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ashes-writing · 2 years

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the power of love pt two | stranger things ; s. harrington

A/N ; So this is the second part to the thing I posted for Steve yesterday, I think? Yeah, it was yesterday. I wasn't expecting to have another part quite so soon but like.. Inspiration hit. And I was in the mood for some like.. domestic-y fluffy type stuff, so here we are. As I've been writing this I've been bombarded by thoughts / images and headcanons for this duo, that's not weird at all, right? Psst, if you're curious, you can totally ask me.Only if you wanna, it would make me happy and I could probs talk and ramble about them all day, oops rip.

Pairing ; Steve Harrington x Henderson!Fem reader

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ; part I can be found by clicking. This chapter takes place at least two weeks after part I. As previously stated, none of the Upside Down and it's unholy terrors will be happening here, the time frame for this is 84 (s2) just after his breakup with Nancy. Yes, Dustin and Steve will become friends, but they start off a little wary.

Tag List ; @musichealsscars @aries-arcade @hcloangcls @allelitesmut and I'll throw out a bonus tag to @rampagewriting -feel free to ignore if you want, bb. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including Stranger Things, please let me know or add yourself -> here.

Warnings ; reader is not wearing pants -and also probably not a bra... but is wearing an oversize shirt, massaging, thick af sexual tension, lots of internal pining, domestic type fluff / friendship ? That's it.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open (pls.. pls... send me things) but they're limited to headcanon asks + filth/fluff alphabet letters and I'm not accepting wrestling / wrestlers in my ask box. Any other fandom/character but wrestling that I happen to write for is fine and I beg of you -> send me things.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

From inside your house, Steve could hear Led Zeppelin playing at an almost ear-splitting volume. He’d already knocked two times and he was about to knock a third when Dustin peeked out of the open garage and motioned him over. Led Zeppelin changed to Van Halen inside. Steve wandered into the garage. Dustin opened a door that led into the kitchen and yelled out over the music, “Gremlin!”

From the top of the counter, you glance back over your shoulder at Dustin. Almost the second you see Steve leaned in the doorway awkwardly, with his books and notebooks, you want to crawl in a hole and die because yet again, he’s caught you pantsless.

To be fair, it’s like Russian Roulette to an extent because the second you’re home, you usually tend to start stripping down to get as comfortable as you can. The shoes followed by your bra is the first thing to go. Then at some points, your pants or shorts or whatever you’re wearing as a bottom happens to come off. Then you’re finding the oversized shirts you own, the ones you can practically swim in, and you’re putting those on.

Today’s chosen shirt was an old Black Sabbath shirt that belonged to your mom’s oldest brother Tim. She’d stolen it from him when he lived with your mom and dad for a while before you were born and then you just kind of stole it from her.

Steve reaches out and lowers the volume on the little boombox sitting at the end of the counter he stands closest to. You find the pan you were looking for but you have to stand to reach it because it’s not one your mom uses often at all.

You pump your fist in victory when you’ve gotten what you think is a good grip on the pan and steady footing on the counter but somehow, you weren’t steady enough.

And yet again, it’s as if Steve is there before your brain even fully processes what’s about to happen because you haven’t even started to really fall yet and he’s caught you, holding you bridal style in his arms.

Whether you choose to admit it or not, being this close to him definitely throws you into a bit of a frenzy. He stands you on your feet and you sit the pan on your favorite eye.

“You like grilled cheese, right?” you ask the question as you gather cheese, bacon, butter and bread, lining them up on the counter near the stove.

Before Steve can answer, Dustin speaks up. “You like her grilled cheese. Just trust me.”

Steve nods.

It’s not as if he has any sort of home cooked anything waiting for him at his parents because they’re never home. When they are home, they’re always out on dates. Or fighting and on different sides of the house with a stony silence hanging heavy in the air.

It’s nothing like the atmosphere he feels in your house. Warmth. Coziness. It’s inviting and for once, a parent other than Tommy’s mom actually seems to like him. Twice he’s been over so you could tutor him and twice, your mother has not only asked him to stay for supper and a game or two of dominos, but she’s also sent home leftovers with him. Which, yes, were definitely appreciated because a guy can only eat pizza or diner food or the processed shit he grabbed just for convenience when his parents left grocery money before leaving town on another long trip.

“Dustball, damn it. I just mended those jeans, you little doofus.” you motion to your brother’s jeans when you happen to glance over and notice that he has yet another burn hole in the denim. “Go up and find somethin else to wear. Leave ‘em on the end of my bed and I’ll fix them again later. Mom’s not made of money, damn it.”

“Okay, alright. The hell am I supposed to do, weld without pants? We’re not all feral nudists like you, gremlin.”

“I am not a feral nudist. I just happen to think bras, pants, underwear and shoes are all bullshit.” you flip your brother off and point to the stairs. He’s about halfway up when you think about the fact that the damn kid probably has at least three days worth of dirty clothes in the hamper and your mom’s worked back to back all nighters at the hospital where she’s an RN.

“Hey! Bring down all your dirty clothes. All of ‘em. I’ll put it all on to wash.”

“Want me to grab yours too?” Dustin asks.

“No, I’ll get mine later.” you call up to him.

This leaves you alone in the kitchen with Steve Harrington. And as you start to fix the sandwiches, you can feel him staring. Finally, when it’s just too much, too intense for you somehow, you look up at him.

“What?”

Steve chuckles wordlessly.

The puppy comes rushing down the stairs and you bend down to sit on your knees on the floor, scratching him behind the ears as he stands and puts both his front paws on your shoulders so he can really get in there good and cover your face in little puppy kisses. Steve pulls out one of the wooden stools sitting at the island and sits down.

“Nothing.” he finally answers. You pull yourself up and slink over to the sink, washing off your hands with soap and water. You start again putting sandwiches together and at one point, you don’t even realize Steve’s not sitting on the stool anymore. You find this out when you turn around to grab a spatula and flip one of the sandwiches in the sizzling pan and you find yourself body to body in front of the stove with Steve towering over you.

“Is there uh… Anything I can do?”

As he asks the question, he gazes down at you. And he really tries not to stare too long at your eyes because they seem to have this habit of sucking him in or your lips, because the more he does that, the more intrusive thoughts like grabbing your jaw and kissing you pop into his head and he’s still hell bent on not even trying because Nancy messed him up that bad and he knows it’s too soon, he just… can’t control where his mind goes or how often it goes there. And he can tell himself it’s just a touch of his old habits and wanting to sleep with you coming back again but deep down, he knows it’s a lie.

There’s something different this time. It’s a rush but it’s also scary as hell for him because he feels ten times whatever he felt for Nancy Wheeler in the beginning.

And he can’t stop thinking about how much the end of that hurt.

You bite your lip and shake your head no. “I’ve got it.” you manage to mumble but only after you’ve stupidly gone and gotten all lost in his eyes again. But you remind yourself that Steve’s got a type -and a reputation, and you are sadly not his type.

If only you knew just how wrong you are about that thought.

But you don’t quite yet.

“Thanks though.” you add the words with a softer cute little smile as you tilt your head slightly and look up at him. “It’s not my mom’s food but it’ll keep me from starving and going into a hunger induced rage.” you laugh when you say it as you start to pile the finished sandwiches onto a plate.

Steve takes one and bites into it, fanning his mouth when the hot and cheesy sandwich burns his tongue and burns its way down his throat. He groans as the flavors of the different cheeses burst in his mouth. “This is good.”

You laugh softly. “Thank you. It’s better with tomato soup or marinara to dip it in but there wasn’t any around.” you take a bite of your own and bounce up and down while grinning to yourself. CCR is playing on the radio and you reach out, turning up the volume. Steve can’t help but laugh because no matter how hard he’s trying to fight whatever…. This is… that he feels for you, it goes without saying. You’re fucking adorable and he’d be lying if he didn’t at least allow himself to admit that.

Dustin wanders in just as you and Steve have started to attempt getting him caught up in the math class he was taking and as soon as he sees you standing behind Steve’s chair with your hand on the back of it, he snickers to himself.

You can say you’re not into Steve Harrington until you’re blue in the face but your little brother knows otherwise. He’s never seen you this touchy or giggly or forgetful around anybody else. And honestly, he’s okay with Steve being around a lot.

He didn’t think he would be at first, but then he realized that maybe Steve wasn’t the guy he originally thought.

You’re rubbing his shoulders as he sits in a chair at the dining table and the more you rub his shoulders, the more he can feel himself just kind of melting. Going limp as the stress related tension built up in his shoulders just seems to vanish.

You lean over him a little and pluck the pencil from his hand when he’s starting to get irritated with a pointless word problem on the page. “Okay, watch me, alright?” your breath is warm against his ear and he finds himself gripping the edge of the table as your soft lips graze against his ear just slightly. Without warning.

And he knows you’re just tutoring him and that he’s still messed up from the way things ended with Nance, but at the same time, he also knows that whatever is happening is going to happen and he’s powerless to stop it this time. Because he’s been trying and the harder he tries, the harder it becomes.

You work through the problem but you do it slowly and you stop frequently, making Steve repeat what you’ve just shown him back to you verbally. The way you’re leaned over him and as close to him as you can get makes the whole thing seem more intimate, more personal somehow and you tell yourself that you’re imagining the way the air feels so thick with tension right now that you almost can’t breathe. But you can tell yourself that all you want, but it’s a lie and you know it.

The scent of his cologne and the hairspray he uses is filling your nose and dominating the space and like in the hallway a little over two weeks back, you feel calm. And somehow, you feel a little giddy at the same time. You decide to sit on the counter next to his open notebook and you grab yourself another grilled cheese from the stack on the plate, nibbling on it as you watch him work through the rest of the worksheet he had to do. He happens to glance up at you at one point and watching the way you hold the sandwich between both hands and the way you’re sitting close enough that your thigh has brushed his forearm at least three times now and the scent of your perfume lingering all around him is almost sensory overload before he can get himself reigned in.

He shuts the notebook and rubs his temples.

You tilt your head slightly to look at him as you continue to nibble the sandwich. “Headache?”

“Kind of. It’s math. Me n’ numbers.” he shrugs as he says it and you slip off the counter, holding out your hand to him.

He glances from your hand to you.

“C’mon. You need a break. I need a break. Because that stupid essay is… Words hard. Brain hurts.” you laugh out the words and Steve chuckles quietly, finally allowing you to grab hold of his hand. You start up the stairs and Steve lingers awkwardly at the foot of the stairs, laughing when Dustin gives him the old as time “I’m watchin you.” signal.

He laughs because he knows it’s not like that.

But deeper down, he can’t say he’d mind at all if it were like that.

You peek out a door at the top of the stairs. “You comin up?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve starts to walk up the stairs.

He stands in your open doorway, just sort of gazing into your room. The closet is a mess, there’s clothes practically leaking out. Your bedframe isn’t assembled, it’s just kind of stacked against a wall and your mattresses are on the floor. There are posters of hair metal bands, some bands like Black Sabbath and The Doors that he’s heard here and there. He can’t help but snicker quietly to himself when he sees bold red lip prints all over a Poison poster next to your mirror. In the corner by a big window, there’s an easel and all your canvases. What surprises him the most is the room is soft pink and cream colored. Which is a huge contrast to the tie dye throw and the string lights that are tacked above your bed. Or the stuffed animals neatly stacked like a pyramid at the foot of the mattresses.

“You can come in.” you laugh softly, patting the empty spot next to you on your bed. You’re sprawled across on your stomach and you’re flipping through a magazine. Steve finally decides to step into the room and at first, he kind of sits awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

“Have you ever had a scalp massage, Harrington?”

“Nope.”

“Lay your head down in my lap.” you instruct, sitting up. Steve swallows hard and at first he tries to find some way out of it, but you’re giving him that cute little big-eyed look and he just winds up caving. He positions his head awkwardly in your lap and you start to drag your fingers over his scalp, rubbing as they move over. Steve groans before he can stop himself at one point and you giggle.

“Feels good, hm?” you question. When you lean down to ask him, your hair falls against his cheek, soft to the touch. The heavy scent of strawberries and when he blurts out what he does next, “Did you switch shampoo or somethin?” he wants to disappear.

He’s so much smoother normally. But everything about you has thrown the guy for a complete loop.

You can feel your body burn hot all over and you’re caught totally off guard. Surprised that he noticed something that small.

It’s not like you’re constantly around him.

Though it could be argued that he does seem to pop up a little more lately than he used to.

You laugh softly after you manage to convince yourself that it’s not a big deal and reminding yourself that he’s just a normal guy, he’s not a god or anything. “Yeah. They were out of the green apple Vo5 so I got stuck with strawberry.”

The scalp massage feels so good he’s squirming just a little. When you start to rub his temples, you’re humming under your breath and he chuckles. “Are you tryin to put me to sleep?” he asks in a heavy and hushed voice.

“Nope. But I am trying to keep your headache from getting worse. I’m rubbing pressure points.” you answer quietly. “Have you never had a massage before?”

“Nope.” Steve answers, going quiet.

“Oh.” you’re a little stunned by the fact that not once has he ever gotten a massage. And giggling because the more areas you massage on his body, the more…. Responsive… he seems to get.

“Lay on your stomach.”

“You don’t have to do this.” Steve insists.

“If I don’t, Harrington, you’re going to shoot off into space, alright? Have you felt the tension you’re carrying around, man?” you ask with a mild shrug as you motion for him to lay on his stomach on your bed.

“It can’t be that bad.” “You’re so tense I’m surprised you’re not in actual pain, sir.” you retort as you straddle his hips and start to work the tee shirt he’s wearing up his back so it’s not in the way quite so much. As you start to massage his back, he has to shift around quite a few times because not only is he relaxing… But the way you’re sitting on his hips in just a shirt and underwear… It doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination.

And he feels like a creep for the turn his mind takes with the whole thing, but he just can’t help it.

You finish massaging his back and he sits up, tugging his shirt back down. You manage to keep yourself from staring a little too hard, but only barely.

“My head’s not hurting as bad anymore.” “Amazing what getting rid of a little tension will do, hm?” you’re only mildly amused when you ask the question, giving him that little smirk.

“I wasn’t that tense.”

“You were.”

“I didn’t think I was.”

You’re zoned out a little, eyes fixed on full and soft lips. Trying to keep the intrusive whim to pull him in by his jaw and kiss him just to feel how soft they really are at bay.

He snickers quietly. “You’re kind of staring.”

You only stick out your tongue. And then you’re pulling yourself off the bed. Holding out your hand to him. “C’mon. Might as well finish all the shit we’ve gotta finish.”

Steve lets you think you pull him up off your bed and the two of you wander back down the stairs, into the kitchen so you can get back to studying.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x henderson!fem reader #steve harrington x henderson!fem reader imagine #steve harrington x henderson!fem reader fanfiction

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megcheese · 1 year

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My latest creation:

I made this two-piece outfit for our Hunger Games theme party. Instead of going literal and recreating a gown or outfit from one of the movies, I decided to just create a bold and eye-catching look. The skirt and top are from a Vogue pattern I picked up a few years ago. When I brought the pattern, I bought the houndstooth as well knowing that would be a good look but wasn't sure what to do for the top. Those of you who have known me for a while might be thinking that color combo looks familiar on me.

It's not just a repeat of my wedding gown colors, the top is made with the same fabric as the sash! The sash pieces were long, leaving lots of usable leftover fabric; more than enough to make a top.

The tiny mirrors were inspired by a dress I saw in an ad from Sak's. I've worked with sequins quite a bit and often have people who think I sewed each sequin on individually rather than buying a fabric covered in sequins. Well, this time I did hand sew each individual mirror.

I'm kind of against hand sewing since a machine does most things better and will use embroidery needles for hand tasks because they're blunter and have larger eyes. But this fabric was too fine so I had to bust out the tiny and sharp hand needles.

Which brings me to the disaster portion of my story...

10:30 pm Friday night, I had put the sewing project down next to me on the couch for a minute to look at my phone. All week I'd been sewing leaned over to one side so Charlie could snuggle in my lap while I work. My obliques were sore enough that I was trying to remember which move in which workout I'd done this week that get that way. None. I was just sitting crooked all week to accommodate snuggle boi.

So! My sewing was on the couch right next to me, with the thread and needle dangling off the edge. I use the double thread technique so the needle is secured and can't come off without breaking the thread. And I catch Charlie chomping on that dangling thread. I scold him and grab the thread and pull. But he pulled back and the thread snapped. And he ran away. At once I'm thinking, "where's the needle?" And start checking the floor where he'd been standing. Michael heard me holler so he went to the cat and saw Charlie gagging in the hall. A little saliva or bile was coughed up but no needle! Now I'm absolutely freaking out and calling the emergency vet only to find out they're not just closed for the evening, they're closed until Sunday. And I read about what happens if your cat ingests something sharp like a needle and now neither Michael or I can go to sleep.

The cat was acting normal so we did go to bed (but not until two am) and I talked to his regular vet first thing in the morning. And we pack up and go to the emergency vet at Cornell over an hour away. And of course Charlie poops in his crate while I'm driving so I have to clean that up in a Burger King parking lot that I knew was right off the 81 in Tully.

The vets were able to see Charlie, take an x-ray, and determine that the needle could likely be removed via endoscopy. Meanwhile, I still need to finish sewing these tiny mirrors for the party the same night. So I'm the crazy lady who's like, "My cat swallowed a sewing needle!" All while continuing to sew with another needle with the same characteristics in the waiting room. I even pulled it out in the exam room with the vet to show the way the needle was attached to the thread and describe how the thread would have to have broken in two places for the cat to have swallowed thread as well.

Seeing the x-ray with the needle was kind of a relief. Up until then, part of me thought maybe the needle was lost in the carpet at home and I was overreacting. Nope, this naughty boy did in fact swallow the needle and spending the day at the vet was the correct choice.

Here's my healthy boi, needle free, happy and recovering at home. We finally got to leave Cornell around four pm, after Charlie woke up from anesthesia. The endoscopy doc offered me the needle to take home but I politely declined. I was excited to see it though. They also confirmed no trauma to the esophagus or stomach, so he's going to recover well.

Moral of the story: don't let your cat swallow a sewing needle.

#sewing #dressmaking #machine sewing #hand sewing #diy #sewing detail #vogue patterns #mirror #disco ball #cat #xray #cat xray #veterinary #emergency vet #endoscopy #cornelluniversity #cornell animal hospital #the hunger games

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dearlawdimasimp · 2 years

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Inspired by this gif set by @ladydimitrescuwu, I present to you,

Otto calling you, currently masc presenting!reader, dear boy

Warnings: language(cussing), grammar, no use of y/n, implied that reader's pronouns change and that only at this point of time where the story takes place they use he/him pronouns while being in a workplace and in a relationship with Dr. Octavius(idk if this is a warning but if you guys think it isn't i'll gladly edit this out), possibly ooc Otto, not beta'd or whatevs and a self-indulgent mess (let me know if there are anything else i missed!!)

Summary: A small look into the life of a queer reader who is in a relationship with the Dr. Otto Octavius.

btw im really proud and happy how this one came out and i think this is one of the favourite fics i have written so far🥺💞

You swiftly punched in and gathered the things you needed, not bothering to look up to the weird stares some of your co-workers gave you. You were wearing a very masculine outfit, your "He/him" pin sitting on your left breast pocket.

But since you were feeling polite today you brushed off their rude glaring and gave them a casual 'good morning' as you passed by them, you would return them a small smile if they greet you back but if not you'd just walk past them.

Some of them are your buddies and you get along quite nicely with them, they respect you and you respect them. Unlike others who just hate your guts. One of your buddies was able to catch some of the gossip about you and it was about the way you present yourself at work. It made you cackle, really. Are they serious? you had asked your buddy to which he confirmed with a nod.

Really, all you have always worn to work were thrifted clothing but layered it good that made it formal but not too formal, casual but also doesn't look like you were in your home.

You had snickered to yourself and let a suspiciously loud comment, "At least I have a fashion sense." Which made their blood boil and made your weeks hell after that. But of course your boss noticed that -you didn't even have to tell him (not that you had the guts to do so)- and also gave them one hell of a week.

Your boss, god was he fucking heaven sent, he was charming, handsome, kind, patient, funny and just overall a good person. Not to mention, charming, handsome and funny…have I mentioned that already?

The thoughts about your boss made you a little giddy and may have just brightened your moody morning.

You calmed yourself before softly rapping then opening the door to the said man's office, "Good morning Doc!" you greeted him warmly, closing the door behind you before laying down the stack of papers on his desk.

"My dear! Haven't I told you many times to just call me Otto?" he replied with a teasing smile, "Yes, but- " his stern yet loving gaze and his raised brow along the chittering of the actuators made you halt your words, not in fear though. "Okay fine, Otto.." you jokingly sighed as you stared back at his warm ones.

This has been your motivation to go to work everyday, the friendly banter between you and your boss(who's now also your amazing boyfriend). Sure your first weeks were nerve-wracking since you are literally working as the ex-villain and supposed-to-be-dead scientist's secretary, and your huge crush on him did not help in calming your nerves but the man had made sure all of you were comfortable in his presence.

It took a couple of months for everyone to finally warm up with each other and now all of you are nearly in the second year of working with Dr. Otto Octavius.

And it also wasn't that long for you to fall in love with him..Really it only took a small, "Good morning! I am Dr. Otto Octavius, if you haven't noticed the actuators yet, and it is a pleasure to be working with you all." and a smile and boom you fell head over heels for the man. What you haven't known though, was that he also felt the same.

"The moment my eyes laid on you, I felt -this may sound cheesy but- I felt the world stopped for just a moment." He confessed one night after a couple of weeks of all nighters in the lab together.

Have I mentioned that you two have been dating for quite awhile now?

The gentle silence that has fallen upon the two of you was then broken by your giggling, and the doctor's own as he followed suit. "How was your sleep, dear boy?" He inquired as he started to take the papers you brought in. His actuators gently poked and prodded you -not uncomfortably though- as it was their own way of greeting you.

Oh fuck oh shit- that's it, you're going to fucking die- You are sure you're slowly turning red as a tomato, standing idly like a deer in the headlights in the middle of your boyfriend's office as your brain tries catching up on what he just said.

Over the few months of your relationship, it was only recently when you told him about your pronouns. He was all ears and ready to learn more about it, wanting to keep you happy and comfortable. He had listened intently and boy were you not ready for it to actually happen.

"Darling?" His worried voice and the chittering of the actuators made you snap out from whatever trance you were in, blushing furiously as you looked at his gentle eyes. You are so down bad for this soft scientist and you are not ashamed of it. "I'm sorry if I-"

"Nononono! It's fine..it's just- I..uh-" How does he always make you a stuttering mess, "- I..it just..sounded…" your mumbling had turned into incoherent jumbled words, rocking on your heels as you stuff your hands on your pant pockets while your eyes wanders anywhere but him.

"My dear, I don't understand- how about you come here, hm?" He softly beckons you, one of his actuators gently nudging you to him.

You harshly nibbled on your lower lip as you walked towards Otto, about to draw blood. He noticed this and was quick to gently lay both of his palms on each side of your face as you're now standing right in front of him. The warmth from his skin made you a little calmer and freed the muscle from your teeth.

"Now could you please repeat what you just said?" His thumb caressing your very warm cheeks as he asked. With a gentle exhale through your mouth you meekly repeat yourself, "I said, it sounded..hot.."

You're surprised his hand hasn't left your face yet because you were sure your face was on fire. You keep your gaze down on your shoes which at the moment is the most interesting thing in the world. If you had let your eyes look up at him though, you would see his amused and teasing smirk along with his eyes that held no judgement nor malice but pure love and warmth.

"Hot, huh..dear boy?" His teasing smirk not relenting as his right hand trails from your cheeks down to your chin, cupping your chin and gently lifting your face to meet his eyes.

Oh this little shit- You cuss under your breath as you rolled your eyes, weakly pushing him away with one hand as you cover your face with the other, desperately trying to get yourself out from this embarrassing situation but his large and strong arms had dropped from your face and swiftly curled around your waist along with the two bottom actuators, making sure you'll never be leaving his embrace anytime soon. The top left mechanical limb extends itself to lock the doors making sure no one is going to disturb you both as the top right gingerly takes your hand from your face.

Chuckling, he apologizes and lands a soft kiss on your stomach, you just give a weak glare in return with a soft chortle. He leans back on his chair, bringing you with him. Now you are straddling his lap with both of your legs on either side of his own, the bottom two actuators are comfortably curled around your waist. You are never going to get used to his affection.

"So..how was your night?" He repeats his question, his tone ever patient and his voice soft and warm. "It was good!.." You started as your hands wandered to the back of his neck, playing with the strands of his hair, "May have stayed up a little late to make sure everything is all set for today- but I didn't stay up that late!" You quickly defend yourself as you feel his upcoming glare, "It was just more of a..'me'..thing, y'know..so that I could rest knowing I had it all correct."

"You know-"

"I know that you hate it when I tire myself out, but if I didn't double-check triple-check everything it would've just resulted to a sleepless night."

A short, contemplating huff was his retaliation while you just gave a small smirk of 'I know that you know I'm right'. He shakes his head with a silent chuckle, admitting his defeat. You grin at his surrender, cupping his soft face between your hands, you give him a kiss on his nose, which makes the older man blush.

"As much as I love being in your strong arms, we have a job to do." You smile at him and gently push yourself away from his embrace.

But he didn't move a single inch, instead he rolled his eyes and gruffly said, "To hell with them, I'm the boss here so I could just tell them to relax for today." His arms, both flesh and metal, keep you in place, tightening around you slightly but not too much to make you uncomfortable. "I want to stay like this.."

Oh of course he was going to give you the fucking soft, puppy dog eyes as he pleads for this moment to last longer. You mumble incoherent curses and jabs at the former villain - which, at the moment, made you think if this was really the 'Doc Ock' that once terrorized the city - as you think about it.

Sure you're going to get a free day with your boyfriend and spend most of your time today with him but he has important meetings to attend today, one of them being the most important as he was to meet the financier of his current project-

"Please..dear boy?"

"Oh fuck off, Octavius!" You lightheartedly cuss him out with a laugh as you get back on prying all his arms off of you.

"My dear boy! I'm hurt that you could say that to me!" He continues to plead his case, your incessant pushing futile against his strength.

"Otto, you have a shit ton of important meetings today, particularly one of them with your financier!" You try to softly reason with your incredibly affectionate bear science man as you gave up on escaping his grasp. You won't lie, you want to stay like this the whole day, hell a whole week won't get even a single complaint from you but there are important matters at hand.

Otto raises his eyebrows at this, "Why didn't you tell me this sooner, my dear!" He asks as all of his arms slowly uncurl from your form, his hands not leaving your waist yet. He was not mad at you though, his tone was mixed with a faux exasperation and mostly excitement.

You raise a brow right back at him, "If you haven't distracted me today I would've told you sooner." Your tone was flat but your cheeks were flaring as you recalled the events a while ago that had led to this and the amount of times he had called you according to how you were presenting yourself today. Seeing as you were technically free from his grasp, you tap his hands and wiggle yourself out from his lap.

"Oh, I distracted you?" He starts again with his teasing but before he could continue you immediately scrambled away from his arms length and gave him a half-hearted glare.

"Don't you dare start again, Octavius."

"Start what, dear boy?"

"Oh hush up and just get ready."

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

shitty long title, i know lmao🤣 i plan on changing that to just 'Dear boy' but I'll let that be like that for now jagdgahgsg

I hope you guys enjoyed that! If you did, leave a comment or mayhaps suggestions or request of any kind! If you want to chat hit my asks or inbox and I'll gladly answer and/or chat back anything you sent me🥰 Hope you guys have a great day/night and dont forget to drink water!!!👁👁💞

#doc ock x reader #otto octavius x reader #otto octavius x mascpresenting!reader #otto octavius x masc!reader #otto octavius #doc ock #marvel #mcu #LMAO I FORGOT TO TAG THIS ONE KAHSHHAHAHAH #G•writes #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #self insert #mcu fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #masc!reader

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elareine · 3 years

Note

I know I already gave you one, but I just thought of this now, if you could, or ignore it, either one is fine, can you please write Nurse or Doctor Tim with JayTim or DickTim, or both go crazy with it, if you want. And Tim being so exasperated with them because they keep giving him the lamest excuses for their injuries, because they don't know he knows or they suspect he knows but both sides are trying to see who will mention it first. So its like a big competition of who will break first.

So the competition aspect got lost a bit? I hope you still enjoy it :)

Warning: Some dark jokes about domestic violence, mostly borne out of my experience when I actually fell down the stairs. Also I blatantly did not care about the actual medical issues in this.

“You fell down the stairs.”

Usually, when Tim had to repeat these words to someone, he said them gently: telegraphing his disbelief as well as his willingness to keep up appearances as long as the victim needed to. With kids, he was a bit more direct, though only after separating them from the parent. He never spoke this sarcastically; that would be uncalled for.

(Also, contrary to popular belief, some people actually did fall down the stairs.)

Today? Today his words were dripping with sarcasm.

The man—‘Richard Grayson’ according to his file, ‘Dick’ according to his introduction, ‘Gotham’s most handsome bachelor’ according to the gossip mags—rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I… maybe it was more, like. The roof?”

“Did the roof use a whip, by any chance?” Tim asked, examining the welts. “What did you do to piss off Catwoman?”

“Not—Nothing, because I fell down the stairs.”

“The roof.”

“The stairs on the roof.”

Tim sighed. “Alright. We’re gonna need an x-ray because I suspect your muscle has been cut through. Please report to room three, and the nurse will take care of it.”

“Sure thing, doc!”

—

When Tim had been inspired by Thomas Wayne to become a doctor, this hadn’t been what he envisioned.

Cure the sick? Sure. Fix bones and other injuries? As an orthopedic specialist: every day. Look at every injury Dick Grayson acquired during his totally-legal activities? Nope. What the fuck.

The explanations became increasingly stupider, too, which was hard to believe seeing how they started with a chart-topper like ‘I fell down the stairs/roof and it happened to look like a belt from a whip.’

Tim had resolved early on that he wouldn’t ask. His patience for Dick’s weak-ass excuses was close to zero, sure, but it was safer to keep away. This was a professional medical praxis that cared for everyone, no matter their allegiance. Tim didn’t even know which vigilante was sitting in front of him.

…oh, who was he kidding. This was Nightwing. None of the other vigilantes in Gotham was that chipper.

(Also, that ass.)

Fine. Tim could deal with that. He might’ve even privately fangirled over the fact that he got to patch up Nightwing (the first Robin!) on a regular basis. Also, Dick was ridiculously charming; Tim didn’t mind spending time with him. It was a nice break in the middle of a hectic day.

Except then Dick started bringing his brother/boyfriend along.

(Yeah, Tim felt as weird about that ‘/‘ as you do. But they were holding hands, so…)

He took one look at Jason Todd and asked drily: “So, seen any good zombie movies lately?”

Dick choked on air. Jason just grinned through the bloody mess he’d made of his mouth and asked: “Do I look that bad?”

“Worse.” Tim sighed and started examining the mess closer, carefully pressing along the lines of the other man’s jaw. “Let me guess, you’re also into parkour?”

“Among other things.”

“Hmm. Yeah, nothing broken, I think, but we’ll double-check. If not, ice, painkillers, and no ‘rooftop parkour’ for a while, alright?” He paused. Honestly, judging by Jason’s stature (too wide for most vigilantes) and age (too young to be Batman)… “I’d tell you to wear a helmet, but apparently, even that’s not helping.”

Jason turned to Dick, grinning widely. “I can see why you like him.”

Tim had no idea what to think about that, so he didn’t.

—

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. Every Wednesday, Tim would close his practice at 2 p.m. and spend the rest of the day doing paperwork. A cup of tea and the tv in the background

Except then the news started, and Tim heard the phrases “Nightwing and Red Hood,” “magician,” and “explosion.”

Then, the footage—obviously taking from mobile phone recordings—began playing. He watched for three minutes, panic spreading through him. Nightwing limp on the ground. Red Hood, literally thrown through a wall. He knew that these men were terrifyingly well trained, that Red Hood must’ve had some beta modifications at some point in his life with the injuries he took in stride—

But on camera, they weren’t moving.

According to the timestamp, the footage had been taken thirty minutes ago.

“Clean-up has begun,” the reporter on the screen said. “There is no sign of the two vigilantes who have defended our community center to the last—“

Tim grabbed his things and ran.

Tam, his assistant, looked up in alarm as he entered the waiting area. “Tim?”

“I need to go,” Tim told her, not stopping. “It’s an emergency.”

And because Tam was the best, she simply called after him: “Call me if you need help! I’ll take care of the practice.”

Tim knew Dick’s home address, had memorized it just in case—just in case. That’s where Tim drove now. If they weren’t there, he would try Wayne Manor next, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

But when he pressed the doorbell at the apartment labeled ‘Grayson,’ he was immediately buzzed in.

Jason was the one who let him in and led him to the living room, where Dick half-sat, half laid on a couch.

Tim asked: “Okay. What hurts the most?”

“His head,” Jason replied, and Dick glared: “I’m told you I’m fine, Jay—“

Tim walked over. Swelling, definitely, and something about that shoulder…

“I popped that back in,” Jason explained. “But I think there’s something wrong with his neck.”

Yeah, there really was. Tim recognized the beginning of some deep bruising—strangulation, his mind supplied, that magician had tried to choke Dick out—and the back of Dick’s head felt tender and hot.

“I don’t suppose I can interest you in an x-ray?” he asked.

Disagreement all around. Fine. Tim would write them prescriptions for braces, if they didn’t have them lying around in a corner, anyway. Unless something felt like it was broken or shifted out of place or actually torn. You didn’t mess around with that.

Jason had sat down next to Dick, and Tim moved on seamlessly to checking him. Jason’s ribs were definitely not okay, but probably hadn’t punctured his lung or anything, or he wouldn’t be sitting here. Apart from that, he was one massive bruise and a fucked-up hit. No running for Red Hood for at least a week. (Six weeks for normal humans. Tim was used to the calculation by now.) Oh, and something had crushed his foot—“the building falling on me,” Jason very helpfully informed him—and they had both suffered fourth- and third-degree burns.

Tim began dressing the wounds in silence. His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking, dammit. He was a fucking doctor. His hands were the steadiest thing about him.

It felt like hours passed before he was done.

“You need to stay awake.” His tone was too sharp; he could do nothing to soften it. “With a blast like that, concussions are a given. Is there anyone we could call to stay up with you?”

Dick nodded, then winced. Yeah, he should avoid that movement for a while. “Yes, we could—“

“No.” Jason shook his head.

“No?” Dick looked at him. Something must’ve been telegraphed in Jason’s eyes because Dick continued: “Oh, I mean, no. I’m afraid there isn’t.”

“We’re all alone.”

“Totally.”

Tim sighed. “Don’t you have, like, fifteen siblings and a butler? I should just call Wayne Manor; I’m sure that number is on Google or something—“

“Tim,” Dick said very gently. His hand went up to grasp Tim’s. “Stay with us?”

Tim blinked. “That’s. Really unprofessional.” He didn’t pull his hands away, though.

“You’re in our living room.” Jason shifted—it looked painful—and continued: “Pretty sure nothing about this is professional, so…”

“Please?” Dick asked.

Tim inhaled deeply and shook his head. “You two are so—stupid.” They flinched. “Like, what’re you doing, getting injured like that every week? You’re going to get yourself killed, and then I will have to come up with an explanation and it’s gonna be better than any you ever came up with. You’re gonna be so bad for my blood pressure.”

Dick looked crestfallen, but Jason was starting to grin: “So, you’re staying, then?”

“Duh.”

(I’m taking prompts until the end of the year.)

#elareine writes #jaydicktim

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robinrunsfiction · 3 years

Text

Winter/Christmas Alphabet - Z is for Zzz

Pairing: Party Poison x Female Reader

Rating: General

Requested by: Inspired in part by an anon request received 100 years ago

Word Count: ~1000

Author's Note: How many tropes can I fit in one fic? You're about to find out! Shout out to @mcrxreader for the nickname used in this one

“You can’t sit up there,” Party nagged when he walked into the diner with an arm load of supplies and found (YKN) sitting on the counter.

“And why not?” She retorted, putting down her magazine.

“Because that’s where food goes,” Party replied, setting down the items next to her.

“Aren’t I a snack, though?” She asked innocently.

Party looked up at her and couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. "You're really something else, (YKN)" Party said.

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" (YKN) smirked.

"I think it's a dangerous thing," he replied, leaning against the counter next to her. He had to fight the urge to put his hand on her thigh, or maybe climb up on the counter with her and...

"Well, I think it's a very good thing, Cherry Bomb" she replied as she patted his cheek, pulling him out of his thoughts. She gave him one last wink before hopping off the counter and walking away.

Party sank down on the stool behind him. They were never not going back and forth. The flirting, the harmless teasing, the looks, the touches. Party felt like he was at a breaking point with (YKN), but he knew getting serious with anyone was a bad idea. Killjoys didn't live long. Period. Getting any more attached to (YKN), only meant certain pain.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t think about it every day until the day his soul met the Phoenix Witch.

(YKN) had her hand out the window and her feet up on the dash of the Trans Am as Party drove them over to Dr. Death Defying's radio station. There wasn't much going on around the diner, so she had happily accepted the offer to get out with Party. The best part was no one else was tagging along.

It was a great afternoon of combing through records, making suggestions on what Dr. D should play next, and just generally getting in his way his way and bugging him for the fun of it. But the winter sun set early, cooling the desert dramatically, and cold air soon seeped in the cracks in the radio station walls.

"We should get outta here, it's getting late," Party announced, after noticing (YKN) shivering.

"Yea, we'll see ya later Doc," (YKN) waved following Party out into the cold night.

"Fuck it's cold," Party said as he hurried to the car, hoping some warmth was still trapped within.

"Nah, it's fine," (YKN) replied through chattering teeth

Party rolled his eyes as he tried to start the car, but it wouldn’t turn over. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Too cold for the battery. We’ll probably need a new one, but I bet it will start in the morning,” Party answered.

“Well now what? We can’t stay out here, we’ll freeze to death,” (YKN) cried.

“I bet Dr. D will let us crash on the floor, come on,” Party said, hurrying back to the building

"We're back!" (YKN) announced cheerfully.

"Why can't you kids go back to your own place?" Dr. D grumbled.

"Car won't start," Party answered. "You got some space for us?"

"There's a spare room with a mattress on the floor if you aint picky," he replied with a sigh.

"Thanks doc! You won't even know we're here," (YKN) smiled.

"I better not. Keep it down, I gotta do my sign off," Dr. D replied as the other two killjoys found the spare room to which he was referring.

"What lovely accommodations," (YKN) deadpanned when she saw the old twin mattress, blanket, and pillow.

"I can sleep on the floor," Party said.

"Don't be stupid, sleep on the mattress with me," (YKN) replied as she started to untie her boots. "Besides, it's freezing in here, it will keep us both warmer."

"Fine," Party chuckled as he sat on the edge of the mattress to pull off his boots. He climbed into bed, pulling the rough blanket up to his shoulders, his back to the wall.

(YKN) flipped off the switch on the bare incandescent bulb hanging from the ceiling and crawled into bed next to Party, but to his surprise, she laid down facing him. He wondered if she could feel his heart pounding.

"Party, you wanna kiss me," (YKN) stated after a few minutes of silence.

Party was grateful for the dark as he started to blush. "How'd you, I mean, why do you think that?"

(YKN) giggled lightly. "Because you're always looking at my lips. Like you wanna know how soft they are, how they'd feel against yours."

"I can't, if something were to happen-"

"If you didn't wanna experience the whole range of human emotions, why'd you even leave the city? Life is short, Party."

Party knew (YKN) was right and he didn't waste another second, closing the inches between them. (YKN)'s lips were softer than anything he'd ever felt before, and her whole body pressed into his, legs tangling with his. He gripped at her waist, as if he were to let go he'd never get another chance. (YKN) ran her fingers through his red locks and he let out a soft gasp at the sensation.

"You like that, Cherry Bomb?" She murmured against his lips. Party responded by crashing his lips back against hers.

The next morning, Party woke up with the sun shining in the dingy window. (YKN) was still asleep, her head on his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him and Party wasn't sure the last time he felt this happy.

A while later, she finally started to stir. "Hey," she whispered up at him, her voice still thick with sleep. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than I have in years," Party replied with a smile.

"Me too. I guess we're gonna have to make this a regular thing then," she laughed softly.

"I think so," he replied, tilting her chin up so he could kiss her again. "And you're right, this is worth the risk of getting hurt. I fuckin love you (YKN)."

(YKN) grinned. "I knew I was right, but it's still good to hear it. I love you too, Party."

#pls don't let this one flop #i need the validation real bad tonight #party poison x reader #party poison fan fic #party poison fanfic #party poison fanfiction #danger days au #danger days fan fic #gerard way x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fan fiction #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fan fiction

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hustle-cat-scenario-fun · 3 years

Note

Can I have either headcanons or a scenario about the crew doing up the cafe for Pride month, please?

Of course, anon! I was planning on doing a pride scenario this month anyway! - Admin Avery

Pride month was a time where A Cat's Paw was bustling with activity amongst the staff, even if customers were still slow, as each tried to help provide their skills to set up events and decorations for the celebration. For most of them, this was something they were naturally used to - for Avery, however, the bustle was a bit much and they spent the day flitting between different coworkers to assist in whatever task they had set themselves on.

"Hey, Reese!" they called out as they walked over to the boy sewing together flags, banners, and even outfits - one of them seemed to be sized to Avery's measurements, taken earlier that month. "I told you I'd be fine wearing my hoodie, it's already the nonbinary colours."

Reese's eyes were filled with a disgusted glare at that comment, and his focused expression turned into a disappointed scowl. "You're planning on wearing something that shoddy and worn down for a pride month celebration here? Avery, we have class. I'm sewing you something better." He explained bluntly, pointing out tears and holes in the hoodie that Avery wore essentially every day.

"It's a comfy hoodie..." they argued back, but Reese was having none of it.

"Which is why i'm using fabrics as similar to the texture as possible, but making it more elegant. Now hold still." Another measurement, just to be sure, scribbling down the numbers and adding more material - That's when Finley popped out in her newly designed outfit, fiddling on her phone.

Her makeup and nails were done to look like different pride flags as she flicked through some sites and apps, before taking a selfie, other pictures of things that had been previously set up, and uploading it as part of promotion. She was far too eager to handle the posting of this sort of thing. "Heyhey, sweeties~ Pride Promo posted, we should get busy customers this month all coming in to celebrate! I've booked us some popular people in the area, too. Set up a box for extra stuff that'll all be going to charities to help out people! Oh, Avery, come here quick!" Without much say, they were dragged over by Finley's arm against their will, but willing to help out regardless. "These pamphlets look good to you? One's for finding support groups, the other is trans friendly docs in the area willing to prescribe hormones, got one with notes about where to get stuff like binders and breastforms and all that. Just wanna make sure they're not too hard to read!"

Skimming over the designs, they all looked good! Goodness, Avery hadn't even heard of some of these areas despite them being pretty close, Finley sure knew how to dig deeper into the web for information and locations than they could. Sometimes she found sites that didn't even show up on search engines...

"It looks perfect! Just make sure to get them actually printed, not everyone's going to be able to have them sent digitally." They informed, and quickly Finley rushed out, remembering that physical copies are, in fact, important too.

Mason was focused in the kitchen, and had asked to not be disturbed for the day, but it was tempting regardless - what sort of things was she making for the month? Were the cat donuts iced like flags? Did the meals have a colour coded theme to them? Was she doing a pun-based dish thing like some restaurants? It was hard to tell, until.

"Avery. Kitchen. Now." Stern as always, but she didn't sound mean - more direct than mean. "Yer better at namin' dishes round this time." Ah, so they were somewhat colour coded for some, but others were just needing pun names... Thinking up those would be difficult, but Avery had a perfect idea for the pride cat donuts. "Feline Proud Donuts." Avery chuckled, making use of the similarity between Feline and Feeling, and it was immediately noted down - almost as if there'd be no question to their suggestions. "Uhhh, I'm sure I'll come up with more!." They weren't running on too many ideas today, huh? Mason nodded, and allowed them to go on their way, hoping to find some inspiration sooner.

Also in the kitchen was Hayes, fiddling around with different beverages - teas, coffees, iced teas, frappuccinos, etc. All trying to make them work with different flag colours as much as possible, but the nerves and stress were getting to him a bit, he had needed a break.

"Hey, you doin' okay? I get this is a busy month, take the time you need, yeah?" Avery offered, sitting nearby, but not directly next to the worried boy.

"I just want the drinks to be perfect. It's a lot to worry about for big events." His voice was quiet, barely a whisper and very mumbled, but it got across the sentence to Avery perfectly enough.

"Hayes, you're a coffee snob, the drinks are going to better than perfect." Avery joked, before noticing that might be seen as a rude comment. "Meant in a good way- Like, you have a lot of passion for making it good quality." "I guess... Thanks. I'm gonna take some cat time, if that's okay? Have you seen Graves?" Cat time was essential in busy moments like this, especially for Hayes - that was totally okay.

"Nobody's ever seen Graves. He's probably putting up safety wards to make sure everyone's comfortable and protected when coming here for the event - and Landry's at a friend's garage preparing a pride float with Gina and Kaz for the city's event. You're invited to join the rest of us on that parade day, but I totally get if it's too stressful for you. I can grab some noise cancelling headphones, or whatever else."

"Thanks... I'd like that."

With each of them set on doing their own thing to help celebrate, as well as promote the café as a safe and friendly business, it was a hectic time - but they were going to get through it. While Avery didn't manage to provide much action-based assistance, the moral support and someone there to complain to when things were being difficult setting it up was a huge help to the staff's motivation and determination to get this through without a hitch.

This month was going to be glorious

#Hustle Cat #HustleCat #hustle-cat-scenario-fun #HustleCatScenarios #Hustle Cat Avery #Hustle Cat Reese #Hustle Cat Finley #Hustle Cat Mason #Hustle Cat Hayes #Hustle Cat Landry #Hustle Cat Graves #Hustle Cat Gina #Hustle Cat Kaz #Scenarios #Anonymous #Admin Avery

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snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

ssw | embry call; he looks down. she looks up.

NOTES:

I preface with the following.. I am not a medical professional. I have never had any kind of amnesia, temporary or otherwise. So.. yeah. Anyway.. the tldr here is this idea came to me and it’s weird and i didn’t know what to think of it at first but honestly, having written it out now I kind of like it? And I think it’s gonna be a short series... kinda? Allow me to elaborate.. normally, for the ssw prompts I use like 3 or four six word sentences as ideas / parts of the oneshot, etc but with this one, I think I’m going to use one for each part because I did that with this one and I like the way it came out? Since I had four other equally good prompts chosen for the doc I started with him, I’m just gonna use the rest of those to kinda continue this? To an extent?

Anyway, enough rambling.

PROMPTS:

Taken from [ here ] or [ here ].

Inspiration / prompt used here was He looks down. She looks up.

FANDOM/CHARACTER:

Twilight / Embry Call x Imprint!OC, Merisa.

WARNING:

Amnesia tw. Injuries mentioned very vaguely. Beyond that, I guess mutual pining / a kinda slow burn and mentions of a jerk soon to be ex boyfriend.. Embry and this original character are both adults, approx 23-24 years in age just in case anyone’s wondering...

TAGGING:

@kyleoreillysknee

OTHER STUFF:

[ faq | request rules | sfw masterlist | tag list doc ]

The last thing I remember is hitting a water pocket. My head bouncing off the steering wheel. The sound of metal groaning and glass shattering before everything went totally black.

And now, upon awakening, everything is foggy... At first,I can’t remember my name, where I was going or where I came from. I can’t even remember what day or year it is.

When I really started to come to, everything hurt. From the roots of my hair all the way to the tips of my toes. I grimaced as I pulled myself up in bed. My stomach was growling. My eyes darted around the unfamiliar room and the scent of bacon frying only worsened the pronounced hunger I was feeling.

“Where am I?” I muttered to myself as I gingerly made an attempt to slip out of bed. But the second my bare feet connected with aged and cold wooden floorboards, the mild pain I’d been feeling only intensified. When the door to the room creaked open quietly, I was just getting back into bed.

The man standing in the doorway didn’t spark a shred of recognition. God do I wish he did because I like to think that if I even have a type, he has to be it. He kind of looks like a man you’d find gracing the cover of the cheap erotica I read.

At the realization that I’d just remembered something, even if it was something insignificant, I was laughing softly at myself and shaking my head about it. I took a deep breath.

“Uh.. hi.” I muttered finally, just to break the silence and the sudden thickening of the air around us.

He hadn’t broken his gaze or made a step into the room. When I spoke up, he jumped a little as if I’d startled him. My brow raised and I tried again. “Do I know you?”

“Not likely. Not well, I mean...” the guy answered after a second or two of hesitation.

I blew at a strand of hair fallen down in my eye. Dragged my fingers through my hair as I mulled it over. “Okay, let’s try this… How did I get here?”

“How much do you remember?” he questioned, not taking his eyes off of me. Avoiding the question I’d asked. I swallowed hard and really tried to think. Trying to grasp at anything, any shred of a memory.

I remembered the sound of metal groaning. Glass shattering. The icy chill of water as it lapped at my feet. Feeling like I was about to die at any second. My brows knit in frustration and the guy was at my side in seconds. Sitting hesitantly on the bed near me. Close but not close enough for my liking somehow.

I pouted about it for a second or two and pushed it to the side, taking a deep breath. “I was in a wreck, wasn’t I?”

“Mhm. You almost died, actually.”

“I thought so. Okay, now it’s your turn.. Where am I?”

“You’re in La Push.”

The words stirred little bits. Fragments of memory. An older woman with a kind but aging face. The smell of bourbon and a man with long black hair shouting at another woman. Stepping forward like he was going to shove her at any second. A little girl crouched out of sight behind furniture until the older woman picked her up and carried her out. And I knew without knowing somehow that the little girl was me.

I grimaced. Both in confusion and irritation that I couldn’t remember more. Because whatever I’d just recalled felt like it happened a lifetime ago and not recently.

How old was I?

“You remembered something, huh?” he asked, studying me quietly. A look of concern on his face.

“I think… But it doesn’t answer anything I’m wondering at the moment.” I sighed and took a deep breath. Asked another question after a few seconds that seemed to drag on forever. “What’s your name?”

“Embry.”

Another random trivial memory surfaced. The woman was there again. Introducing me to a group of boys who were all dirty from playing in the mud. I strained to focus. Honing in on the fact that she introduced me to the group as her granddaughter. My name was Merisa.

I cheered a little in triumph, forgetting for just the briefest of moments that I was literally a breathing ball of pain at the moment when I shot up off the bed to pump my fist in the air. Embry’s hand caught on my hips and he managed to keep me from crashing to the floor.

He smiled. A smile so bright that it seemed to bring light to the dullness of the room we were in. A smile, I found myself thinking, I’d give anything to see again.

“Easy. Whoa. The doctor said you’ve got some pretty gnarly injuries.” Embry scolded as he looked down at me in concern.

I nodded. Excited when I opened my mouth and started to babble about remembering my name. Remembering my grandmother and possibly growing up here in town. And on the heels of the happy came the sad.

A casket. A graveside service with gray clouds overhead and a fine mist of rain. Feeling numb and empty. Angry for some reason. This had me frowning. Shaking my head sadly.

“She’s dead.” I muttered the words. Deflated. Numb all over again.

Embry watched me like I was a landmine waiting to be triggered, his brow raising as if something I’d remembered was wrong but he didn’t dare tell me so. Sitting up like he was on high alert. Like he wanted to move closer. To attempt to offer comfort. But he didn’t dare.

A tear rolled down my cheek. I raised my hand and stopped it midway. Taking a few shaky breaths. The night of the accident came flooding back, the gaps filling themselves in as it did. I’d been crying when I left my mom’s funeral. Trying to call my grandmother. But I remembered that she was at a tribal meeting and she didn’t keep her phone turned on during tribal meetings. I must have taken my eyes off the road for a second, tops. The car hit a water pocket and went off the road. Hitting trees and flipping over a time or two before settling at the bottom of a steep hill. Next to water. Someone was pulling me out of my car. I recognized in an instant that Embry had been the one to pull me out. I remembered that he volunteered with fire and rescue.

I went quiet as I finished telling him what I was remembering. Wiping at my eyes.

And then it hit me. I didn’t really know Embry well but I did know of him aside from the fact that he pretty much saved my life the night of my accident... He was also the quiet kid down the street. One of the boys my grandma introduced me to that day.

“I do know you, actually.” I smiled at him softly, wiping at my eyes. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t mention that I knew he saved my life.

“Yeah, but not well. Kind of why I figured you’d have a meltdown when your grandma asked me to sit with you while she was out.” Embry muttered quietly. Leaning in just a little. His hand raised. A thumb rolling over my cheek as he wiped away another tear. Our eyes met and my breath caught in my throat.

“So we’re at my grandma’s. My old room.” I looked around at the room again and it felt right. From the books piled on my desk, an erotic novel turned face up and open where I’d left off reading to the posters tacked up on the wall. A contrast to my apartment I realized as soon as I started to remember the fact that I lived in Seattle.

I racked my brain trying to remember whether anyone there would be worried or missing me. I felt like there was someone waiting back there, but at the same time, I felt like maybe being here was better than being there.

Like whoever it was that might be waiting was someone I wanted to get away from.

“Greg called.” Embry spoke up after a second or two. He dragged his hand through long black hair as he held my gaze. A slightly irritated look on his face at even mentioning the guys name. “He wanted me to make sure I didn’t forget to tell you.” Embry chuckled at this, going quiet again.

When he said the name Greg, the mental image flooded my mind and my previous thought about someone waiting in Seattle proved correct. Greg was my boyfriend and honestly, he was a bit of an asshole. Uptight and moody. A bit on the controlling side under the guise of ‘this is for your own good’. I immediately started to remember a huge fight we had because apparently, he wasn’t happy about me coming back to the reservation for my mom’s funeral. Leaving him. But he refused to come along with me because to quote him “It’s not my type of thing.” and “I’m not good at emotional stuff, Mer.”

I grumbled and shrugged. “I’m not in the mood to talk to that bag of dicks.” I muttered, brushing it off. More concerned with my own current situation than I was with calling Greg to check in. It wasn’t as if he’d magically care enough to come anyway, he hadn’t come back with me for my mom’s funeral. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth because I remembered several instances in a rush. All of them were me, giving up something I wanted because Greg insisted on it.

,, Christ, why am I even with this mega asshole? I mean.. My grandma lives next to the literal embodiment of sex...” the thought had me perplexed because I didn’t remember enough to really pinpoint a good reason. Something told me that may or may not be a blessing in disguise. From the little I was able to recall about Embry, I found myself wondering why I wasn’t with him or someone like him instead.

Seattle must have changed me a lot. And apparently, not for the better. Why had I even left La Push to begin with?

And then I remembered.. My mom met another guy and we wound up moving to a military base in Seattle. And we moved around so much that I never really got to spend much time with my grandma because we were too far away to make the trip back and too broke to afford it. So leaving La Push hadn’t ever been my choice.

“Yeah, he seemed like an asshole.” Embry muttered, his gaze settling on his legs. The tension between us was so thick I almost couldn’t breathe. My breath actually caught in my throat for a second or two and desperately, I tried to come up with something to say. Anything.

“I smelled food…” I muttered quietly. Looking down just as he looked up after I’d said it. He chuckled. “I was wondering when you were going to get around to mentioning you’re hungry. Your stomach’s been growling for a while now.”

My cheeks heated up and I bit my lip, nodding. Embry stood and eyed me for a few seconds. “Do you think you can make it?”

“I don’t know..” just the thought of even trying to stand again given my amount of pain had me tensing a little. Quickly and gracefully, Embry grabbed hold of me, scooping me into strong arms. Carrying me down the hallway and into the dining room. He sat me down in a chair and made his way into the kitchen.

He came back out a few minutes later with a plate full of food. I eyed it hungrily and he sat down, taking a sip from a glass of orange juice. I dug into my food and more than a few times, I felt the weight of his stare. At one point, it prompted me to look up and meet his gaze, both of us laughing.

“What?” I asked, swallowing the bite I’d just taken.

“You act like you haven’t eaten in years.” Embry replied, giving me a teasing smirk as he spoke.

“I haven’t eaten anything this tasty.” I replied, wiping at my mouth because I felt syrup on the corner. “Sorry, this is good. So good.” I groaned through another big bite. Promptly almost choking.

With a chuckle, Embry reached over, patting me between the shoulders until I stopped coughing and when our eyes met again, he teased quietly, “Can you stop trying to die on me?”

I gulped. Getting lost in his eyes and almost not managing the nod I gave in response. “Yeah.” I muttered quietly. That tension I felt before only grew thicker. Mostly to ease it and try to keep a conversation going, I took a slice of bacon and held it out to him. “C’mon. Eat a little. I feel bad, sitting here pigging out and you’re not eating.”

He eyed me and took the bacon. Biting into it as he answered, “I ate earlier.” and shrugged it off.

The door to the house opened and my grandmother stepped inside. Dropping everything to rush over and give me a tight hug. I hugged back just as tight. “Ouch yikes.. Grandma…” I muttered. She laughed sheepishly, pulling away. Looking at me and wincing as if she felt my pain.

“At least you’re alive.” she mused. “You can stay here while you heal. I’d rather you stay here while you heal.”

I nodded, happy to agree to it. If I were to go back to Seattle, I didn’t see Greg being much help at all. Besides, I thought to myself, La Push is home. I never wanted to leave to start with.

Embry was silently making his way towards the door and my grandmother stopped him. “Thank you for sticking around today, Embry.”

“It’s not a problem. If you need me, I’m right down the road.” he answered, giving my grandmother a smile. As he said it, we locked eyes all over again. I shuffled my feet. But I didn’t look down or away. I was getting lost in his eyes all over again.

Almost as soon as the door was closed behind him, my grandmother turned her attention to me. Lecturing me about my choice in men. Filling me in on the fact that apparently my ‘lover’ couldn’t be bothered to come and see that I was safe or even alive but damned if he wasn’t calling every ten minutes demanding me to call him back. Irritated because my grandmother apparently told him at one point if he wanted to talk to me so badly, he knew where I could be found. “He’s a bum.”

I sighed and nodded. Dropping my gaze to the glass of orange juice in front of me. “I know. I wish I could remember what the hell made me choose him…”

My grandmother eyed me in concern. After going through a long list of questions, noting the ones I had trouble recalling easily for my follow up with the hospital, she sighed. “At least you remember enough. And you’re still with me. If I lost you that night…” she paused.

I got the feeling that she wasn’t good at emotional things either. But unlike Greg, she did manage to show she cared in her own way.

“But you didn’t. I’m going to be alright.” I reassured her and she nodded. When the phone rang, we shared a look at let it keep ringing.

“If you want to talk to him, Merisa..”

“I think I’d rather focus on myself and healing for a change. Getting my whole memory back. I get the feeling if I talk to him, it’s only going to stress me out.” I admitted after a long pause.

The phone went silent.

My grandma cleared away the dishes and found the crutches that the doctor had given me to use in the aid of getting around. Then she went over all the things the doctor told her about my injuries and the healing process.

“What about my memory?” I asked, curious. Anxious to know what I might be up against. Grateful that I remembered the most basic things about myself that I kind of needed to know.

“The doctor thought you might have some memory loss. I believe he said it would be short term because of the side of your brain the injury occurred in? With a little time and patience you’ll be fine.” my grandmother slipped an arm around me and then added in a more thoughtful tone, “Maybe the parts you don’t remember clearly are a blessing, yeah?”

I eyed her, considering what she said. She might not be entirely wrong…

“Embry’s always been a kind young man. Quiet. Respectful.” my grandmother mused after a few seconds of quiet. I gave a soft laugh and muttered, “Yeah. He seemed like a good guy.”

I won’t bother lying.. I hope I see more of Embry while I’m staying here at my grandmother’s… Something tells me I definitely will...

#embry call #embry call x oc fanfiction #embry call imagine #embry call fanfiction #embry call x oc imagine #embry call imagines #embry call fanfic #embry call x oc fanfic #my writing ; embry call #my fanfiction ; embry call #my oneshots ; embry call #my fics ; embry call #my imagines ; embry call #// amnesia tw #// vague injuries tw #// embry is an adult here fyi.#// pt 1 of 4?5?#// i haven't quite decided yet. i do know i yearn to write fluffy filth for this somehow

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mamahersh · 3 years

Text

The Road to Hell (is Paved with Good Intentions) Chapter 7

“Season 8 was well underway, and the server’s first conflict is bubbling just under the surface. But BDoubleO can’t worry about that right now because he has an Etho to find so they can work on the Horse Course together. However when Xisuma calls a surprise server meeting on behalf of EvilXisuma, BDubs gets his answers about where Etho’s been in the worst way possible.”

(CW: angst, mild torture)

Chapter rating: T

Nice long conclusion chapter to make up for the short one yesterday! From BDubs view, plus nHo hurt/comfort (emphasis on comfort)!

As in all the previous chapter posts, if you’ve enjoyed the ride I took direct inspiration from this oneshot on AO3! Please give them some love and appreciation.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

It had taken days before Xisuma figured out what EX had done to the server that had caused the respawns to break in the way that it had, and how to fix it. However, figure it out and fix the problem he did, and with respawn mechanics back to normal, everyone who had died and respawned during the glitch was able to reset their health completely. And properly set their respawn points as well, since part of the glitch seemed to be that people’s respawns were being set as they were dying. But the biggest adjustment in the days after EX had caused havoc was trying to help Etho recover.

While Etho seemed relatively ok once he was able to talk again (his tongue and all his other lingering injuries were fully healed with the fixing of the respawn, though figuring out a way to get him to respawn was both more difficult and less difficult than BDubs had expected); BDubs was hearing from Iskall that all was still not right with the world. Normally, Hermits would let current season basemates/regional allies/faction mates do the heavy lifting of any emotional or mental stress that a particular Hermit experienced on the daily unless the Hermit asked for help from specific Hermits. But in this case, BDubs felt he should invite Etho to an nHo reunion/get-together. Even if Etho didn’t necessarily need the reunion, BDubs knew the rest of the nHo did.

They had all been in various states of hysterics by the time they had gotten Etho out of the restraints and the death loop he had been locked in. BDubs had been the first person to breach the room, with Iskall and Beef right behind him. Beef had blocked up the water to stop the cycle as Iskall and a recently arrived Cleo began breaking restraints while BDubs clutched Etho’s freed hand (thinking back, he probably shouldn’t have. Etho’s hands had looked hardly better than the rest of his mangled flesh. He also wasn’t sure how they managed to get his wrists detached from the cuffs, as his arms and wrists were still solidly clipping into the restraints). Hypno had fiddled with the camera and looked over the speakers, before he managed to get everything deactivated and convinced the remaining Hermits to gather at Cleo and Joe’s base. By the time the Hermits were assembled at Joe and Cleo’s base, and Etho had been safely transported from the floating box, Doc was a hissing mess, Beef was greener than normal as his stress seemed to activate the alien transition, and BDubs had resorted to constantly checking his clock (a nervous habit he had picked up from 3rd Life, but the less he thought about that hell server the better). Etho had been quickly whisked away by Iskall to their shared base, but was just as quickly relocated to the Spawn Egg; as neither had wings, and Etho wasn’t nearly healthy enough to try and scale his own base in the sky. Plus, being at the Spawn Egg had the added benefit of easy access by the rest of the server so that other Hermits could stop by and check in on Etho’s progress while they all waited for Xisuma to fix the respawn mechanics. BDubs stopped by once while Etho was recovering. It was a little out of his way when trying to visit the Yes Wings Club, but figured he might as well since he hadn’t seen Etho since they had saved him 2 days before.

Etho looked about what he had expected to be honest. Since they were worried about whether a normal respawn would register his tongue being gone as normal if they healed it properly with potions, the other Hermits had determined to wait on healing him till after he had properly respawned. That left him bedridden till the server was fixed though, which no one was happy with. BDubs was told later that supposedly Etho had understood during the few times he was lucid enough to listen to someone during that time. While he had been there though, Etho had been solidly asleep, Iskall asleep himself by Etho’s bedside. BDubs had taken a moment anyway to sit on Etho’s other side and just quietly talk to him about what he had been up to in the day or two since they had saved him. Iskall had come to briefly to see who had been talking, before settling back into his chair to rest.

BDubs had left pretty quickly, if he were being honest. Seeing Etho as vulnerable as he was left BDubs feeling a bit ill. After that, it had only been a day or two more of anxiously waiting for Xisuma to fix the server before they had been able to get the other Hermits respawned properly. (There had been several deaths during the time the respawns had been on the fritz, including a couple during the search from fall damage.) But when it came to Etho, they had tried to explain what needed to happen during one of the next times he was awake, but he had been becoming more unresponsive the longer he had been bedbound. So with heavy hearts, it had been decided that Etho needed to respawn as soon as they could decide a way to do so. After much debate between Iskall and Xisuma, it was decided that a quick anvil to the head would suffice.

It was told to BDubs later that Etho had respawned a few paces from the bed he had been sleeping in at Spawn looking incredibly confused and lost. It took close to a half hour to explain what had happened to him before him and Iskall went back to their shared base. And if Iskall was to be believed, it sounded like Etho hadn’t slept since the first night back. Which was almost a week ago. Not that many of the other Hermits were doing better. From the sounds of the grapevine, Mumbo still blamed himself for what had happened to Etho, and despite apologizing and promising Etho a cut of all his profits that season to make up for his decision (which he had been told Etho had forgiven Mumbo for and told Mumbo to keep the profits as he was just respecting Etho’s choice) he insisted on trying to find ways to make it up to an increasingly exasperated Etho. (Which BDubs noted was somewhat out of character, since Etho almost never missed a chance to keep someone in his debt and exploit them for his own projects). Other than Mumbo, Doc had been reported also to not have been sleeping as much, but instead he worked on his most recent engineering marvel. Beef had been throwing himself almost entirely into setting up his own shop outside the Derpcoin market to sell his own brand of non-evil cat food. BDubs knew that Beef was taking the whole: “Derpcoin is actually evil not even a meme” thing incredibly hard, since his whole thing this season had been going over to the dark-side as an alien (which BDubs still didn’t understand how that had started in the first place). BDubs himself was doing just fine thank you very much! Sure, he’d been struggling with sleeping at night himself (every time he closed his eyes he could see Etho strapped to that chair and drowning again), and yeah, he’d been trying to work on the shopping district by the mountain instead of the Horse Course (he had heard from Iskall that Etho had been working on something outside the base, and BDubs had a sneaking suspicion he knew at least one of the projects Etho’d been working on). But he definitely wasn’t nearly as bad as the other members of the old nHo. Definitely. He couldn’t lie to himself, they were all having a bad time.

So, as BDubs was wont to do, he took things into his own hands and sent invitations to all the nHo members to come by his base for a get together. The date was set, and he visited every member in person leading up to the event to make sure they were coming, no excuses! (He knew it was particularly urgent as when he went to check on Etho, he finally found him sleeping in one of BDubs’ builds next to the horse course, and when he got Etho awake, he cracked exactly 0 height jokes until he tried to get Etho to come by later and it was a height joke every minute. The height jokes were BDubs’ way of figuring out how nicely Etho wanted to play. The less the better.)

But now the day had finally arrived, and BDubs welcomed each one of his friends into his base with open arms and a smile. First to arrive was Beef, seeing as he was closest. Then Doc. Then as BDubs was debating messaging Iskall to find Etho for him, the man himself showed up on BDubs’ doorstep. Everything went off without a hitch in the beginning. They all were able to reconnect and chat about bases and projects they were working on; Doc with his redstone magic he was getting from his friends on another server, Beef and his efforts to create a new kind of cat food, Etho and his many projects ranging from an inventory sorter to the horse course, and BDubs with his latest shop attempts in the Big Eye Crew shopping district. (It was good to see Etho making fun of BDubs’ attempts at making a redstone shop. Etho hadn’t heard of it yet, and it was a delight to see him light up while joking about what BDubs could possibly make with redstone that even someone like Grian couldn’t do themselves.)

It all comes crashing down when Etho asks Beef more about the cat food. Specifically what was wrong with the old cat food.

Now Beef hadn’t expressly said that he had been working with EX for having a cat food stand at the Evil Emporium; but he had implied that his previous cat food flavor would be going on the back burner. What they all had assumed was that Etho at least generally knew most of the gossip on the server. But what BDubs should have guessed was that Etho had been very absent this season, and unless the current events were directly affecting his plans, he had never been one for being up to date on server events. So BDubs should have guessed that Etho asking about cat food would only end in a bittersweet ending.

“So Beefers, you said something about your cat food getting a new recipe… What happened with the old recipe? Not up to snuff?”

“I will have you know that all my cat food is premium and delicious, and I will not have you slandering it in this way,” replied an overdramatic Beef.

The nHo chuckled at his antics before Etho came back with, “Well if it wasn’t the quality then what was it? Now you have me intrigued.”

Beef shrugged. “I just wanted a cat food to really call my own is all.”

Etho gave him a look. “Wouldn’t the other cat food be yours too?”

“Well…” Beef looked deeply conflicted. BDubs decided to say it for him. “He was working for the Evil Emporium since he started to change into… I guess it’s an alien?”

Etho stilled at the name, and the rest of the group held their breaths. “Ah,” he replied, suddenly tight as a bowstring.

“Which is why I’m making a new brand of cat food, one which I’ll be selling from a shop near my base for diamonds,” soothed Beef, trying his best to keep Etho away from bad memories.

“I can see why you changed brands then,” replied Etho through a forced calm. He was not subtle in the least however. Bdubs wondered if the hurt in Etho's eyes was from the idea that his closest friend had supported the monster that had hurt him, or the idea that his friend would completely change his plans for the season due to one off script incident? Bdubs had a feeling it was definitely the former.

(BDubs had asked Xisuma after all was said and done if he remembered anything leading up to them being in front of the screen at his base. X had said the last thing he had remembered before that was meeting up with EvilX to discuss business strategies before blacking out after their customary greetings. He explained it had happened before, but he had somehow never thought much of the memory gaps. However, he agreed with the rest of the Hermits that had talked with him about it that it was a problem that would need to be investigated because it sounded like mind control. And a player that could control the server admin was a force too powerful to allow free. Or at the very least, a player that needed to have some very hard limits as to what they could do placed upon them.)

“You know, Etho, have you been ok?” asked Doc hesitantly. BDubs hoped that Doc knew what he was doing, because Bdubs was definitely lost.

Etho looked a bit like a cornered animal at the moment as he looked between the 3 of them like they had betrayed him. “Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?”

Doc gave him a look that BDubs thought was completely justified. “Etho, you went through an incredibly traumatic experience only a week or so ago. It is completely fine if you aren't doing ok.”

Etho sighed. “And what would you even do if I wasn't ok?”

Doc gave a hissy whine and moved from where he had been situated to sit close beside Etho. “Well, we'd figure out what we can do to make it a little closer to being ok.” He looked down at his lap. “I know I've been struggling with sleep recently, so I understand at least if you aren't sleeping either.” Etho looked vaguely stricken.

“You were part of the group that was watching, weren't you?” BDubs watched as Etho began to close off. Doc just nodded miserably. “And the two of you?”

BDubs felt gutted, knowing that Etho either didn't remember him breaking in to save him and holding his hand; or was purposefully ignoring the memory. “I stopped you from drowning more by blocking up the source block...” muttered Beef, looking pretty hurt himself.

“I found your enclosure and got the search party together to come finish breaking you out; and was there next to Beef when he was saving you,” finished Bdubs, a bit more of the hurt shining through because he couldn't hold a poker face even if his life depended on it. But also, Etho needed to see that he wasn't alone, in a lot of ways.

Etho looked appropriately chastised, if also incredibly grateful. “Thank you, all of you.” He leaned lightly into Doc's shoulder; the most affection he would normally show to anyone. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you 3, so thank you. Thank you so much.” They all politely ignored the sniffling coming from behind the mask, though Beef situated himself on Etho’s other side, and BDubs decided to try and strategically place himself on the floor in front of Beef so that if Etho wanted to lean a leg against him, he could. BDubs was so tempted to drape himself over Etho’s legs, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Etho probably wouldn’t handle being immobile in a sitting position well for the foreseeable future. However he was vindicated when his hair was playfully ruffled by an Etho hand as the 4 of them devolved into just sitting with each other.

BDubs should have guessed that Etho wouldn’t stay down long however, as Etho (after inconspicuously wiping the corners of his eyes dry) said, “so, who wants to help me prank the Boatem Crew?” BDubs could feel the devious smile creeping across his face.

“Now you’re speaking my language Canada boy!” Etho wheezed a quiet laugh above him.

“You sure you want to be slinging that kind of slander at me short stuff?”

“SHORT STUFF?!?!” BDubs got up in a huff. “I’LL SHOW YOU SHORT STUFF, YOU DAMN BEAN POLE!” Beef, Etho, and Doc all burst into chuckles, leaning into the couch as they tried to get themselves under control. “YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, DO YOU? Ooooooh, you are all playing a dangerous game!”

Etho and Doc proceeded to laugh harder, leaning against each other. “What are you going to do BDubs, bite our ankles?” asked Beef before breaking down laughing again.

“I’LL BITE YOUR ANKLES JUST WATCH ME!” and with that, BDubs was all over Beef, trying to get a solid shoulder punch in, but being thwarted at every turn. A stray punch at Doc, and suddenly everyone but Etho was rolling around the floor trying to playfully murder each other. Etho wheezed in laughter at their antics, and expertly avoided getting added into their mischief by eventually hopping up a ladder to the next floor and watching from the opening.

Eventually they managed to settle down, and by the time they had gathered themselves enough, it was night time. BDubs, with a lighter heart than when he had let in all his friends earlier in the day, said goodbye to them with promises that if Etho really was serious about pranking the Boatem Crew, the nHo would be right by his side. They left one by one, first Doc (who complained that he was already behind schedule on his build), then Beef (who playfully recommended Etho come help him run his shop if he wasn’t too busy helping Iskall dye prismarine), and lastly Etho. But before Etho departed, he said, “you know, I already thanked you, but I feel I should do it again.” He met BDubs’ gaze. “Thank you so much for finding me. I don’t know how that would have ended if you hadn’t caught sight of that place”.

BDubs was humbled by Etho’s gratitude, though he still replied with, “You’re my friend Etho, of course I would give it my all to find you. I’m just happy we were able to do so before it was too late. And if you ever need to get away from it all, it’s pretty nice out here once you get past all the big eyes.”

Etho wheezed a chuckle in response, a hidden smile brightening up the corners of his eyes. “Sure, I’ll keep that in mind. You take care of yourself now, you hear? I don’t want to be hearing of too many shenanigans from you, ok?”

BDubs laughed in response, and nodded. “Can do! And you do the same, ok?” He let the humor drain a bit, a more serious tone shining through. “If things get bad, please let someone know. Doc knows what happened, and he would be able to tell you who else was there that you could talk to if you needed it.”

Etho nodded. “Yeah, yeah. If it gets bad I always have Iskall and you guys.” Etho glanced at a clock in his inventory. “Looks like I should be off. If I start now, I should be able to get back before sunrise.” Etho waved goodbye as he turned to go.

“Stay safe! I’ll see you around then,” called out BDubs as he watched Etho quickly jog to the nearest source of water. Then, once acquired, he flew with the flick of his trident, starting his way back to the nether portal so as to make it back to his base safely.

BDubs went to bed that night content knowing that if Etho ever needed the help, he knew who he could reach out to.

-fin-

#bdouble0 #ethoslab #docm77 #vintagebeef #xisuma #iskall #hermitcraft #hc fanfic #hc fanfiction #hurt/comfort #my beloved #finally #zombiecleo #hypnotizd #final chapter #I hope to have this mirrored to AO3 soon if it isn't already #if AO3 would ever get me off the wait list orz

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 4 years

Text

We Have A Situation (1)

Bucky x reader

Warnings: implied smut

A/N: I haven’t really been feeling inspired to start anything new, so I’m hoping this will inspire me to finish something I started last year. Let me know how y’all feel about this and if I should continue. 😁

Word Count: 2,051

********

You feel yourself stirring awake. The headache hits you immediately as you roll over with your eyes still closed to climb out of bed. You crash into a hard body on your way out. Lifting your hand, you felt around and suddenly stopped when you felt something cool. Your eyes shot open and so did his.

"Oh my God!" You yelped and struggled to get up. Realizing you were both naked, you grabbed at the sheets and covered yourself leaving Bucky completely naked and exposed. "What are you doing in here?!"

"This is my room," he raised an eyebrow. You finally looked around. Shit, what were you doing in there?

"Oh no, did we — no, we didn't... did we??" You paced back and forth.

Bucky just watched you trying to hold in his laugh. You felt the faint ache between your thighs confirming what you didn't want to believe. How did you get so drunk? You stopped as the memory came flooding back. You looked up at Bucky with wide eyes.

"Thor!" The two of you spoke in unison.

Thor had made the last few rounds of drinks last night. He’d added the strong Asgardian liquor to the drinks since he knows it's the only thing that will give both Steve and Bucky a buzz and you drank from his glass to prove you could handle it. You must have gotten off the elevator on the wrong floor. Bucky's room is right above yours, so it makes sense that you'd think you were at the right door.

You looked around frantically for your clothes. Your head was killing you and Bucky was just sitting there looking all smug. God, you wanted to slap that look right off of his stupid face. He still had not bothered to cover himself and it was getting harder and harder not to stare at him.

"Can I keep these?" He held up your underwear.

You grabbed a pillow and hit him in the face with it snatching the underwear from his hands. He laughed.

"Ugh! I can't believe, of all the people I could have drunk fucked, it had to be you."

"This isn't exactly my proudest moment either, baby doll. But let's not pretend that you didn't enjoy every second of it," he smiled.

Bucky Barnes was the one person on this team that you just couldn't get along with. The two of you fought about everything. He didn't trust you to be on his team for missions and you didn't want to be. You even argued about things you agreed on just for the sake of yelling at each other.

Bucky moved from the bed finally and handed you your bra. You hurried to dress and ran out of the room. Not wanting to risk running into anyone else on the elevator and having to answer questions, you took the stairs down to your room. Once inside, you immediately showered and took medicine for your headache wishing you could go back in time.

That's it! You'd call Stephen and have him turn back time. It's just a few hours, what could it hurt?

********

"Please?!" You spoke into your phone.

"I absolutely will not," Stephen Strange scoffed from the other end of the receiver.

"But I did something really stupid and I need it to have never existed." You whined.

"You know that I cannot and will not turn back time, because you regret a decision that you made."

"Come on, Doc, I thought I was your favorite? Just do me this one favor and I'll never ask for anything ever again."

"You said that last time I opened a portal for you at the pizza shop, so you wouldn't have to drive yourself." You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off, "I'm very busy. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to figure it out." He hung up.

You flopped down in a kitchen chair. You heard a throat clear and you looked up. You hadn't even noticed Wanda and Natasha sitting there. Your eyes became as big as saucers.

"Would you like to tell us what that was about or do I need to torture you?" Natasha asked.

"Why is torture always your go to, Nat?" Wanda questions.

"What? It's my favorite thing," she shrugged.

You dropped your head to the table and groaned. "I got drunk last night and hadadgkvuikfsexyghujggj," you grumbled out.

"What?" Wanda twisted her face.

"I had sex with Bucky," you said again without looking up.

Dead silence.

You finally peeked up at the two women who sat across from you doing their best not to laugh. You groaned and dropped your head again and they were unable to contain their laughter.

"I'm sorry," Wanda was first to apologize, but continued laughing. You pushed back in the chair ready to make your exit. "No, no, no, please we're sorry!" She bit her lip to force herself to stop. She nudged Natasha with her elbow.

"You have to tell us how it was."

"Nat, no," you said.

"Oh, come on! He has women here all the time. I can't ask them, but I can ask you." she leaned forward. Wanda was tuned in waiting for you to answer. You glanced at the kitchen door. "Don't worry, all of the guys are in the gym."

"Well," you started, "from what I think I remember it was... incredible." You put your hand in your hair and twisted a braid. "I was still sore this morning," you looked down.

"And why are you ashamed? You're both adults." Wanda asked.

"Because it's him. I could accept anybody else," you exaggerated.

"I don't know, good sex is good sex," Nat shrugged.

You glared in her direction and dropped your head once more. This could not be happening.

********

It had been a little over a month since you had slept with Bucky. You both ignored what happened and went on with your lives. Still arguing and still fighting about nothing. Once again, everyone was sitting around drinking after a long mission. The thought of alcohol made you nauseous, but it had been a while since your last drink. You knew to stay away from Thor's stash this time.

Nat handed you a shot of tequila, knowing it's your favorite. When you brought it to your nose you could've vomited on the spot. You sat the glass down.

"You're not taking a shot?" She eyed you curiously.

"Nope, immediate flashback. I'm good on the liquor." you pushed it towards her.

She shrugged and threw it back. Bucky rolled his eyes knowing what you were referring to.

You excused yourself to bed trying to figure out what your deal was. Of course you were scarred for life knowing you'd gotten drunk and slept with Bucky, but it was just sex. You were also able to hold any other liquor just fine, so why did tequila sound like the worst thing in the world right now? You shrugged off your thoughts and went to bed. Your stomach was still rolling from the smell of the tequila.

The next day, you stayed in bed all day. You weren't feeling too well and decided to just lie around and do nothing. Nat brought you some soup hoping it would help settle your stomach a bit. You threw it up shortly after. You stuck with crackers and ginger ale deciding the sickness had to be one of those 24 hour bugs.

You rubbed your belly and froze.

"No," you whispered.

Jumping out of bed you hurried to get dressed, grabbed your purse and ran to the elevator. Smashing the button rapidly as if that would make the car come faster. The doors finally opened, thank goodness no one else was on it. You made your way down to the main floor and rushed outside. A small convenience store wasn't too far away.

You snuck back into the tower undetected and headed to your room. Dumping the contents of the bag, you stared down at the pregnancy tests and bottles of water. You took a deep breath and tried to remember when your last period was and how you hadn't noticed it was extremely late.

After gulping down the water and waiting a few minutes, you went to the bathroom. A three minute wait. This was going to be the longest three minutes of your life.

The timer went off. Snatching up the stick, you stared down at it. Two lines indicated pregnancy. You snatched open another one and headed to the bathroom. Same results. Another, hoping this one would read differently. It didn't.

"What the FUCK?!" You screamed at no one. You sat down and calmed yourself before deciding to go up to Bucky's room. Might as well tell him now.

Heading to his room, you could hear voices the closer you got to his door. A giggle from some random woman. You smiled. At least you'd get to ruin his night.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

"Go away!" he yelled from the other side.

"James Buchanan Barnes, you open this door right now!" You yelled back banging again. You heard him stomp over and he snatched the door open.

"Somebody had better be dying," he said. You pushed past him into the room. The woman sitting on his bed jumped to her feet.

You smiled over at her and stuck your hand out for a shake, "Hi, how are you? I'm —"

"I know who you are," she shook your hand, "I'm Kayla."

"Hi, Kayla," you turned to Bucky. "I don't mean to be rude, but she’s gotta go. We need to talk."

"What? Can't this wait?" He scrunched his face up.

"If it could wait I wouldn't be here," you rolled your eyes.

"I drove her here."

"FRIDAY," you called out, "please get an Uber here for Kayla right away." Bucky let out an exasperated sigh, he apologized and walked Kayla to the elevator.

When he got back he slammed the door behind him.

"You know, there's no reason for you to be jealous. You could've just joined the party," he teased.

"Get your head out of your ass, Barnes, this is serious," you pulled a test out of your pocket and tossed it to him. He stared down at it for a few seconds before it registered. He looked at you in horror.

"You're pregnant? By who?"

"Really?" You stared back at him.

"Are you sure? I mean, take another test." You pulled the other two out of your pocket and showed him they all had the same results. He sat down on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. The room was quiet before he finally asked, "What are you gonna do?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, I mean, it's really up to you, right? Back in my day, this wasn't a question that needed to be asked, because there really was no other option."

You thought about your answer before speaking out loud. "Although it means that I'll be stuck with you until I die, I want to keep it..."

Bucky released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. You couldn't tell if it was a happy release or a sad release. He smiled over at you and nodded. He supported your decision.

********

After visiting Dr. Cho and getting confirmation from a blood test, you asked FRIDAY to have everyone come to the conference room. As you and Bucky walked in, you could hear Sam grumbling.

"What's this about?" Sam asked, seeing you in the doorway. Bucky stuck his hands in his pockets.

"To keep it short," you started, "this idiot knocked me up," you pointed at Bucky.

"Hey! Why do I have to take the blame for all of this?"

"Because it's your fault! Ever heard of pulling out, pretty boy?"

"If I remember correctly, you were in my bed completely naked when I got there. You seduced me." He squinted his eyes and waited for you to back down.

"Sam, you know those cookies you love? I'll make you some if you shoot Bucky right now."

"Say less," he said, standing and reaching for his waist.

"Sam, no!” Nat yelled. “This is gonna be a long 9 months," she sighed.

********

@titty-teetee

@bluestarego

@fandomfavesss

@literaturefeen

@angrythingstarlight

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes #Smut #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #Avengers #avengers smut #Lotusss Writes

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years

Text

Together

A Stitched Story (END)

JSE Fanfic

Man...this is it. The last one. That’s...wow. This was an AU three years in the writing, and with this, it’s over. I just...wow. I’m gonna need to just think about that for a second. Maybe wait a bit before starting something new. Anyway, this is basically wrapping everything up, taking care of all the final plot points and loose ends. There are emotional moments, including one big one, but...wow. I just have to keep saying that over and over again, it’s all I feel. The boys are settling down. Finally. Man, they’ve earned it.

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.

Taglist (finally): @bupine @violet--majesty @ari-trash

It was surprisingly sunny, for an autumn day. Busy, too. Cars rushed through the streets, and pedestrians populated the pavement. Jameson shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare as he peered around a street corner and saw their destination. We’re almost there. One more block, he said, tapping the message out in Morse code on a nearby lamppost.

“Good, I hope we are not late,” Schneep replied. “What time is it?”

JJ checked the clock on his phone. 1:25. Do you think it’s already over?

“Possibly. In any case, it would be better to be early.” Schneep turned the corner, speeding up, running his cane over the sidewalk to check for cracks. JJ hurried to catch up. “Chase would be upset if we are not there.”

He’ll be fine, JJ said reassuringly, now tapping the message on Schneep’s arm. But I suppose we can make haste.

The two of them soon arrived at their destination, turning into the hospital parking lot and walking towards the building’s front entrance. “Oh! I think he is here, yes?” Schneep said.

Yes, I can see him. JJ waved. Chase was standing outside the glass doors, bouncing on his feet and scanning the area. He had his usual bandanna and cap, but was wearing a new sweater, one that the others had given him as a group birthday present to make up for missing it a few months ago, and an old backpack Stacy had lent him. Once he saw JJ waving he smiled, and waved back.

“Ha! Knew it. I am getting good at this,” Schneep said proudly. “If only sensing souls could help with telling apart the toothpaste and burn cream.”

JJ laughed, muffled as usual, and the two of them hurried across the parking lot. Chase ran up to meet them at the edge of the sidewalk. “Hey guys!” he said. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” Schneep said lightheartedly. “Well, well? Did everything go fine?”

“Oh, uh, mostly.” Chase rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. He wasn’t wearing his wristbands. Instead, there were white bandages. “She managed to get the ones on my wrists off, but said she didn’t want to risk messing with the one on my neck. It’s close to an artery or something? I don’t know, it was some complicated medical stuff.”

“Ah. That is too bad,” Schneep said sadly. Jameson shook his head sympathetically. “But it is glad to hear some of the stitches are gone. I told you that Darla was good. Trustworthy, too. She will not tell anyone.”

“If you say so, doc.” Pulling his sleeves down, Chase turned to JJ. “Are you sure you don’t want to try? I mean, it’s a lot more inconvenient for you than it is for me.”

JJ hesitated, then nodded. I am fine, he signed. I’ve gotten used to it, and yes, there are many downsides, but considering what happened last week, I think it is good enough.

“Man. If you’re really sure,” Chase said reluctantly. “They’re already a bit looser, right? Maybe whatever magic’s making them hard to cut through will fade over time.”

“Wait, Jameson, did you bring up last week?” Schneep whacked JJ’s legs with his cane. “I said that you should not try yourself! Things could go wrong!” He paused. “But everything is fine, right?”

Yes, it was a shallow cut, JJ said. Your scissors are pretty sharp.

“I know. They are not normal, and I am starting to think they were always supposed to be weapons.” Schneep sighed. “Well, I am putting them away soon.”

JJ and Chase exchanged a significant look. “You’re gonna put them away?” Chase repeated.

Schneep nodded. “If I need them again, it won’t be hard to pull them out.”

In the month since they’d finally gotten rid of the strings, Schneep had kept carrying the scissors around. Just in case, he’d said. Just in case those glowing green strands of black magic managed to worm their way back into the world. But the past month had been quiet. Busy in other ways, but nothing had appeared to attack any of them. So maybe ‘just in case’ wasn’t going to come. Maybe it would be fine to leave them at home. Or, well, in whatever pocket dimension they came from.

“If you’re sure, doc,” Chase said. “A-anyway, it’s a bit past 1:30. We should hurry, or we’ll be late to meet up with the others. You guys walked here? C’mon, there’s a bus stop across the street.”

We’d definitely be on time if you drove us, JJ said teasingly.

“Hey, I can’t be blamed for not having a car.”

Ask Stacy.

“Nah, it’s fine. I should practice a bit before I do any serious driving, anyway. It’s been a while.”

“You took the bus here?” Schneep asked, puzzled. “But what about people sitting next to you?”

“It’s okay, I just put the backpack next to me. And it’s alright if it’s you guys.” Chase stepped off the sidewalk curb and onto the parking lot asphalt. “Now let’s go.”

The bus ride was short, and soon the three of them were getting off at a stop outside a small restaurant—or, more of a cafe, really. Despite being near lunchtime, the place was almost empty when they walked in. Soft piano music was playing over a speaker system, and a chalk signboard near the front entrance read “Please Seat Yourselves” with a hand-drawn smiley face. Chase read the sign out loud, and the three of them spotted the rest of the group, sitting at a table in the corner of the dining area, right by a window.

Jack had looked up at the sound of the bell chiming when the door opened. “Hey, they’re here,” he said to the other two sitting at the table.

“Huh? Oh, good.” Jackie was turning the menu over and over, listening to the sound of the laminated paper against the air. Marvin didn’t say anything. His head was leaning against the glass of the window, eyes closed, a pair of earbuds blocking out most sound. But he did make a small sound of acknowledgement.

“Hey guys.” Chase arrived first, taking the chair across from Marvin, next to the wall. Schneep and JJ took the next two. “Did you already order?”

“No, I told the waiter that we were waiting for people,” Jack explained. “But, more importantly, how’d it go? Are they gone?”

“Wrists are.” Chase once again pulled back his sleeves. For a moment, Jackie glanced at the bandages on his wrists, then bit his lip and looked away. “Apparently the neck stitches are too close to an artery or something. She didn’t want to mess with it.”

“Shit. Well, two out of three’s not bad,” Jack said.

“Jack, my friend, how are the repairs going?” Schneep asked.

“Pretty good, I think. The walls just got repainted, and the living room has new chairs and stuff. Still a long way to go.” Jack laughed. “Honestly I’m just glad that the water and Internet didn’t go out.”

Are the police still talking to you? JJ asked.

“No, not really. You guys?”

The other three all shook their heads. Dealing with the police had been...complicated. They had to, of course. They couldn’t just go back to their old lives without people asking “what the hell happened to you?!”JJ had it the easiest, in a way. Nobody had reported him missing, which was a bit sad when he thought about it, and all the regular patrons of his shop had assumed it closed down. Jack and Chase had more difficulty, since they were pretty public figures. The moment Jack had uploaded a video explaining he was back, the Internet had gone up in flames wondering where he’d been.

In the end, they all decided on the same story. It was pretty lame, as Chase often said, but it worked. They all just lied and said they didn’t remember anything. Weird stitches on Chase’s wrists and neck? Nope. Scars all over Jack’s body? Don’t know what happened there. Schneep losing an entire sense and gaining weird scars that looked like tears dripping from his eyes? No idea, officer. The police had prodded them, but eventually given up, essentially leaving the case unsolved and concluding it was a strange psychological phenomenon. The case would go down in history, but nobody would know the truth.

Of course, when it came to Marvin and Jackie coming back to life, things were going to be a bit difficult. Fortunately, they had magic on their side.

“Have any of you heard from Yvonne?” Jack asked, sliding each of them a menu.

“Dude, why would she talk to me? I’m the least magical person here,” Chase said.

Not since she offered to help, JJ added.

Schneep merely shook his head and picked up the menu. “Oh! They actually have—”

“Yeah, I explained the situation when the waiter came over and he gave me a Braille copy,” Jack explained. “Anyway, she called me the other day. Says that the records should be all fixed now.”

“I still say that can’t be legal,” Chase muttered.

“It’s not.” Everyone jumped, a bit surprised to hear Marvin talk. He didn’t move from his position against the window or open his eyes, but he did continue. “She’s not really into stuff being legal, you know. Normal laws or magic laws. Always thought they got in the way, that...that...her. That...name.”

“Yvonne.” Jackie gently bumped Marvin’s shoulder with his own.

“Right.”

Jack gave the others a meaningful look. Memory issues. One of the lingering side effects Marvin and Jackie were dealing with. They could forget something in seconds. Jackie had taken to writing things down, if not with an actual pen and paper, then by finger-spelling it on his hand over and over. Marvin just sort of let it happen, only writing down the really important stuff. “Anyway, it’s all fixed,” Jack continued, looking back over at the other two. “You guys can...y’know, start doing stuff again. When you want. Move out, if you feel like it.”

“Thanks,” Jackie said. He sounded oddly reluctant. Marvin didn’t even bother to answer.

Chase cleared his throat. “Speaking of moving out, Schneep, did you get your apartment back yet?”

Schneep scowled. “I am so close. The stupid building owner is still insisting on keeping it all preserved, and I say, ‘for what?!’ You are clearly not going to sell it, if everything is still how it is when I was living there. So just let me live in! The police do not care anymore, anyway, so there is no crime scene!”

He probably liked the idea of having a flat where someone who disappeared lived, JJ suggested. It lends a bit of mystery and gives the building a reputation. People might want to move in because of that.

“Well he will still have it! I will just be actually there!” Schneep folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. “Ugh. Jamie, I like you, but your guest room is tiny.”

JJ gave a huff of a laugh. Sorry, Hen. I’d never really needed one before so I didn’t hear any complaints.

“Oh, Chase, what about you? How’s the house search coming?” Jack asked.

“Fine.” Chase shrugged. “I got a few to look at. Y’know Stacy doesn’t seem to mind me staying over. I was surprised, given how she, um...wanted to move out so much a few years ago.”

“Well, things change,” Jack said cheerfully.

“Yeah. I guess that’s an upside of this, we’re, like...friends.” Chase said the word in a tone of bewildered, but welcomed, happiness. The way someone would react to hearing good news that they’d thought was no longer an option. “Again, I mean. A-and I don’t think it’s gonna go further, but...still.”

“That’s great, my friend.” Schneep patted the back of Chase’s hand.

“Yeah, that’s great!” Jackie repeated, suddenly enthusiastic. “So, like, we should order food, right?”

“Oh right.” Jack nodded. “Hang on.” He stood up, looking towards the back of the restaurant where the door to the kitchen was. A waiter was walking out at that moment, and caught sight of the group, quickly indicating he’d be right there. “Oh, nice. I was confused, really, if like this was the type of place where people would come over or if we had to go up there.” Jack sat back down and picked up the menu. “We should go all out. This is a celebration.”

I think I can get a drink, JJ signed slowly.

“Really?” Jack asked, surprised.

Yes, I think the stitches have loosened up enough for that, JJ said more confidently. A small straw or a bit of liquid. Just so long as nobody’s looking when I take off my mask.

“Awesome, man,” Chase said cheerfully. “Honestly, this place looked good on the website. We should get a lot.”

“Celebration,” Schneep repeated, then nodded. “Yes. Yes, that sounds wonderful. Celebration lunch.”

And for most of them, it was just that, wonderful. They were meeting up again, the last of their troubles were ending. Things were looking up.

But a corner of the table was a bit gloomier. Jackie and Marvin were pretty quiet all throughout the lunch. Neither of them ate that much. Marvin kept his eyes closed or looking down at his plate, and Jackie paid more attention to the salt and pepper shakers than anything else. Once the lunch was over and after everyone said their goodbyes, they followed Jack back to his apartment, where they were staying, and drifted off to separate activities. A book for Marvin, an old laptop for Jackie.

They never once said anything to each other.

— — — — — — —

Ignisa: a spell to conjure fire.

Marvin read the simple command word over and over, repeating it mentally. Ignisa. Ignisa. It was one of the simplest spells out there, and one of the first ones he learned. He could visualize the page of the book he read it in. He remembered it. Really, he did. Most of the time. For the occasions that he didn’t he’d written down the command and what it did on a spare bit of paper.

“Ignisa,” he whispered, staring down at his hands, cupped as if to hold water. He sat in the center of the floor in the spare bedroom, as far away from furniture as possible. “Ignisa. Ig-NI-sa. IG-ni-sa. Ig-ni-SA.” Yet, no matter how many times he repeated it, no matter how he pronounced it or how loud he spoke it, no matter how much he concentrated on the feeling of fire bursting forth in his hands...there wasn’t even a spark.

“Fuck.” Marvin gave up, burying his face in his hands. He squeezed his eyes to contain tears of frustration, but he still let one or two sobs slip out. Why couldn’t he do anything? No fire, no lights, no telekinesis. All the magic he remembered was useless. The only spell that sort of worked was teleportation, in fact he actually found it easier now than it used to be, but he couldn’t quite control it. If he was lucky, he’d end up close to where he wanted to be, and if he was unlucky, he teleported to the middle of the sky twenty miles away. That...hadn’t been a fun evening.

There were only a few spells that worked perfectly for him. Taking a few deep breaths, Marvin lifted his head up, and pressed his hands close together, palm to palm. Slowly, he pulled them away from each other. In the space between them were blue glowing threads of magic, which got longer the farther apart his hands got. If he wanted, he could use these strings like a weapon, grabbing things, pinning them to the wall, and maybe with practice he could use them to swing, like some sort of discount magical Spider-Man. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want anything to do with these. Scowling, Marvin brushed his hands together, and the strings disappeared.

Someone knocked on the door, and Marvin yelped in surprise. He quickly got to his feet. “Wh-who is it?”

“It’s Jack,” a voice said. “Can I come in?”

“Um...sure.”

Jack opened the door, poking his head in through the gap. “Hey Jackie’s making noodles for dinner. Do you want any?”

Did he? Marvin wasn’t really hungry. He didn’t really feel hungry that often anymore. Or maybe he did, and just couldn’t recognize the feeling. Jackie was the same way, but that didn’t stop him from trying to eat. After a bit, Marvin decided it would probably be better safe than sorry. “...Sure.”

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” Jack hesitated. “Do you...want anything? Need anything?”

Marvin hesitated. He glanced over at Jack before looking away. Wait, why was one of Jack’s eyes a slightly different shade of blue? When had that—oh. Right. “No.”

“Alright...if you’re sure,” Jack said reluctantly. “Come out whenever you’re ready.” And with that, he left.

Just in time, too. Marvin backed up until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Immediately, he fell back onto the mattress, pressing his hands against his eyes. “Stop thinking about it,” he said to himself. “Stop thinking about it, stop it, stop.” That only seemed to make it worse. Images flashed in his head, leftover memories that weren’t his, but also were, and were also Jackie’s and someone else’s. The others called him Anti. Anti’s memories. They would pop up whenever something triggered them, and that ‘something’ was usually one of the others. Right now, the memories were about Jack, about what happened to his eye. Marvin could hear himself—no, Anti—laughing.

Shaking, Marvin slowly stood up again, staggering across the room to the door. Why was it that sometimes, his balance just didn’t work? Why was he so clumsy now? He grabbed the doorknob but didn’t open it, just pressing his forehead into the wood. These were the consequences for his actions. The memories, the problems with his magic, the lack of balance. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t gotten into his head that trying the transference spell would be fine, that not telling Jackie wouldn’t cause any problems...It hadn’t even been about helping people, like how Jackie probably wanted to, he just wanted to see if he could do it, to see if he could increase his power. And he caused everything. So this was his punishment. Served him right.

— — — — — — —

“Marvin says he wants dinner,” Jack said, leaning into the kitchen/dining room.

“Okay,” Jackie said cheerfully, grabbing another bowl from the cabinet. It was easy, since that particular cabinet was missing its door. It would probably stay that way for a while, too, since with all the other repairs the apartment required it wasn’t a high enough priority. Jackie set the bowl on the counter next to two others, then looked over at the pot of water. It wasn’t steaming or boiling. Did he forget to turn the heat on? He tapped the edge of the burner under the pot.

“Jackie!” Jack gasped.

“Oh, it’s fine, it’s not on,” Jackie assured him. “I was just checking.”

“You mean you didn’t know if it was on?!”

“It probably wasn’t.” Jackie looked up to see the dial hadn’t been turned. Oh. He probably could have looked at the dial before touching the burner. Well, whatever. He reached over and turned the dial to the 7 mark.

“Please be careful,” Jack said, looking nervous. “You could get hurt.”

“I am being careful,” Jackie said. It didn’t really matter, anyway. He was having trouble feeling pain lately. Or...most things, actually. It was weird, he was a bit numb. Not by too much, but enough to be noticeable, to know that he hadn’t been like that before. Marvin was just the opposite, nowadays he was constantly being overwhelmed with the texture and feel of things. But he was always more sensitive to sensations than the rest of them.

“Well, be even more careful,” Jack insisted. He backed out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna, uh, hang out in the living room. Tell me if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Jackie nodded. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Alright.” Jack hesitated for a second before turning away and leaving.

Everything was fine. Jack really didn’t need to worry, Jackie had everything covered. Making food was easy, really. It was something that he did all the time. The process was automatic, especially for making pasta. Just wait for a bit, occasionally stirring, then drain the water. It was all good. This was a normal thing that normal people did. Things were normal.

Of course, Jackie knew that every single thing he’d just thought to himself was a lie. But it was easier to pretend. Sometimes he pretended so hard that it felt like he was watching a movie filmed in the first-person, instead of actually existing in this body.

Oh, it was happening now, actually. Jackie watched as his hand pulled open the cutlery drawer and took out a long spoon. Then the hand started stirring the pasta in the pot. It was starting to get hot now. There was steam. How hot was it? The other hand reached forward and—

“Shit!” Jackie snapped back to reality, pulling his hand away from the side of the metal pot. “Ah. Fuck.” He looked down. The skin of his fingers was a bit red and tender. He opened and closed his fist a few times to help the leftover burning feeling fade away.

“Is everything okay?” Jack was back, apparently having heard Jackie shout. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just brushed against the side,” Jackie explained.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Well...okay, then.” Jack reluctantly backed out of view.

Everything was fine. Oh look, the pasta was suddenly done. Time had just flown past. Jackie poured the pasta into the strainer and then scooped it into the bowls. Marvin showed up, and then Jack, and they all ate in silence, after which Jack excused himself to go back to his recording room to do some editing. The moment he’d replaced all the broken computer parts, he’d gone back to making videos, though not nearly as frequently as before. That was...nice. Nice that he could do that.

Jackie wondered what he was supposed to do now. Not just for the rest of the day, but...for the rest of ever. He wanted things to be fine, to be normal, and he was pretty good at pretending they were. But they. Just. Weren’t. He couldn’t find the energy to start looking for a job, or for a new apartment, or even for new clothes. But at the same time, he didn’t want to keep borrowing from Jack. He didn’t want to just stay in place, but he couldn’t move forward.

At one point, he’d thought about going back out onto the streets. He didn’t know what happened to his old super suit, but he could make a new one. Then that train of thought had immediately crashed to a halt with a flash of memory. Not his, but also his. Anti’s. A memory with so much pain in it, and feeling glad at that pain. Somehow triumphantly vindicated to see suffering. No. Someone like that couldn’t be a hero.

So things continued. The same things. Every day.

Everything was fine.

— — — — — — —

Time passed. Autumn progressed, and it became cooler as September blended into October. Jack kept fixing up the apartment, and it was beginning to look good as new. Schneep finally convinced the building owner to let him back into his place, and so he moved out of JJ’s building. Chase was still having trouble finding a house, but he was glad to spend more time with Lily and Moira, absolutely doting on the two of them. Business at JJ’s shop started to pick up again, though he had to get used to carrying around a notepad since most customers didn’t know sign language.

Jackie and Marvin stayed where they were.

One night, a storm rolled over the city. Rain pounded the ground, thunder rumbled in the distance, and nobody went out of their houses. That night, Marvin went into the apartment’s bathroom and pressed his face against the small window to watch the storm. There wasn’t much to see. The glass was cloudy for privacy. But there was water running down the other side, droplets racing each other to the bottom.

Then there was a flash, and a fork of lightning split the window in half. A second later came the thunder. Marvin heard someone gasp, and jumped, spinning around to see Jackie standing in the open bathroom doorway. “Oh. Sorry,” Jackie muttered. “I just saw the lights on in here and—nevermind.”

Marvin just looked at him for a bit, then turned back to the window. Jackie stood there for a moment, then started to turn away.

“Jackie?”

He stopped at the sound of Marvin’s quiet voice. “Yeah?”

“Are we...bad people?”

Jackie didn’t answer, and that was an answer on its own.

“Should we...be here?”

“What do you mean?” Jackie asked.

Marvin started pulling at his fingers. “Just...what if something...happens?”

Jackie paled. “I-it’ll be okay. It’s all okay.”

“Okay.”

Neither of them moved. Then, quietly, Jackie admitted something. “I don’t want to be here.”

“You don’t?” Marvin finally turned around.

“I don’t think I should,” Jackie whispered. “Just...everyone is nice to us. But we...hurt them. Or, kind of us. I mean, he was still us, right?”

Marvin nodded. “I remember doing it.”

“Me too.”

“He can’t come back, though. Right?”

“I mean...no,” Jackie said slowly. “But what if we...what if something happens?” He echoed Marvin’s own words back at him.

Marvin was silent for a moment. “I don’t want to be here, either.”

“Should we leave?”

“What would we do?”

“I don’t know.” Jackie glanced down the hall, towards Jack’s bedroom. “But they’re...good people. And we’re.... We don’t...” He trailed off.

Another crack of thunder.

“Should we leave a note?” Marvin asked.

“No. They can figure it out. Should we stay together?”

“Maybe at first.”

“Okay.��

A few minutes later, the power in the apartment building went out. Jack left his bedroom, holding a flashlight. “Hey guys? The storm knocked the lights out. You okay?”

No answer. Not surprising, Jackie and Marvin could be pretty quiet. So Jack went to look for them.

But...they weren’t there. Not in the spare bedroom, not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen, not in the living room. “Guys?” he called, voice rising in worry. “Guys?!”

Still no answer. Swearing under his breath, Jack went back to his bedroom and picked up his phone from where he’d left it. He opened up the group chat and sent a message.

Jackie and Marvin are gone. I think they’ve left.

— — — — — — —

It was still storming when they got off the bus to look around. With the rain pouring down, it was hard to make out details of anything. There were the vague, tall shapes of buildings, the long stretches of clear roads and sidewalks...but everything else was a bit cloudy. “We should’ve brought an umbrella,” Marvin said, trying to shield himself from the rain by covering his head with his arms. It didn’t work.

“I didn’t think he had one,” Jackie said, peering through the falling water. “Do you want my jacket?”

“No, I’m fine.” Marvin shivered.

“I...okay, if you’re sure you’re alright,” Jackie said reluctantly. “Here, there’s a street sign over on that corner.” He walked up to the sign, Marvin trailing after him. “Uh...Everwood Lane. I...I don’t remember where that is. Do you?”

“No,” Marvin admitted. They hadn’t really had much of a plan, had they? Just up and left, trusting they’d figure it out in the moment. Saw a bus stopping at a nearby station, and hopped aboard, pretending to swipe bus passes so the driver, who wasn’t really paying any attention, wouldn’t notice. Then they’d gotten off at random, once they realized they’d been sitting in the bus for a while and they had to be far away by then. Why had they thought any of that would be a good idea? Why had he just gone along with it?

“Well, uh. Let’s get inside.” Jackie pressed on, now walking up to the entrance of the nearest building. “Maybe we can ask someone in there, and it’ll be dry.” See? This would work out.

Luckily, that building turned out to be open, and they stepped into a front hall. It looked nice, but was completely empty. The only things of note were the pair of elevators, the door labelled ‘Stairwell,’ another unlabelled door, and a directory on a sign attached to the wall.

“No one’s here,” Marvin muttered.

“Someone has to be here, everything’s on.” Jackie scanned the directory. The building was nine floors tall, plus the ground floor, and every floor was listed as belonging to some business, each with operating hours attached. “Uh...what time is it?”

“...I don’t remember,” Marvin said. “And there’s no clock here. And we don’t have phones.”

“It’s fine, we’ll—we’ll just check around,” Jackie said optimistically. He walked over to the unmarked door and grabbed the handle, starting to push it open. Only to stop short when the door wouldn’t budge. Locked. Okay. That was fine. There were more options. Jackie turned around. “C’mon, we’ll take the lifts.”

“Mm-hmm.” Marvin nodded, following him to the elevators.

The elevator arrived, doors sliding open, and the two of them stepped in. “Right, we’ll just start with the first floor,” Jackie said, pressing the button. He waited for a few seconds, but the elevator wasn’t moving. The button hadn’t lit up. “Um...” He pressed it again. Then a couple more times. Then he tried the other buttons, pushing them hard.

“There’s a card reader attached,” Marvin pointed out, nodding towards a black box mounted on the elevator’s panel. “I don’t think it’ll work without the right card.”

“Oh.” Jackie was momentarily at a loss, but then he recovered. They just had to keep moving. That’s all. “I guess we’ll take the stairs, then.”

The stairwell was tall, white, and empty, metal stairs spiralling upwards with only a railing keeping the people walking up and down from falling off. Jackie led the way, climbing up the stairs quickly with Marvin a bit behind. But there was no luck. All the doors that led into the floors were blocked by the same card readers as in the elevators. Just in case, Jackie still tried to open them, both pushing and pulling, but to no avail. So they just kept climbing, stopping at every story so Jackie could try the doors with increasing desperation, while Marvin watched him with increasing annoyance.

Until finally, they reached the last door, this one labelled ‘Roof Access.’ Surprisingly, this one didn’t have a card reader. Jackie hesitated, then pushed it open, letting in a spray of rain from the storm outside.

“Okay, this was useless,” Marvin said. “Let’s—”

“Well, maybe there’s someone outside,” Jackie suggested.

“In the rain?”

But Jackie was already heading out, pulling on his hood as he stepped into the storm.

Of course there wasn’t anyone there. Disregarding the misery of the weather, it was hard to see anything, including the railing that marked the edge of the roof. It would be dangerous to be up there. But Jackie still walked forward, looking around, until he eventually found that railing along the edge, grabbing the rain-slicked metal to orient himself.

“No one’s here!” Marvin shouted over a clap of thunder. He’d followed Jackie out onto the roof and was now standing about an arm’s length behind him, looking extremely unhappy about the whole situation. “Let’s go!”

“Right.” Jackie nodded. “We’ll just—just try another building, and ask where we are.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll—we’ll get a hotel.”

“How will we pay for it?”

“Uh...okay, not a hotel. We’ll...find our way to someone’s house, o-or something, and ask if we can stay.”

“What if no one lets us in?”

“We’ll—we’ll find an empty building.” Jackie grasped desperately at a way to salvage this situation, a way that wouldn’t involve them going back. He wasn’t even sure he could find his way back; he’d forgotten Jack’s address somewhere on the way. “Yeah. And then we’ll go to sleep, and in the morning, figure out a better plan. Yeah! It’s fine. Everything will be fi—”

“Everything will not be fucking fine, Jackie!” Marvin suddenly burst out. “This was a terrible idea! Why did we think to do this?! Why did I go along with it?! It’s raining, there’s lightning, we’re lost, my clothes are wet which I hate more than murder, and you’re being delusional!”

“I—I am being optimistic!” Jackie spluttered, letting go of the railing so he could face Marvin head-on. “I am trying to make the best of a difficult situation—”

“We shouldn’t even be out here!” Marvin interrupted. Another crack of thunder rang throughout the sky, even louder than before. “You suggested this! Why’d you suggest it?”

“Well, why did you ask if we should’ve been staying with the others if you weren’t prepared to leave?” Jackie countered. “You didn’t have to come with me! You didn’t have to go out at all!”

“Oh yeah, what was I going to do, tell Jack and the others, ‘sorry, I don’t know where they went, they said they were leaving and I thought that was alright’? No!”

“You could’ve convinced me to stay!” Jackie shouted. “You could’ve shot it down when I said it! But you went along, so you must have wanted to leave, too!”

“I—yeah, but it was more of a vague thing!” Marvin protested. “A what-if! I didn’t expect us to go right then!”

Jackie grabbed Marvin by the shirt. “Then why did you leave?! Why did we leave?! Why did we want to leave?!”

The sky lit up a brilliant white, electricity crashing. A bolt of lightning had hit a lightning rod attached to the building’s roof, only a room’s width away from the two of them. Sparks flew. Marvin screamed. Jackie instinctively covered him, hugging him tight to his chest and bending over. The sound was deafening, thunder right next to their heads, and even after it faded their ears echoed with the remains of it.

“Holy shit!” Jackie gasped, blinking the brilliant light from his eyes. His eyes...which were now glowing. The left was bright green, the right an equally bright red. Marvin’s were also glowing, though his right eye was the green one, and the other one was blue. “That was—oh my god. Marvin, are you okay?”

Marvin didn’t answer for a moment. He just stared at the lightning rod, still faintly glowing from being struck. And then...he let out a quiet sob.

“M...Marvin?” Jackie took a closer look at him, and realized his face wasn’t just wet from the rain. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s fucking not,” Marvin cried. “All I could think about while we were walking up those stairs—all I could think about were the memories, the—you know the ones, the—I wasn’t even there, I was somewhere else. I hate this. I hate this! I hate what’s happened to me! I hate that it’s my fault!”

“Your fault?!” Jackie repeated.

“My stupid fucking selfish spell,” Marvin sobbed. “It’s all because of that! Everything happened because of that! Of course I should’ve realized, if the things I did after the spell were—were like that, then of course! Of course I’m a horrible fucking person that wouldn’t care about what that spell might do!”

“Marvin—”

“And you’re just going around acting like everything is alright!” Marvin said, jabbing a finger into Jackie’s chest. “You just like—like nothing happened, you keep saying everything is fine, it might be for you, but it’s not for me! No it’s fine, it doesn’t matter!”

“I just want everything to move on, Marvin!” Jackie said, grasping Marvin’s upper arms and pulling him close. “Everything has to be fine, but it’s not, so I have to pretend it is! Because if I stop pretending, all I can think about is what I’ve done. Every time I look at the others, I remember how I hurt them! Every time I look at you, I remember how I killed you!”

Silence, and the sound of rain.

“I didn’t...didn’t know you felt that way,” Marvin said, barely audible.

“I didn’t know you did, either,” Jackie whispered.

“That’s ironic, isn’t it?” Marvin commented dully. “Aren’t we connected now? Aren’t our souls all...mixed up with each other?”

“Yeah...” Jackie nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of them stared at each other. Eyes wide, hearts pounding, breathing heavy. Letting themselves be rained on. Until—

The door to the rooftop burst open, and a couple flashlight beams fell onto the two of them.

“Marv!”

“Jackie!”

“My friends!”

It was the others. All of them. Chase was in front with Jack close behind, then Schneep in the back holding onto Jameson’s arm for extra support. “Are you two okay?!” Chase asked.

“What happened?!” Jack added.

Is everything alright? JJ signed.

“Why did you go?” Schneep said.

Jackie took a step backwards, letting go of Marvin, who was too in shock to even notice. “You guys...h-how’d you find us?”

“JJ did,” Chase explained.

Luckily the tracking spell still works, JJ said. How did you two even get here? It’s the other side of town!

“I...we took the bus,” Jackie said numbly. “How—why are you here?”

“We came to find you, of course!” Schneep said, as if it was obvious.

“Why?” Marvin asked quietly.

“What?! Because you’re our friends!” Chase said, gaping. “If you leave to go out with no note, no anything, in the middle of a thunderstorm—” Thunder rumbled in the distance as if to prove his point. “—and without any way for anyone to contact you, anything could have happened! We were so fucking worried!”

“...why?” Marvin repeated.

“You’re our friends,” Jack reiterated. “We care about you. What if you got hurt? That would be—fuck. I-I don’t even want to think about it.”

Jackie felt tears in his eyes, and he let them slip out, hidden by the rain. “But—but it was going to be better this way.”

“Better? Better?!” Schneep repeated incredulously. “No no no no no no, we went through so much to see you again. You cannot just disappear! And less expect us to be fine with it!”

“But...w-we—I—I hurt you!” Jackie blurted out. “So much! I mean, look at yourselves! You still have the scars!”

“That wasn’t you,” Chase said gently, slowly approaching. “That was Anti.”

“Well, Anti was us.”

“Anti was two parts you guys and, like, seventeen parts black magic,” Chase said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It feels like it,” Marvin muttered. “You’d say the same if you remembered doing it.”

“What if something happens?” Jackie said, his voice hushed. “What if we...while we’re around you guys, what if we...hurt you? Th-there’s a possibility, right? As long as we’re around.”

Jack’s next question was soft, almost unheard through the rain. “You don’t want to hurt anyone, right?”

“No!” Jackie said, aghast. Marvin shook his head furiously.

“Then you won’t,” Jack said firmly. “I mean, sure, there will be accidents. But you can’t run from everyone because you’re afraid you might hurt them. A life like that would be so lonely. We trust you. Both of you. And you trust us. That’s what friendship’s built on, isn’t it? Trust.”

Jackie fell silent. The four of them stood firm, agreeing with Jack’s sentiment. Did they...really want them to stay?

“We don’t—” Marvin stammered. “I-I-I don’t—we’re—I’m—not...the type of person...who should have friends.”

“What?” Jack asked, shocked.

“You’re all so nice, a-and good,” Marvin said. “We...I don’t...deserve you.”

“That is ridiculous,” Schneep said. “Marvin, and Jackie, you are both some of the best friends I ever had, and the same goes for everyone else.”

“We’re not...good people,” Marvin said desperately. “If we were Anti, we can’t have been. Good people wouldn’t become...that. A-and you’re all just saying it ‘cause you’re friends.”

Can I say something? JJ, who’d been waiting on the sidelines, finally spoke up. Look, I barely know either of you. I’m new to all this. But I can tell that neither of you are bad people. Flawed, yes, but so is everyone. Chase said that Anti was mostly black magic, and he’s right. You can’t be blamed for what that entity did; its perception was warped and broken. You two are nice, you seem smart, you’re friendly to others. You are not bad people.

“Look, I know, it’s hard to accept that you deserve nice things,” Chase jumped in. “But you do. You want to step away from friends and good things because you think you’re not worthy. It’s gonna be hard to accept that you are. But that’s why we’re here, okay? To help you accept that.”

“And to point out when you need something,” Schneep added. “Something that you think is above you. I swear, I will fight every single bad thought you have, anything that tells you that you do not deserve all the care and love that you do.”

Jack laughed a bit. “Yeah. We all will.”

Both of them were crying, and despite the falling rain, it was quite obvious. Marvin reached over and grabbed Jackie’s hand, pulling him close. “I...I’m sorry,” he choked out.

Jackie nodded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice rasping. “I...we should...I’m going to go back. Are you going to?”

“Yeah. I’m going back, too.”

Jackie nodded again, then let go of Marvin’s hand. He took a deep breath, and walked over to join the others.

Marvin shivered. The rain was starting to feel even colder than it had before. But as he carefully stepped towards the group, it felt a bit warmer.

The moment the two were close, the remaining four huddled around them. Hands were held and tears were shed, slowly joining together in a tight group hug. Everyone kept saying how proud they were of them, how happy they were to have them back, how much they loved them. And more tears leaked out, though of a different sort of emotion altogether. They were so caught up in the moment that they didn’t even notice the rain until they headed back down the stairs.

And as the six headed home, the storm started to lessen.

— — — — — — —

“Can’t believe it’s actually snowing,” Jack muttered, brushing white flakes off his coat. “It never snows here.”

“I like it.” Jackie looked around, taking in the white blanket covering the park, then up at the sky. “Everything looks all clean. I like how the snow is all smooth.”

“Mm. Won’t be for long.” Jack pointed. The two of them were content to sit at a picnic table, sheltered from the snowfall by a nearby tree. But some ways away, two girls were running through the snow, pelting their dad with snowballs. Chase was laughing. It was good to see. Lily tripped over something in the snow, and he bent over to help her up. “There’s gonna be so many footprints when they’re done with it.”

“Aw.” Jackie frowned, pulling his coat closer. He didn’t really feel the cold, but it still affected him, so he had to make sure to dress appropriately for any weather. “Hey...when will the others be here? Do you think they forgot we were going to meet up?”

“I don’t—wait.” Jack paused. “Nope, there they are.”

A car pulled into the nearby lot, and three people stepped out. JJ recently got his license, so he and Chase had become the chauffeurs of the group. He looked around, then waved at the others, turning back to point them out to Marvin and Schneep. The three headed over, and Jack and Jackie made room for them at the table.

“It is so cold!” Schneep immediately started complaining. “There is going to be so much ice later, it is awful!”

“Oh shush, you like having cold weather so you can have warm drinks and stuff,” Marvin said.

“Okay, yes, but that is inside, where I cannot risk the chance of slipping,” Schneep griped.

JJ laughed. Speaking of warm drinks. He pulled his backpack off and rifled through it, taking out a couple thermoses. I thought if we were going to be meeting up out here, we should keep hot.

“Oh nice!” Jack grabbed one with his name written on the side in sharpie. “What’s this?”

Tea and coffee. And hot chocolate for the kids, JJ explained.

“Sweet,” Jackie said, leaning over to grab one as well.

“So, uh...” Jack cleared his throat, and turned to Marvin. “How’d it go?”

Marvin leaned back, rocking slightly on the picnic bench. “Good, I think. I mean, it’s just the first session, but...it was a good sign, I guess.”

“Hey, uh, Marv?” Jackie said. “I...forgot the address.”

“Oh. Right. It’s uh...Hang on a moment.” Marvin pulled out his phone, opening up the notes. “547 Norwich, on the east side. You can’t miss it, there’s a big sign with ‘Riverwood Counseling” on the front. You’re, uh...going soon?”

“Next week.” Jackie copied the address into his own phone. “‘M a bit nervous,” he mumbled.

“Nothing to be afraid of,” Schneep said encouragingly. “They are very good, very reputable. And if things are not working, they will transfer you to someone new without any charge.”

Jackie smiled a bit. “Well, I guess if you guys trust them.”

At that moment, Chase and the girls got tired of their snowball fight and came over to the table. “Hi!” Lily said brightly. “Ooooh, what’s that?”

“It’s a thermos,” Moira explained to her sister. “They’re for hot things like soup. And hot chocolate.”

“Well, would you look at that? There are two with your names on them,” Chase said brightly. “Here you go. JJ, you brought them, right?”

JJ nodded. Cocoa for them. And this one has some tea for you.

“Oh sweet! Thanks, Jays.”

It had been a few months, and the group had decided to meet up for some casual catching up. Chase had finally gotten a new house, just a rental but he hoped to find one for himself eventually. Schneep had started taking online classes. Since he couldn’t exactly continue his surgeon profession he decided to go back and find something else to do. He was particularly interested in physics, and he was convinced that it could explain how his new magic worked. Jack’s apartment was almost entirely repaired, and the Internet had finally settled down about his disappearance. JJ’s shop was picking up business again.

And Marvin and Jackie? Well, they’d found themselves a new place. A small townhouse, just big enough for both of them, part of a row of houses with connected walls. At first, they’d debated whether or not to continue living together or to live separately, but eventually decided on the former. After all, they still had problems, with memory and movement, and more, and decided it would be easier to live with someone who could help out. They were still working on finding new jobs. Jackie wanted something active, and Marvin wanted something quiet. The search was slow going, but they were making do. Jackie had been particularly bored at night, but didn’t want to go out and try being a vigilante again. Maybe eventually. Marvin was still relearning how to use his magic, and was teaching Jackie how to, as well, given Jackie’s new abilities.

The group had been talking for about half an hour when suddenly Moira tugged on the edge of Chase’s coat. “Dad? Who’s that? She’s been staring at us.”

Chase looked over towards where Moira was pointing, and his eyes widened. “Guys. Look who it is,” he said quietly.

The others all glanced in the same direction. “Shi—oh no,” Jack muttered. “It’s that—that magician. Delyth.”

JJ sighed. Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time.

“Who?” Marvin asked.

“She’s with the, uh, the magic police,” Jack explained.

“Oh fu—” Marvin quickly ducked his head, deliberately not looking over to where Delyth was standing, casually leaning against a tree.

“Should we talk to her?” Chase asked.

“I think so,” Schneep said. He paused, then stood up. “I will.”

“Wait, no, she’s coming over here!” Jackie gasped.

There was a sudden flurry of activity as the group tried to act casually, pretending they hadn’t seen her and weren’t keeping an eye on her as she walked over. Until eventually, they couldn’t pretend any longer.

Delyth stopped next to the table. “So...it is you,” she said slowly. “You know, you gave us one hell of a scare when you disappeared.”

“Hey, language,” Chase said, indicating the two small girls sitting next to him.

“Oh. Sorry.” Delyth paused. “We were looking for you, but it was like you all just...disappeared. Correct me if I’m wrong, but was a certain other magician helping with that?” Nobody answered. They weren’t about to throw Yvonne under the bus. Delyth shook her head. “Never should’ve given her access to ABIM systems,” she muttered.

“Did you want something?” Schneep asked.

“Hmm...well, no, not really.” Delyth looked them over, making eye contact with each. “You know, the ABIM is pretty busy. If a case hasn’t been active for two months, it’s deemed low priority, provided there’s no significant danger. If four months pass, we have to permanently shelve it, until there’s evidence for it becoming active again. Marked as unsolved, and people tend to forget about it.” She looked down at her watch. “Well, I have to go. It’s been nice seeing you all again. It’s been, what, five months?” After a moment, she nodded towards Jackie and Marvin. “Glad to see it all worked out. Goodbye.”

The group remained mostly silent as she left, though Jack muttered a quiet “goodbye” and JJ waved as Delyth disappeared into a car in the parking lot and drove away. Then, once she was gone, Chase turned to the others. “What was that about?”

I think that was her saying the magicians won’t bother us, JJ signed, a bit in awe.

“Oh thank god,” Marvin breathed. “I don’t want to be on their bad side anymore. No more magic police, thank you very much.”

“She could have been a bit more direct with it, though,” Jackie added.

Jack just laughed. “Wow. So, I guess that’s the last we’ll see of her, then?”

“Provided nothing else strange happens to us,” Schneep pointed out.

“Well, I hope it doesn’t. I’ve had enough strangeness for my entire life.”

So...is it over, then? JJ asked slowly.

“Dad, what was that about?” Lily asked. “Who was that? What did she mean?” Moira nodded, agreeing with all the questions.

“Oh, it’s a bit complicated.” Chase pulled his daughter close and gave her a quick hug. “But it’s nothing to worry about anymore. I’ll explain when you’re older.”

“I guess it’s over,” Jackie repeated.

“Yeah...guess so,” Jack agreed.

Time went on, as it always does. The group ended their get-together shortly after, parting ways for a short while. After a few more months, the strange disappearances faded into local legend, with people speculating what happened but nobody getting close to the truth that was only known to a small group of six friends. Magic remained, side effects lingered, but they settled back into their place, becoming the new normal.

Still, none of them forgot what happened to them for those three years. It would be hard not to. They had scars to prove it, and some memories would never fade. But the past was the past. And together, they moved on, looking forward to the future.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #jameson jackson #dr schneeplestein #chase brody #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #brigid writes fanfiction #the stitched septics #stitchedstories

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star-killer-md · 3 years

Text

Happy Hunting

A/N: Hello everyone, two updates in one week I know. Very out of character for me. Anyway, this is my first like actively dark fic so please be warned and mind the tags, it is dead dove. This has been sitting in my docs since October and I’m excited to get it out. There will be a part two to this with way more smut if y’all want it. And of course credit to @direnightshade for coming up with serial killer!Charlie, go check her out! Thanks to @sacklersdoll as well for being an absolute babe and reading over this for me.

Warnings: Dead Dove, mentions of murder, mentions of fantasized violence against reader, Charlie is a murderer in this so ya know, drugs used on a non-reader character, mentions of blood, mentions of sex, implied noncon, stalking behavior, allusions to predator/prey dynamics reader is implied afab/fem presenting but no pronouns are used for them, once again, this is a dark fic so be mindful of the tags and let me know if I’ve missed one.

Part 2

Ship: Serial Killer!Charlie x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Charlie is branching out, searching for some new hunting spots when he finds the perfect next victim. Soon he decides he wants more than to simply add you to his body count, but murder is tricky and not everything goes as he planned.

He’d been frequenting different bars as of late, branching out into new territory. There were rules to these games, after all—rules to the hunt, rules to keep it sustainable. Charlie knew well by now that staying in the same place for too long would only deplete his selection of targets. And he couldn’t have anyone making connections, so he moved around but always stuck to what he knew.

That was another rule: never hunt on unfamiliar land. It was just asking for trouble. With such a sensitive, calculated act, one could never afford any random variables.

This was how he’d been so successful.

He knew the rules, he played by them and he reaped the rewards.

And he had just found his next victim.

You were ordering a drink, lovely figure bent over the bar top while you waited. The curve of your back, exposed by the sheer lack of fabric, and the flicker of your tongue over the rim of the glass told him all he needed to know.

Yes, you would be a perfect addition to his collection.

But this was still too new, too fresh. So he settled for watching, memorizing the way your throat moved when you swallowed and the crease of your thighs as you crossed them. His hands itched to spread you apart, see how wet he knew you’d be. Soon, he reminded himself.

Patience was the mark of a good hunter, and he’d have you in his hands if he simply waited for the most opportune moment. He’d get to watch your throat collapse under his weight and feel the fluttering of your cunt as he fucked you through the fear.

It would be glorious.

And well worth the wait.

***

One week later saw him back in the same bar, ordering a drink and watching as you swayed to the soft music playing. He knew you’d be here, Charlie had a sense about these things.

It helped as well that he’d trailed you to your apartment, curiously far away from this section of the city. But you seemed to spend quite a bit of time in this area. Took walks in the park nearby, and stopped in the odd cafe every so often. Maybe you worked around here, he hadn’t quite figured that out yet. Though, it had only been a week. And where you worked wasn’t all that important to him.

No, what was important was now.

Now that he was sipping his Old Fashioned and watching you make eyes at another man across the room.

He was shorter than Charlie, but not by much. The way he stumbled a bit when crossing the dance floor to you told him your new admirer had more than a bit to drink as well.

What an amateur.

You didn’t seem to mind, though, as you guided his hands to your waist and moved your hips with such fluidity, Charlie couldn’t have torn his gaze away if he’d wanted to. This man with his dark hair and hands that engulfed you let you lead him in clumsy circles, trailing like a puppy.

He was very nearly drooling and you knew it.

Charlie sneered and nursed his drink, taking it all in. The way your feet avoided being trodden on, the way you pretended not to notice when the man’s hands wandered lower, the way you glanced up through your lashes and smirked when he followed your lips with his.

All so practiced.

But the lumbering idiot grabbing handfuls of your ass in front of the whole bar was so predictable, Charlie wasn’t surprised in the least.

You wouldn’t look so self assured when you were with him.

Charlie was too full of surprises.

He was something you’d never encountered before.

And wouldn’t again, he thought with a chuckle. He’d be your best and your last and that was how it should be.

Charlie knocked back the last of his drink, setting his glass down on the counter as you led your new find in his obnoxious, neon green sneakers off towards the doors. Your eyes never left the man trailing behind you, locked in place even as you disappeared into the New York night.

He wouldn’t go after you this time.

But soon, he thought. Soon those pretty eyes would find him and wouldn’t he be a magnificent last sight?

***

Charlie was trying something new again. Dangerous maybe, but progress was never made without taking a few risks.

So here he was, walking through a park in broad daylight. It was the same one he’d seen you only days before, walking through the canopy of leaves that were so hard to find in the city. There was a bench positioned right under a few limbs that were already shedding red and brown onto the asphalt path. He sat on the cold metal and waited.

You’d show up momentarily. He had learned you came here around this time in the afternoon during the week. Always dragging your feet through the grass and staring at the sky while you walked the little looping path. Maybe you came for inspiration. It was a nice place to write, he thought. He’d have to bring his notebook next time.

That could be his keepsake from you, this place. He could come to this bench and sit and remember how you looked scuffing your heels in the dirt, facing up to the heavens.

Just like you were now.

Right on time as well. You’d always stuck him as a creature of habit, something he supposed you both had in common.

Your hands were buried deep in the pockets of your coat, collar turned up against the wind. He watched the subtle shake of your spine, working its way from your head down to your fingers as you shivered in the cold.

His teeth caught his lip, sucking it between them as he thought of all the ways he could warm you, make your skin sticky with sweat and cum and blood, make you tremble all over again with the pleasure from his cock sinking into your warm, wet cunt. Charlie could quite nearly taste the hazy tang of you on his tongue, feel the way your thighs would tense and pull to pin his head, but he’d want you tied down. He’d need you splayed out and restrained, he could already tell—having only observed you this short time—you’d be a fighter.

And didn’t that make you the best kind of prey?

He loved it when they fought, when they struggled, when they kicked and spit and bit at his hands. Or when they were so broken, bloody and hopeless and crawling on their knees, scrambling to get away.

There was something in the way their eyes looked, something primal, like they knew what he was. Like they knew he was a hunter, a predator, and they were trapped under his claws. Wild and insatiable and delicious.

He was hard in his pants just thinking about it—at the images his mind concocted. You with your sultry hips swaying in the dim bar light and that locked in look in your eyes. You, in that barely there clothing and the set of your jaw that says you’re just begging for him to catch you in his snare.

He knew you wanted it, even if you didn’t quite yet.

Charlie’s hand dropped down to palm at his throbbing length, his long coat covering most of the movement. It was cool enough that no one else but the two of you had wondered out this late in the day. So he brushed over the sensitive head of his cock and watched you making circles around the path until you stopped.

That was new. That was a break in the pattern, and it made his hand pause.

You froze and planted your feet on the earth, staring intently into a little copse of trees and shrubs. The barrier of leaves formed a small hidden space that you slip into easily, practiced and lithe like a cat weaving through iron bars. He could only catch glimpses of your face from between the branches, tilted up with eyes closed.

You looked alive, that was really the only way he could put it. Charlie watched as the shadow of your body lowered itself onto the cold dirt and breathed in the scent of the dying foliage. Under the curve of the roots he could see it: your face scrunched up, lips parted, plump and bitten with your chin tilted back towards the sky.

He couldn’t look away from the strange display.

Couldn’t help but feel like he knew the look on your face.

***

This time, running into you really was an accident.

He was just stopping for coffee, on his way to work and rushing. Traffic was bad, but it was his turn to run for drinks and there would be an uproar if he showed up empty handed. And there you were, headphones in and seated right by one of the windows in the little cafe.

Your face was half lit by the laptop screen you were leaning over. Writing, he supposed based on the way your fingers flew across the keys. So nimble, he thought, how skilled those hands must be. How lovely they’d look wrapped around his dick, lips spilling drool and split open—

“What can I get started for you today?” the barista asked.

Charlie’s head whipped back around to the overly cheery face behind the counter. He frowned, throwing glances back at you while he rattled off his list of orders.

“Alrighty, can I get a name for the order?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw your fingers still on the keys, “Charlie is fine.”

“Great, I’ll get that out for you as soon as I can.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, tucking his wallet away and moving to lean against the far wall.

From here he could look at you head on while everyone else would simply assume he was staring out the window, watching the way today’s light drizzle had doused the city in sepia grayscale lighting. You had gone back to typing, foot tapping on the rough wood floors. He studied your legs, the way they bounced to whatever rhythm was playing in your ears.

They’d look good shaking, he thought, crawling breathlessly away and scrambling against the cool tile of his kitchen.

What a joy it was to see you so unexpectedly. Certainly one of the better parts of this morning, even if it was a bit strange as well. This part of the city was a considerable distance from your apartment building. Maybe you liked the shop too, stumbled across it the way his crew had and been drawn in by the aesthetics and quiet atmosphere. Charlie didn’t have many regular stomping grounds but this place was one of them.

If he was a better man, he might have taken you to coffee here, participated in banal small talk and gotten to know your favorite authors, where you worked and what a creature like you did there. If you hated your boss, if you were quiet about it, if you sent emails with exclamation points to seem friendly and non-confrontational.

But this was sort of like a date. He had learned something new about you every time, even if you weren’t aware of it. In time, he’d learn even more, see all of you. See what you looked like in your purest form—primal fear in your eyes and blood on your lips.

And you would get to know about him as well, in time. He’d show you everything, all of it.

With every new meeting, the feeling grew stronger.

This wasn’t just about the kill anymore.

You would be the one, Charlie knew it in his gut. Different from the others who fell so witlessly into his trap, took the bait and barely had the wherewithal to even struggle as he reeled them in. They were dead fish on his hook, limp and rotting before he could drag them to shore.

But not you.

You were alive and kicking and perfect.

You would be so good for him.

“Charlie!” the barista called, breaking him from his reverie.

As he swooped in to grab the two drink trays and hurried back out into the rain, he stole one last glance in your direction.

Silhouetted by an errant ray of sunlight, you struck an immaculate picture. So much so that he missed the way your eyes trailed him out the door, catching on the edge of his coat and following him out into the gloom of the New York streets.

But he was too busy engraving the image of your slightly curved spine, the arch of your shoulders and neck, to notice your stare on him all the way down the block until he melted into the background of the city.

***

It was late and Charlie felt worn thin. The subway platform was crowded as always, despite the hour encroaching closely on midnight. They really were true, all those awful cliches about how the city never sleeps.

He sighed, moved farther to the tile wall so he could avoid being tossed into the tracks by the rustling of passersby. There were dozens of people shuffling around on their tired feet, bitching about any number of things or playing music too loud. The smell of stale piss and the bleach public transit staff used to mask it was even stronger after the rain. Charlie wrinkled his nose against the onslaught and watched the westbound train come and go, rattling like a bull down the tracks and sweeping away passengers as it went. A slip of paper from the wall fluttered off in the draft and settled in a puddle on the ground.

And a familiar face stared up at him.

Large black text framed the photo. “MISSING” it read in all caps that quickly dissolved in the New York rain water. Rain here had a tendency to wash away everything just when he needed it the most. He reminisced about the way her blood had slipped down the sewer grates so easily, leaving his shoes free of any evidence.

She had been particularly sloppy—not something to be proud of—but Charlie was nothing if not adaptive.

He learned from his mistakes.

His eyes flicked over the subway wall and was met with a plethora of blank xerox faces staring back. Most were young, photos taken from cell phones with lips stretched wide and smiling. There were more than a few men as well. Those he did not recognize, with dark hair and dark eyes, and arrogance clear even in pictures. Some of the others he did know, with softer looks—he always had a weak spot for faces like that.

But they were nothing like you. Besides, all that pretty had melted away so quickly under the knife. And you would be different.

You would bear him well.

You would look so pretty hanging from the subway walls, grinning out from the tile or the occasional telephone pole. Charlie didn’t think he’d mind it much if someone made a poster for you. That way he’d get a pleasant surprise while walking down the city streets when he was coming home late like this and had been away from you for too long.

It had been so long since he’d seen you last. Opening night was quickly approaching and work had been taking up far too much time. It had gotten to the point that he saw your face in every crowd. Walking from the station to his apartment he’d see you in the figures smoking on a neighboring balcony or in the cereal aisle at the grocery store or mingling with the backstage crew out behind the theater.

And now as well.

In the crowd, peeking out from behind one of the dusty, graffiti-covered columns, he swore that were standing—the curve of your back, the set of your shoulders, the lock of your jaw. Charlie’s feet moved without his noticing, carrying him towards you.

In the distance, the northbound train was approaching, he could feel the rumble of it in his bones as he pushed and maneuvered a trail through the crowd, but you were still slipping away. Faster than him and smaller, weaving easily through bystanders without notice.

The train rushed past him, blowing locks of hair into his face that whipped at his eyes and forced him to stop. He cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair and trying to catch sight of you again. Though as he looked closer, the figure retreating was just another faceless traveler, their gate was similar but not quite the same, steps too short and heavy.

Charlie felt scoffed at himself, at the shameless desperation, and allowed the tide of people to sweep him into the train compartment.

His hand gripped the standing rail hard in a fist and his eyes stared out onto the platform, tiled wall of monochrome faces staring back. He looked out until it disappeared as the subway roared down the tracks once again and left them all behind.

***

He was finally here.

Finally after weeks of rehearsals running into the small hours of the morning and a mess of late night dinners, rounds of drinks with cast mates, he was finally here.

In your bar, watching you dance again in the dim light.

Charlie would never tire of the sight, the way you moved to the music was addicting in its own right. He’d only just wandered in less than an hour ago, ordered his usual and taken a seat at the bar. From here he had the perfect view, the door was behind him so escape was simple and you were visible just across the table top, swaying to the soft beat.

He wanted so badly to devour you.

It was a hunger the likes of which he had never known. It made him reckless, excited him as nothing had in so long. He’d always heard hunters talk about their most prized prey. Seen the massive antlers hung on walls in sets and in film, and he understood it now. You were a trophy, a wonder of nature and he would be the one to win you.

Keep you in your own trophy room for him to see you dance like that whenever he wanted.

There were not many people tonight, so you were still swaying alone, not having found a partner yet for the night as you had done before.

Charlie was stuck on the way your jugular was highlighted amongst the shadows of neon lights when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He was nearly blinded by the bright white screen as he read the notification for an incoming call from his stage manager.

Shit.

He left his drink at the bar and stepped away for a moment, to the corner farther from the speakers and swiped to answer. She sounded frantic, muttering and hard to hear over the music. His supporting actress had broken her wrist from what he was able to gather, an understudy was being arranged. He huffed and thanked her, asking to be kept updated and saying that no, he absolutely could not give his input at this very moment, he was, in fact, preoccupied.

When she finally consented to calling back later, he turned and immediately stopped in his tracks. You were there, standing at the bar right next to his abandoned seat and staring right into his eyes. There was a subtle smile playing at your lips, and you rested an elbow on the counter, never breaking your gaze as he slowly walked back.

Had he been caught?

Charlie cleared his throat and cursed his racing heart. A sweaty palm combed through his hair as joined you at the bar. Your smile only grew.

“Mind if I join you?”

He nearly choked on his spit.

“No, of course not,” he grabbed his glass and you clinked yours against the rim.

You both sipped, and he tried not to stare too long at how your arms looked resting on the wood. This was...not something he had anticipated. But leave it to you to surprise him.

“Do you come here often?” you asked, swirling the liquor in your cup.

Odd that you hadn’t asked his name, but then again, he hadn’t bothered to ask yours either. He knew the constants and vowels of it by heart.

“I wouldn’t say often,” he shrugged and took a long drink, something to numb him a bit and calm the shaking in his hands. “Only when it’s convenient.”

“It’s nice here,” you said. “I like the crowd.”

“Yeah?” Charlie didn’t know how to reply. He hadn’t expected to actually speak with you so soon.

“No one really comes in to talk, if you know what I mean.” You pulled your lip between your teeth and nibbled at it.

He could feel his cock twitch in his jeans at the way you bit at the flesh.

“Is that so,” he mused.

The look you gave him was succulent, mouthwatering and exquisite, “Wanna dance?”

He shouldn’t. It wasn’t time. There was an order to these things, there were rules and this was breaking them but, oh fuck you just kept looking at him and he was going to drown in how good it was. Charlie downed the rest of his drink and let you take his hand, pulling him slowly into the crowd of other dancers. Just as he had watched you do a dozen times, like he fantasized you’d to do with him.

Dancing was never really his thing but when you placed his big palms on your hips and let him feel you sway, his feet found their place. You turned in his grip—back to his chest and ass pressed to his front—and moved.

His vision tunneled. Homing in until the room melted away and there was nothing but your body and his hands.

***

The streets were dark and empty, but your hand was so scaldingly hot in his that Charlie barely noticed.

“Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Your voice rang out in his head. The music and the lights were brighter and louder and everything grew hazy the longer he touched you.

God, he shouldn’t.

It wasn’t time and hunting had rules but…

But this could be good. Go back to your place, learn the way in, maybe where you keep your keys, the door code and placement of security cameras—make it much easier on himself further down the line when you were ready. When he could take you.

There were leaves crunching under his feet and the night seemed to grow darker and darker as you led him forward.

“We can cut through here,” you said, turning to flash him another smile, tugging at his arm and making him stumble.

He was losing track of where his limbs existed in space, strange since he’d only had the one drink. His eyes were dry trying to adjust to the pitch blackness he was so unused to. It never got this dark in the city, too much light pollution but there were barely any shadows here, too far away from the bustling center of town.

Something cold and metal brushed his thigh as he followed you deeper into the darkness and towards the twinkling street lamps in the distance.

The bench, he realized, where he sat and observed you walking your circles.

This was the park.

The copse of trees was just ahead.

Charlie knew where you lived, somewhere far into midtown and not near here. Something unfamiliar was taking over him. His mouth felt thick, his face beaded with sweat and his chest was growing tighter by the minute. This was wrong, he should go, but his legs were like lead and as much as he tried to wrench his hand from your grip...he couldn’t.

The shrubs caught on his pants as you yanked hard on his arm and sent him tumbling forward into the dirt. He tried to catch himself, but his arms stayed limp at his sides. Face down, he landed with earth and dried leaves sticking to his cheeks. Your weight settled on top of him, thighs gripping his hips and hands planted on either side of his head.

“You bitch,” he gasped into the ground. “What did you give me?”

“It’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with,” your breath was so hot on his ear, tongue flicking out to lick up the shell of it and bite down hard on the lobe.

“You fucking whore,” Charlie hissed, trying to throw you off. He wanted to pin you down, fuck the plans he’d choke you out right here, right now. Wrap his big hands around your throat and watch you claw and grasp at him—

You were supposed to be perfect.

Supposed to be his.

Your nails skimmed up his scalp, grabbing a handful of his hair and jerking it back. His neck strained as you pressed your cheek to his, other hand coming to cup his jaw harshly.

“Listen to me you arrogant piece of shit,” you snarled, no honey sweetness dripping from your lips now. He still wanted desperately to taste them. “I’m assuming you're new to this game so let me explain some things to you. Now be a good boy and listen, yeah?”

Charlie tried to shake his head from your grip, work your fingers into his mouth and bite but your hand slipped to his throat and tightened just enough to restrict the blood pulsing through his carotid. He stilled, pursing his lips and nodded.

“Much better,” you whispered. He could only make out the blur of your face from his peripheral, feel the heat of your skin pressed to his. “There is one rule and only one to this dance of ours, do you know what it is?”

He grit his teeth, silent until your nails ripped into his hair again and he groaned as the strands separated from his scalp

“Why don’t you tell me,” he bit the ‘t’ and waited.

“You never shoot another hunter, dumbass,” you spat. “You make sure whatever the fuck you go after it isn’t wearing a bright orange fucking vest.”

“What?” he was panting now, the ground fading in and out as his vision went dark.

“Did you know prey animals never have forward facing eyes?” you stroked a finger down the bridge of his nose. “Cause they’re always looking out, always watching the horizon for predators and the sign of a good predator is that we never let them catch us.”

Charlie’s neck grew weaker, the only thing holding him up was your hands on his throat and buried in his silky hair.

“So the next time you go scoping for your next pretty young thing to kill, make sure it can’t look you in both eyes.”

“You, you’re—” his speech was slurred, the words tumbling out in a jumble.

Is this what they felt like? All the others when he was tying them down and preparing for the slaughter.

“Yeah. So next time you think about branching out, don’t,” you let his head drop to the dirt and pressed his nose into the soil.

This is where you took yours. That man with the neon sneakers. When laid here, when he watched you breath in the earth. This is where you came to remember.

“These are my grounds, so stay the fuck off of them,” you slid off his back, pressing a knee into his hip and pushing so he flopped over limply on the leaf litter. “I won’t be so nice next time.”

He watched blearily as you leaned over him, settling back and straddling his lap. You rocked your hips once lazily against his cock, still half hard and tenting in his jeans. “Pity I’m letting you go, you’re exactly my type.”

Charlie swallowed, tongue like chalk as the world faded out around him. You leaned in close, patting his cheek twice and chuckling. It was so dark in this part of New York, he could actually see the stars as you shifted away and sauntered off into the night. Your parting words echoed in his head as he stared, immobile, up at the night sky.

“Happy hunting, Charlie.”

#dead dove do not eat #dark fic #murder charlie #serial killer!charlie #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber smut #tw: murder #tw: drug use #tw: noncon #mind the tags #dr. b writes #baby's first dark fic

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unlimitedfateimagines · 4 years

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Cù Chulainn (Caster) + Master with low self-confidence

Ask: pssst tiane i need some inspiration for something i plan to write in the future. how about cas cu taking care of a master with low self confidence? you can make this as angsty or as fluffy as you want, i won’t mind either way

Sent by: @sonyagi

A/N: aaaaaa i remember this request from you, sonagi!! ;;v;; i quite enjoyed writing it back and rewriting it now UwU also seeing your url on my docs rly hit back hdskjfsl hope you’re doing fine and hope you don’t mind the tag either haha ;;v;;

Caster Cu is someone who easily notices and picks up things from afar, even from observation or for a short period of time. Given your experience with him in Fuyuki, you noticed that he quickly picked up Mash’s nervosity, as well as yours. He isn’t one to let something fly past his keen eye and sense. While the Caster Cu you summoned retains no memories from the Fuyuki Singularity, he is still the same as you have met him there in the flaming city.

At first, he did find it indeed quite strange that you were making such low comments about yourself and simply brushing most of the compliments off. However, he didn’t pay that much mind to it, assuming that it was merely the huge and overwhelming stress as Humanity’s last standing Master that was wearing you down.

He did have his suspicions when you were travelling through the seas with Francis Drake, as you had already faced against Jeanne Alter and Atilla the Hun herself, as well as restoring three Singularities already. But he told himself it wasn’t his business to pry into yours, so he decidedly left you alone.

However, after he takes note of how you were the same as you were back in Orleans, the nervous and unconfident Master you were that he had met, when in London, he began to strongly worry about your self-esteem. It wasn’t normal for someone who went through so much already and not feel even the slightest more confident about yourself after making it out alive through seemingly impossible situations. Although you had begun to accept compliments, albeit after much insistence from people, you still would compliment yourself before forming it into an insult, laughing it off like it was nothing or playing it off like a joke.

He knew that the longer this will last, the more it will be damaging to you mentally and take a toll on the mission to restore humanity, as well as your own physical well-being. He slowly began complimenting on the littlest things, like how your hair is nice or how you look cute with a smile. No matter his class and whatever small alteration to his personality, he still retained that little flirtatious side of him. You were quite used to his small flirty remarks here and there, so this was nothing new to you. As usual, you brushed it off.

After seeing you laugh everything off and compare yourself to other people, saying how you’re just a simple human that somehow got winded in this whole mess, Cu had considered sitting you down for a conversation regarding this for a long time. As a Servant, and one of your closest ones at that, it was his duty to see that you were in good condition, mentally and physically.

He prefers to take a calmer approach to this situation instead of a full-on confrontation. He first asks if he may talk to you about upcoming missions, closely observing and hearing your choice of phrasing and wording when he asks questions regarding you and how you’ll oversee the Servants you were bringing along.

You often just brush your role of Master aside, shrugging and saying you’ll just provide support from the backlines, just like you usually do. “I’ll just provide support from the backlines,” you shrugged with a smile, like it was nothing. “I’ll do my best not to get in the way and cause trouble. You guys have already too much to focus on when fighting. I’ll just get in the way.”

He assures you that hardly any of the Servants think you’re a burden and are all grateful for the consistent supply of mana they have been getting, as well as all you have done until now to restore Proper Human History.

Again, you laugh it off. “Oh please, I’m just a third-rate mage who barely made the cut from the selection test. The previous director even said I wasn’t even supposed to be here and I just got lucky. Hell, I wasn’t even the one who was supposed to save the world.”

Cu frowns at what you had just said. It wasn’t in any possible way your fault that you winded in this situation and no one could’ve done anything to prevent it. “Master, you couldn’t have done anything to prevent the accident. You have done nothing wrong and the fact that we’ve already come this far already means so much. You’ve grown since we first met. Master, if you continue saying such things about yourself, it will greatly affect your performance; we both know that this cannot last for everyone’s sake and yours.”

“What do you Heroic Spirits know?” you said in a low voice. “What do you know about how I feel when I see you all in battle?! I know I cannot change the fact that I am a third-rate mage who only knows the very basis of magecraft! How do you think I feel when I interact with renowned heroes of the past and myths on a daily basis?!”

“Master—” he started before you cut him off

“How am I supposed to feel in the presence of multiple kings and heroes?! People who have done so much! People who left their marks down in our history by doing such incredible things! Tell me, Cu Chulainn, how am I to feel?!” you continued, raising your voice.

Cu let out a barely audible sigh. “Master,” he started in a firm voice, making you stop. “Listen to me. We may be Heroic Spirits from the past, present or future. However, each one of our own stories are different, and yours as well. Whilst it is not my business to pry within your personal life outside of Chaldea, but as our Master, you are the one who holds us together. We are just a manifestation of our former selves and familiars for everyone to use as they wish. But you, Master, you’re the one who commands us.”

He stops for a moment before taking your hand with the red Command Spells imprinted on your hand, tracing them gently. “These Spells you possess symbolize the power you have over us. We Servants are mere chess pieces — pawns — for you. Look at what you’ve accomplished already. Anyone would immediately give up after one day, but you continued forward. Master, when I was young, I understood this feeling of worthlessness as well. I know that feeling very well, in fact. Undoubtedly, anyone has experienced this in their own life. You shouldn’t just lower yourself like this because you have something we don’t have; and it’s the amazing charisma and courage to lead us on, no matter who we are.”

You sigh, pondering over his words before letting yourself fall on your bed, asking him to give you some time alone. He obliges before reverting back to his spirit form and leaving your room.

Over the course of the next few days, you avoid talking to him too much asides some essentials, as you might feel awkward after that conversation you both had the other day. Cu doesn’t mind, understanding the situation and wants you to give more time to reflect on yourself. He gives you small words of encouragement and awkward pats on your head when you win a battle, hoping that you would gradually see yourself for your own worth.

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bad-bitch-beauchamp · 3 years

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Songs About Me - Chapter Three

After karaoke night and Claire's impromptu performance, both Claire and Jamie spend the next day reconciling with their choices from the night before.

Read on AO3

“Stay, Sassenach! One more drink!”

“One more drink might be the death of me, Mr. Fraser, and if you’d like to watch me embarrass myself again next week, I can’t be on my deathbed tonight!”

He had tried to convince her to let him walk her home, but she waved him off and pulled the sweater that had fallen off her shoulder back up to its rightful place at the junction of neck and shoulder -- a place Jamie couldn’t tear himself away from until that moment. She wrangled a loose curl behind her ear, tugged on her coat, and caught Jamie watching her every move, drink at his lips, eyes just over the rim of the glass. She could’ve stayed, could’ve responded, could’ve reacted to what she was feeling right then… no. A couple of hours together in a bar and a poor excuse for a solo at closing time did not change the fact she didn’t know this man. This very handsome man, she reminded herself. No. You came out here for yourself. Leave by yourself.

She met his eyes one last time, gave a nervous laugh, declared “Hope to see you next weekend!” all too loudly, and spun on her heel. She had stepped over the threshold when she thought she heard her name from inside, but she didn’t turn to find out.

———

Claire realized exactly three things when she awoke the next morning: The sun was shining too brightly, the street musician playing on the corner directly below her bedroom window was playing too loudly, and the memories of the last night with the redhead who loved music and books were coming on too fast. Somehow, in the span of a few hours, he had literally become her waking thoughts. She sat up in bed, still cocooned in a cloud of white cotton sheets and linen comforters. What do you even know about him? Probably not even anything. She pulled herself from the warmth of the bed, her feet landing on a soft oriental rug in shades of blues and greens. His eyes were the colors in this rug. Just like the ocean itself. Okay, she remembered one thing about him. The woven textile gave way to worn hardwood floors, on to cool hexagon tiles lining her bathroom floor as she passed through glass french doors between bookshelves on the wall.

When Claire inherited her Uncle Lamb’s brownstone, she could remember only one thing about the place from her visits: the upstairs was magical. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp was an archaeologist, and although it rarely happened, he had decided he needed a home base to work from. In the historic brownstone, he neglected to update much besides the upper level. As the brownstone was on a corner lot, Lamb declared it must have every window possible to let in the light. Days were too gloomy and cloudy in England, and he would soak up all the light he could while teaching here at Harvard, thank you very much. The most magical room in the entire home (according to both Beauchamps) was lined from front to back with alternating windows and storage -- wide bookshelves on the top, long cabinets on the bottom. The opposite side was almost entirely made of the same bookshelves, save for two sets of french doors leading to a large closet and a larger master bathroom, respectively. The bookshelves traveled up to a curved ceiling, rails and ladders lined the walls to reach the highest and most precious of his belongs (now hers as well). Claire had painted the walls and trim shades of white and cream and ivory. The shelves were stripped and stained with a neutral-tone light wood with white filler. The brass fixtures and ladder rails sparkled in the warm morning light. Claire placed plants wherever she could fit them, and donned the shelves with memories to mingle with the ones Lamb left behind. This room, this place, was her favorite in the whole world.

Back in the bathroom and walking to the walk-in shower, Claire bent down to reach the sweater she tossed aside the night before. The underside of his hair is this color. Right at the base of his neck, with the extra curls. She shook her head and started the tap. Maybe all his curls would turn that color when he got wet. She turned the faucet as hot as she could stand it, reached an arm for her phone, and set Spotify to only play Blink-182. We’re done with those feelings! No feelings, only the angst possible with punk rock!

Cold tile brought her down to earth again when she stepped out of the shower, the trails of water dripping down her back and breasts a refreshing break from the onslaught of pounding heat. He felt like a breath of fresh air. Just like this.

With a towel wrapped around head and a t-shirt tossed on, she made her way back to the bedroom and took a seat on her bed. She desperately wished she had stayed for that last drink. Or at least got his number? Why didn’t I get his number?! Now, she’d have to wait another six days before seeing him again. Maybe her attraction to him was nothing more than lust, but if she could text with him, get to know him better, maybe she could find out. With no way of reaching him, she opted to get dressed and head out to clear her head. Maybe find a place to write? Since her decision to put herself first, she’d put letting off steam by writing and singing. It fell in live with the general creativity that fueled her life, while still being different enough from the greenhouse to give her a bit of rest and peace. As she contemplated where to adventure off that morning and pondered the correct way to lace her Doc Marten boots, her phone rang. A photo of three fresh faces graced her screen, a woman with wild dark curls with her mouth gaping with laughter, another woman with a waterfall of red hair and piercing green eyes made less intimidating by the crinkles at the edges, and a man with deep dimples surrounding his smile and an eyebrow raised in surprise at the camera taking their picture. Claire hit the accept button on the call, and thus the inquisition arrived.

“We need to talk about last night!” The screen was split in two, with Geillis’ video on top and Joe’s on the bottom with Claire’s in the corner.

“What about last night? I honestly thought our song was pretty good! I was thinking next week we could do--”

“That’s obviously not what we’re talking about, LJ! But agreed, we did a damn good job.”

“Will you two quit it?” Geillis cut them off and brought her face closer to her screen. “We need to talk about Claire, that viking, and the unreal chemistry. Spill it ALL, Claire.”

———

Jamie had woke nursing a headache, but alas, today would not be the day for rest. He flipped the sign in the window of Fraser Literature from closed to open, and began to check off the list of opening duties. On the list was to water the plants. Set on a table in a small alcove, on top of side table next to an worn leather chair for patrons to sit and peruse a story in, hanging from simple planters in the window that stretched from edge to edge in front of the shop, guarding the aisles of books ready to be enjoyed by people who hadn’t read them yet. Jamie often visited a greenhouse just outside town for the shop’s plants. While a small place, it was teeming with love, peacefulness, and a sense of adventure with green as far as the eye could see, boarding the windows with giant leaves and trailing vines. The feeling inside was something he wanted to emulate in his own place, and so he started adding a wee bit of flora here and there. Rupert and Angus initially laughed off his efforts, claiming Jamie was “destroying the manly vibe” they were aiming for. With every bit of decoration, every little bit of effort however, the shop grew in reputation and success. Jamie was immensely proud of the shop he built, and even more grateful he was able to spend his days surrounded by the words of great men and women, constantly inspired and in awe of the endless stories at his fingertips.

The boys -- Angus and Rupert, that is -- had brought up the idea of expanding into a few other fine art ideas within the shop. Jamie had been reluctant to agree to anything that wasn’t directly related to literature. As they stood around the front counter, Rupert led the charge:

“Jamie, man. The people who like books are also the ones who like art and music and such. Why not try to bring them all together?”

“What if they don’t care about the books? What if they don’t even look at them, and don’t care? What’s the point in having the shop, then?”

It was Angus’ turn to reply with, “Well the point is getting people in the door, and letting your “wee shop” as ye always call it speak for itself, aye?”

Jamie had to agree with that point. He settled for telling the lads that if they could come up with a suitable idea, he’d agree to it. Twenty minutes later, Angus and Rupert stood in his office doorway saying they would be asking for local musicians to come and perform.

“Doesn’t seem like yer asking for approval.”

Jamie didn’t look up from his computer, but could hear the grin in Rupert’s voice as he replied, “‘Tis because ye know it’s a good idea, and ye wouldn’t refuse a good idea.”

Jamie sat back in the rolling leather chair behind his antique desk and sighed, then laughed. “Why do I even try to control what ye two do? Yer jes’ going to do it anyway.” The lads grinned at each other and shrugged. “Go on then, see if ye can have some posters made up to put in the window.”

He stood as Rupert saluted him and Angus muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Aye aye, captain,” and stretched his long, lean, muscles. He needed to get a few errands completed, so opted to spend the next few hours outside both to complete his tasks and to get out in the fresh air. He told his friends he’d be back soon, and to let them know if he needed anything.

With one step out into the sunlight, he immediately regretted the amount he had drunk the night before. Two in the morning was not a suitable time to be out, but for the lass with the dark curls and the whisky eyes, he’d give every moment of his time. From the moment he woke, he thought of her. Thought of how she made him laugh. Thought of how bonny she felt under his fingers, her hips on the barstool as she wiggled back into place, her thigh touching his under the booth table. He thought of how she’d gone up on stage as an act of defiance against him for the insult to her friend’s song, but how instead she ended up showing a piece of her soul to him, and him alone. He thought of how her eyes matched the swirling liquid in his glass. He thought of her abrupt departure after he had asked her to stay, and how he almost ran out after. He thought of how he was so incredibly stupid as to not have asked for her number before she ran. Look what ye did -- now ye have to wait to see her, and yer barely functional as it is. While Angus and Rupert had been gauging his interest for the musical talent in his office earlier, he had been searching the Facebook page for the 21st Amendment, combing it for references to her. To Claire. Maybe she had performed there? Perhaps she and her friends had tagged the place in one of their pictures? There was no sign of her, and she hadn’t told him her last name. Six days to go, mate. Ye can do this. She’s just a lass. Ye don’t know her.

After a few hours of tedious tasks (could the post office ever be efficient, just this once?), he made his way back to Fraser Literature. It was a warm day for autumn, and the shop would have a cart with discount books out on the sidewalk and the door propped open for fresh air. He would never tire of seeing his name on something he built, something he was so proud of. As he neared the shop however, it wasn’t the name on the window that drew his attention -- it was the many people standing inside, facing the window, looking outside. Jamie stopped and looked around, but not finding anything out of place around him. He took a few steps closer. They weren’t looking outside, but rather at the inside corner of the shop, the corner where the window meets the wall. He was only a few steps away when he saw it, when he heard it. A woman with bouncy curls and a round arse, sitting with her back to the window at a keyboard bench. He didn’t have to see her face to know. Her voice was enough. It was enough at two in the morning to imprint on him forever.

She was there, in his shop. His place. Claire. God, his Claire.

With one shaky step and an attempt at a steadying breath, he moved inside his sanctuary.

#songs about me fic #in which tessaactually tries fan fic #outlander prompt exchange #outlander fan fic #outlander fan fiction

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geniusgub · 4 years

Text

unauthorized//matthew gray gubler

based on mgg’s new unauthorized documentaries

genre: fluff

warnings: none!

word count: 3.4k

one last apology for the delay on posting these. fuck migraines!! iykyk. anyways, here it is. im really close to 200 followers and when i get there, ill be doing a preview of my new spencer fic called “north” so be ready to see that v soon! enjoy and don’t forget to give me some feedback!🖤

Getting to visit Matthew while he’s filming is a rare, yet special, occurrence. I always try to make the best of it when I get the change to head up to Vancouver, whether it be for a quick weekend or a whole week. When the final season of the show started, I did what I could to get to Vancouver for as long as I possibly could. I’d grown close to the cast, not to mention my boyfriend of six years. I wanted to make the best of this final season and make as many memories as I could, even if I’m not a member of the cast. They always joke that I’m an honorary member.

When, one night, Matthew mentioned reviving the Unauthorized Documentaries for the final season of Criminal Minds, I thought he meant it as a joke. He mentioned it so nonchalantly that I’d almost laughed. I thought he’d be too busy to worry about filming something on his own. But on his first week filming, during one of our first nightly FaceTimes, he ran a whole slew of ideas by me and I knew he was serious.

At least once a week, he would run an idea by me and would judge the quality by my quantity of laughter. I didn’t even need to comment or give my input, he’d just rattle off jokes and concepts and then either check them off or cross them out when I react. He did this every week up until this week, when he started filming.

“Do I look good?” Matthew brings my attention up from my laptop as he tugs on the lapel of his dress jacket, then holds out his hands to reveal his outfit. He’s dressed for the scenes he’s filming today, a scene with

Aubrey, so I’m not entirely sure why he’s so worried about how he’s dressed, but I’m not composing about the open request to check him out. “I’m about to go start filming the documentary with Andy,”

I drag my eyes up and down his body, my fingers stilling over the keys as I admire his figure. When I reach his eyes again, his eyebrows are raised because he can tell I’m doing more than just evaluating his outfit. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I nod, pushing my laptop aside and reaching my hands out for him. “You look very good, bunny,”

Matthew chuckles as I successfully grab his hands and tug him closer to me. “No, no,” he doesn’t resist as I twist my fingers in his belt loops, “I gotta go work,”

“I know,” I pout, letting go of him and sitting back in the too-comfy armchair I’m in. I’d give anything to grab him again and drag him into this chair with me. “Go film, I’ll probably be here when you get back,”

“Probably?” He picks up his script and, like the diva he is, checks his hair in the mirror and heads towards his trailer door, peeking back at me.

“I might follow you, I might stay here and keep doing the work I’ve been procrastinating,” I shrug and gesture back to my discarded laptop, flashing with a blank Google Doc, a doc that has been blank for weeks on end. Being a writer is hard and frustrating and not easy, by any means. What made me think getting a degree in writing would be a good idea? Shaking off my frustrations, I smile cutely at my boyfriend, tilting my head to the side. “Give me a kiss before you leave?”

Matthew nods and stalks back over, leaning over to peck my lips. “Whatever you write,” he whispers, warm breath fanning across my face, “will be absolutely amazing and beautiful and I’ll be honored to read it,”

“Oh, you give me too much credit,” I scoff, watching Matthew roll his eyes.

“And you don’t give yourself enough,” he responds, and then hastily checks his watch. “Okay, I’ve gotta go, but this conversation is not over. I’ll see you later. Love you,”

“Love you too. Go be funny,” I wave goodbye at him as he goes bouncing out of the trailer, closing the door behind him, leaving me to my empty Google Doc.

///

An hour later, my head is starting to hurt from staring down at a bright screen so I decide to take a break and get something to eat from catering. I haven’t heard anything from Matthew and I’m not sure what he’s up to, so I grab my phone and throw on one of his hoodies that’s a bit too big on me and head out of his trailer.

As soon as I do, though, I run right into Matthew with a pile of shoes in his hands, making them tumble to the asphalt. He curses and keeps a straight face as he tries to pick them up again. Then he sees an opportunity in me and starts to shove shoes into my hands to help him, but they’re still tumbling out. I resist the urge to laugh because I know this would ruin his bit, and I just let him silently shove Daniel’s shoes into my arms.

But then he runs off, leaving me with shoes in my arms. Without any direction or guidance from my boyfriend, I turn to Andy, who’s holding the camera, and shrug my shoulders, dropping Daniel’s shoes to the floor before walking off to my original destination- catering. Those two boys can clean up the mess they devised. I’m hungry.

Matthew finds me just twenty minutes later, taking me by surprise when he wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind, pressing kisses to my cheek. “Thanks for helping me,”

He pulls out the chair beside me and scoots as close as he can to me, our thighs touching. “I mean, I wasn’t really expecting it but it was funny. I was internally laughing,” I let my head fall onto his shoulder, feeling his arm snake around my waist. I peer up at him, feeling my pupils dilating into hearts at the sight of my stunning boyfriend. I’ll never stop being floored by his eyes and his jawline and his dimples and his lips and his smile and how fucking beautiful he is. “I liked that idea from the beginning.”

“I know you did,” he quips, not-so-sneakily swiping a chip from my plate and popping it into his mouth. “Maybe you’ll appear in another episode. Who knows?”

I don’t see Matthew until the end of the day because he’s busy doing his job, as he should be. I spend my day writing in his trailer and filling up my previously empty Google Doc. When the cast has a long break, Matthew comes in to film a scene that I recognize as the ending to the second episode. He’s sitting at his open trailer door, supposedly watching videos of Daniel modeling. He’d only waved at me when he came in, not wanting to bother my work. I wish he would distract me more. Maybe I’d take action on my fantasy of melting into this armchair with him.

His exaggerated and focused facial expression is enough to make me suppress a giggle, but then I spot a baby girl hat from Shemar on the counter and a light bulb starts floating over my head.

“Psst,” I hiss, and Matthew looks up at me, his eyebrows raised. I hold up the hat to him, and his eyes light up with a childlike excitement. He holds up his hands and I toss the hat to him, and as soon as he puts it on, I let out the laugh I’ve been holding in. “Perfect, you look perfect, baby,” Matthew winks at me and then gives a thumbs up to Andy, putting on his exaggerated face yet again and staring down at his phone. I tuck my face in my laptop so I don’t laugh again, typing diligently.

The next day is when I’m, yet again, roped into Matthew’s documentary. I don’t mind though. His ideas are hilarious and they never fail to make me laugh.

I sit in Matthew’s trailer for an hour without him, staring at a blinking cursor. I don’t write a single word and I know that sitting in the same spot won’t make inspiration suddenly strike. I decide to change my scene up and bring my laptop to catering. I grab a snack and take a seat at an empty table, crossing my legs under me, beginning to mull over combinations of words and debate definitions of words. It’d been relatively quiet in catering for a while, but it all comes to an end when Matthew comes marching up to me.

“Hi, babe,” he says sweetly, a bit too sweetly, pulling out the chair next to me and taking a seat. Like yesterday, I give him a confused look, and when he gives me the same adorable smile that he always does, my heart practically melts. The ways this man makes me fall so easily. I’ll never understand.

“Hi, there,” I respond, and then glance up at Andy holding the camera. “Can I help you?”

“Could you possibly google something for me?” Matthew says and directs his attention to my laptop. The way he’s not giving me any type of attention or physical affection let’s me know that he really is filming his documentary again, so I play into it again. What do I have to lose? I’m not writing anyway.

“Yeah, sure,” I switch to Chrome and pull up Google. “What is it?”

“Could you search Daniel Henry?” Matthew keeps a straight face and it’s moments like this that remind me how great of an actor he is. Who can keep a straight face while regurgitating an incorrect name?

I turn my head to him, biting my lip to hold back my laugh. “Henry?”

Matthew nods. “Yeah, I know, it sounds like a girl's name. I thought it was a girls name at first. Daniel,” He repeats it as if that clarifies anything at all. I just narrow my eyes at him again, and when I don’t search the obviously incorrect name that he’s giving me, he sits back in his chair, finally looking at me again with his eyes narrowed. “Do you-“ he lets out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest, “do you think there’s any chance he could be taller than me?”

“Okay, we can stop there,” Andy cuts us off, dropping the camera from focus.

“I think you missed your calling in life, love,” Matthew chuckles, pulling me into his arms, attacking my face with kisses. “I’m sorry to spring that on you, but-“

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t really getting anywhere anyway. If you need help with anything else, you know I’m around for the rest of the week.”

Surely, he cashed in on that offer. It was accidental. It was my fault, really. I was just trying to get back to Matthew’s trailer the next day after having lunch with Kirsten and Daniel, to which Matthew jokingly called me a traitor. I heard Matthew’s loud voice from all the way down the hallway and I should have turned and left, but I didn’t.

So, iced coffee in hand, I stroll down the hallway and when I make it to the clearing, I stop in my tracks. Now, you’d think that after being with this man for five years and living with him, nothing would surprise me anymore. But he still has his moments, and this is definitely one of them. He has these wooden boxes and he’s got a roll of packing tape, and he’s taping the boxes to his feet. Maybe this shouldn’t surprise me, because he’s told me about this idea of his, but seeing him actually doing it with my own eyes is a whole different thing.

It only takes him a moment to notice my presence, and when he does, he waves me over. “Babe, babe, hey babe, babe, babe,” he says quickly, waving his hand quickly, holding the wooden box against his foot. “Come help me,”

Keeping up the same attitude I’ve had in the past, I let out a dramatic sigh and drag myself over to him, sitting down on the floor and putting my coffee on the floor. But the moment I do, Matthew snatches it up and starts drinking it as I grab the dangling packing tape. Gosh, if he actually acted like this, I’d have broken up with him forever ago.

I wrap the tape around his foot and the box and then around his ankle, making sure to not make it too tight so that I hurt him. He’s still sipping my coffee and staring into the camera like some cocky asshole when I move onto the other foot, and then I eventually run out of tape.

I sit back on my heels and look up at him. “I’m out,” Wow, this position we’re in right now? If Matthew didn’t have wooden boxes strapped to his feet and we weren’t in the middle of the Criminal Minds offices, I’d probably be reaching for his belt. But I can’t let my mind go there or else we’ll be hooking up in a bathroom or his trailer, and that never ends well for anyone.

“Okay,” he mumbles, and I watch in amusement for way too long as he struggles to get up to his feet. I don’t even help him, I just sit back and giggle. “Here, you can have this back,” he holds my coffee out to me, and just as soon as I reach for it, he pulls it back. “Wait,” he takes a long sip, “okay here.” I finally grab my coffee again and then move to lean against the wall, watching him struggle to take the first few steps with boxes taped to his feet.

He hobbles down the hallway, all the way to BJ and proceeds to ask her to paint the boxes like shoes. And once he gets the shot he wants of this scene, Andy wanders off and he comes wobbling back to me with a cute, dumb smile on his face. “Will you help me get these off?”

I nod, sitting down on the floor again to pull off the tape around his feet. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t trip and fall on your face,”

“Me too,” he laughs, sighing with relief when I take the first box off and set it aside. “But hey, this is my last break and then I’m gonna be working late today. I don’t know if it’s worth it to stick around set. I’m not gonna be able to come see you or anything,”

“Maybe I’ll go back to your house. I can make some dinner instead of ordering out,” I pull off the last bit of tape and then swiftly reach up to press it against Matthew’s cheek, watching it hang there limply.

He gives me a deadpan look as I devolve into giggles, falling over his lap and holding onto his misplaced elbow pads to hold me up. “Ha ha, very funny. I’m laughing so much. That was so funny,” His voice is void of any humor as he holds my shaking body from hitting the carpeted floor.

“I know, I’m just so funny,” I quip, pulling myself together enough to crane my neck and kiss his cheek. “But I am probably gonna go back to your house. Sounds like a good idea,”

“Okay, just let me know when you get there,” Matthew pats my thigh and signals me to get up, and once we’re on our feet again, he moves the wooden boxes aside. “I might not respond but-“

“Text you so you know I’m safe. I’ve got it,” I finish for him, fixing the lapel of his jacket. I push my pointer finger against the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it up in the insanely adorable way he does. The sight brings a smile to my face and it makes my heart beat faster. “I’ll see you later, okay? Go be brilliant.”

///

The sound of the front door opening lifts my head, taking my attention away from the glass of wine in my hand and the laptop in front of me, yet again. I glance at the timer on the oven and then jump to my feet, padding towards the foyer.

Matthew is dropping his backpack by the door when I get to him, and pauses halfway through reaching for his jacket. “Hi, love bug,” he murmurs, giving me a weak smile.

I grab Matthew’s jacket for him and slide it off his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” When I turn to hang the teddy bear jacket on the coat rack, I feel his hands on my waist, drawing me closer to him. He successfully pulls me against his chest, lips leaving a trail against my shoulder. “Long day, huh?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice wavering as he tucks his face into my neck, “long, and repetitive, and tiring, and I’m very hungry and I smell food,”

I turn myself around in Matthew’s arms and face him, placing my hands on his cheeks. “I got pizza dough on my way home and I made homemade pizza. It’s in the oven and it’ll be done in about ten minutes. And I poured you a glass of wine too,”

Matthew’s eyes flutter closed and he presses his forehead against mine. “You’re an angel. You’re a goddamn angel, sent from heaven to bless me with your presence,”

“Oh, stop,” I laugh, patting his cheek gently. “Let’s just get wine drunk and eat pizza and watch movies all night. You don’t have work tomorrow and I’m tired of looking at my damn laptop,”

“You make us sound like two teenage girls,” Matthew unwinds from my embrace and wanders into the kitchen, swiping the full glass of wine from the counter. He takes a sip and then pecks my lips again, and I revel in the sweetness of his lips.

Matthew sits at the counter, right in front of my laptop, taking another long gulp of his wine. I check on the pizza, just to make sure it’s not burnt, but when Matthew is silent for too long, I look back to make sure he’s okay. Sometimes when he has a hard or long day at work, he tends to shut down and not open up to me, and I don’t want that to happen. But when I turn to check up on him, I find him leaning into my laptop, his eyes darting across the screen.

I gasp, stepping forward and slamming my laptop shut, ripping it away. “Hey! You know I don’t like it when you read my work before it’s edited and finished,”

Matthew pouts, hiding his face behind his wine. “Sorry, I just- well, you’ve been talking about it so much and it was right here and I wanted to see how it was going,” I go into the other room and put my laptop into my bag, out of sight and out of mind. When I return to the kitchen, Matthew is pulling the pizza out of the oven just as the timer goes off. “If it means anything, of what I did read, it was really good. I only got through the first two paragraphs, but I really loved it.”

“Well, thanks,” I mumble, going onto my toes to kiss his cheek before grabbing the pizza cutter. “I’m not mad, I just-“

“I get it. You don’t let me read your writing until it’s done and I don’t let you see anything I’ve filmed until it’s done,”

“Oh, so, I can’t see any of the documentary until it’s done?”

“Maybe I’ll make an exception for that,” he quips, grabbing the pizza cutter from me and digging it into the hot pizza crust. “I don’t trust you with this thing anymore. Not after you ended up in the hospital last year with Sandy,” he turns to me with a pointed look.

“It was an accident and you know it!”

“Oh, really?” He guffaws, tossing the pizza cutter aside and reaching for my waist. But I dodge him, taking a step back. He accepts this as his challenge, reaching for me again, and when I dodge him one more time with a confident smirk, a playful fire ignites behind his eyes. “Fuck the pizza. I’m coming for you.”

#matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x oc #matthew gubler #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fic #nikos writing #matthew gray gubler one shot

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Here’s a half formed thought about Calum going back to school at the same time as you during the crazy ass pandemic. Enjoy.

Reader insert. No race or gender.

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

You were always going back to school. When you ran into Calum last year--though it really wasn’t you running into Calum; he was doing his grocery shopping and you checked him out--you knew being a clerk at the grocery store wasn’t the end all be all for you.

What you had noticed over the couple of months is that whenever Calum seemed to be doing his grocery shopping, he always came through your line. It didn’t matter if you were the only line opened or on the weekends one of the several lines open, Calum was there. He started with small talk, asking you how your day was going. And you asked about his. He shocked you the first time he used your name. But you forgot that it was on your name tag. “Well if you know my name it’s only fair I know yours,” you teased.

“Calum,” he returned easily, taking the brown paper bags after you carefully packed them.

Sometimes you noticed his dog in the cart and asked about them. You learned his name is Duke and that he’s been affectionately dubbed Baby Grandpa by Calum. And eventually, though you hadn’t really meant to, you noticed things he bought frequently and whenever you happened across his path while walking to or from back break, you’d let him know if there was a sale going on.

And thought it was only just friendly chat while you were on the clock, you were out pumping gas on your way to lunch with your friends when you heard your name. As you turned, there was Calum, walking out of the gas station, waving as he pushed his sunglasses back to cover his eyes.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you laughed, waving in return. What you hadn’t expected as Calum walked across the lot to the pumps is that he would chat until the question of a date fell off from his lips. And sure Calum was attractive, and sure the conversation over the weeks while you checked out his items had turned a little flirty but you hadn’t expected that Calum felt anything remotely serious about you to ask you on a date.

But you accepted. And there you were able to talk over a nice picnic that excluded Duke, but at your explicit disappointment at not seeing the old dog, Calum promised that next time, he would make sure to include Duke. That picnic lead to a movie, which lead to dinner, which lead to a date shopping for Duke because of the upcoming holidays, which lead to dinner at his place, and then hanging out with his friends for a quick drink one night, which lead to movie nights at each others place.

And somewhere in all of it, you were dating Calum. He called when you had the closing shift at work to make sure you got home safely. Or if you spent the night, he’d make you breakfast, and he soothed your back as you hunched in front of your laptop to paid for applications for grad school. And he listened to the way you talked about knowing you couldn’t stay in this spot forever and he encouraged you go back to school. You could feel out that school was something that Calum was considering but he hadn’t been too serious about it. Not the band, the tours, the in the studio’s late--just never felt like he had the time.

Occasionally, you talked about some of the online courses you saw the schools had. But Calum hadn’t fully budged. By the time you got news about you going back to school, with funding, and sorting that news out with your job, Calum asked you if you thought he should give a crack at school. You told him the truth, that if he wanted to go for it, he should. And soon, things crumbled globally with the pandemic. And locked in the house most of the time, you dropped subtle and not so subtle hints that making those online classes might be closer and closer to coming true.

Now you’re here, sitting at the dining room table, your printed out readings and books scattered in front of you. Calum’s on the couch. His notes on the coffee table. You’re in class, listening to the lecture headphones in and you look over to Calum, his class ended just as yours started. His fingers are working over the keys.

He’s only in a couple of classes. And though you’re in one more class than him, there’s the added struggle of the work you do too. It’s administrative, but there’s meetings once a week and you still find yourself being offloaded onto with lots of small annoying data tracking tasks. It’s paying for school, so you do it with minimal complaints, but a few nonetheless.

You’re so lost watching Calum working that you don’t even realize that the class you’re in is preparing for small breakout rooms until someone calls your name. You blink and turn back to the screen. “Sorry, zoned out. We’re discussing the reading, yeah?”

Your group nods and you manage to get back on track until the end of your class. Just as you’re closing down the Zoom app, at least for the half hour before your meeting for work, Calum calls out. “Class done?”

You nod, popping out the earbuds. “Yeah. Got that meeting for work soon though.”

He hums, glancing up from the screen. He seems tired. Most of your nights both of you are up kinda late. Though, you make sure to turn it in early and practically drag Calum to bed a couple hours later. He’ll get caught up, work way too late into the night and then have to be up early for band meetings too. “Want me to fix dinner tonight then?”

“It’s my night. I can still do it.”

“You sure. I know you’ve got to fix that spreadsheet too and do your readings for the week.”

You shake your head. “I can still cook. Might even start during our meeting.”

Calum laughs, remembering the other times you turned off your camera and shuffled around the kitchen to cook in meetings or in classes too. “Nonsense. Almost done with this paper, so I’ll cook. But as an exchange, if you don’t mind, could you read over this? It’s only a response to a reading and it’s not super long or anything. But this instructor’s a fucking hardass.”

You nod. You’ve read over his papers before. Most of the times it’s just making sure he has correct citations and you might make a note about needing a thesis statement or needing more of his analysis between his evidence. But it’s not much that you ever feel like you need to mention on his papers. You’ve found, most often, what Calum needs is just someone to listen to his ideas so he can sort them out loud and then all you do is take down the notes of what he said. Listening to him talk about this philosophy class and Literature class is awe inspiring. He always has more questions than answers, but it’s those questions that always lead him to some pretty amazing places in his writing.

“Is this the professor that got on you about the spacing on that first paper?”

Calum nods, pushing the laptop to the coffee table on top of his notes. “Yes! Even you couldn’t see what was wrong, so I still don’t understand what they got on me about. And I formatted the second outline in the exact same way and didn’t get any points taken off, so I really don’t understand.”

“Well, it could’ve been Google Docs. When you downloaded it into Pages, the formatting might’ve gotten wonky? But even the Pages document looked fine, so I really don’t know what happened there. But you’re doing it all in Pages now and then exporting to a PDF when you submit correct?”

“Yeah, I am. Thanks for that tip though. I didn’t realize Pages wouldn’t work in the submission center.” His shuffle into the kitchen is paired by the click of Duke’s paws on the floor. Calum presses a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Spaghetti?”

Holding onto his forearm draped around your chest, you nod. “Spaghetti sounds lovely.”

“I saw you staring at me while you were in class,” he whispers close to your ear.

“What? You’re hot. Sue me.”

His chuckle is soft, a rumble in his chest that you feel through your back. “Most definitely can’t sue you over that. But don’t make me go in the office. I need you to pass these classes.”

“I appreciate the concern, dear. But I think I’m doing pretty good. Besides, I’m signed up for a random art history class. I can say you’re a piece of art I needed to analyze.”

The laughter’s not soft now, he full on giggles--a bit of it getting cut off as he inhales into the sound. “You’re ridiculous.” His lips are soft against your temple as he stands back up. “So spaghetti. Garlic bread is a must. Salad?”

“Ugh, I guess I do need veggies.”

“Yes, yes you do.” He continues into the kitchen, the clinking of pots hitting the isle’s of the stove and bowls, boxes, and jars setting onto the counter.

“How’s the other class going? You guys starting your novels yet?”

“19th Century Lit is well, 19th Century Lit.” Calum seemed intrigued by the Evil Children’s class you told him you saw. But it had filled by the time Calum got his work schedule sorted out. He turned to 19th Century Lit as his backup, and so far, it appeared to be going well. “We’re spending the first part on poetry. And that’s the most interesting. The rest of the books sound a little boring.”

You hum, nodding even though he can’t see you. “Hopefully the class picks up. I took a look at the spring classes. If you want to focus more on poetry there’s a Modern Poetry post 1930′s class.”

The glance is quick, but his brows are pulled upwards, in a slight intrigue. “I’d consider it for sure.”

The alarm on your phone goes off, letting you know you have ten minutes until the meeting. You turn back to your computer and start logging into the meeting. “You haven’t had an assignment for that class yet have you?”

“No. The midterm’s coming up soon though and I don’t even know how to begin to study for it.”

You pop one earbud in making sure your mic is muted. “You know I got you, babe.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got your classes too. I-I might stop by the professors office hours and ask for help.”

“That’s always a good idea. Do you know when they are?”

“Tuesday’s and Wednesday’s.” You know he doubled checked them because he probably wouldn’t have that readily available from the first day of classes. “Gonna go tomorrow.”

Popping up from the chair, you press a kiss to his cheek, as the pan sizzles just a little and the pot of water not showing signs of bubbles just yet. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Calum returns, pulling you fully into his chest for a swift kiss. “Now, go! You’ve got a meeting.”

“Meeting schmeeting. Would rather kiss you.” You kiss him one last time before ducking back into the chair and turning the camera on. You notice just faintly in the background Calum’s visible as he shuffles between pans and pots. Duke walks up to you, standing up to get attention.

“Oh, you know I can’t say no,” you mutter, setting him in your lap.

“Is that Duke?” your supervisor asks. He’s crashed a couple meetings before.

You unmute and hold him better for everyone to see. “Yeah. His pops is cooking us dinner and that lack of attention just won’t do.”

“Hey, you say that like I don’t love him,” Calum retorts, threatening the back of your head with a spatula. You giggle before muting yourself and place Duke back into your lap, digging up the word document you’ve started for all the meeting notes.

Your supervisor laughs. “Well I think he’s getting plenty of attention in the chat.” There are some more dings as people join the meeting. “Looks like we have everyone, so let’s begin.”

tagging @calumscalm because you might still be taking that exam, love.

and @5-secondsofcolor bc sunday reads bubs.

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