as he looked at the half made frosting that had some of the ingredients evaporate in the time he had been wrecked.

Tommy got up and walked over to take a look, laughing as he saw that it was in fact fucked up. He made a show of looking towards the window, “Hey, is that the car in the driveway?” He asked, barely hiding his smile.

Techno froze and looked up in disbelief. He made eye contact with Tommy, who could not keep it together for the life of him.

“HA- I’m just messin’, it’s clear.” He laughed, “You should’ve seen your face!”

Techno huffed with a smile, turning away. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Come over here and help me with this.”

Tommy’s eyes lit up, “Wait, really?” He asked as he walked over to stand behind Techno to the side, more so offering his presence.

“Well, I know I’m a master baker but I guess I could teach you a thing or two.”

———————————————————————

I truly don’t understand how some of you guys write things that are so long, it’s like a magic power or something I swear.

But anyways... here’s a new fic! Thank you so much for reading and supporting me! It’s means tons, love you guys💕💞

#mcyt tickle #tickle fic #ticklecommunity #lee!technoblade #lee!techno #ler!tommy #Ler!tommyinnit #mcyt tickle fic #mcyt #tommyinnit #technoblade

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sparring-hyena · 3 years

Text

again and again.

i think this kinda counts as a groundhog day-esque AU with some quirky time travel mixed in for fun. is that even a thing? idk.

OR, time is complicated, and so is love. here’s a story about both.

“i will destroy you,” Poppy says, her tone razor-edged and precise. she feels a pulsing thing beneath her skin. something that warns her to tread carefully in a manner that’s much too pleased for the situation at hand.

“good luck with that,” AJ answers, her tone somehow daring to be amused.

and then a beat. a moment that exists only between the two of them. it rings loud in Poppy’s mind. thrums along in time with that pulsing thing beneath her skin. it’s warning her about something. telling her to make the right choice, as though it’ll be forced to do something if she doesn’t do this right.

pshhh. ridiculous.

“i hate you.”

and that’s the last thing she says before the pulsing thing expands and consumes her whole. it drags her away from the fountain and AJ and that clear night in May, and drops her in bed just as her alarm to wake up goes off.

Poppy sits up in bed, her hair a tussled mess, and watches as her phone buzzes and plays that horrible alarm tune on the nightstand.

strange, she thinks, reaching out to silence the damn thing. she checks the date, which is right, but the time is, decidedly, wrong. it was well after ten at night the last she checked, only now her phone is telling her it’s nine o’clock in the morning. she pads to the windows and peers outside, and sure enough, the sun is in the sky. it’s morning.

a dream then, right? it must’ve been. her loss and meltdown and run-in with AJ at the fountain, it was a dream and now she’s awake. good, she didn’t really lose to AJ-fucking-Hughes.

she showers and dresses and heads downstairs in search of something quick to eat. Veronica is in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone as she waits for her coffee to brew. she looks up and nods in greeting, and Poppy’s suddenly hit with a very strange sense of déjà vu.

“you ready for tonight?” Veronica asks, head still buried in her phone.

Poppy hums and then, unsure of why, she says, “i had the strangest dream.” the pulsing thing returns. a warning. a caution. a very much not-exclusive-to-dreams thing.

be careful, it sing-songs.

“oh yeah.” Veronica looks up, suddenly curious.

“yeah, it was…” she’s actually not quite sure of what to make of it. of what hidden insecurity it sheds light onto. maybe she shouldn’t say anything then. best to keep her cards close to her chest—they are competing against each other after all. “nothing. it’s nothing. never mind.”

Veronica shrugs and returns to her phone.

her day carries on as it usually would and before she knows it, she’s stepping onto the red carpet for the awards show. cameras flash and she smiles as she presses through, as though feeding off the attention.

and then the end of the night comes and— AJ wins. AJ wins. AJ-fucking-Hughes. Poppy’s shouting and cursing before she can stop herself. she’s peripherally aware of her parents calling out to her, begging her to stop, but that pulsing thing beneath her skin hums with energy. it tells her this is right. that this is how it needs to be. so she doesn’t stop.

she doesn’t stop until she’s out of breath and finally realises what she’s done. and then she slips outside and tries to disappear for a moment at the fountain.

she takes deep breaths, paces back-and-forth, and tries to figure out where it all went so wrong. and how— she’s back at the fountain. the same fountain she was at in her dream. how the fuck?

second time’s the charm, right?

and— what? second time?

yes, do try and keep up.

“fuck you,” she thinks, she says, speaking aloud into the world.

“you say the sweetest things to me,” a voice, it’s AJ’s voice.

Poppy spins around, absolutely fuming, and with déjà vu sitting heavy in her mind. this is just like her dream. how the fuck can this be just like her dream?

the pulsing amps up, thrumming along her veins. this is it, it says, excited and breath held in quiet anticipation.

it? what the fuck does that mean?

there’s a moment where it looks like AJ is about to extend an olive branch. where she offers one of those small and hesitant smiles that asks for a do-over. but Poppy’s learnt her lesson. she knows that branches almost always have thorns. so instead of accepting AJ’s hand, she slaps it away and says something cruel. something prickly and sharp that slices at skin and won’t ever really heal.

“i hate you,” she spits, just like in her goddamn dream.

the pulsing thing doesn’t like that. it tells her no, you’ve done it wrong again, and then rips her away and throws her back into bed as her alarm to wake up goes off.

she sits up in bed and is more pissed than anything else. her alarm is still ringing and vibrating like everything’s okay—everything is not okay. because she’s in her bed again and her alarm is vibrating and it’s somehow morning again.

she gets out of bed and marches downstairs, more determined than ever to finally get some answers.

she finds Veronica in the kitchen, just like in her dreams that didn’t at all feel like dreams.

“you ready for—”

“what the fuck is happening right now?”

Veronica blinks. takes a second to properly wake up. “uh, what?”

“this.” she gestures widely to everything and that little pulsing thing warns her again. “what the fuck is this? what is happening?”

“are you high?”

“what? no, i’m not high. i just want an answer. why have i already lived through this morning twice?”

and she never does get an answer because the pulsing thing yanks her back and drops her bed just as her alarm is going off. again.

Poppy screams into her pillow and the pulsing thing says sorry, but you broke a rule, i had to pull you back.

and suddenly Poppy’s demanding answers from this stupid pulsing thing, but it remains silent.

so she pulls herself out of bed and tries again.

attempt number four goes wrong around noon, and attempts five through nine are all spectacular disasters because Poppy decides that she just does not give a fuck.

if some cruel force of the universe wants to lock her in this never ending purgatory, then so be it. she’s done enough shitty things in life and probably deserves it.

attempt number ten goes better. it still goes wrong because she got into a fight with AJ and apparently that’s not how it’s supposed to go, but she overhears a conversation between Chloe and Veronica and realises just how horrible she’s been to them.

she stays in bed for the entirety of attempt number eleven.

the pulsing thing begs her to get up, says please, i only want to help. but Poppy doesn’t buy it. who would want to help her?

the pulsing thing goes quiet and gently pulls her back until it’s 9 o’clock in the morning and her alarm is going off again.

c’mon, one more time. please? the pulsing thing asks as soon as attempt number twelve starts.

Poppy sighs but gets out of bed anyway. she can do this one more time. she finds Veronica in the kitchen just like the last eleven times and feels strangely compelled to say something new.

“i wasn’t a very good friend, was i?”

Veronica looks up from her phone, wary but curious.

the pulsing thing says no, not yet. but Poppy ignores it and pushes on. and as soon as she gets to the end of her apology, the pulsing thing pulls her away and drops her back in bed just as the alarm is going off.

not yet, it says.

“then when?” Poppy shouts at the top of her lungs. “when do you want me to start being better?”

she gets no response from the pulsing thing, but Chloe does knock on her door and ask if everything’s okay. she snaps at Chloe, tells her to go away, even though she knows she shouldn’t and wishes she didn’t.

she decides then that she’s done playing this stupid game.

she shaves her head during one version of the day and streaks across campus in another version because fuck it, no one will remember.

it’s during attempt twenty-one that she accidentally bumps into AJ on some quiet part of campus. they sit together and talk and the pulsing thing tells her to be careful.

“can i ask you a question?” AJ says.

“sure.”

“did i ever mean anything to you?”

“yes—”

the pulsing thing tells her to stop.

“—i think i was scared because i knew i could lo—”

the pulsing thing rips her away.

Poppy can feel it in her bones that this is it. attempt twenty-two will be the one to break this cycle.

she plays through the day as she usually would, making only small changes that she knows are the right thing to do. then comes time for the award show and it’s just before the winner is announced that the pulsing asks if she knows what has to be done.

yes, she does know.

AJ wins and Poppy’s strangely okay with that, but the pulsing thing tells her now, go, you have to do it. so she does. she shouts and she curses and is vaguely aware of her parents begging for her to stop.

she runs off outside and finds herself at the fountain again.

she doesn’t have to wait long until AJ sits down beside her and Poppy looks up at her and smiles, waiting for AJ to accept the olive branch she’s extending.

“i’m glad you won,” Poppy breathes, almost like a sigh of relief.

and she feels something in the air shift then. it’s small, barely noticeable. but she knows that something is different in the way that sometimes you just know something even if knowing it has no rhyme or reason.

“really?”

Poppy hums. “you deserve it.”

the pulsing thing says i’m proud of you.

and Poppy wonders if she’ll be okay without the constant nagging, because this is the furthest she’s ever made it before and she has no idea what comes next.

that’s the point.

what if i screw up.

then you fix it.

what if i can’t.

you can.

“you alright?” AJ asks, breaking Poppy’s trance. “you just kinda zoned out for a sec.”

Poppy smiles and finds AJ’s hand with her own. “i’ve never been better.”

time is linear, Poppy firmly believes. like dominoes in a line, stacked neatly in formation, and all tumbling one right after another when nudged.

time does not repeat. it does not offer do-overs. except maybe when it does. which might be complete bullshit, Poppy thinks. but years—decades even—after that day she lived through twenty-two times, she’ll listen as AJ recites some corny pickup line in their kitchen.

“i can’t believe i married you,” Poppy will say with a smile.

“tragic, isn’t it?”

“couldn’t agree more.”

“good.”

and then AJ will swoop in and plant a kiss on Poppy’s lips. and it will be in moments like those that the pulsing thing will hum and ask aren’t you glad you finally listened to me?

and yeah, maybe she is.

#my writing #poppy x mc #poppy min-sinclair #queen b #playchoices #a funky little story about love and time travel #does that even make sense?#i sure hope it does

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juyeoniemyhoney · 3 years

Text

Die In Your Arms

As long as you have Juyeon everything will be fine. Because anything that the world throws your way, you can depend on him to guide you and love you and comfort you until nothing hurts anymore, until everything makes sense, until you can face a new day. And it is without a doubt that you'll do exactly the same for him.

If you could just die in Juyeon's arms, you wouldn't mind.

-pairing: lee juyeon x reader

-genre: idol!juyeon, established relationship, fluff, like SO much fluff

-warnings: oc is having a life crisis and is indecisive af, some mentions of anxiety,

-word count: 1865 words

-A/N: hey guys! this my first ever fanfic for the boyz so i hope you like it! i got into them christmas last year and fell absolutely in love with juyeon. recently, i've been in my feels but juyeon and the boyz have really been keeping me happy so i decided to write this! i will continue to write for bts and start writing for all the other groups i stan so please look out for that!

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You know, when you say the world hates you, you really mean it hates you.

The worst part is that it hates you in the most painful way possible, by inflicting you with indecisiveness, with a deep-rooted anxiousness abut everything, with the incessant habit of losing interest in everything you take up within months. And it is not like you can blame the world for the problems you have, since it always looks mostly self-inflicted. So what do you do? You cry, of course. Because if no one will take pity on you, you sure as hell will.

And that is how Juyeon finds you sobbing on his couch over a goddamn piece of paper.

When Juyeon finds that the light in his kitchenette has been turned on, he is not surprised. When he sees your figure lying on the couch, back faced to him, he is not surprised either. When you turn to look at him when he calls your name and he sees the tears spilling from your eyes, however, is when a gasp leaves his lips and he drops everything to rush to your side.

"Y/N," he coos, dropping to his knees so that his face is level with yours, hand immediately coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping at the tears that slip from your pretty eyes.

Through the blur of your tears, you see the way he looks at you, eyes soft and gentle, almost like he can feel the pain you are going through, like he hurts when you do. The hand he has on your cheek is grounding and comforting and warm, and you feel yourself calm down a little. Because Juyeon is here and he is with you and as long as he is here, everything is going to be okay.

"What's wrong, baby," he coos again, both hands now cupping your face, swiping at your cheeks and tucking away wisps of hair that fall into your face. You begin to sit up and Juyeon's hands follow your face with you, chasing after you like if his hands left your cheeks for even a second, the dam would break again and you would burst back into sobs.

"Juyeon," you almost whine, and you hate how your voice sounds, high pitched and annoying and so unlike how it usually is. Juyeon is surprised at how you are whining too but it sparks a protectiveness inside of him and he can't help but smile because you are just the cutest person on earth.

You open up your arms when you sit up properly, gesturing for Juyeon to hug you. He does not.

Instead, he grabs the blanket that has been draped across the back of the couch and swathes you with it, wraps you up all warm and tight until you can barely move. Then, he sits on the couch and carries you so that you sit on his lap and he cradles you like you are a baby, rocking you back and forth and every time you get close to his face, he places a kiss on your cheek or your lips or your forehead and sends you the prettiest, biggest grin that has his eyes smiling and his lips stretching in the prettiest way possible.

"What are you doing," you say with a small laugh, and you suddenly realised that you've stopped crying.

"I'm making you feel better, my big baby," Juyeon replies, eyes glinting with mischief, smile gentle and words soft despite his teasing. And you feel your heart leap in your chest and your lips fall into a admiring pout. You have the best boyfriend in the world and it is not just because he is sweet and comforting and gentle. It's because he's Juyeon. And you have to thank the heavens and every single star that has brought you together because Lord knows that you'd be a mess if it weren't for this tall, sweet boy with the prettiest smile and the kindest eyes.

"Did you read some sad fanfic about me again," he teases, grinning down at you. And for some reason, you are brought back to reality. It is as if you'd miraculously forgotten that your boyfriend has a full time job. As an idol. You forget that he's just come home from a gruelling practice that has left him exhausted and sticky with sweat. And he probably does not want to deal with this; to deal with you when he's just been ground to the bone and all he wants to do is shower and lie in his bed and rest before he has to wake up hours later and do it all over again. He does not, he should not have to deal with you. And yet he does.

"No," you laugh, pausing to consider your words. "Juyeon, why don't you go take a shower first, hmm?" you suggest, wiggling your hand out of the blanket to rake it through his mussed hair, trailing your fingers down to tuck the longer strands behind his ear, then to his jaw, and finally to his chin to pull him down for a peck, to which he indulges you in.

"Why? Do I smell?" he asks a little self-consciously, face dropping into a worried frown. And you laugh because Juyeon may be holding you like you are a newborn baby, but sometimes he is so gullible and innocent you wonder if he is the true child.

"No," you reply. In all honesty, he still smells of his lavender and aloe body wash and his vanilla scented shampoo remains redolent in his otherwise sweaty hair. Juyeon looks at you then, with a questioning look, silently urging you for an explanation.

"I just— Aren't you tired? You can deal with me later," you say, already beginning to lift yourself from his arms. But Juyeon does not allow you so, frowning sternly at you and locking you in his arms.

"No, that can wait. You're sad and I need to know why otherwise I can't help you. I know you don't like depending on people. But depend on me.".

You open your mouth to protest but nothing comes out. You want to say, "I can depend on you later, Juyeon! You come first!" but you know that it will end up to nothing. Juyeon is uncannily stubborn when it comes to things like these. He always puts you first and it frustrates you to no end when you want to do the same for him but he just won't let you.

"I just don't know if I want to become a writer, or a doctor, or a nurse," you tell him instead, sitting up in his lap so that his arm supporting your back does not get tired. But it's so uncomfortable so you shift and shift and shift until you find yourself sitting on the couch, legs thrown over Juyeon's thighs, arms around his waist and head leaning on his shoulder, the blanket now covering both of you.

To be frank, you don't even know if Juyeon can help you with this problem you are facing right now. Juyeon has always known he wanted to become an idol. It has been his dream for years and years and he has never experienced the dilemma you face right now so you're not even sure he can sympathise with you. Sure, he can comfort you and he can give you advice but in the end you'll still have to make the decision yourself and that fact terrifies you down to your very bones.

"Okay, well," Juyeon starts out. You can tell he's unsure about how to go about this. It is evident in the way he picks and chooses his words carefully, scared he'll say something wrong, or something to offend you. And though he is scared, you suppose you aren't, fully trusting in the three more years of wisdom Juyeon has on you.

"Well, I suppose you have to see which one makes your heart flutter the most," he continues, tilting his head so that it rests on top of yours. "You have to figure out which one you'd rather do for the rest of your life."

The one thing that makes my heart flutter most is you, you think. But you quickly dispel those thoughts from your brain with a scolding. Juyeon is trying his best to help you, you should not be thinking these things.

"Well, I suppose writing makes my heart flutter the most," you say with a smile, just the thought of being able to put your imagination into words sparking a sense of motivation within you. But the spark quickly dies out with your smile when you realise and voice out, "But I can totally see myself being a doctor for the rest of my life."

Juyeon hums in thought before saying, "Well, don't you want to help people? Why don't you try for nursing?"

You give it a thought, a long thought that stretches out the silence between the two of you, full of thought and deliberation. In the silence, Juyeon gently moves his arm to your waist, gingerly patting a rhythm into the skin there, waiting patiently as you navigate your maze of thoughts.

"Okay," you finally say after minutes of deliberation. In your silence, Juyeon had unconsciously fallen asleep and your sudden agreement to his suggestion wakes him from his slumber with a jolt.

"You'll try nursing?" he asks, a grin already colouring his voice. You pull away from his shoulder so that you can look at him. His eyes are half-closed and you can tell he is still trying to keep awake. The grin he wears is tired but genuine and you start to feel your heart rap at your ribcage. He looks like an overtired kitten and you can't help but coo as your hands move to cup his cheeks.

"Yeah, I will. I'll still be doing biology, which I love. But I won't be quite as busy as I would be if I was a doctor. So I'd hopefully still have time to write," you explain and his grin widens.

"Okay, Bubs. I'm proud of you," he tells you as he nuzzles into your palms, fizzling something sweet in your chest at the sight. "And even if you hate every second of it, I'll be here with you, okay? And you can always change your decision," he continues.

"Just because I decided I really wanted to become an idol early in my life doesn't mean you have to decide so quickly too. Everyone's different; you're different. So don't worry too much, okay?"

Your chest warms and your heart soars and you feel like you can breathe again, like you were drowning in the ocean and the waves have finally spat you back onto dry land. You crash back into Juyeon's arms, burying your face into his neck as gratitude spills from you in words and the tightness with which you are holding him.

That's right. As long as you have Juyeon everything will be fine. Because anything that the world throws your way, you can depend on him to guide you and love you and comfort you until nothing hurts anymore, until everything makes sense, until you can face a new day. And it is without a doubt that you'll do exactly the same for him.

#lee juyeon #juyeon #the boyz #the boyz juyeon #juyeon x reader #lee juyeon x reader #juyeon imagines #juyeon x y/n #lee juyeon cat boy #the boyz imagines #boyfriend lee juyeon #juyeon fanfic #lee juyeon fanfic

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starshine583 · 3 years

Text

New Girl on the Block (4)

(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5

Chapter 4: Get to Know You

Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.

Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself.

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that.

The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys.

Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.

Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”

“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”

Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”

“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.

“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”

That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present.

Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”

Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”

“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!”

“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.

Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.

Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.

Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed.

“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”

Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”

Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”

Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.

“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)

Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.

“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”

She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel.

These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.

“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”

“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”

Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.

“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.

Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.

“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.

Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”

Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”

“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”

Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing.

“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.

Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”

Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.

“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”

“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”

“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”

He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.

“Oh, Claude!”

“Are you okay?”

The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.

“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”

“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”

Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”

Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.

“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.

Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”

“Hey!”

Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”

Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.

“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”

Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”

Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”

“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”

“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”

Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.

“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”

“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”

Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”

The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.”

Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”

Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.

By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance.

“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.

Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”

“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch.

Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”

The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.

~~~~~~

One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..

Marinette really loved the color pink.

Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!

Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.

When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.

Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were.

Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.

“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”

Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.

“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”

Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.

Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s got a rail.”

“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”

“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.

Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.

“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”

“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”

“Where who gets what from?”

Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”

Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”

“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”

“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.

Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.

He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars).

Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.

“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside.

Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”

“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”

Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”

“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.

Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.”

Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”

The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..

Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.

What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.

“To: Adrien

From: Marinette”

Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking.

Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person.

That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?

A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.

“Dear Adrien,

Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!

With all my love, Marinette”

Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.

“Hey, Felix!”

Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.

“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.

“He just wants to talk.”

Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her?

Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?

My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?

Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce

#felinette #Felix Culpa #Marinette #New Girl on the Block #Rosemary AU #Quantic Kids

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lover-of-skellies · 3 years

Note

Oh! A combo of 8 and 9!

Hunted down and "til death do we part", huh?

I tried, but I eh, I have mixed feelings on this one ^^" it's meant to kinda be like a continuation of sorts for this fic that I wrote a while ago. "Til death do we part" is more of an implied thing, and I hope that's alright!

"Come on out, Honey... It's ok, I promise. If you come out now, then your punishment for running won't be as bad."

You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to remain as quiet as possible while you hid behind a large tree. Being as careful as you could, you peeked around it's trunk, watching the lanky skeleton as he continued to search for you. Clad in nothing more than a pair of shorts, a tank top, and his oversized orange hoodie, you curled in on yourself, trying your best to preserve your body heat. It'd been a cold night, and it wasn't long after you'd fled from the cabin that it began to rain. You had no idea where you were and everything looked the same, but you were determined to escape and make it back home. You had to tell everyone that you were ok... While you had no idea how long you'd been gone, you had a feeling that your friends and family were missing you dearly.

A twig snapped, bringing you back to the present moment. You peeked around the tree at him again, taking note of where he was. Papyrus was much too close for comfort, and you glanced around, squinting your eyes as you tried to see in the gradually decreasing light. Carefully crouching down, you felt around the ground for a moment before your hands closed around a rock. If you threw it far enough away, maybe he'd go toward the noise and give you enough time to make a run for it. You knew he was incredibly smart and that the chances of it working were slim, but you needed to try anyway.

Peeking at him again, you waited for him to turn his back to you before throwing the rock as hard as you could. Papyrus' body jerked in surprise as the rock landed in some thick brush, before he relaxed again and cooed, "Awe, sweetheart... Won't you please come out? I know you're scared, but things will be ok, just you wait and see." As he began to stalk toward the brush where the rock had landed, you sprang into action, practically throwing yourself away from the tree and bolting in a random direction. Papyrus wasn't the least bit surprised as you ran from him again, and he sighed, slipping his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked the device and typed out a quick message before pressing send and pocketing it again.

Soon enough, you'd have bigger problems than him to worry about.

As you darted through the trees, you saw a road in the distance, and you nearly let out a relieved sob. Your feet ached and throbbed, and you were fairly sure you'd stepped on something and cut one of them, but you pressed on. When you finally approached the road, you nearly collapsed, your lungs burning as you desperately sucked in breath after breath. Your legs shook, and you were freezing, despite all the running you'd done. The rain had almost soaked all the way through the hoodie you'd stolen from Papyrus, and it was rapidly losing its ability to retain heat. You looked around, hoping beyond hope that you'd see a nearby town, or maybe even someone who was out for a drive.

While there weren't any buildings or cars in sight, you noticed a familiar jogging suit, and your eyes watered up as you took in the person who was wearing it. Feeling like you'd been saved, you finally let out a sob and ran toward the person, calling out to them and hoping they'd notice you. Registering your voice, they paused, turning to look at you. Breaking down into a fit of loud, messy sobbing, you threw your arms around them, "I'm so happy to see you, oh my god! What are you doing out here? Where are we? We need to leave, we need to leave now, please...!" Your unexpected savior instinctively wrapped his arms around you, letting out a deep breath in shock, "Y/N? IS THAT REALLY YOU?... WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! I'VE BEEN SO WORRIED... IS PAPYRUS WITH YOU? I HAVEN'T SEEN OR HEARD FROM HIM IN A WHILE EITHER, AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE HE COULD BE!"

At hearing the elder skeleton brother's name, you whined and stole a quick glance around, making sure that he hadn't followed you. Upon finding that he was nowhere in sight, you shook your head, clinging to Sans, "No, I don't know where he is. You have to get me out of here though, please! It might be hard to believe, but your brother kidnapped me, and he's been keeping me in this cabin against my will. I need to get away from here before he finds me!" Sans' brow bones furrowed, "PAPY KIDNAPPED YOU? WHY ON EARTH WOULD HE DO SUCH A THING?!" You cried, your knuckles white as you continued clinging to him, "I dunno! He thinks we're gonna be a family or something. It doesn't matter though, please just help me get away from here!"

Sans nodded, gently patting your back, "OK, OK, I WILL. CAN YOU WALK ALRIGHT? I WOULD BE HAPPY TO CARRY YOU IF NEED BE." You shrugged, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, "I think I cut one of my feet on something when I was running, and I can't feel my legs." The skeleton made a sound in acknowledgment, carefully hoisting you up into his arms, "THAT'S OK, HUMAN... THERE WE GO. NICE AND EASY... WILL YOU BE COMFORTABLE LIKE THIS?" You nodded, wrapping your arms around him and making a weak sound in confirmation, "I'll be fine, just please get me out of here, Sans." He nodded again, "WILL DO. I'M GOING TO USE A SHORTCUT, SO YOU MAY WANT TO CLOSE YOUR EYES FOR A BIT."

You obliged, your bottom lip quivering as your eyes fluttered shut. You felt the world around you shifting, and for a very brief moment, it was as if you existed in zero gravity. Once Sans had reached his location of choice and you felt things settle around you, you carefully cracked open an eye to peek at the new surroundings. As he began to walk, you opened your eyes, your brows becoming furrowed, "Sans?... Where are we?" The skeleton stole a quick glance at you and smiled warmly, "WE'RE HOME, Y/N! DON'T YOU RECOGNIZE IT?" You looked around for a moment, and as everything began to look familiar, your eyes watered up again and you began to panic, "This isn't my home! PLEASE, I'm begging you, Sans, please help me get out of here! I need to get as far away as possible!"

A floorboard creaked and your attention snapped to an open doorway, where a tall, lanky figure waited for you. As his gaze bore into you, he smiled sweetly, "Angel, c'mon... This is your home now, and you just don't realize yet that this is the safest place for you. Sans even agrees with me on that one, too." You looked up at Sans with wide eyes, "Sans, you KNEW about this?!" The skeleton in question hummed, "THAT WOULD BE CORRECT, MY DARLING HUMAN." The nickname caught you off guard, and you stared at him in horror as he stopped walking and shifted his full attention to you. As his eye lights locked onto your terrified face, you continued to stare, your blood running cold as they shifted into large hearts and he purred, "NOTHING HAS TO CHANGE, YOU KNOW... IT CAN BE JUST THE THREE OF US, THE WAY IT USED TO BE. WE'RE ONLY DOING THIS TO KEEP YOU SAFE, LOVE. YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT?" You began to thrash in his hold, tears dripping down your face as you screamed. Papyrus moved closer to you and Sans, chuckling to himself, "See what I mean, bro? They make the cutest noises." Sans grinned, almost appearing genuinely lovestruck, "THAT THEY DO, PAPS... I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR WHAT OTHER SOUNDS THEY MAKE." Sans' grip on you tightened until you could no longer move, and Papyrus reached out, delicately touching your face, "Well since you're here now, we can go find out." You frantically shook your head and began to protest, and Sans laughed softly, choosing to ignore you, "FOR ONCE, I CAN FINALLY SAY THAT THAT'S A GREAT IDEA."

Papyrus made a sound in agreement, his own eye lights shifting into hearts as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His teeth lingered for a moment and you shivered as he mumbled against your skin, "I'm glad... The sooner we start, the better~"

#saidebanks #asks #writing #yandere #underswap papyrus #swap papyrus #stretch papyrus #underswap sans #swap sans #blueberry sans #yanberry

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vincess-princess · 3 years

Text

war?

Fandom: Motley Crue Characters, pairings: minor Nikki Sixx\Vince Neil, Nikki Sixx, Vince Neil, Tommy Lee, Mick Mars Rating: Teen so far, may change in the future Warnings: displays of extreme radiation poisoning, violence, unreality (so far) Summary: The boys go into a post-nuclear war-themed quest room, but is it really just a quest room?

idea by @dopefreshprincess, thank you so much for giving me inspiration <3

Chapter 1/?

Word count: 8059

“Wow!” Tommy looked around, eyes sparkling with excitement. “This is sick!”

Nikki did not reply, as did the others were gaping silently at the landscape extending in front of them. Escape room managers always tried to assure them of the reality of the experience, but the layout of all the escape rooms they visited before could be usually proved fake, sometimes by smallest of details. Not this one, though: the desolate, ravaged, post-nuclear war landscape looked uncannily real. They could even feel the hot breeze in their hair, bits of sand carried by it scraping their skin.

A desert sprawled in front of them, the ceiling that imitated the sky painted pale orange, no clouds, the lamp replacing the sun emitting so much heat Nikki could already feel droplets of sweat sliding down his back. Here and there bare, skeletal-looking trees stretched their branches up towards the sky – they barely reach the group’s waists, but trailed along the ground for meters. The only other plant around was spiky grey grass with frail stems. Nikki kneeled in front of one of them, trying to understand how it managed to grow through a completely dry, hardened soil. Wait, that’s a fake, he reminded himself. It was probably made of rubber and just stuck into the ground, it didn’t need no water.

Nikki reached out and tried to tear the plant out of the ground, but quickly drew his hand back with a hiss. The stem had little hair-thin thorns, sharper than needles. A few of them pierced through his skin and got stuck in his finger. Fuck, those sure as hell weren’t rubber.

“Huh?” Vince turned his head, distracted from fascinatedly observing the location by Nikki’s hiss. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Nikki said quickly, knowing how sharp-tongued Vince was. “Just got a splinter.”

“Are you gonna survive?” Vince inquired in a serious tone, but with a sly smile on his lips.

“I hope so,” Nikki muttered, trying to be angry at the mocking smile Vince shot him and failing miserably. “Careful with these things. They’re damn realistic.”

“Told you, these guys make the best escape rooms I’ve ever been in,” Mick said. He was the only one to remain relatively unimpressed, though his gaze lingered on the sand dunes a little bit longer than needed. “It’s gonna be a real survival quest, so buckle up.”

“Ain’t no quest too hard for us,” Tommy grinned. “Let’s set a world record on this one, lads.”

“Hell yeah!” Vince joined him, eyes sparkling. “The harder, the more fun!”

Mick rolled his eyes in exasperation. “That’s why you two absolutely can’t have nice things. You’re on a thin fucking ice, Sixx,” he added, side-eyeing Nikki.

“Hey, I haven’t even said anything!”

“I know you well enough.”

Nikki huffed with annoyance, but purely to keep face. He knew, of course, that Mick was right.

“Are we setting off at last?” Tommy was practically jumping with excitement. “Come on, come on, you snails!” he waved his hands in an inviting gesture. “Could you speed up a little?”

“We ain’t in a hurry,” Mick cut him down, but carefully stepped off the platform that took them to the location. The platform rose up swiftly and disappeared in the sky. Nikki traced it with his eyes. They would not be able to call it back, only in an extreme emergency, and the level of emergency was going to be decided by the quest room staff, who were supposed to watch the travelers constantly. In reality, though, when Nikki peeked into the security room half of the cameras weren’t working, and the only guard there was too busy playing his new Nintendo switch. So they couldn’t really count on staff; from now on they had to complete the quest to get out. Usually it added to the thrill, but now Nikki’s guts felt uneasy at the thought.

“Hm.” Mick stomped his foot on the ground. “The sand is very thin. We shouldn’t have any problem walking.”

“Then let’s walk!” Vince called, fidgeting in his place. “I wanna see the destroyed city replica! Is it gonna have real radiation there?”

“You ask me? Boy, I’ve never been here. I can only tell you what Chris told me, and he never mentioned it. Everything is possible. Do you even know where the city is?”

“It’s gonna show up eventually anyway, no?” Vince tilted his head. “The quest zone is not that big.”

“Why are you so sure?” Mick raised an eyebrow. Nikki could feel frustration radiating off him. He probably wanted to make every second of this adventure worthwhile instead of speedrunning it. “Besides, you ain’t getting to no goddamn city without supplies and gear.”

“Aren’t they in the backpacks?” Vince frowned, then pulled his backpack off his back. The easiness with which Vince tossed it around was suspicious, like it carried no weight whatsoever.

Nikki weighed his own backpack with his arm and a cold shiver ran down his spine. How could he not notice how light it was?

Meanwhile, Vince had already opened his bag, and his eyebrows arched in surprise.

“There ain’t nothing there!”

“The hell-“ Nikki pulled at the zip and tore the backpack open. His bad feeling proved right - it was empty.

“Mine too!” Tommy shoved his hand inside, feeling the material up as if trying to find secret pockets there. The thin, chip fabric of the backpack couldn’t hide any pockets within it even with the most intricate design.

“Same thing”, Mick pursed his lips, having checked his. “Shit’s getting interesting.”

“The hell we’re gonna do without supplies? We are in a desert!” Tommy exclaimed, throwing his backpack to the ground with frustration. “We paid for an empty backpack?!”

“What, the quest suddenly too tough for ya?” Mick snorted, but then his face softened at Tommy’s helpless expression. “Relax, kid. They ain’t gonna let their clients die. We’ll probably find supplies along the way.”

“They probably aren’t gonna just lie there in the middle of a desert, though,” Nikki said. He could understand Tommy’s disappointment – the quest from the average difficulty just switched to expert, and Tommy was never the one to enjoy meticulous resource-gathering instead of fighting and cracking codes. He, however, didn’t seem to share Tommy’s feelings – instead, he could feel anticipation building up in his chest. This was gonna be a real test of character, and he was gonna show everyone he could pass it. Especially Vince.

“No shit, Sixx,” Tommy murmured, still worked-up, but relaxing slightly. “Then where the hell are we supposed to find them? We don’t even have a map.”

“Hey, quit whining,” Vince joined in. He didn’t seem to be upset in a slightest, though his flippant smile disappeared from his lips. “Nikki is right. We gotta find a city or some settlements. They must be full of lost stuff. And we’ll get a shelter from the heat.” He wiped sweat off his forehead, caught Nikki’s gaze and smiled with corners of his mouth. When he turned away, Nikki smiled back.

“Well, I’ll look at y’all after a couple of hours walking through the desert,” Tommy muttered indignantly, but didn’t continue his rant. He went to a big rock a few feet away and plopped onto it with a grim expression. Mick, Nikki and Vince exchanged looks.

“Okay, so what are we doing now?” Vince asked in a low voice. “I’m already thirsty. Where’s that city of theirs? Mick?”

“Don’t ask me,” Mick waved his hand. “I haven’t been here before, remember? I just know that it exists. I don’t think it’s that far away, though. The zone can’t be bigger than a day or two of walking. The building didn’t look that big to me from the outside, at least.”

“These plants probably have some water in them, like cactuses,” Nikki nodded at the grey spiky grass. “You could try sucking on them-“

“No, thanks, I’m not that desperate,” Vince interrupted him, rolling his eyes. “So what, we’re looking for a city?”

“Well, you’d rather stay here?” Mick raised his eyebrow. “No? Good. I swear, a little bit more of this senseless talk and I’m leaving without you.” He turned his back to them and headed forward, not sparing them a single look.

“Why is he so pissy?” Vince muttered to Nikki.

“Angry because of the supplies?” Nikki shrugged in response and looked back at Tommy, who was still sitting on the rock with his back turned to the rest of the world. He seemed to hunch, looking at something on the ground. “Hey, T-bone! We’re leaving!”

“Uh-huh,” Tommy murmured, not paying them any attention. What, was he refusing to come with them?

Well, that was getting ridiculous.

“T-bone!” Nikki approached him and not so gently slapped him on the shoulder. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” Tommy looked up at Nikki distractedly. “Nik, do you think this map is supposed to have enemies?”

“I’m gonna be disappointed if it doesn’t” Nikki grinned. “But probably not in the middle of a desert. Maybe in the city. But we’d be supposed to find weapons for them, wouldn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded and rose up from his rock. “Where we going?”

“Looking for the city,” Vince said from behind Nikki’s back. “We’re pretty sure it’s somewhere close.”

“You’re sure,” Tommy made a dissatisfied face. “Okay, if you’re so sure, let’s go there.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass today,” Vince told him, but with no malice in his voice. “How’d you survive in a real apocalypse? Y’know, when there are no supplies lying around, prepared specifically for you?”

“Well, there ain’t gonna be no apocalypse in my lifetime,” Tommy shook his head, picked up his backpack and headed after Mick, who was already a tiny silhouette against the orange skies and seemingly had no intention of waiting for them.

The thin layer of sand was easy to walk on, and their heavy boots prevented them from getting sand between their toes. What they weren’t preventing them from, however, was the heat. The lamp imitated the sun a little bit too well; as it traveled across the sky (Nikki wondered if it was fixed on a rope or if some mechanism did the moving), it became hotter and hotter. Soon their jackets were off, and their t-shirts were soaking wet.

“How long has it been? Two hours?” Vince asked, fanning himself with his stupid cowboy hat that Nikki hadn’t managed to talk him out of wearing. “I swear, if we don’t find water soon, I’m gonna drink my own piss.”

“I can offer you another, much more nutritious fluid-“ Nikki was interrupted by a backpack flung at his face and barely managed to duck in time. “Hey, you could’ve just said no!”

“I’d rather die of thirst,” Vince promised gloomily, but before he turned away, Nikki caught a glimpse of a smile on his face. He sped up to catch up with Mick. Nikki didn’t want to march forward alone, so he slowed his pace, waiting for Tommy.

“What kind of enemies do you think we’re gonna encounter?” Tommy asked him, somewhat anxious.

“No clue, dude,” Nikki said carelessly. “Some mutated rabid rats? Mad scavengers? I hope it’ll be mad scavengers. The robots we were shooting last time were too predictable.”

“And the weapons?” Tommy didn’t seem relieved by his words in a slightest.

“I hope paintball guns – so you can see when you hit someone, y’know. Laser guns are too glitchy.”

“You think it will be just actors?” Tommy shot him a glance. Nikki frowned. Why was he so worked-up anyway? They were on a quest, they were supposed to have fun, not worry.

“Of course. Do you think they’re gonna release actual animals on us or something? That’s just a game.” Nikki shook his head at Tommy when he opened his mouth again, no longer willing to answer weird questions. “Come on, let’s catch up with those two. Or they’ll find loot earlier than us and will take all the alcohol.” He grabbed Tommy’s arm and pulled him forward. Tommy followed, like a puppet obeying every twitch of its master’s fingers.

Half an hour later, literally nothing changed. The sky was the same sickish orange; the sand was crumpling under their boots with barely audible crunching sounds. The tension was hanging in the air like fog, enveloping their little group whole, getting more and more thick. The frown on Mick’s face deepened with every their step.

“I swear, if I knew how fucking big it would be…” he began.

“Hey, hey, no need to apologize,” Nikki interrupted him.

“I wasn’t,” Mick flashed him an irritated glance. “I wanted to say I’d tell Chris to stuff his recommendations up his ass. I fucking knew he’s a survival games junkie. He gets a kick out of harsh conditions. Unlike me.” He stopped so suddenly Tommy almost collided with him. “That’s it. We’re making camp here.”

“Not that we have anything to make that camp with,” Tommy murmured, but wilted under Mick’s stern gaze. “You can sit on your backpack,” he suggested hastily. “Or on that rock over there-“

“Um, guys,” Vince, who wandered away during their conversation, spoke up from where he was bending over to the rock Tommy offered Mick to sit on, “you need to see this.”

“What’s that?” Mick shuffled towards him. When his gaze landed on the rock, his eyebrows flew up. “Holy shit.”

Mick and Vince’s troubled faces evoked a bad feeling in Nikki’s gut. The feeling of wrongness that hatched in his stomach ever since they discovered the backpacks were empty raised its head again, making him shiver. He almost didn’t step forward to look at the rock, almost turned away. Almost.

Run, the rock said in uneven, shaky handwriting, probably done with chalk, probably in a hurry. Run.

“What the hell?.. Nikki raised his head to meet Mick’s gaze, knowing he had no explanation for this, but still nurturing a stupid little spring of hope that the smartest of them, the oldest of them would be able to explain it. But Mick’s face showed nothing but bewilderment. And… what was that?

Tommy approached them quietly from the back, read the inscription and inhaled sharply through his teeth with a hiss. He said nothing. It was weird, but not weirder than this entire fucking thing.

“It’s a joke, right?” Vince said in a shaky voice. “It must be a joke.”

“I’d love to tear off the arms of whoever wrote this and shove them up their ass,” Mick muttered disgruntledly. “Not funny at all.”

Nikki just nodded, kneeling in front of the rock. He rubbed the word with his thumb, wanting to see if it could be erased easily. His thumb got a little dirty, but the writing remained intact. Nikki licked his finger and tried again, to no avail.

“That’s not chalk,” Mick said, frowning. “It would erase. Why the hell didn’t Chris tell me about this shit? Maybe he did it?..”

“I don’t think so,” Tommy said suddenly. “It looks old.”

“And the sky is orange here, do you think it really is in real life?” Mick cut him off angrily. Tommy bit his lip and stared at the ground, fidgeting with something in his hands. “It’s probably just a prank by another visitor. Well, good job, asshole, now you’ve got everyone worked up.” He turned his back to the rock. “Dunno about you, but I’m not gonna stand around this goddamn rock all day. We still need to get supplies somehow.”

“Yeah, right,” Nikki nodded, getting up and lining up with Mick. “Let’s go, guys. It’s getting late.”

“I’ve heard deserts get super cold at night,” Vince remarked. “We better find a shelter by the time the sun sets.”

They set off again, but the decisiveness that floated in the air when they just entered faded. Instead the tension and frustration returned, and there was a new one now - fear. The latter was completely illogical, Nikki tried to persuade himself, but all in vain – the icky cold lump in his stomach remained, gaining more thorns the more Nikki thought about the writing on the rock. Fuck, he definitely needed a drink. He could only hope the supplies would have alcohol – they usually did, allegedly for medical purposes.

Nikki didn’t know how much time passed. Maybe half an hour, maybe more. It was hard to determine with the sky the same orange color, the “sun” invisible behind thick clouds. Eventually, though, it began to get colder – Nikki only realized that when he caught Tommy shiver. Already sulky, Tommy now looked like a ruffled chick that just fell out of the nest.

Nikki was already thinking about suggesting calling it a night and making camp where they were when Vince broke the gloomy silence.

“There’s something ahead.”

Nikki squinted, staring forward. Against the sky, now reddish as the “sun” was setting, was a group of silhouettes.

“Those might be just mountains,” Mick said, barely trying to cover the exhaustion in his voice.

“They’re too upright for mountains,” Vince shook his head. “The sides are too flat. And anyway, that would be better than spending the night in the middle of a fucking desert. My throat is dry as a fucking sandpaper.”

“Whatever,” Mick threw his hands up. “We ain’t got nowhere else to go anyway.”

They headed towards the shadows in the distance. Although none of them was ready to say it, reaching something after an entire day full of sand already felt like a small victory. They might even find a cave to sleep in there, Nikki mused. Now even a rough rocky mountain soil was better than getting sand in their asses.

But as they drew closer it became clear those were no mountains. Though destroyed and decayed, those were buildings. Soon they reached a road – battered and covered in sand, but a road nevertheless.

“Hell yeah!” Vince smiled triumphantly. “Told ya we’re getting there!”

“Okay, okay, don’t forget to mark this date down. It’s not often that you turn out to be right,” Mick grumbled, but relief in his voice was obvious. Vince rolled his eyes, but did not say anything in return – maybe didn’t want to spoil the mood. Even Tommy cheered up. They sped up to reach the city before the night set.

It turned out to be farther than they imagined, and when they did reach the city, it was already night. Just as Vince said, the heat was soon replaced by freezing wind, so they weren’t feeling picky and headed to the first building on their way. The left half of it lay in ruins, concrete mixed with metal, crooked metal rods sticking out of the walls that were still standing. Nikki touched the concrete – it was cold and coated his fingertips in dust. The right half, though, remained relatively unharmed, apart from shattered windows. It even still had a door intact.

“With our luck, I won’t be surprised if the door is locked,” Mick muttered as he touched the door handle with uncertainty. It easily yielded under his touch. He carefully pushed the door.

A musty smell enveloped them, the dust in the air making them cough. It was dark inside, and the windows didn’t provide enough light to make out details – the night was moonless, and there were no stars in the sky, - but this just made the image more uncannily real. How did they make the dust covering the floor look like it hasn’t been touched in ages while the building probably had visitors the very night before them?

“I can’t fucking see anything,” Mick grumbled somewhere ahead. “Should’ve brought headlights.”

“There must be at least some loot in here,” Nikki tried to cheer him up. “Maybe there’ll be flashlights.”

“There might just as likely not be any,” Mick sighed. “But at least we won’t have to sleep in a freezing wind. Though it’s not much warmer here either, those goddamn windows-“

A loud crash followed by a yelp interrupted him. Mick and Nikki shot each other alerted looks and sprinted towards the source of the sound. In the corner of the room, there was a hole covered by a thin sheet of metal – apparently not strong enough to hold a man’s- Vince burst into the room, waving around a metal rod in his hand that he probably pulled out of a broken wall, - not strong enough to hold Tommy’s body weight. Nikki plopped onto his knees and peered into the hole. Vince grabbed him by the collar, to make sure he wouldn’t fall. It was so dark down there they couldn’t even see the floor.

“Drummer, you alright?” Mick called out anxiously, staring into the darkness of the hole intensely. A second of silence felt like an hour, Nikki’s heart skipped a bit. Then Tommy spoke from down there.

“Yeah… I think.” They listened intently to the rustling and creaking from down there as Tommy tried to get on his own two feet. “I’m al- oh, shit!” something heavy fell onto a metal sheet with a loud clatter.

“T-bone?” Nikki called again, but received no response. A little lump of anxiety in his stomach reminded of itself again as it began to unravel. “Tom, fucking say something!”

“Fuck,” Tommy finally hissed. “My knee hurts as shit.”

“Broken?” Vince tried to catch a look of Tommy, but the view of the hole was obstructed by two dark messy heads.

A few pained breaths later, Tommy replied. “No, I don’t… think so.”

“Can you stand?” Nikki jumped up, looking around the room for a ladder, or a rope, or, at least, a wooden bar to put into the hole. But the room was barren, apart from a few chairs looking like they would turn to dust the moment they’re touched, ruined bookshelves with burned black books scattered across the floor, and a broken computer standing on the only remaining desk.

The desk had three drawers and a cabinet. The cabinet was locked. The drawers were mostly empty, one even had a couple of dead cockroaches in it. Nikki almost overlooked a little cylindrical object in the corner of the lowest drawer. He carefully touched it. The surface felt like cheap plastic.

Upon closer inspection it turned out to be a flashlight. Nikki fidgeted with it for a bit and found a button, which he carefully pressed. The first couple of seconds it wasn’t lighting up Nikki’s heart skipped a bit; but then a weak ray of light shone through the dirty glass.

“Guys! Look what I found!” He dashed back to the hole, where Mick and Vince still stood, quietly discussing something. Tommy’s voice from down there joined them occasionally.

“A flashlight?” Mick raised an eyebrow. “And that’s all?”

“Well, do you want a stage projector instead?” Nikki snapped back. “This is better than nothing. Tommy, can you walk?”

“Not sure,” came a muffled reply. “Gimme a sec… Ouch.”

“So no?” Nikki frowned.

“Well, I can stand, but it hurtsб” Tommy reported. “Not sure about walking. I can’t see a thing, and there’s so much debris here, I don’t wanna break a leg on one of them.”

“Well, then I’ve got you covered, pal.” Nikki showed him a flashlight. Tommy squeezed his eyes, trying to make out what Nikki was holding. Then he beamed.

“Man, that’s great! It’s definitely a part of the quest, so we’re on the right track! Give it to me, I’ll try to look around.” He caught the flashlight thrown by Nikki. “Eh, man, they could have put better props here. This one looks like it’s from a gas station.”

“What, you think they would give you top-tier gear here?” Mick raised his eyebrow. “Be thankful for what you have.”

“Hey, don’t be so bitter,” Vince stood up for Tommy. “For all the money they get, they could have bought better props as well. This thing looks like it may kick the bucket at any moment.”

Nikki decided not to listen to their banter anymore. “Look for a ladder, or at least a rope,” he told Tommy and moved away from the hole to walk one more time around the room in case he missed something. He tried to sit in a chair, but it cracked so threateningly under him he decided not to tempt fate. Then he turned to bookshelves. Books were often used to hide clues; maybe that was the case here as well?

However, most books were burnt and battered. Nikki opened one, but the pages were so dark the text was unintelligible. Some of them were glued together, others torn. It was just another fucking prop, Nikki realized, flinging the book into the wall in frustration. Just a waste of a good book-

The book crashed into the wall and fell onto the floor, pages flying around. One of them was significantly lighter than the others. It landed right next to Nikki’s feet, as though inviting him to pick it up.

Well, Nikki rolled his eyes, for sure that wasn’t supposed to be a clue or something like that, not at all.

He picked up the piece of paper and turned it upside down. On it a few numbers were written, in ornate, neat handwriting. Must be a password or something. But for what?

Nikki turned around, and his gaze fell on a seemingly dysfunctional computer. Why did he assume it was dysfunctional first hand?

Nikki carefully touched the keyboard sprinkled with dust. They really did a good job making everything look old and abandoned. He pressed the space key, then ran his fingers along the keys, pressing many at once – no reaction. Then he reached out for the turn-on button. Also no reaction.

Oh well, it wasn’t going to be as easy as this, after all. Nikki stuffed the paper piece in his pocket and returned to the hole, where Mick and Vince conversed lazily. Judging by the occasional streaks of light landing on the walls, Tommy was exploring down there.

“Oh, hey, guys, it’s pretty nice in here!” he shouted, attracting their attention. “Is that a fucking potbelly stove?”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Well, I’ve only seen those in movies but it does look like one. And what are those…” his voice quietened for a few seconds as he was fussing with something. “Guys! There are sleeping bags here!”

“Really?!” Vince would have dove into the hole headfirst if not for Mick who grabbed him unceremoniously by the collar. “Hey, what the fuck, man?!”

“Who the fuck is gonna drag you two up then? My back won’t let me, you want Sixx alone to do it?”

“Well, if there are sleeping bags, then there must also be a ladder or something,” Vince muttered, ashamed. “Isn’t it clear that’s a checkpoint?”

“No, it isn’t,” Mick cut him off. “Not until we find a lad-“

“I found rope!” Tommy’s jubilant voice rang through the building. Mick, stopped mid-sentence, pursed his lips.

“Hey, Mick, do you think I should start a notebook to mark down when I’m being right?” Vince patted his shoulder, grinning. Mick shook his hand off.

“Bring it here,” Nikki said, looking around for something to fix the rope on. The table seemed sturdy and heavy enough, but they all were grown adult men as well. Nikki headed over to the table and tried to move it, to no avail. Maybe it was screwed to the floor for this very purpose.

“Hey, we can fix the rope to the table over here, if it’s long enough,” he suggested.

“Might work.” Mick glanced towards it and nodded. “Though I’m not a keen rope-climber…”

“Me neither,” Nikki tried to reassure him. “I always failed at it on the P.E. lessons”

“You had rope climbing on your P.E. lessons?” Mick raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Schools sure have geared up since I graduated.”

“We also jumped a bench,” Nikki recalled, “and did pull-ups on a bar. Oh how I hated it.”

“Y’all are spoiled,” Mick murmured. “All we had were a ball and the teacher’s whistle. A volleyball net, if the school was fancy.”

“Hate to interrupt your sweet chatter.” Vince suddenly appeared behind their backs. He already held the end of the rope in his hands. “But if I don’t get into a sleeping bag within five minutes, I’m gonna riot. You checked the table?”

“Yep, seems trustworthy.”

“Mick, your time to shine,” Vince offered him, the only one among them knowing how to tie a reliable knot, the end of the rope.

“You forgot a magic word,” Mick grumbled but kneeled in front of the table. “There are rope traces on this table leg already, so it must be the right way.”

“Are all clients supposed to hurt themselves falling through the floor?” Nikki wondered, kneeling beside Mick. He loved watching his rope work, though never managed to do it quite like him.

“You wanted adventure, you got it,” Mick replied, his fingers quickly working.

“Well, yeah, we all know it’s just an imitation,” Nikki shrugged. “A pretty good one, but still.”

“There wouldn’t be one if all those people didn’t actually want it to come true, even in part.”

“Well, I don’t,” Nikki resented. “I don’t want the world to fucking burn to the ground. And all those people don’t, too. They just want to… I dunno. Feel like movie protagonists for a while?”

“Movie protagonists always have a purpose. They don’t go out into the wild just because they love the wild that much.” Mick finished the knot and got up, cutting their conversation short. Nikki tried to follow him but hit his head on the tabletop.

“Ouch!” he fell back on his knees, checking his head for damage. Just as he reached for the sore spot on his head, he noticed a wire that was running along the wall of the cabinet and sliding into a hole on the floor. The wire was connected to the computer. Oh, so they need to fix it in the basement for the computer to start working, Nikki realized. That the computer was supposed to be turned on he had no doubt, or there wouldn’t be a password in the book.

“You alright?” Vince asked when Nikki crawled from under the table and got up. “We don’t need any more injuries here.”

“I’ll survive,” Nikki promised. They headed towards the hole where Tommy already stood with the flashlight, waiting for them.

“Wait a sec, I’m gonna move all those debris away,” he hurried to clear the floor under the hole, stumbled on something and hissed in pain. “Shit! I hope there’s a first aid kit somewhere here.”

“If you still can walk, then it’s not that serious,” Mick told him. “Not a fracture or a broken bone at least. Gonna heal in a couple of days.”

“Yeah, but where are we gonna get these couple of days?” Nikki murmured so that Tommy wouldn’t hear him. “Our time here is limited. We can’t just waste it waiting for him to recover.”

“What are you gonna do then, send him back?” Mick snapped. “Let him hobble through the desert alone, with no supplies?”

“Well, no, of course not,” Nikki mumbled ashamedly. “But we could… I dunno… investigate the location while he heals his ankle?”

“Yeah, and he totally won’t jump after us on one leg the whole way,” Mick said sarcastically, diminishing Nikki to a puddle on the floor. He didn’t bring the topic up anymore.

Vince was the first to descend, carefully sliding down the rope. Tommy, beaming, waved the flashlight around, demonstrating the room so proudly he as though had decorated it himself. A smile slowly widened on Vince’s face.

“Come look!” he called them. Nikki climbed down the rope so fast he burned the skin on his palms. Mick wasn’t that eager to follow; quite on the contrary, he stood up there looking around for a few seconds and then hurried out of sight.

“The hell he went to-“ Tommy began, but Mick was already back, dragging something clanging with him.

“We are gonna attract the entire local wildlife with the light and the voices,” he explained, breathing heavily. “Better cover up.”

“Oh, Mick, c’mon!” Vince laughed. “Who are we gonna attract? Actors are all at home sleeping at this time.”

“Some of them work night shifts,” Mick reminded as he carefully lowered his legs into the hole and wrapped them around the rope. He grasped the metal sheet he brought and drew it over the hole, leaving only a small crack. “And some of them aren’t people,” he finished once his feet were firmly on the ground.

Vince huffed, but did not continue the argument. And Nikki was thankful to him for that.

The shelter they accidentally discovered was small but neat. It was a little bit warmer here, without the wind, but the walls still couldn’t really protect from the cold. They were probably drywall, but they did look appropriate for the location - like old, weathered-down concrete. Even the smell was authentic, dusty and heavy. Four sleeping bags were laid out around the potbelly stove in the center, looking old but functioning. A pipe ran down one of the walls with a very convenient tap in the middle. Every now and then a drop of water fell down from the tap onto a small wet spot on the floor. In the corner there were some boxes piled up on top of one another, and in the other – wooden crate. The entire location was poorly lit by groups of green, toxic-looking mushrooms in the corners and on the ceiling. They looked so real Nikki had to grab and feel the material of one to confirm it was rubber.

“Were you in a real apocalyptic setting, this one could have burned off the skin on your fingers,” Mick muttered.

“Glad we aren’t,” Nikki said, words coming out a little bit strained. “Though there probably wouldn’t really be mushrooms glowing with radiation. Is that even possible? Won’t it just kill them, like any other living thing?”

“Nature always finds a way,” Mick said, kneeling on front of the potbelly stove and peeping inside. “Jeez, this one belongs in a museum. And we need coal or wood to light it up.”

“There were carton boxes in the corner,” Nikki nodded towards them. “What about a lighter? I hope we won’t have to use a flint or something.”

“I have one,” Tommy said from the corner where he examined the crate, fingers carefully running over the lid. He “I had to take out my sigs, but they didn’t notice the lighter.”

“That’s technically cheating,” Vince said lazily, already sprawled on a sleeping bag. “But practically you just saved us a lot of trouble.” He sat up, his shoulders twitching from cold. “Damn, it’s freezing here. Gimme the lighter.”

Tommy threw it over his shoulder in Vince’s direction, missing by a few feet at least. Vince caught it nevertheless – probably the only time his baseball school team skills were put to use.

“Don’t burn the entire basement,” Mick advised half-heartedly as Vince trudged to the boxes in the corner. Vince grumbled something unintelligible in reply.

The cracking sound from the other corner distracted them.

“Guys, I think I found supplies,” Tommy said, holding up the lid of the crate that he had just opened.

“What’s there?” Mick and Nikki rushed towards him. Vince looked at the box he held in his hands for a second, dropped it and joined them. “Any food?!”

“Well, those feel grainy,” Tommy brought a plain fabric bag to his eyes, dug his fingers into its sides. “Cereals, probably.” He put it back, picked up some other package and shook it. “Those sound like crackers.”

“Three cans with corn,” Nikki reported, rummaging in the other end of the crate. “And, uh, ramen,” He dug out a familiar-looking box. At least they removed the plastic wrapping that they have on in stores.

“Any fruit, veggies?” Vince peered over their shoulders. “No? Well, we aren’t gonna last long on such a diet.”

“We aren’t gonna stay here long either,” Nikki reminded him. “What did you expect from a post-apocalyptic setting, an all-you-can-eat buffet?”

“Nothing, man,” Vince retreated, “I’m just saying, we’ve seen plants and trees on our way here, some edible plants could as well survive too- uh, nevermind.”

“That’s all good and stuff, but where are we supposed to put them? I haven’t seen any plates here.”

“Over there, in the corner,” Mick headed to the farthest, most poorly lit corner of the basement, which Nikki overlooked at first, and with a clang pulled out a pot, rather old and battered, but seemingly without any holes. “But these need to be washed first, or we all will get poisoned.”

“I’m busy with the fire,” Vince immediately said, grabbing the box he dropped and holding it in front of himself in a protective gesture. “Tommy can do it. Or Nikki.”

“Guys, there’s something else beneath the food,” Tommy said, pulling out a yellow box with a black wire. “Some device?”

“Oh!” Mick’s face lit up for the first time during the day. “That’s a Geiger counter, if I’m not mistaken. Since we’re in a post-nuclear war wasteland, it’s gonna prove useful.”

“Does it work from the batteries?” Tommy turned it over in search of a switch. “Because there might be problems with electricity here.”

“It’s supposed to,” Mick took the box and examined it as well. “The limit for this one is 5000 mSv – uh, what are mSv? – and I have literally zero idea how dangerous it actually is. Did anyone read up on the theory before the quest?”

He received only confused mumbling in response.

“Do you think anyone else who completed this quest did?” Vince finally said defensively. “I’m pretty sure they weren’t experts on radiation either.”

“That does not excuse our ignorance,” Mick sighed. “Well, 5000 is a big number so if there is this much radiation, it’s not safe.”

They fell silent for a second, only Tommy kept rummaging in the crate. Finally, he fished out something with a victorious yell.

“Knew it would be here!” He waved a piece of paper in front of their faces. “Vince is right – they wouldn’t have given us this thing without explaining how it works. There are some numbers here – I guess radiation levels, but I can’t see them, it’s too dark.”

“Gimme,” Mick immediately snatched it from Tommy’s hands, receiving an indignant yelp in response. “Shit, I can’t see a thing either. Vince, what’s up with the fire?”

“This damn carton doesn’t want to burn,” Vince said from where he was kneeling in front of the potbelly stove. “It just chars.”

“Lord, why do I have to do everything myself,” Mick raised his eyes to the moldy ceiling. “Hold this and don’t let go for dear life,” he handed Vince the piece of paper. Vince pressed it to his chest in an overplayed protective gesture. A few curses later the carton finally caught fire from the lighter, and the flame started strengthening slowly but surely.

“Now, gimme.” Mick grabbed the paper and brought it closer to the fire, maybe a little bit too dangerously close. “Yeah, drummer was right. So, 2 mSv is what a person receives daily, 100 is what radiation workers receive in 5 years, 1000 causes cancer in 5% of people exposed… doesn’t sound too dangerous to me. 5000, though… kills a half.”

“Shit,” Vince commented laconically. “So anything above 1000 is a big no-no, we get it.”

“Pretty much,” Mick nodded. “How much is here, I wonder. Turn this thing on.”

Nikki reached out and pulled the switch. The arrow wandered a little over the bar, but never ventured into even remotely dangerous areas and finally stopped on 12 mSv.

“Well, that’s a little more than usual but still not much,” Mick concluded. “But we should be careful when advancing into the city. It’s supposed to have suffered a nuclear blast, and radiation will go up the closer we are to the center.”

“You think it will ever reach the limit on the counter?” Tommy asked, anxious.

“Don’t think so.” Mick waved his hand in the air. “But we gotta check it frequently, just in case.”

Nikki, who was silent all this time, finally spoke.

“I mean, it’s nice that y’all are enjoying yourself so much, but can we at least stop pretending that there’s actually radiation? This thing just shows what it’s programmed to show. There ain’t no radiation neither here nor in the city center. Where the hell would they get it from?”

Mick raised his eyes, examining Nikki with his piercing gaze. He wasn’t angry or disappointed – thoughtful, rather.

“Well,” he finally said a few seconds later, “there are two things to this. First – when in Rome, do as Romans do. Second – how do you know the radiation isn’t real?”

“How?” Nikki frowned, surprised by Mick’s answer. Mick’s, who was the most sensible of them all and the least prone to stupid illusions. “Because this ain’t real post-apocalyptic wasteland, and these walls are built out of drywall, the sun is a lamp and the mushrooms are made of rubber!”

“And what is radiation made of?” Mick asked. “No, really, how can you fake radiation well enough to deceive a Geiger counter? Because the counter is very real, we’ve been given those at school”.

“Well, then it’s programmed to show what it shows,” Nikki retorted. “And we can’t actually prove it’s not lying.”

“Nor that it is,” Mick replied. “Of course, this is all just a big game of pretend, Sixx. But it doesn’t matter that everything here is fake. We’re gonna take the counter with us anyway; even if it’s lying, its data will show us what places to avoid, since it’s been programmed, as you’re claiming. It was left here for a reason.”

“I guess,” Nikki sighed, turning away. He didn’t know how to explain that their interest and excitement was a little bit too fake in its genuineness. He knew how quests worked. He has completed them many times. A couple of riddles to solve, a couple of actors dressed as zombies to “kill” with laser guns. The ultimate satisfaction upon reaching the end – and after that, all-encompassing boredom again, again, until the next dose of adrenaline.

And this one is going to be just the same. Should be just the same.

Oh god, please let it be just the same.

“Anyway,” Mick broke the silence first. “I’m putting this thing in my backpack, but we’re gonna take it out regularly to check radiation level. Now, I don’t know what about you, but I’m hungry as hell, and the dishes question still stands.”

“Nikki should do it,” Vince said immediately, receiving an “et tu, Brute” look from Nikki. “Since he’s such a wet blanket.”

“Yep,” Tommy quickly counted the odds and sided with the right people. Nikki shot him a death glance. Tommy smiled sheepishly, but didn’t take his words back.

“Well, then go on, Sixx,” Mick handed him the pot, and Nikki wanted to put it on his friend’s head. With a loud bang. “We’ll sort out the rest of equipment while you’re busy.”

The water from the tap was cold, but seemed clean and only smelt a little of metal. Nikki rinsed the pot and the plates he was handed, not quite thoroughly, but the others were too hungry to notice. Meanwhile, Vince and Tommy dug out of the corner three empty plastic bottles, tastefully rumpled to look old, but nevertheless functional. As hard as they tried, they couldn’t find any cutlery, though. Apparently, desert rogues in a post-apocalyptic landscape were too down-to-earth to eat with spoons.

Soon they were sitting around the potbelly stove watching the water heat up terribly, terribly slowly. Nikki never paid attention to how much time it takes to heat a liter or two of water. This fire was no match to his electric kettle back in his apartment. But that was probably why kettles were made anyway.

“So, what do we have?” Mick spoke again. He didn’t seem to like the role of a leader much, but this quest was like no other – without him, the other three would have probably given up by now. “Three packages of cereals, four packs of crackers, three cans of corn which we’re gonna eat right now, a pack of noodles, the Geiger counter, a flashlight, sleeping bags, a pot and four plates and three water bottles.” He sighed. “And not a single medical item. That’s not much. Drummer, how’s your leg?”

“Hurts,” Tommy said honestly. “But like, more in a dull, pulsating way. I can bear it. I can walk even. I won’t make you wait, I promise.” He was nervous, his eyes darting between the other three, checking their reactions. “Just don’t send me back. This quest is so much fun, I don’t wanna miss it.”

“Okay, okay,” Mick raised his hand in a calming gesture. “Nobody was going to leave you behind anyway, right?” His eyes stopped on Nikki, and a frown was sent his way. Nikki huffed and turned away.

“Thanks, guys,” Tommy said with visible relief. “I took one for the team to find this amazing place, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a hero,” Nikki reassured him distractedly. He was getting cold: he could feel how icy the floor was even through the fabric of the sleeping bag. “D’ya wanna light up the fire a little bit? It’s freezing here.”

“You can try, but I tell you, that won’t be enough,” Mick shook his head. He was sitting hugging himself on the sleeping bag, his feet propped up right against the stove for more warmth. “These boxes don’t burn hot enough. We’re gonna need coal or lighter fluid. Which we don’t have.”

“Sucks,” Vince murmured, for the first time in a while. That was strange – he was usually the most talkative one of the bunch, challenged only by Tommy.

Nikki leaned in to him, examining his face anxiously. Vince looked at him tiredly from under his eyelashes, but didn’t move back. His lips were of sickly bluish color, his fingers grappling the folds of his jacket, fruitlessly squeezing them together, unnaturally white.

“Are you alright?” Nikki whispered to him. Vince jerked his head towards him, a sarcastic retort ready to drop from his lips – but then, a tired sigh replaced it.

“Is that really so noticeable?” he whispered back. “I mean, you guys don’t seem to be bothered by it much. But Nikki, man, I’m gonna turn into an ice statue soon. I can’t feel my toes already.”

“Shit,” Nikki ran his gaze across the room again, hoping to find something, anything that could help. But, apart from the trash in the corners, discovered nothing new.

“Get in the sleeping bag,” he said finally. “At least put your feet in it. And take my jacket. Corn’s gonna be done soon, a nice hot meal will warm you up. And we’ll put together some kind of tea after that-”

“Hey, chill, man,” Vince smiled slightly. Nikki felt the tips of his ears warm up. “I ain’t taking your jacket, I don’t want you to freeze to death. Just… I dunno. My hands are so cold…”

“Here,” Nikki moved so close to him their knees bumped together, gently wrapped his hands over Vince’s wrists and guided his hands under his jacket, where his body warmth collected. They felt like ice chunks even through his t-shirt. Vince sighed with pleasure and closed his eyes. Nikki caught Tommy chuckle quietly and made a scary face towards him. Tommy raised his hands in pretended surrender.

Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

The corn was consumed in tired silence. Thanks to the potbelly stove, the room did warm up slightly after a while, and a meal after a long day of walking made them all drowsy. By the rules, they should have left a guard up, but none of them dared to suggest it, afraid of being the one picked to watch. And what could get them in a basement of a destroyed building in the middle of a desert?

A lot, it turned out later, but that night they slept soundly, still happy in their ignorance.

#motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #vinikki #vinikki fanfiction #nikki sixx\vince neil #mick mars #tommy lee #nikki sixx #vince neil #post apocalyptic #post apocalypse #post apocalyptic fiction #wow look at me actually putting something out as though im not a loser who hasnt updated in 4 months #i dont know what this is. i dont know where im going with this #i just know that this is and im writing it #and i dont know what im gonna write next right until my fingers hit the keyboard #war?

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

Minimal Loss AU

This is for @hotchley because I've been saying I was going to do this since just about forever and now I finally did it. Is it really that different? No but I like this version more than the original

Warnings: death.

Pairings: no but like if you want it to be Mortch it can be and you don't really have to squint to see it either way

Summary: Minimal Loss (S4, E3) but I made it so much worse because I like misery

In less than five years Derek Morgan has watched the BAU rebuild from nearly the start twice. Watched it dwindle down to just a few creeping agents but this time… Derek’s not sure the resiliency is there. After Boston, the shift had been fairly clear. Gideon lost it. Hotch stepped up. Now Derek can feel the weight of the BAU settling on his shoulders, wonders if this is the panic that Hotch felt. The pressure of the future looming over him, weighing him down. His chest is trapped between hefty boulders waiting for the impending doom of when his bones can no longer sustain the pressure. Is this how it was for Hotch? Holding his breath and waiting for the snap of release? For the weight to settle and find out if this time it would be too much?

The bull pen’s door swings open and Derek looks up, he’s expecting the gloomy presence of Hotch. His slow, anxious movements drawn out in each of his steps. Before he’d just been gloomy but now he seems to drag the weight of the dead behind him. The groaning of chains shackled to his feet-- he’s got the key to unlock the burden but there’s something too familiar in suffering for him to let go. But these steps are too light. Too unburdened to be Hotch.

With a snapping halt, Dave stops at Derek’s desk. They give one another a look they’ve been sharing a little too much as of late. One of them always carrying the next bought of bad news. This time it’s Dave, next it will be Derek. “He failed his gun qualification.” It may not carry the same weight as the other things they’ve had to speak of but it’s no good, it’s still bad.

Derek supposes he should have known this was coming. He’s a profiler but even emotional intelligence doesn’t negate childish hope. Blind faith in one another has gotten them a long way, it’s the foundation of what makes them a unit. Derek assumed it would get them through this too. “Dave,” Derek calls to the other man’s receding back. “How bad is it?” he asks the floor. Unable to look Dave in the eyes and let the older man see just how crushed he is.

Dave pauses, stands with his back to Derek and his feet still attempting to move him forward. He wishes he knew what he could say to make this better. The tension between the team and, even worse so, that which remains Derek and Hotch is thick enough to choke on, makes the air unbearable to breathe and be in. But he doesn’t know what to do. He’s run out of things to say. All he can do is shrug, offer Derek a simple shake of his head.

There’s no going back. For any of them.

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

Hotch loses his ability to speak clearly, punctually when Benjamin Cyrus targets Emily. His hands start to shake and take a constant flight of motion when he speaks. He’s conscious of their jitters, of the way his own nerves are comprising the mission, but he can’t walk away. A power shift this late into the operation will be disastrous and he won’t put Prentiss and Reid’s lives on the line.

He feels it in his chest before he sees it. His hoarse, powerless scream is swallowed by the crack that shakes the world. By the bomb that upsets his entire life.

He surges forward, guided by cloudy adrenaline. Years of field training have taught him plenty about these scenarios, logically he knows it’s a lost cause. Instinct screams for him to back away from the smoke thrown up in dark, rolling plumes. To get away from where the fire licks out of the building. Yet he moves forward regardless because Reid has overcome too much for all of it to end here. For this to be his final stand.

Arms snag his waist, an instant sharp jerk as he’s pulled backward with more might than which he pushes forward. “No!” he doesn’t recognize the desperate sounds coming out of his mouth. The way he screams Reid’s name into the flames and cries out for Prentiss. “No, let go!” He pushes down against the arms around his belt. “Get the fuck off me, Derek! Get off me!” He manages to throw them both into the dirt and he lands with a breathless thud to the ground, pausing only to his own desperation like a mirror in Derek’s eyes.

This time Derek isn’t fast enough and he’s left panting on the ground, his voice cracking as he yells at his boss’ receding back. All he can do is follow after him.

Dave yells for both of them to stop, italian curses tangled into his frustrated orders.

Derek Morgan hadn’t been there when Adrian Bale bested Gideon and killed their team. Hotch had been preparing the next wave of officers and agents just outside the building. When the bomb went off Gideon thought he was dead. Phoned Derek at the hospital and told him he hadn’t seen Aaron, didn’t know what to expect officers would find. A body, he supposed. But Hotch was alive by some slim miracle. Spent two weeks in the hospital recovering from the shrapnel wounds embedded in his upper torso, from the beating his heart took keeping him alive. Smoke inhalation from laying under burning bits of the building and too many broken bones to be worth remembering. The fact that he had only nearly died set him apart from the others. Nearly wasn’t the same as dead. It could have been worse.

So much worse.

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

Derek never learned or even worked his way up to forgiving Gideon for what happened that day. He’d lost friends within a blink of an eye and then his best friend slowly over the course of the next year. Ripped to shreds by shrapnel and stitched back together only for Jason Gideon to let the job take and take from Hotch until there was nothing left. Until he could no longer smile. Incapable of joy. Carrying on like a robot.

“Hey,” Derek is stepping into the hall when Hotch gets off the elevator. “You okay, man?” He steps forward to place his hand on Hotch’s elbow but the other man moves too quickly, too fixated on his goal. The material of his suit just passes right by Morgan’s fingers. Hotch just keeps ghosting alone. Not so much as blinking in response.

He wants to be pissed. Derek wants nothing more than to feel something so irrational and so consuming that he can lash out and scream and curse and make a scene like a child so much as these feelings are burned through. But those stones keep adding upon his chest. His body just keeps taking the weight and no release comes.

Hotch is a sharp-shooter.

He’s had tactical training and awards all over his office that demonstrate just how good of a shot he is. Give him a gun and he won’t miss his target. So how does a man like that fail his gun qualifications?

Them. Because of them.

Derek moves his eyes down to the floor the second he sees the outlines of the frames. He’d known where they were headed, Hotch always ends up right back here in this one spot. Staring at their pictures like he can will them back to life. Maybe Derek really is no better than Hotch. Unable to bring himself to look at his best friend’s faces memorialized behind glass picture frames. Smiling for the rest of eternity.

Emily had been in the hall. She’d gone back, from what they could tell, and dragged an injured woman with her down the hall. The other woman was already dead before the explosion took place but Emily never knew when to give up. From the diagram drawn up after the explosion, she was three feet from the door that would have lead her to freedom when Cyrus blew up the compound. Three fucking feet.

Spencer had died immediately. Blood dribbling down his chin and a proud smirk on his lips. Gideon had assured him over the years they worked together that he was just enough like Hotch to be a little too resilient. Said they both had that same sort of strange curiosity mixed with unyielding oddness that made them so unapproachable to other people. Reid’s death had looked like defiance, what he thought was at least one more second of distraction to save his friend. As the hammer of the gun struck Reid knew Hotch would be proud, that Gideon was right. It took balls to argue with Cyrus. To back the leader into a biblical corner but his words had struck a new rebellion: doubt.

Cyrus had leveled his Glock to Ried’s temples and torn his genius brain to shreds.

But Reid had never known strength as he did in that moment.

The bomb didn’t even leave them a body to bury.

Derek looks up at Hotch, keeps his eyes trained on the man’s tear-stained eyes. Lethargically swollen with the tears he never sheds. “Cyrus killed them,” he whispers. “They wouldn’t want this Hotch.”

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

Emily had never seemed so small. She was several inches shorter than both Hotch and Derek but he’d never noticed just how small she really was. Not until she was still, limply laid in Hotch’s arms as he gently moved her from fallen debris. His tears splashing the soot off of her pale face. A broken doll he holds so carefully.

Derek steps around debris, working around the largest pieces slowly. Lowering his head in defeat at the way the emergency personal look at him, their sympathy burning the lining of his stomach. He’s standing in the middle of it all, a sea of black body bags measuring out each individual failure committed today. Hotch is crouched on the edge of it, uselessly cleaning soot off Emily’s face.

“Hotch..,” Derek sinks down to his knees. Opens his mouth but no words come out, he just looks at his boss. His oldest friend. “She’s gone,” he manages, thickly. “Emily’s dead, Hotch. You have to let her go.”

“We have to go,” Morgan says and he’s not sure he can do much more than repeating the words that other people have been repeating to him. He’s incapable of thinking past just how broken Emily is. He’d just spoken to her. The flashing light and her boot in the window.

Hotch tears his eyes away and up to Morgan. There are tear streaks on his dirty face, “I can’t.” He looks back down at Emily and holds her closer. Daring Morgan to take her away. “She--” the words get caught in his throat. “She didn’t think I trusted her.”

Morgan shakes his head but… he can’t find the words to form condolence. They’d grown to trust one another. Become friends. Surely Hotch knows that. She loved them all, even him.

“I do,” Hotch says. His chest heaves as he pulls in a broken sob. “I trust her.”

Morgan nods his understanding and places a hand on Hotch’s shoulder. “She knows,” he promises. “She knows, man.”

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

“Dave told me you failed your gun qualification this morning.” Derek isn’t even sure why he leaves the pause in their conversations anymore. Hotch hardly ever speaks. Never reacts to things anymore. Just sort of floats by. He’s not the only ghost in the BAU but he’s the only living one. “It’s not a big deal,” Derek mumbles. Not much is anymore. “You don’t need to go out in the field.” Hotch shouldn’t be anywhere near the field. Not for a long time. Morgan can’t take another Gideon. He can’t watch another friend unravel. He’s tired of losing people.

But that is exactly what’s happening.

Derek looks up and locks eyes with Reid and Prentiss, their unseeing, unmoving eyes. Both funerals had their share of drama. The Ambassador hadn’t come to Emily’s. She’d sent back a letter about being in Moscow, couldn’t get a flight, and informed them not to bother making arrangements for another date. Reid’s mother had slapped Hotch, cursed, and screamed until she was taken away. He’d found this fair punishment, he deserved worse. He couldn’t even act as a pallbearer. He wasn’t even hurt. His hands just haven’t stopped shaking, like the adrenaline never faded out of his system.

“Come on,” Derek mumbles. He turns on his heel and makes for the bullpen, knows from the rustle of fabric Hotch is following closely. His hands tucked deep in his pockets to hide their tremble, his head bowed so no one sees the tears he hasn’t let go. “We’ll be okay,” Morgan tells him, as he holds the bullpens door open. Morgan just needs to work on convincing himself that as much as Hotch.

They’re not but some lies are worth the attempt at making them truths.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid #david rossi

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

i have been working religiously on my book, so here is another part for y’all!

— — —

“I’m sorry, Mister Proctor,” Mary whispered as they approached Proctor’s horse.

“For a mouse that squeals and cries as loudly as you do during punishments, you sure love doing things that will warrant such treatment,” Proctor said.

Mary lowered her head. It still hurt. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Help me onto my horse.”

Mary obeyed.

“Do try to keep up. I don’t want to be waiting on you. A storm is coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

Proctor was right: a storm was coming, and it hit with the regular ferocity of a Massachusetts winter tempest. Now she understood why Proctor was wearing so many layers.

By the time they were halfway to the farm, Mary was completely soaked and shivering, the cold having crept deep into her bones, turning them into rods of ice. She wondered if this freezing rain had been sent by God Himself to punish her for her wrongdoings. It certainly felt like a lashing from the Lord.

“You could have been back inside by now,” Proctor mused atop his steed. Mary could barely hear him over the crunching of gravel and pattering of rain. “But instead you had to go galavant through Salem.”

“I was worried about my friends,” Mary said, daring to defend herself.

Proctor scoffed but didn’t say anything.

In the distance, a farm swam through the sheets of icy rain. It wasn’t the Proctor property, so there was no point in stopping, but someone called out to them anyway.

“Ah, John! Have you come to accuse me some more? If you haven’t noticed, it’s raining. I can’t set anything on fire in this weather.”

Proctor ground his teeth. “I already apologized to you for that.”

“And yet, here we are!”

There was an old man leaning on the fence bordering the property, white hair clinging to a balding scalp, deep blue eyes sparking with mischief in the half-light. He had a wrinkly lizard’s face and hands more befitting for a skeleton. Despite his age, Mary knew he had enough vigor to best any of the younger men in the village. She heard he once beat a burglar to death with a cane. He was a lot of vex and a little well-mannered, and he loved nothing more than to irritate the people of Salem Village, especially John Proctor.

“It would be a shame if this would be the year your land floods, John,” Giles Corey said. No person in their right mind would be out in this storm; he had definitely been waiting for Proctor to go down the road so he could prod him. He would risk getting ill if it meant he was able to dig under the younger farmer’s skin.

“If this is some kind of attempt to get the deed to my farm, then you can save it,” Proctor said, spurring his horse into motion again. “I’ve heard it all, Giles.”

Corey huffed. His expression brightened once again when he noticed Mary holding onto the saddle.

“Ah, Mary Warren! How are you, dearest? Is the back of your head alright?”

Proctor was quick to step in: “Don��t talk to her,” he snapped at Corey. Then, to Mary, “Don’t talk to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re going to kill that girl, John!” Corey shouted after them. “If you ever need a place to flee to, Mary Warren, Martha and I are willing to take a servant!”

His words were washed away by the rain, but they remained rooted inside of Mary’s brain. If only she could switch employers. If she weren’t an indentured servant, she would have gone to the Putnam’s a long time to work with Mercy. Maybe then every day wouldn’t be such a pain.

And speaking of pain…

Mary winced, tentatively touching the back of her head. She couldn’t tell if the dampness she was feeling was blood or just rainwater. Didn’t matter now. She dropped her arm.

Above her, Proctor was muttering in his saddle, casting a dark look at the road in front of him. He said something about Giles Corey and something else about the farm and something else about wanting to rip out the old man’s gizzard. He seemed awfully worked up about the confrontation.

“If I may, sir…”

Proctor looked down at her, eyes narrowed. Mary nearly stopped talking right then and there, but she swallowed her nerves and continued on.

“If Mister Corey is such a bother to you, why not do more to stop him?”

“Are you lame, girl?” Proctor snapped. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time? Ever since the fire, he’s been a thorn in my side.”

The fire referred to a fire that started in Proctor’s house, a time before Mary went to work with his family, which she was grateful for because she wouldn’t have been able to handle that drama. Naturally, Proctor said Corey was responsible for the fire, which made Corey file a lawsuit against Proctor. Later, one of Proctor’s sons would come forward and admit to being the one to cause the fire. Proctor begrudgingly apologized, but that didn’t stop Corey from continuously bringing it up whenever he got the chance.

“Why do you bring it up?” Proctor then asked. “What would YOU do? Since you think you’re so clever.”

“Me? Well, I-- I, uhh… Maybe raise the price on the land? Make it to where it would be too expensive for him to want to buy.”

Proctor opened, then closed his mouth. Then, he squinted at her. Finally, he actually laughed and took off his broad-brimmed hat, batting her over the head with it.

“I guess you aren’t so stupid after all,” he said affectionately. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

Mary cracked a small smile. The bad outweighed the good when it came to her master, but she knew John Proctor wasn’t all cruelty and lashings. He had a strong softness for all of his children and a deep love for his wife. Sometimes Mary would hear him reading light-hearted Bible stories to his younger kids at night. Sometimes she would stand outside the room and listen.

Through the glistening shroud of mist and drizzle at the side of the road, the Proctor property unfolded from the fog like a proper country castle. Acres upon acres of emerald green grass, sturdy barns, a fine house, fields chock full of crops and livestock. Their cattle were fat and happy, slick with rain, water streaming from their round bellies and mud splashing up from each delicate footstep. It darkened their coats and made them look like they were soaked in blood. It was no wonder why Giles Corey wanted the land so badly. It was thriving with wealth.

“Put my horse away,” Proctor said after sliding off the chestnut stallion’s back. “Tack him. Then come inside immediately. Do not run off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Proctor gave her one last warning stare, then handed her the reins and walked to the house.

Mary would have taken her sweet time putting away the horse if it weren’t for the fact that she was freezing and her head was killing her. She tacked the stallion, put him into his stall, and fed him in record time, ready to get inside and change out of her wet clothes. However, when she finally entered the house, she didn’t get to do that. She was stopped by her master and mistress.

Proctor and Elizabeth were speaking to each other, but Mary could tell they were arguing, despite their level tones. They both turned to her when she stepped inside. Proctor was already in dry clothes, standing beside the roaring hearth. The flames looked so comforting and warm.

“Stay where you are,” Proctor ordered, noticing her desire to go to the fire.

“Yes, sir.”

“I understand she is in trouble, but at least let her warm up,” Elizabeth said.

Elizabeth Proctor had always been Mary’s favorite Proctor. Twenty-two years her husband’s her junior, though she looked a lot younger than that, she was kind and patient, never using the whip and rarely ever raising her voice. She wore dresses in soft shades, greatly mirroring her soothing nature; right now she was wearing a pale green gown with a white apron. Her hair was champagne blonde and her eyes were a pretty hazel with flecks of gold near the pupils. Mary craved her warm, maternal gaze so much it was almost painful.

“No,” Proctor said. “This is a part of her punishment.”

“She is going to freeze. Do you want our servant to freeze, John? Then what shall we do?”

“Get a better servant, perhaps? One that won’t run off?” He shot a glare at Mary, reminding her that he was, in fact, still mad about that, in case she had forgotten. She hadn’t.

So much for their moment on the road.

Elizabeth opened her mouth, then sighed. She looked at Mary. “Yes, you should not have run off. You aren’t allowed to go anywhere without our permission. You know that.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.” Always obedient, always agreeable. Mary knew her place.

“Why did you leave?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mercy came to see me, ma’am,” Mary answered. She didn’t want to throw her friend to the crows, but she also knew better than to not be dishonest, especially when she was already in trouble. “We wanted to go check on Abby and Betty. We heard that they weren’t well.”

“I heard that, too,” Elizabeth nodded slowly. “How are they?”

“Strange. They slept like the dead, but woke up out of nowhere and started screaming. Betty tried to jump out of the window!”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. “Did she?”

“That is none of our concern right now,” Proctor growled, butting his way back in. “This disobedience cannot go unpunished.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Yes…I suppose you’re right. I say no dinner tonight.”

Proctor rolled his eyes. “You coddle her, Elizabeth.”

“I do not coddle her!”

Ignoring his wife, Proctor looked at Mary, “Fetch me a switch.”

Mary released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her heart leapt out from the pit in her stomach. She nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

#servant of evil #lizzie’s dumb book #nobody cares and i know y’all want resident evil stuff but here is this anyway #because i like showing off my stuff #mary warren #john proctor #elizabeth proctor #salem witch trials #salem witches #my writing

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