#gonna strategically plan my home leave to coincide with this
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Semper Fi
Sledge and Snafu walk into a tattoo parlor, what happens? For @diasimar
short sledgefu one shot that deals with the - ahem - sexiness of Snafu getting that inner thigh tattoo while in the Marines stationed overseas (suggestive nudity but nothing explicit)
Snafu gets the tattoo on Hawaii during one of the lulls in action sometime after his second stint on Pavuvu. He’s been carousing almost every night, gambling a lot, winning money, sending quite a bit home to his baby sister, spending even more on booze, meeting the finest of the fine in Hawaiian polite society. For the first time in months Eugene and he aren’t attached at the hip in a foxhole anymore, and Snafu’s going a bit wild. For some reason though, no matter how late Snafu returns to their tent, Eugene is still awake, his lamp turned on, his long nose in a book. Even if it’s 3am Eugene greets Snafu as he stumbles into bed, and then calmly continues reading until Snafu passes out. Snafu’s beginning to worry Eugene doesn’t sleep at all. Yet every time Snafu asks Eugene if he wants to come out with him, Eugene politely turns him down.
When it comes to gambling, Snafu tries to stick to branches of the military that aren’t the Marines. He already has a reputation amongst the first and the fifth, and almost every single one of his friends refuses to lose money to him anymore. It’s when Snafu discovers how easy it is to part Navy sailors with their money, that Snafu starts seeing the tattoos. Snafu asks around and discovers there’s a guy who will do it for cheap for armed forces, who is an artist with ink, and who even has some Marines flash to choose from.
Snafu announces his plans for a tattoo to Sledge that evening, who glances up from his book and replies that this is exactly why he takes the night watch these days.
“You’re drunk, Snafu,” Eugene says, “Go to bed. We’ll see if this tattoo is still a good idea in the morning.”
Snafu doesn’t tell Gene that he’s pretty sure this idea has been brewing in the back of his head for days. Instead he goes to bed. And he also realizes that there’s some part of Eugene stuck in those foxholes, still keeping watch, even though they’re on Hawaii where the worst that can happen already has. Gene shouldn’t be worrying about anything, and he certainly shouldn’t be watching over Snafu while he sleeps. If anyone should be looking after anybody it should be Snafu. He’s the one half in love.
“If I get a tattoo on my own, will you hate me?” Snafu asks Gene the next morning.
“Why would I hate you?” Eugene replies, genuinely confused.
Snafu shrugs. He always assumed Eugene would one day.
Eugene rolls his eyes, satisfied that Snafu is back to his normal enigmatic sober self, and then rolls over in his cot and goes back to sleep.
This time Snafu stays awake, studying Sledgehammer’s sleeping face, munching on a chocolate bar while Eugene snores. By the time Snafu finishes his breakfast, and Eugene is properly awake, Snafu gets an idea about how to put Eugene’s watchdog tendencies to good use.
“Why am I coming with you to Chinatown?” Eugene asks that afternoon as they make their way across Honolulu.
“Because that’s where Jerry’s shop is,” Snafu answers, “It’s art, Eugene, you’ll love it. Trust me.”
“Who’s Jerry?”
“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that, Gene,” Snafu sighs, “How are you even a Marine? We need to get you out more.”
“I get out plenty,” Eugene gripes and gets that cute nose wrinkle between his brows that happens whenever Snafu teases him too much.
Snafu grins.
“Just because I don’t drink, doesn’t mean I judge anyone else for it,” Eugene says defensively.
“I know you don’t, Boo, and all the guys respect you for it, but they’ll love you for it if you also join us from time to time. You don’t gotta do anything, just be there,” Snafu says.
“Huh,” Eugene says, and thoughtfully considers Snafu’s suggestion while they walk. It baffles Snafu sometimes, how Eugene actually take Snafu’s opinions into consideration. Gene listens, and thinks on it until he understands, and then adjusts his behavior as he sees fit, and he puts a hell of a lot more stock into Snafu’s judgement than Snafu could ever have imagined him doing. “Are you included in this?” Eugene asks after a period of silence.
“What?” Snafu holds the door open to the tattoo parlor for him.
“Will you love me if I hang out from time to time?” Eugene asks and hesitates in the doorway.
“I already love you, Gene, you don’t gotta work on that,” Snafu winks and playfully pushes Sledge’s ass the rest of the way into the shop.
Eugene looks endearingly uncomfortable standing in the middle of the tattoo parlor. Gene’s eyes go wide and they keep sliding over to the corner of the shop where a sailor with bulging muscles is having a delicate bird tattooed onto his bicep. Snafu slides his arm across Eugene’s shoulder to help the poor guy relax while they wait their turn to be helped.
“What am I doing here?” Gene hisses lowly in Snafu’s ear as he leans against him.
“I want to get the tattoo on a sensitive area,” Snafu whispers back and leans closer. Any excuse to hold Gene tighter.
“How sensitive?” Sledge is looking at Snafu like Snafu’s situation has gone from fucked up to total insanity.
“On a part of me that might make things a little too hot, if you know what I mean,” Snafu elaborates.
“Shelton, what the heck are you getting at?”
“I’m getting the eagle and globe on my inner thigh and I want you to be here to make sure nothing turns raunchy,” Snafu explains.
Eugene pulls away and stares at him for a full minute. “What the hell do you think is going to be sexy about a man sticking a needle in your skin for a couple hours?”
“I dunno, Sledgehammer, I’m just concerned he’s going to be nose to nose with certain areas of myself I like to keep private,” Snafu says.
“Then why not get it on your arm like a normal person?” Sledge whispers accusingly.
Snafu shrugs. He swears Eugene looks fiercely jealous, but maybe he’s just seeing things. “Hate me yet?” he asks.
Eugene just glares in response. And crosses his arms in a bit of a huff. But he doesn’t leave the shop. Eugene doesn’t say another word. He silently inspects the art Snafu picks out. And when it’s Snafu’s turn, Eugene stands beside him. He silently watches as Snafu drapes himself over the bench and splays his legs open. A strategically placed thin blanket keeps Snafu’s dignity intact, but his ass is otherwise as bare as the day he was born.
Eugene was right about the artist being professional and too focused to do much else. The guy doesn’t even treat Snafu like he’s a body made of flesh and bone, just canvas. The artist is firm, and calm, and certain of every mark he makes.
And the only thing Snafu finds distracting is the unexpected intensity of Eugene staring at Snafu’s crotch while the tattoo is being done.
At first it’s fine. The tattoo starts almost inside his hip and the pain is next to nothing. And certainly nothing Snafu can’t handle. Until the needle goes lower, into sensitive fatty areas, and the pain explodes.
“Fuck!” Snafu grits out as he tries to keep his body from reacting.
That gets Eugene’s attention on Snafu’s face, finally. Gene turns to him and takes his hand gently.
Snafu isn’t having it. He grips Eugene’s hand so hard his knuckles turn white and Eugene’s eyebrows shoot up on his face in shock. Snafu almost growls with the pain, and tears prick his eyes. In all Snafu’s half baked plans about giving Eugene something artsy to admire that they can both share, and by coincidence letting Eugene watch over Snafu’s dick for a couple hours, Snafu had never considered he might end up looking ridiculous in front of his crush.
“Hey, look at me,” Eugene whispers softly right beside Snafu’s head. Gene crouches down beside the bench so they’re eye level, and gently slides his fingers across Snafu’s cheek. He turns Snafu’s head to face him, away from the work being done on Snafu’s leg, and suddenly all Snafu can see is the adoration and concern in Eugene’s eyes.
“Sledgehammer...?” is all Snafu can manage to say.
Eugene holds Snafu’s hand tight and cups Snafu’s face, and whispers sweet nothings about how beautiful Snafu is. Something about Snafu’s stubble and square jaw, and something about the rain. And Snafu can barely pay attention, but if he watches Eugene’s lips form around the words long enough he almost forgets the pain.
‘Just fucking kiss me,” Snafu wants to be able to say, ‘I’ve been waiting for you to do it for months.”
He doesn’t say it.
He does, however, manage to survive his first (and hopefully only) tattoo experience thanks to Gene’s helping hand (Literally. Snafu hopes he didn’t maim Gene’s drawing hand.). The artist wraps Snafu’s leg and gives him instructions on how to care for the tattoo in the first few days. The artist also gives him and Gene a considering look, but says nothing. Snafu supposes the guy’s probably used to all sorts, what with him tattooing mostly Navy boys, a branch of the armed forces where what Snafu wants to do to Gene is almost legal. Almost.
Snafu’s leg doesn’t hurt too much, but he plays it up a bit for sympathy. Eugene steadfastly allows Snafu to lean on him the whole walk home, with Gene’s arm strong and secure around Snafu’s waist. To be fair it is hard to walk with a giant bandage around a guy’s inner thigh. Snafu is reduced to an awkward hobble. He is relieved when he can finally stagger into their tent and flop onto Gene’s cot.
“Snafu, wrong bed,” Eugene points out helpfully. He tries to help Snafu stand back up.
Snafu refuses and goes limp.
“Snaf, you’re on my book.”
Snafu does move for that.
Eugene rescues his book and then sits down at the foot end of the cot. “So how long is it gonna take to heal?” he asks conversationally.
Snafu grunts.
“I’ll bring you dinner,” Eugene announces. He pats Snafu’s ankle lovingly and stands back up with a sigh. A few hours of silence and he returns with rice. “I figured simple was better for now,” he explains.
Snafu makes no comment on his freely given dinner, and eats his rice quietly while Eugene carefully peels the bandage off Snafu’s thigh.
“It’s gonna look better in a few weeks,” Snafu assures him.
With his head still bent over Snafu’s crotch, Eugene looks at him skeptically from underneath his brow.
“Hopefully,” Snafu adds, his confidence faltering a little.
Snafu spends the next three days wallowing in comfort with Eugene at his beck and call. Somewhere in town Eugene picks up an odd smelling cream that Eugene swears on his life will help. Snafu agrees, not because he’s in pain or worried about the tattoo becoming infected. But because he just enjoys it when Eugene leans across Snafu’s legs on the cot to get a good angle, pushes down Snafu’s pants, and then rubs little feather-light circles over Snafu’s naked thigh to massage the cream in.
“Think you can walk now?” Eugene asks on the fourth day after he’s rubbed the cream into Snafu’s skin.
It takes Snafu a minute to remember that he never mentioned to Eugene that walking was no longer a problem after the bandage came off the first day. “Oh...probably,” Snafu says while keeping his voice deceptively light.
Eugene sighs. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “Better not try,” he says, “Just to be sure. It’s starting to scab.” Eugene trails a finger down the tattoo. He barely brushes the tiny portions of scabbed skin, but it sends a strange tingle up Snafu’s spine.
Snafu swallows. “Think it’s supposed to do that,” he opinions, “The scabbing.” - not the tingling.
“I might get Jay to bring you your dinner tonight...” Eugene trails off, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. All of Snafu’s focus is on Eugene’s hand still resting over the clothed portion of Snafu’s leg. Till he hears what Eugene said.
“What???” Snafu demands.
“I’ve been thinking of going out with the guys. Burgie says it’s Stringbean’s birthday or something,” Eugene says.
“What? No!” Snafu yanks his pants back up over his crotch.
“You said I needed to spend more time with them...”
“Yeah, but not without me!” Snafu exclaims, “I’ll come along...”
“Not so fast,” Eugene holds Snafu’s chest down on the bed with his hand, and briefly fulfills one of Snafu’s many fantasies, “If you get that tattoo infected, you might be stuck here even longer than if you just wait it out now.”
“But I...” Snafu is realizing his subterfuge in getting Eugene to wait on him hand and foot is coming back to bite him in the ass.
“Jay’s staying behind tonight to write a letter to his folks,” Eugene concludes, “He won’t mind bringing you food, honest.”
“But it’s pork chops tonight!” Snafu says as Eugene gets up to leave.
“I think Jay can handle carrying some pork chops,” Eugene chuckles.
Snafu’s losing him. He’s almost out the door. Eugene’s gonna find a replacement caretaker and that’ll be the end to Snafu monopolizing his time.
“Gene!” Snafu calls desperately. He scrambles out of bed and grabs Eugene’s wrist.
Eugene blinks at him in surprise. “I thought you were in pain...?”
Snafu opens his mouth and casts his eyes anywhere but on Gene so maybe Sledgehammer won’t see his guilt. In his haste, Snafu forgot to button his pants. They’re falling down his hips again.
“You were never in any pain, were you?” Eugene asks.
“Maybe for the first...” Snafu thinks hard, “...three...or four...hours...?”
“It’s been four days Snafu,” Eugene starts advancing on him like he’s gonna give Snafu some real pain to think about, “I help you limp to the toilet four times a day. I’ve been giving you sponge baths!”
Snafu trips backwards and falls onto Gene’s cot. “I’ve been reading your books aloud for you!” he protests, “You like it when I do the heavy accent.” As if that makes them even.
“You. Owe. Me,” Eugene emphasizes. And shoves Snafu flat on his back
“Semper Fi?” Snafu says with a grin.
“Get your own damn pork chops, Shelton,” Eugene shakes his head in disgust - the worst expression Snafu could imagine being on his face, “And get out of my cot. You are perfectly capable of using your own.” He moves as if to tip over the cot and dump Snafu out of it.
“Wait!” Snafu sprawls across it like a heavy starfish. “True, my leg doesn’t hurt, but I don’t want to move too much and risk breaking open the scabs,” Snafu protests, “Remember! Potential infection!”
Eugene stops, and considers this carefully. “Fair point,” he says.
“Fuck...” Snafu groans and pushes himself up on his elbows. “You listen to my advice too much, Hammer. Don’t go out with those guys. Stay in tonight. With me. I’ll even read to you from that dumbass history book you love so much.”
This gets Eugene’s interest. He knows Snafu prefers the fiction novels over the dry facts. But Eugene’s a sucker for timelines and dates.
Snafu’s got him on the edge. He just needs one last enticement to tip Eugene over.
“C’mon Sledge, help me out with this and when it’s all healed, I’ll let you and only you kiss it,” Snafu jokes, hoping that if he entertains Eugene enough, Gene won’t kick him out of his cot. Snafu wiggles his leg enticingly. It makes the tattoo jiggle. The Marines Corps eagle flaps it’s wings. Snafu smiles beguilingly.
Except Eugene’s not laughing. His eyes are devastatingly serious as he thinks over Snafu’s words. He sits down on the cot again, on top of Snafu’s feet. And leans forward, sliding his hand up Snafu’s leg the whole way. His fingers grip Snafu’s thigh just below the marred skin of the tattoo, as if he’s waiting for the day he can touch that skin without hesitance. He stares Snafu straight in the eye with an uncompromising look and says, “Deal.”
Snafu is hit with flashes of fantasy - of Eugene’s head bending down, his lips replacing his fingers, Eugene kissing his way up the tattoo straight to Snafu’s...
“Shake on it,” Eugene insists, holding out his hand.
Snafu shakes wordlessly.
And Eugene marches out of the room to fetch Snafu his pork chops.
Snafu drops back onto the cot again and wonders desperately if jerking off would reopen the wounds, or stretch the tattoo beyond recognition.
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Fictober 2019 | Day Twenty Four | “Patience… is not something I’m known for.”
Prompt: 24- “Patience… is not something I’m known for.”
Fandom & Ship: Community, Jeff x Annie
Summary: Jeff and Annie accidentally wear matching halloween costumes, based off of an anonymous prompt and a fictober prompt
She may have made a tiny mistake in picking out her Halloween costume this year...
The site says it’s an adult size small, but considering how short and... revealing it is, Annie isn’t so sure.
She originally intended on being a nurse, not a sexy nurse. Britta is definitely not going to approve of this, she says to herself as she stares at her reflection in the mirror.
It’s not all that bad. She has to have the zip up as far as it can go to show minimal cleavage, and when paired with some stockings, the dress doesn’t look too short...
At least she looks good in it. That counts, right?
She doesn’t really have time to do anything else with the outfit. Most of her other clothes are packed away, ready for her move into Troy and Abed’s apartment, and she doesn’t have another Halloween costume on hand.
Her thoughts are stopped by the sound of someone banging at her front door. She almost panics, until she remembers Jeff’s her ride to Shirley’s Halloween party.
“Annie, hurry up!”
“Wait a minute!” She calls from her room, giving herself time for one last lengthy look in the mirror. She flattens the skirt, pulls the zip up for extra measure, and slowly makes her way to the front door.
“You know Annie, patience is not something I’m known for....” Jeff says as she opens the door, but his voice lowers at the end of his sentence, when his eyes meet hers.
Um. Wow. She looks incredible. This is definitely not something he’s fantasised about before... nope.
“Hey, you hardly had to wait a long time. I was only a minute,” she smiles up at him all innocently, as if she has no idea how good she looks in her little get-up.
Then her eyes flicker downwards, and she sees his outfit. It’s like a lightbulb flickers above their heads at the same time.
“So a nurse huh?” “You’re a doctor!” they say at the same time.
“Oh god. Everyone’s gonna think we planned this,” Jeff moans.
“It’s just a coincidence,” Annie offers with a laugh. “It doesn’t have to be awkward if we don’t let it.”
“You don’t understand,” he rolls his eyes at her, but in all honesty he actually has to look away from her because the sight of her in that nurses outfit is kind of driving him crazy. “Forget it, let’s go.”
He’s mostly silent for the car journey, and Annie can just tell he’s thinking about how he can get out of people thinking they’ve planned a couples costume.
But she does have to admit - even if he can’t see it - it’s pretty funny.
“Why did you decide to be a doctor anyway?” she asks. “I thought you’d go for something... for lack of a better word, sexy.”
“Annie, I make any Halloween costume look sexy,” he looks at her, the glow from the red light illuminating his features and making him look even more devilishly handsome.
She rolls her eyes in response, even if she is inclined to agree. She remembers how good he looked when he reluctantly dressed up as a cowboy.
“Women love doctors and that’s a fact. I’ll be irresistible,” he winks.
“To who?”
“Everyone,” he shrugs.
She nods and stays silent, not wanting to tell him how right he is.
Besides, she can’t imagine him hitting it off with any of Shirley’s Greendale friends.
-
“Jeff! You’re here,” Shirley coos when they arrive. He’s strategically walked in front so he’s spotted first, making it look like Annie’s copied his costume. The sneaky bastard.
“Annie!” Shirley sings, but her mood falters when she spots the young girl’s costume. “Oh Annie, I thought you were one of the good ones!”
“Shirley!”
Britta arrives next, as if this moment couldn’t get any worse.
“Annie! What are you wearing?”
“Did you plan this with Jeff?” Shirley adds. “Oh honey, you don’t want to be anybody’s slutty nurse...”
“—and think of the gender stereotypes you’re perpetuating.”
“Guys, please!” Annie interrupts them, watching as they step back slightly aghast. “It was just a funny coincidence. And I also thought this costume was going to be a lot more... Age appropriate, trust me.”
“Women have always got to be a sexy version of something on those costume sites, Annie. That’s why you have to go for a costume like mine if you want to stick it to the man,” Britta gestures down to her Crayon costume. It’s certainly a statement.
“You look great, Britta,” Annie smiles.
“Well anyway, let’s go get you a drink,” Shirley takes her arm and leads her to the kitchen where Troy, Abed and Jeff are waiting for them. Pierce is nowhere to be seen but Annie doesn’t question it.
“Annie, NICE,” Troy announces when she walks in, earning a glare off of Britta.
“Did you plan this?” Abed asks, pointing between Jeff and Annie.
“No.” They say at once. Jeff rolls his eyes.
“Classic,” Abed laughs.
“Seriously you look great,” Troy adds, handing her a drink.
“You guys didn’t compliment my costume!” Britta interjects. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s practically staring at Jeff and Troy like she wants to kick or kill them. Annie’s not sure which option is more likely right now, considering Britta’s tone.
“Uhhhhh,” Troy tries to think of a compliment.
“You make a great Crayon, Britta,” Jeff offers.
“Typical,” she rolls her eyes and downs her beer, stalking out the kitchen in a huff.
“None of you complimented me either!” Shirley adds, following Britta out the room.
“I would if I even know what she was,” Troy sighs. Abed nods in agreement, staring at Shirley’s outfit with his head tilted as if he’s trying to work it out himself.
“Does she always have to wear such nondescript costumes to these things?” Jeff says to no one in particular.
Everyone nods in agreement.
-
They leave Shirley’s fairly early, all of them shooed out the door with a brownie to-go in their hands. No one is really sure why Shirley decided to host a party if she was going to kick her guests out before 11pm, but they weren’t complaining. They didn’t want to spend any more time with Gary.
“Well, that was lame,” Jeff turns to her as they walk to his car. “I’m guessing you need a ride home?”
“That’d be nice.”
“You make a good nurse,” he smiles when he realises they’re finally alone again. And he means it, not just in the way that she looks ridiculously good in the outfit, which she absolutely does by the way. He’s surprised he’s resisted the urge to kiss her against the car door (or any surface, if he’s honest.)
“You’d make an attractive doctor - like on TV or something,” she laughs. His doctor outfit does make for interesting fantasy material... Dr Winger and Nurse Edison? She could probably write a romantic novel about those two.
“What’s that guys name? Dreamy McDreamface? That could be me.” He smiles smugly at her,
“You watch Grey’s Anatomy?”
“If nothing else is on,” he shrugs her question off as they climb into his car.
She laughs at him. She almost thinks it was meant to be, this awkward coincidence. They do make a surprisingly good pair, even if he doesn’t want to admit to it. They’ve been on enough capers together to know they have the right chemistry, a good rapport. And Annie does find him attractive, in and out of his scrubs. Actually, she’s fairly sure he could wear anything and she would still find him ridiculously hot, a fact she’d never share with him as to not over-inflate his ego.
But it’s cute. She likes it, the fact that they could be mistaken for a couple. The fact that he kept smiling at her all night and stayed close even though he really didn’t have to. Come to think of it, he barely spent time with the other women Shirley had invited to her makeshift Halloween get together, even Britta. Plus, she even caught him checking her out a handful of times too. But what did it all mean?
This is Jeff she’s thinking about. The guy who can never give her a straight answer about anything when it comes to their star crossed dynamic. The very same Jeff that gives her those looks that she thinks might mean something, and then pats on the head and pushes her away and treats her like a child again.
It’s never going to be easy with him, is it?
There’s always going to mixed signals and confusion and crushes and longing… She’s just accepted that as a fact now. Jeff is the perfect fantasy material - great to daydream about when she’s alone in her bedroom, but the reality of the situation is a lot more complex.
“Tonight was surprisingly fun,” he says, Annie hadn’t realised how silent she must’ve been while she was sitting there thinking about him. Oops.
“Surprisingly?”
“Well yeah. I thought everyone was going to make a bigger deal out of this,” he gestures between them. “But it was actually kind of nice.”
“What? Having similar costumes?”
“Yeah. We looked good together.”
She can feel her cheeks getting warmer and no matter how hard she fights against it, her lips curl into a big smile as she watches him. He’s being sincere and it’s adorably sweet.
“We did,” she grins.
“So… I was thinking… How about you be my ring girl next year? I’ve got my costume planned too and I think you’ll like it”
“The ring girl? Weird choice, but okay…” she says as she gets out of his car.
He looks at her confused for a second, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he smiles as she waves goodbye and watches her disappear into her building.
Thank god she’s leaving this place, it’s terrifying, he thinks as he pulls away.
He can still smell her perfume lingering around the front seat, and smiles when he imagines her sat next to him, still in that little nurse’s outfit.
For a second, he finds himself wishing he’d kissed her goodnight.
Oh god, what has she done to him?
#fictober19#jeff x annie#annie x jeff#jeff/annie#community#community nbc#annie edison#jeff winger#fan fic
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if you're still taking prompts, could you write something (maybe set in the future like post finale when they are ... happy at last) about the fact that alec's self-harming habit has come up again? (like in 3x16, and kinda in what he does with his hands at the end of 3x17 too). i feel like the show is not gonna bring it up again and i would love to read a fic where magnus & alec talk about it!
shed my skin, my scars(Read on AO3)
The mission went so wrong, so quickly, none of them had time to process what was happening until it was all over. The intel was bad and instead of just a demon or two the patrol Alec sent out on what should’ve been a routine mission found itself outnumbered by a clan of rogue vampires. They were down three men before they knew what hit them. By the time Alec arrived with back-up the patrol of 7 was a patrol of 3, and they lost half a dozen more after that.
It’s one of his first back after his and Magnus’ honeymoon - which Magnus had to practically beg him to take in the aftermath of everything with Jonathan and Asmodeus and a very long string of ‘what can go wrong, will’ messes to clean up. Things looked like they were finally settling down. He was happy. They were happy. So of course it couldn’t last forever.
“I’m just going to finish the report then notify the families. You can go,” Alec dismisses Jace who hesitates.
“It isn’t your fault, Alec. We all thought the Intel was solid.” “Yeah, I know.” Alec nods, but they both know he doesn’t agree.
“At least let me help. You don’t have to do this alone, Alec,” Jace insists, lingering by the door.
“No, it’s-” Alec sighs. “They were my responsibility. I’ll handle it.” Alec looks back down resolutely at the paperwork on his desk and ignore the unsure look on his parabatai’s face until he hears the click of the door closing.
A: Hey, this is going to take all night to wrap up, so I’m just going to crash here when I’m done. See you tomorrow, love you
He sends the text off to Magnus so that he doesn’t wait up for him, not wanting his husband to worry.
Alec finishes the filing. He makes all the calls, one after another, nine in a row. Each one breaks him a little further. Each one weighs a little heavier, hurts a little more. He feels guilty for not doing this in person but there are too many, it’d take all night and half the day tomorrow that way.
When he’s done he doesn’t go home - he goes to the training room, taking off his ring and placing it carefully to the side, but forgoing gloves or bandages as he starts on the bag. Slowly at first, hard and controlled, until the hits grow sloppy and desperate. They’re soon accompanied by sobs that sting his throat and tears which blur his vision of the splitting skin and bruising. He’s already exhausted from the fight and the fact that he’s been up for nearly 20 straight hours now, but exhausted is good. Exhausted is what he needs. Alec hits and kicks until he doesn’t think he’ll even have the energy to make it back up to his room and debates collapsing right there on the mat until he hears a voice at the door.
“Alec?” It’s Jace. Of course it is.
“Hey,” Alec huffs, reaching out to lean against the wall. He wipes the moisture from his face, not sure if it’s tears or sweat… probably both, before carefully shoving his hands into his pockets so Jace can’t see the extent of the damage. “What are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same question.” His parabatai’s voice is suspicious. Alec knows Jace isn’t stupid, but Alec also knows that Jace isn’t about to come at him while he’s like this, either.
Alec glances at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s 4:00 in the morning. How late did stay up making the calls? How long had he been in this room?
“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” he lies, quick to cover for either. Jace relaxes under the false belief that Alec at least got some rest, and some of the tension in Alec’s shoulders eases as well. As long as Jace doesn’t push this, as long as he doesn’t have to snap and get defensive, it’s fine for now. “But I’m actually pretty worn out now, so I’m going to shower and see if I can sneak another hour or two before morning patrol.”
Jace nods, watching as Alec wipes the bag down with a black towel he carries specifically so it won’t show the blood stains. Alec frowns lightly as he uses it - he didn’t plan on doing this, it just happened. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself, ignoring the fact that he subconsciously grabbed the black towel he hadn’t used in months, the one reserved for this very scenario.
Just a convenient coincidence, he tells himself, because he’s better now. This isn’t him any more, though the throbbing pain in his hands says otherwise, especially as he slides the ring back on over a swollen finger. He does nothing about it through the rest of the day’s training and missions, and only reluctantly allows Magnus to heal the worst of it when he goes over that night, the lie that the injury is fresh from patrol sliding past his lips with terrifying ease.
--- --- ---
“Jace, you’ll head the team canvassing the north end of the city. I’ve got the south. Everyone grab your weapons and get ready to roll out in ten.”
The group of Shadowhunters in front of him disperses, breaking off into their teams to strategize and pick the best weapons for this particular strain of demon infestation. It’s nothing more than a bitter warlock summoning nests of lesser demons to make their lives miserable, chaos for chaos’ sake, but it’s spread far enough that it takes half the institute to split up and cover the ground needed before things get out of hand.
Alec already has his bow and arrows in hand, and so he lingers in the Ops Center waiting until it’s time to go. He watches as everyone leaves except one person - Underhill stays behind, not going to the weapons room with everyone else straight away.
“Something wrong?” Alec asks. They’re on good terms - friends, Alec would go so far as to label them, though he hasn’t had enough of them to say for certain. But he doesn’t like the anxious look on Underhill’s face just then.
“May I be honest with you for a minute, Sir?”
Alec rolls his eyes. “If you’re calling me ‘Sir’ this can’t be good. You can always be honest with me, you know that.” “Right. In that case - I think you should sit this one out.” Underhill says, coming right out with it. His eyes flicker across Alec’s face, no doubt taking in the dark circles underneath his eyes, before dropping to where his hands rest at his sides with the slightest tremble from the amount of coffee he drank that morning to compensate for the lack of sleep he got the night before.
“And why would I do that?” Alec asks, growing immediately defensive, a flash of his eyes daring Underhill to say he’s unfit for duty.
“Because you didn’t come in from last night’s patrol until 3 am, and then you woke up at 5:30 to go out with the morning patrol at 6. And you tagged along with Nightshade’s group to handle that single rogue werewolf after lunch-”
“What are you, keeping tabs on me?”
“I’m Head of Security, Alec. I’d be a shit one if I didn’t keep tabs on who comes and goes, and that includes you. Tell me the last mission you dispatched without going along?” The challenge in Underhill’s tone isn’t unwarranted after Alec’s initial defensiveness but it still rubs Alec the wrong way.
“Just because I’m the Head of the Institute doesn’t mean I have to live behind a desk,” Alec deflects, willing Underhill to drop the topic. He begins to fidget with the ring on his finger, twisting it back and forth between his fingers without realizing.
“Just because you’re the Head of the Institute doesn’t mean you have to be there to personally protect every Shadowhunter you send out. We all know the risks. What happened last week--”
“This isn’t about that.” Alec cuts him off, believing the words that leave his lips about as much as Underhill appears to.
“It is. You’re torturing yourself over this, Alec. You need to rest.” Underhill looks like he’s about to say much more than just that, except the first of Alec’s squad comes back from the weapons room before he can.
“Ready, Sir?” The Shadowhunter questions, and Alec nods.
“What I need,” Alec says to Underhill, ending this conversation in no uncertain terms. “Is to go lead my team. If you’ll excuse me.”
He doesn’t look back, grabbing his stele to activate his stamina and endurance runes right off the bat - well aware that this isn’t the first time that day he’s used them, and positive it wouldn’t be the last.
--- --- ---
The following weeks draw on in a similar fashion. Alec spends longer hours at the Institute. He appears to be fine on the surface but that’s just because of the care he puts into keeping up appearances - gloves cover the bruising on his hands, long sleeves hide the marks from where his bow snaps back to sting his arm during practice and field work. He tells himself it’s because he’s too busy to stop and heal himself, that he’ll get to it later, except he never does.
That’s the same excuse he makes for eating, too. Always on the go, he tells Magnus in the morning as he skips breakfast to catch the morning patrol that he’ll eat at the Institute. Once he’s at the Institute he swears he’ll grab something on his way home from patrol. At some point of the day he’ll grab something to get through the day - a banana, a muffin, a mostly stale pretzel from a cart along the street - but if asked he’d be hard pressed to recall the last full meal he sat down to.
Or the last time he sat down at all.
He chalks it up to being busy and forgetting, nothing more. It isn’t a big deal.
He’s wrapping up a report to head back to Magnus’ for the night when Izzy stops him at the door to his office. “Want to grab dinner? I’m famished after a day of scouring the sewers.”
“Sorry, I’m heading over to Magnus’. I’ll eat there.”
Izzy sighs. “Fine. Guess I’ll brave the cafeteria on my own.”
Alec laughs, shooing her away so he can finish getting ready. It’s about an hour later when he finally makes it to Magnus’, greeting his husband with a long, lingering kiss before collapsing onto the sofa.
“Please say you’re up for a night of cuddling and terrible reality television?” Alec half-suggests, half begs.
“Whatever you want, darling,” Magnus agrees easily, though a small frown catches on his face. “Are you hungry? I can cook some dinner first.”
“Not really,” he shrugs, settling into the sofa.
“Did you eat at the Institute?” Magnus prys, an eyebrow arched. Alec knows he should admit that he hadn’t, he’s pretty sure he grabbed a hotdog from a stand near the park that afternoon… or was that yesterday?... and a voice in the back of his head reminds him how much he loves Magnus’ cooking. But he’s tired. And he doesn’t have much of an appetite lately. He’s too exhausted to be hungry just then, and all he wants is to have Magnus wrap his arms around him for the evening. Is that so much to ask?
“Yeah,” he says, figuring it’s easier than explaining all of that. “I already ate.”
“Alright, then.” Magnus says, changing direction and heading back over to the sofa to join him where they both fall asleep somewhere in the middle of the second episode of a show they put on mostly for background noise.
And when he wakes up before the sunrise the following morning Alec slips out before breakfast without a second thought.
--- --- ---
A quick glance at the calendar shows him it’s been three weeks since the Mission Gone Wrong. He makes his third set of weekly check-in calls to the family. He doesn’t have to but he wants to, making sure they’re doing alright and asking if there’s anything they need. Anything at all he can do for them in the aftermath. He knows he can’t give them what they want, but he can do the next best thing. He owes it to them.
Each family says the same thing - that they’re fine. That these things happen. That it isn’t his fault.
Except that it is. Their loved ones died following his orders, on his watch. He should’ve been there. It wasn’t their oversight that sent everything sideways, it shouldn’t have been them to pay the price for his mistake, it should’ve been--
“Alec?”
He looks up to see Magnus opening the door to his office, sliding in quickly before shutting it behind him. The look of concern on Magnus’ immediately softened features is the first sign that something is wrong. It’s only when Magnus approaches him slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe away something from his cheek, that Alec realizes he was crying. “What are you doing here?” Alec asks, clearing his throat and forcing his lips to turn up at the corners.
“Checking in on my husband who was due home for dinner two hours ago,” Magnus states, but he doesn't sound mad about it, instead taking Alec’s hand to lead him away from the desk and over to the sofa for them to both sit down on. “Talk to me.”
Alec sighs. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, really.” His hands rest on his lap, thumb nail picking idly at an already split patch of skin on the side of his left hand, and both of their eyes fall on it at once. Alec snaps his hands back to his sides.
“Alec, please. Talk to me.” When Alec remains resolutely silent Magnus speaks again instead. “Then how about if I talk? Because I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t have to be. I told you, I’m fine-” Alec starts again, but this time Magnus cuts him off.
“I think you really believe that, which is what worries me the most. You haven’t let yourself rest long enough see what the rest of us have.”
“The rest of you?” Alec asks, frowning.
“Maryse noticed you were losing a lot of weight lately, which is when Isabelle and I pieced together that you haven’t been eating anywhere. Or sleeping much. Or resting at all between missions. I should’ve realized when you kept coming home hurt--”
“No, this isn’t… you shouldn’t have noticed anything. I didn’t notice what I was doing, how the hell could you have?” Alec knows that isn’t entirely true, but he caught himself in moments, in bits and pieces of the whole. To hear it all thrown together like that is jarring, even for him.
Magnus doesn’t sound upset, and it’s the only thing that encourages Alec to lift his gaze up from where it rests stubbornly on his lap. “I noticed it before, when I didn’t have my magic… just little things here and there, and I thought maybe it was just a one-time thing so I let it go. But ever since that mission you’ve been getting worse, and… I don’t know how to help you besides forcing you to acknowledge it. I know you don’t want to but I can’t just let you go on like this.”
Alec nods. “I’m sorry I worried you, Magnus, I-”
“Don’t apologize. That isn’t--” Magnus sighs in frustration. “I don’t know how to help without making you defensive. And I don’t want to push you away.”
“I don’t want to push you away, either” Alec agrees, realizing that’s exactly what he’s done. And not just to Magnus, but Jace and Izzy and the others as well. “I guess I haven’t been myself since that mission.” He knows he doesn’t have to say which mission he’s referring to.
“Or perhaps you’ve been entirely yourself since that night. Alec, you care so deeply for everyone around you. And you take your leadership position to heart - maybe more than someone who is bound to lose good men and women should. But you can’t just distract yourself and hope it goes away - and you can’t punish yourself the way that you do. Hurting yourself isn’t helping them.”
Alec knows that, on some deeper, rational level. But it doesn’t take away that it makes him feel better, at least in the moment, to hide behind the pain and self-inflicted punishment.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Magnus asks again, but with everything out in the open and nothing left to dance around the question seems to hold that much more weight to it. Alec can’t lie and say he’s fine again this time.
“No,” Alec admits instead. “But I can try to anyway.”
It’s a small step, but an important one. He doesn’t talk about everything that night, not even close, but it’s enough that there are fresh tears stinging his eyes when he finishes and Magnus portals them both home for the night, not allowing Alec anywhere near the bedroom until after he eats a full meal. He gets a text from Jace (You weren’t in your office when I came to look for you. Good. If you’re late tomorrow that’s even better. Get some rest, man.) and, when he winces sliding into bed, reluctantly asks Magnus if he wouldn’t mind healing a few cuts from a demon’s claw he didn’t iratze away in time. Magnus agrees with unchecked enthusiasm.
They’re all little things but they feel so monumental. And maybe, Alec starts to realize, it doesn’t always have to be all-or-nothing. He doesn’t have to flip a switch from ‘not okay’ to ‘totally okay’, and that’s, well, okay. As long as he’s trying.
As long as he’s letting people catch him when he starts to slip.
Because he isn’t alone in this, not by a long-shot; so long as he has Magnus to catch him Alec knows he never has to be afraid of falling.
#alec lightwood#magnus bane#malec#shadowhunters#shfanficnexus#jace herondale#andrew underhill#isabelle lightwood#canon-compliant alec self-harm#self-harm#SORRY THIS TOOK A LITERAL MONTH#and less to the convo itself >.>#and also sorry that I shifted the focus to the set-up way more than I meant to#but I hope you still like it!#elle writes a few deadbeat lines#anon glamour activated#ask rune
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Rittenhouse Gains the First Heir Developed Personally by David Himself
Posted by
u/annimusprime
1 hour ago
My thought out idea is to make myself 'an OC' 'original character' that I was destined 'had recently discovered' a backup plan that David Rittenhouse placed at a house that I had visited in the present day, an ‘Estate Sale'. I later investigate the paraphernalia I had found at the sold house that the sale was active at. It occurred at Germantown Tennessee, where I live nearby.
I learn that it was breath taking to take into my own hands, the potential power that I could have picked up and seal for David's will and testament. It was a valve, something you'd find at a laboratory, a decorative glass container that was of the essence which David put together with his own blood and energy 'that he believed' was connected to his being and future heir, meant to be land in the hands of the one' so the scroll that was set with the valve, states.
Sounds more like a chance of a lifetime, to lead a bunch of disorganized individuals 'a secretive group' into the master plan for their future. To walk with the master's selected person who was intended deliberately 'positioned in such away. This was done to avoid not making an indefinite mistake in that endowing of a person with such a high position, so what an honor for my feet to be standing before his eyes, one day.
Do you guys remember how the power ring chose a person 'uniquely' fall into the hands of the most unexpected person, the idea from Green Lantern? It's arranged spectacle Allowed the chiming clocks that filled the on-going Estate with noise that immediately began ringing through the halls and rooms of the house, the moment I slowly drink the carefully mixed juice that was in the small valve, after removing the small top 'lid'. It soon seems to sound like pacing tones of patternized music after some while, after listening closely to each chime of the various clocks.
Oh? I forgot how the eventual discovery of these special pieces were erected, to obviously I picked up a small clock key, that I tried in a few of the abstract looking clocks. This key however, was different than the others I've found in some of the rooms. I observed that the key was filled with semi-precious stones 'jewels', that glamoured in the light when it reflected off the lamps and outside window. I was moved inside 'emotionally' becoming enthused that I had identified a possible important key.
I tried attempting to match it with the proper keyhole in a large, but eye aspiring clock, that looked so origami like, especially when it opened before my two wondrous eyes. It felt at the moment, thrilling and gave me a slight brisk feeling down my spine. Once it fully opened, the reveal of what was inside, curdled my heart rate with pure excitement. It was like a box of treasure waiting for me to make a clear landing for it. It was meaning for me to drop in and take it without concern of anyone being concerned of who was in that room and what that person 'me' was doing.
I collected the two-hundred-year old sentimental wealth, most that to David in this case, besides myself. I felt even more like afterward, once leaving the room behind me, just upon closing the outlandishly sizable artistic clock, to attempt leaving the house, without telling anyone of what I just trampled passed that cold, but fair sunny day. When I was driven home 'our pleasant house' the same day, honestly the old clock in the great 'living room' started chiming when we stepped into the house to rest 'relax ourselves'.
Though after four hours, the chiming of the old clock on the piano top stopped, and dead silence filled the room even pausing 'muting' the sound of the television that was on during the same time 'for several lengthy seconds'. To my attention, this experience thus far felt fascinating and somewhat suspenseful when coinciding with the all those clocks and the amazing 'mysterious' tiny fortune I divulged.
Later on, I began reading the scroll 'rolled parchment' again and realized that the pre-existing home owners of that house must have protected and implemented enough respect to not open this family fabergé clock that might have been an heirloom 'passed down through their generations'. It was so fantastic looking, that clock should've settled finally for its last home, a museum, like the Smithsonian, for example, who are those that preserve historic commodities.
I also wondered additionally, that the previous owner of these unparalleled finds, was equally setup so that one day, a person could determine whether to open the clock or not. I felt 'guessed' from evidential knowledge that from the source of the scroll, about how David directly and specifically intended only one inherent person to be fully responsible and knowing of his plan involving the situation with the novelties.
His plan was frank and discerned that since I opened the clock, which maybe I wasn't supposed to be the one to do so, as it could have been originally planned that another person should have, who wasn't there at the time. There really is not telling who it should have or needed to be, for the person who suddenly was slapped in charge of everything, as David must've dreamed about and wanted. One statement, that if translated from French, says that the person who opened both the scroll, not in David's hands, and drink the formula, that he made 'concocted' serum, assigns without error, that person to be the new heir leader of Rittenhouse.
Yes, the person based on the scroll's rule, is certain with definition, states that a person is considered chosen, with the human empowerment to have enough nerve inside 'I'd suppose' to manage and run the next directive 'strategic' force 'endeavored with goal' to reach the next step ahead. I must be that person, the scroll says, the person selected therefore by the clock, aka David, appears that is, make no mistakes that I was mis-elected for this job and opportunity.
This knowledge I grasp is that the family withholding this secretive clock in their house, were too frightened and overwhelmed to touch or interact with this piece of history, and encrypted inside 'tremendous power' for the world's future, or at least America’s. I was still in awe, with thoughtfulness, yet deeply intrigued to have uncovered such an exhibit.
So, am I supposedly gonna replace or 'I'd pray work along with' as a probable right hand, like a lieutenant or a first officer, to David? That's a huge and jump of the latter of positions for just anyone, like me. I think it's my patience and ability to take everything into one thought at a time, and then spread it out to see all the details. I take too long than average to figure out how to solve difficult cases, like a conscientious detective mentally looking at all the data and analyzing every aspect and structure of each 'normally ignored element' to pursue solving it.
Anyhow, I also along with that, felt it a little too good to be the mere fact of what this might simply be represented by. All the fixation on who is needed to rule the organization and how it is administrated. I felt if this is the action the Founder was willing to take, rather than appointing someone for the job by one-on-one choice for the stature of importance. This means that these people as a whole were losing for a couple of hundred years and need 'desperately' a naturally talented and faithful, loyal individual to be in command.
*Rubs numb hands together* Right, maybe I'll figure out how to meet David in person. Discuss 'one-on-one' about this situation. I agree to help, but only under circumstances that make rational sense, despite unnecessary confusion that may turn out misleading or show deception to what appeared to be legitimate material, decides the strange drink. I had been personally bothered by why the organization had exerted a desperate move, like this. The only reason that resolves explanation would meander around the idea that they've been losing 'trendily' missions so often.
#Rittenhouse#Timeless#fan-fiction#story blog#writing#@timeless#@savetimeless#@Rittenhouse#recruiting#Do you vote to join this secretive organization?#Hail David#Read this short story I wrote yesterday#fandom fangirling
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Changing Lanes; Chapter One
Eva is learning to balance her life. Between full time classes at Imperial, an unusual work arrangement with a bottle blonde popstar, and his brunet band mate that she just can’t seem to shake, she’s certainly set up for an interesting year.
“In previous discussions on what to do if I ever met the boys, Niall and I had never planned for this scenario. More cunning that this, we thought. Found inflagrante delicto, I was to gush over them and play the ever doting fan. Waving in adoration from the exit as Niall passes the afternoon off as just a one-time thing with a willing woman.”
Content Warning: MA for language and sexual situations
Evaline Warner
August 25th, 2015
It certainly wasn't a bad way to spend my Tuesday afternoon, or any afternoon in my opinion.
I probably should be reading my Advanced Financial Reporting textbook, or testing myself on Latin verb conjugations. Yet instead, here I am, on all fours, reeling at the vice grip secure around my hips and the pressure tight in my core.
I'm close, pushing and pushing my hips back in retaliation to his drive. He's most likely close too, but checking for sure isn't steady at the forefront of my mind. A handful of thrusts and I'm there, forgetting the soreness glazing my thighs in favor of the exhilarating blaze chasing the blood through my veins. I ride the high for every second I'm given, drinking in the familiar sensitivity of every nerve, the soothed, cloudy edges of my consciousness.
Soon, he's gone from behind me, laying to my left, flat on the plush comforter. His knee is pulled near his carved, barely tanned chest, white knuckles and tight palms clutch at the connected calf.
I know what he's going to say. I know he knows that. But I also know he's still going to say it.
"Calf cramp, gonna have to take over for me, Ev." White teeth glint behind a wide smile, a smug look that suggested he was in anything but pain. That overwhelming flash of cockiness would have made me beyond angry if it was anyone but Niall, but it was Niall. Niall who trusted and relied on me so much, proving it just by creating this situation he'd trapped us in.
It's a rouse. He never has a calf cramp, or a throbbing knee pain, or shin splints. It's never a coincidence that he always becomes incapable of finishing right after he sees that I have.
He wants me to blow him. It's different some times, he'll want me to ride him, or his face, maybe put him between my tits and let him go crazy. The cocky grin says blowjob though. Palms slotted on his waist, knees settled between his own, elbows locked next to his hips, I start. His taste is as familiar as the warm palm on the back of my head, as the taut muscles lined between my fingertips.
I liked coming down doing this more than some other tasks. I had a mission to focus on that wasn't tedious and didn't need too much attention. It just required defined movements and basic forethought on what approach to use next. Niall's palm was relaxed in my hair, a sound reminder of our trust in each other.
The first few times we'd been in this position Niall pulled my hair so tight it felt like I couldn't breathe, much less experience a touch-and-go lesson on how to give a blowjob. Coming down from the first few truly pleasurable orgasms of my life and all I could think was I would be bald by the time I was twenty-five. Niall told me he'd find someone else, someone that would thank him and kiss his balls for pulling their hair that tight. He told me to leave and delete his number, forget the deal.
Two weeks later Niall caved, told me he wouldn't pull so belligerently if I would consent to our same platonic arrangement. Thanking the gods above that I wouldn't have to revisit searching for a valid, legally acceptable job that didn't make me gag (most of the time), I acquiesced.
Stomach muscles tightening beyond belief, palm pushing pressure in effort to hold me still, hips coming forward minutely, forcing me to breathe deeper through my nose, Niall finished with a heady sigh. Every muscle I could feel or detect was loosening, forming a gooey, tranquil version of the man in front of me.
I laid peacefully next to him long enough for a few beats of silence to pass, contentedly lifting to my feet once the ache in my jaw lessened to a tolerable level. I checked that I still had both earrings, reclasped my watch, reassembled my outfit from earlier. I replaced car keys with panties in my bag, mentally deciding I'd have to stop back at my place. It was barely three in the afternoon, who was I to prance around to run errands and what not, sans underwear? While I tended to keep an extra pair in my bag for situations just like this, it seems to have escaped my mind this morning.
Fingers slipped brown ankle boots over pizza embellished socks as my other hand reached out to grab my bag. My spine straightening fully as both feet planted firmly on the ground. I had grown a strong sense of balance in this routine of redressing; one foot or both feet I could still snap in earrings or comb out my hair in the same moment. Niall groaned behind me, slipping on only a pair of dark boxer briefs over stark white skin. His exposed body created a severe contrast to my complete state.
"Why do you get dressed so quickly?" Niall walked closer, biceps by his ears as he stretched both arms high above his head. "It doesn't make this nearly as rewarding if you aren't still frolicking around with all on show." Lowering his arms as he passed where I stood watching him, rolling my eyes, his wide palm spanked my ass with vigor. "See, too much there. I don't get to hear that nice echo when ya covered in all this clothing." His palm came down on my behind once again, lips pinching downwards in exaggerated mock disappointment as the dress's fabric muffled the carnal sound of skin on skin.
I knew he was kidding, having a right laugh with himself. If he was serious, it would only take one heady comment, one strategic hand to have me in the same position he did ten minutes ago, bent over taking the impact of his lecherous desires, feeling each resounding thrust deep inside me.
But he was flippant with the idea, moving on towards the kitchen. It wasn't the first of the month, so I headed out of his home without another word exchanged.
August 31st, 2015
Knees to my chest, my elbows locked tightly around them, holding firm with feet warming the chilled desk chair beneath me. Tomorrow's presentation was the only thing I could focus on right now. It was only twelve minutes, but I had to pack a hell of a lot of information in those twelve minutes. It was also a hell of a lot of my grade for the entire semester. Principles of Economic and Community Development sounded a lot easier a few weeks ago when I wasn't writing a full impact analysis of government militarization. Now it just sounded like regret and lost wishes of an easy econ credit.
I only have to take one more course after this one to cover all the required econ hours for my degree, but right now the idea of anything beyond this speech was just going to make me want to crawl in bed with ridiculously fluffed pillows and an Orwell novel. Thursday's Latin exam was too far in the future to even comprehend at this point. My mind was too occupatus for even a glimmer of thought at what I needed to deal with for that.
I couldn't allow myself to think about how fantastic that would feel right now, to be all warm and cuddly; I had to memorize my take on the loss of consumer good production and how that affected the business cycle and the investment demand balance and the worth of the Euro and ten other things that just were nowhere near as exciting as every American Wall Street movie glazed them over to be. It was more like crunching numbers and algorithms six times because there's six ways to mess each one up and if you get it wrong there's a domino effect that I don't have a penchant to deal with in the aftermath.
So in summary, this presentation was stressing me out on an unbelievable level. Especially because I kept switching two paragraphs out of order when I tested myself and I couldn't look at my notes when the moment came, exactly T- thirteen hours from now. Who knows what I'm going to get out of order when I start rambling on the podium, I could blank the whole speech for god's sake.
I knock on the wood of my desk twice. I'm not taking any chances with luck here.
Once t- twelve hours set in, I made the executive decision that I was about as perfect as I could get at this moment in time. I also decided that I'd recite it to myself over and over in the morning before I left.
Maybe if I'm lucky enough I'll recite it in my sleep and subconsciously engrave each word into my cerebellum. Fingers crossed!
The chime of a text message ricochets from my desk throughout the flat, earsplitting above the sound of my socked feet padding over soft carpeted floors. I ignore the notification, instead continuing the quest for apple cider. In times that other people would definitely favor tea of some variation, it never appealed to me. The spicy warmth was something I found much more calming and tranquil, no worry of over infusing or loose leaves.
I cringe at the frozen tile beneath my toes the entire time I spend in the secluded area long since designated to be a kitchen, only finding salvation in my return to carpet. The chime from my phone sounds again, sending me almost grumbling at the displeasing noise. Who ever's texting me must not realize I have a very tough presentation in mere hours, much less how stressed it's making me.
Rigid, my stomach muscles were all but quivering when I noticed how tight I had become at the thought of tomorrow. Deep breaths could only do so much for my mental stability until it was all said and done with. Even rationalizing the situation with the full knowledge how this was just common apprehension to public speaking and that this was in no way going to define my life, I was still nervous.
I clawed at the case of my phone in passing, grasping it from the desk's surface on my way to bed. The thought of who the text might be from came to me as I began to settle down under the comforter. Although then the thought of whether I locked the deadbolt came to me as well, and I found that much more pressing.
Not long after both of these thoughts passed, my decision to stay huddled in such settling warmth over ensuring my own safety and prosperity was made. Over a year I've lived in this flat, anyone looking to case the place would have done it long ago, I was sure.
Shying away from the overly bright light, I debated forgoing the message until I found myself fit for human interaction. Once the screen had adjusted to the surrounding atmosphere, the idea had all but disappeared from my mind.
Niall was certainly the last thing on my mind, and I was in no head space to have sex right now. Certainly not travel ten minutes to have sex and then travel ten minutes back either.
come by before noon
My Econ class was at eleven tomorrow. My presentation was at eleven fifteen and there was no way I'd get to his flat in the ten minutes between class ending and noon striking.
I have class
come by before noon
The revelation came upon me then; tomorrow was the first of the month. Payday had completely and totally slipped my mind. I responded with a simple ok, somewhat grateful I get a small moment of respite in the morning, miles away from my mind's incessant running over coursework.
September 1st , 2015
T-2 hours from my first class, from the presentation that would play a hand in deciding if I got the three hours of credit I deserve.
Niall's flat was a little out of the way on my route to class, so I had to scramble to delegate extra travel time. I forced myself to stop reciting the speech after I'd gotten it perfectly six times in a row, which was close enough to my destination.
His flat was upscale, guarded with security systems galore to keep out armies with beautiful nails. I knew the code to enter the building, 7872, I knew the code to get onto his concealed floor of the building, 0716, and I knew exactly where he kept his spare key, covertly latched onto the potted plant with white flowers. He had just recently told me about the spare key a few months ago after a charade of him griping how tiring it was to get up and walk to the door every time when he already knew it was me.
I, for one, thought locking his door at all was redundant. Anyone who was able to get themselves this far was adept enough to eventually find it behind the third branch on the right.
Niall wasn't in the front room, or the living room, which meant he was likely in his bedroom or bathroom. I made no effort to announce myself as I waltzed through, I had already been summoned.
Immediately, my mind processed that Niall was not in the bathroom, but instead bare on a sea of green where his duvet would normally be visible. History tends to repeat itself, and therefore I was not all that surprised at the sight in front of me. It was mildly comforting to see such a familiar face, settling the nerves that plagued me.
Per my calculations, which I'd like to say Imperial College and I were pretty confident in, there were exactly one hundred-fifty bills stretched out wide across Niall's bed. A strong hunch was leading me to believe that was the money I came here under the impression to pick up. Another strong hunch told me I was going to thank myself later for being here early.
"Fancy of you to show up, I'm so glad we scheduled for a late lunch date." He was hard, and seemed to also have no intention of being bashful. Not like I'd ever known him to be before.
"It's nine in the morning," I deadpanned, narrowing my eyes on his arrogant grin. "I see you've been watching Wolf of Wall Street again." Fingers loosening the bag in my clutches enough for it to drop with a resounding thud, I began the process of toeing off my carefully planned outfit.
"Harry's been on a kick; bet you all the money that's stuck between me ass cheeks that he and Kendall have been doing the exact same thing." I had no doubt that was a substantial amount of money considering how long he must have been lying here. "Hurry up, I've have a recording scheduled at noon and I don't wanna smell like I've just bust a nut, babe."
Babe. Niall had started doing this early into our agreement, I feel less douche-y when I say it, he'd claim. I'd given him hell about it for a little while, teasing the living daylights out of him for being soft. It had grown on me by now, a soothing sound to hear. Even when he just tacked it on the end of some vulgar comment, Niall's accent wrapped around the word, softened it somehow. His thick brogue calmed me in a way that I would without a doubt deny if asked.
His knee was up, setting his entirety on display. I watched his face for a moment as I removed the last of my clothes. For the position he was in, his face held a huge contrast. Lips parted just enough to let air pass, every muscle looked relaxed, save from the small twitch keeping the corners of his mouth up. I knew from memory the defined cut of his jaw; but in that instant it was rounded, like if I touched him, his skin would be softer than my own. The tips of my fingers twitched to run through his hair, to see if I could rearrange the mess and still make it look as good as he did when he wasn't even thinking about it.
"You think I want to show up to class looking like that?" Knees working over crumpled bills, I worked my way over, sitting on his waistline.
"Won't be a boring lecture, surely."
"I have a major presentation, asshole."
We grind and groan and grin and fuck. We move together and it's fluid. It's a piece of the first time we had sex on a bed of money, it's a piece of the second, of every time after that. We swivel and thrust and it's both of us, and we know what we're doing, and in the same moment we have no idea.
When I roll partially away from Niall, one arm flung across his chest, a foot planted flat between his spread knees, a right shoulder stuck into his upper arm, I don't think. I don't think anything at all until Niall plucks a bill from under my breast.
As I do begin to think again, two thoughts are both glaringly apparent and muddily indefinite. The first is a running loop of my speech, almost like background music to my own life, repeated as my day's own mantra. The second is that I didn't know what time it was.
Today is Tuesday August first, this I know. I have a presentation at eleven am, this I also know. What I don't know, is whether I had royally fucked myself in the last however many minutes or not. Yet while the inverted Sophocles in me wants to sit here and ponder those thoughts and how they could relate linearly or otherwise to the other ones that crossed my mind today, my limbs were already off the bed, grappling at a bra here and a shoe there.
Muscles leaping, I go for necessities; purse, pants, bra, shirt. "Presentation in forty-five. I'll be back to pick up later." My ears barely register Niall telling me to come by after four as I dash out of his penthouse compound, one sock backwards and the other not there at all.
#1dff#1dffupdates#one direction fanfiction#niall horan fanfiction#liam payne fanfiction#changing lanes#I posted this a few chapters in on 1dff before the blackout happened and now that I'm trying to finish it#I'll be reposting all the back chapters here on tumblr so!!#the plan is to be up once a week on friday nights!!
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Episode #5: “Every party is a pitbull party when I'm around” - Chloe
Honestly? I hope Sharky understands that all of it clearly was gamewise. I didn't care about his level of activity, but I cared about my game and unfortunately he was not apart of it. Having that out of the way, I want to use this next immunity to have a little bit more control for my game!
omg sharky left im sad 2 pots back to back although my pots is always gonna be brian <3 but yaa this so sad i wanted him to stay but votes werent there hes prob pressed but also like not my fault he was not as active i mean mitch isnt either but if sharky talked more hed be here know that
Zzzzz classic celestial double tribal. I bet we swap again at 15 and keep 3 tribes. AM I WRONG ANNA? AM I???? I’m just praying we win bc I, again, really don’t want to have to choose between Michael and drew. It’s just not FAIR to send either of them home rn but even though I know I’m safe with this majority I still want to be immune, and just pray I don’t get fucked by a swap here. If I can hit merge, I’ll be in good shape I think. Just gotta get there
DONT STOP THE PARTY. Every party is a pitbull party when I'm around
Chris seems very loyal to me
So to have Bryce and Chris not willing to turn against me is going to bode really well for my long-term game
I don't mind booting Stephen if we lose but I think I might be able to keep him
If it will be good for me to have the thing with Mitch and Stephen at merge
But the thing is, Tuatha would have to win immunity for it to be worth it to keep Stephen
Because if they lose then Mitch is going to go, and what use is Stephen without Mitch?
WHY DO PEOPLE INSIST ON PLAYING LIKE THEY CANT CLEAN AFTER THEMSELVES? Kori slips his alliances, Stephen leaks his alliances, Rhys and Jared want Stephen out while Stephen wants Mitch to be used to go for Bryce and Kori despite all of these people being in an alliance together, Michael is asking for my hand in marriage, Chloe feels hopeless like me, Zach himself is a mess, Loris an even bigger mess yet I like them, Drew probably is ready to puzzle me and Loris out the door, Jack and Alyssa are problematically beautiful, Bodhi is just here, and Mo is going to kill us all with kindness.
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So now I'm gonna see if I can save Stephen since him going can hurt me a little. It's becoming clear to me that Loris talks to Rhys or Jared or maybe even Stephen but honestly? If Stephen is only saying Bryce and Kori's name then why not keep him and make him THINK that everyone is not onto him and them save him for later? Honestly even use him to take a shot at Bryce and Kori if all of them wanna but to take him out now even despite his problematic ways seems short shortsighted...at least I'm gonna try to get them to feel that way! Itll start by convincing Jared to convince Rhys they should wait
So let's see it's about half an hour before the challenge is due. Sharky went home as was according to plan. 5-1 no surprises or anything. Immediately Anna slaps us in the face with her dick and we're face to face with a Double Tribal Challenge.
Would've probably done better if it was Sunday instead of Monday but unfortunately work got in the way and there really just isn't much I could do bout that. I'm HOPING we somehow pulled out a win. There's several elements where I'm thinking we probably got last but we also might've lucked out. To be quite honest, I'm not optimistic in the least. But I want to hold out hope that our luck will somehow turn out.
Everyone in this game is so good at challenges so it really takes some crazy stuff to pull things out. I also feel like I might be playing just slightly too relaxed on the social-strategic front, but there also hasn't been much to do other than try to maybe build bonds with people and try to be nice/likable. Most of the time when I'm at tribal the thing I want has tended to be the simplest and easiest thing to do for me.
Anyway, time to start my prayer to hopefully win this challenge and not get dicked by AnnaJane.
I'm kinda having this subtle realization that I'm in this alone. Which sounds obvious but like I don't know. As soon as I found out we lost I had this mindset of "Well just gotta hope the others choose to spare me." but bitch that's my fate I wanna choose what happens to it. So that's what I'm gonna try to do.
WE ARENT GOING TO THE DOUBLE TRIBAL BABY AND FOR THAT IM GRATEFUL. When I initially saw that the challenge was all flash games i was freaking. Im usually not the best at flash games, but i really stepped it up and won my portion of the challenge. I hope and think Jared and Stephen will be fine, so I am hoping we swap after this. If we dont, then it might be crazy if we go back to tribal. Loris wants to blindside Kori but idk if that is the best move for me.
So since we're one of the two tribes going to tribal we're currently in that phase of "fuck what do we do." and I'm gonna be honest its only a matter of who grabs the reins first and usually to see who is okay with said person driving. So I took it upon myself to grab those reins because if everyone's just sitting waiting I feel like my name has a chance of coming up. So instead of sitting and waiting for something that may not even happen, why not try to make something happen. So I threw out Stephen's name to Zach knowing that they have a "history" with the whole idol situation. Zach said he'd be fine with that, then I'm like going to Rhys like "Ok so it wasn't technically a name drop but I have heard Stephen's name" and Rhys was like "oh yeah I get that because he doesn't talk often." so I'm like yeah I'm thinking that too. This has such a high chance of turning around against me but if this does work I'm not gonna be able to do shit for a while without looking like a threat. Also if this does work I'm gonna feel like such a suave bitch, like oooh. Goat? Idk her... I'm gonna be eliminated.
God this fucking sucks. Real Sophie’s Choice moment here picking between Drew and Michael I don’t want to vote either of them out but also I’m not turning on Matt/Alyssa/Bodhi. Drew messaged me last night saying he didn’t want to go like this and it just killed me. I really don’t know what to do
Since we lost the challenge, campaign season has begun on Orfeo. The first 2 people I talked to were Jared and Zach. I suggested Mo as the easy vote since he's isolated original-tribewise and didn't perform well in the challenge, and Jared agreed immediately.
Zach was, in his own words, wishy-washy. I really don't like wishy-washy players at this stage of the game. It makes a bit more sense at merge or at the very beginning but if I'm gonna flip on Jared or Rhys at some point I want somewhere solid to land, Zach, Mo, and Chloe don't appear to be the players I'd want to make that jump with. They don't talk openly about game which makes it difficult to trust them.
Rhys also seemed okay with this plan but he was drunk last night so who knows LMAO. My conversations with Mo and Chloe were essentially meaningless. All I got from them was this deal that they'd tell me if I heard their name and likewise for them. Maybe they have an alternative and don't think they have to talk game with me. I do think I'm gonna try and play it safe for this vote and just push for voting Mo with Jared and Rhys. Hopefully the trust between us stays strong.
♪ I’m almost confident this will backfire and I will be eliminated~ ♪
So we lost this double tribal. Which low-key is probably good. Because were not gonna be on these tribes forever. So its good to cement some form of alliance from it.
It seems like its either Mo or Stepehen going tonight so that's good. There is pros and cons to both. Mo is from a different tribe and is more social to me. I feel like Mo wont be dis loyal so he would be a great ally. It would also show that I'm willing to work with other people moving forward, opening more doors. However in doing so, I may be closing a door on my old alliance of 5. So yes I am scared.
Right now I’m a bottom on the bottom so I’m gonna have to push it push it real good to flip some votes onto bodhi, I have a pretty good relationship with Alyssa and me and Matt have been in cahoots all game, but this is all stars and if I have to turn on Drew I’m not holding back I am not going home tonight, tomorrow or ever. I just can’t go!
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So after I talked to Jared last night I proposed the big alliance idea to Zach without asserting I wanted it. Leaving it up in the air could make him less likely to think I'm pushing it. SO while that is going on, Jared filled me in on Rhys' anti-Steph brigade but it sounds like they may cave to voting Mo. ON TOP OF IT ALL, Kori and Bryce literally were saying they'd like a Tuatha-Orfeo alliance which coincidentally coincides with the big alliance? Huh. But if they're genuine then this has A LOT of potential.
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I do feel like I'm playing messy but I told myself I'd play a little different if it meant increasing my odds. I wont try getting too hopeful just yet. Now I've told Steph that BK wama have our tribes work together and this left Steph reiterating how it sets us up nicely that nobody suspects us. I truly feel people will suspect Loris/Steph before me/Steph but still I know me and him are close so if we can last long enough to play legit together, it will be amazing. Woooo go friends
so we r at tribal again, love that for us! 3rd one of the season, thus making all OG Cyrena having been to the most tribal councils. I did pretty poorly on the challenge, but as did multiple others its no big deal. I'm pretty shit at winning immunity anyway so its ok.
I feel like i am in a similar position as with last time i played. I'm clearly very weak socially (and admit it, ive been MUCH busier than i thought i was going to be since university has started) and have a tight 3 who all are like pretty close together, and have multiple advantages. So im being very loyal atm. just quieter than i would like. I find some of these ppl v.boring tho and you can tell some are just doing the rounds to keep face so they can't be accused of a bad social game LOL. Sharky also left last round which makes me SO sad UGH. MY ONE TRUE LOVE, KILLED TRAGICALLY BEFORE WE COULD BE REUNITED. Its like romeo and juliet, only with a gay and a straight and the gay got stoned to death by evil people. fucking RUDE.
This vote tho... its.... interesting. Maybe i WILL shove my head in the sand, get wildly drunk and just ignore everything that is going on. sounds much better tbh. I feel like a warrior ant, just being told what to do, no matter what is going on. Alyssa is genuinely looking out for me however, and wants bodhi gone as we still have 2 big shields due to the lovely meta game as both are known to be big players. Both will go along with it as well, as it saves their skin (drew and michael). Not sure how Jack is going to take it because i can't tell their connection together, mainly cause bodhi and I barely have one. and i think that is the issue. I don't know him well enough so i don't really care about him being voted off (its better tho tbh cause i genuinely like and care about michael and drew, lets be real matthew.) not sure if its a timezone thing or just my sheer laziness and lack of social game, i am unsure.
omfg im immune at double tribal. im coming 15th again tho. i hope not. idk. like. i think ill be fine even if we swap..... like. i think im good with quite a few people? despite the fact ive disappeared this week ok yeah that's true i think i'm wrong. we'll see :sob:
Do I want to keep Drew and Michael? Absolutely. Does that mean I'm okay with Bodhi going? Fuck no. Bodhi is loyal to me, Bodhi will not turn on me, Bodhi is not a threat to me. But Bodhi is threatening to Alyssa and Matt and they're my closest allies and they want to keep Drew and Michael and now we're blindsiding Bodhi because tribal lines DON'T FUCKING MATTER. I mean don't get me wrong, fuck tribal lines I'm so game to throw that shit in the fire but like, it's not the best move for me. Hopefully this bodes (bodhis haha punny) for me.
Ok now that I think about it going into a merge with less original numbers is actually good for us so maybe this isn't the worst. Idk I just feel bad I really wanted to work with Bodhi and now I basically have to cut him because it's majority on him either way and my allies don't trust him. Sucks man but it's allstars.
It's really next level that I am was able to
1. Keep the vote on Mo (Rhys campaigned against Stephen, and Bryce confirmed to me that Rhys wanted Stephen out)
2. Make Chris feel like he convinced me, and that I'm doing it for him and I, when mostly it's for me and partially for Bryce
3. Secure Zach's loyalty this round (calling with him and talking about game and non-game related things to re-establish our great rapport)
4. Keep Stephen in the dark about Rhys targeting him so that I can use that information for later
And this was all without much time on my hands.
Tribe Trust List
1. Chloe
2. Zach
3. Rhys
4. Stephen
5. Mo
Master Trust List
1. Bryce
2. Chris
3. Chloe
4. Mitch
5. Zach
6. Rhys
7. Stephen
8. Loris
9. Kori
10. Mo
11. Alyssa
12. Michael
13. Bodhi
14. Drew
15. Matt
16. Jack
god i hate this like no one ever wants to do what i want to do why do i have to be a brat every game. like its not like i want to its just ppl refuse to listen to what i want so yes ofc im gonna act out??? UGH
I guess I am about to find out if possible change is needed for my game or not moving forward. I can hope for a million things but all it takes is one to make it all hopeless
So some new information has come to me today. Chris has been approached by Kori with the idea of forming some kind of Tuatha/Orfeo Alliance. This is sort of what I wanted to do already but the fact that other people are proposing it is just great for me.
This just adds another reason to vote Mo out. He's original Cyrena and could become a part of a resistance to this group once merge hits. I'm personally pulling for this alliance to be made. It just brings me one step closer to the end and unites my major allies (Chris, Mitch, Jared, Kori) under a single flag.
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ANNNNNND There's been some drama on the old Orfeo tribe! Mo admitted to me that he's tried to vote me out, but due to the fact that people aren't talking to him, he now thinks the vote has switched to him, which is, hopefully, correct. If Mo had made a proposal like this to me right after we lost the challenge or before, I would've had to think about it, but as it stands, he's one person who has seriously thrown my name out there. I can't let that slide.
So, I devised a plan.
Step 1: Lie
How DARE Mo throw my name out there? I would never do something like that to him! Except I did, to everyone on the tribe, whoops. It's okay though, I lied and said Rhys did it, and I think he believed me.
Step 2: Join the resistance
Mo wants to get Rhys out, great. I'm happy it's not me. But that's a bad and unrealistic idea. SO I told him that in order to get a 3rd person willing to tie with us, we should target Chloe instead, and aim to recruit Jared.
Step 3: Recruitment
Now me and Mo are trying to recruit Jared one hour before tribal council. Except, not really. It's just Mo. I've told Jared about my plan to get Mo's vote off of me and he's in on it. Now, Jared can tell Mo the truth, or lie, and it doesn't really matter. Mo seems to feel too guilty to vote for me at this point. So mission accomplished.
Villains DO have more fun, don't they?
(I'm gonna look like such a dumb jackass if this plan doesn't work whoop, but oh well, I managed to fit one contrived plan into my time on All-Stars, so it's worth it!)
So right now I’m very nervous about this vote because even though people have said I’m safe I know bodhi is voting for me and he might just have an idol so like that’s my worry of getting idolled out lollll but uh I’m pretty worried about tonight so worried I might just throw my vote onto Drew and really protect myself and give me at least a little chance of staying due to an idol but who knows!
I think this is my last day which makes me incredibly sad. I feel like a failure if I’m being honest. There’s a slim chance I’ll stay. I had such a fun time playing.
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I was destined to be an early boot
Update:
So I can't use Rhys campaigning against Stephen this round as effectively.
Stephen knows his name was thrown out by Mo, because Mo TOLD him. Then Mo made a pitch to Stephen to work together, and Stephen told Mo that I might vote Chloe.
Long-story-short, it was just a ploy by Stephen to get Mo's vote off of him. I did a lil magic to make Stephen feel secure that I had his best intentions at heart, and I let Mo down easily that he is going home.
Mo was a fighter in this game and I give him all due respect. Now watch him idol me out ugh 16th looks cute on me
YAAASSSSS we woooooooonnn! I'm so happy to be avoiding this double tribal. If I can make merge at least that'd be a dream.
I had a conversation with Bryce and Chris and they don't seem opposed to doing a sort of pagonging of the Cyrenas because we talk with them the least. I'm not sure if that'll actually be an option come merge but if it is that'd definitely help me make it deeper in this game as a majority of my connections are my OG tribe barring Clohie, Chris, Loris, Drew, and Bodhi. Honestly if more OG Cyrena's like Matt, Alyssa, Jack, and Michael found themselves going this premerge I wouldn't complain.
I'm getting real tired of missing this idol system time window like a dolt though, I've no doubt I'm gonna pay for it later. But I also did win my game without idols so it's not like I HAVE to have them. It'd just be nice to shake things up since I did wanna play differently this time.
Anywho back to celebrating! Woooooooo~
WHY DOES MY TRIBE SUCK AT EVERYTHING....At least they're not voting me out this round. Matt tried to give me an "option" after an hour negotiation that Alyssa already said he was down for, but he wanted me to think it was coming from him. Isn't that adorable.
RIP Bodhi
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Bodhi and Mo are voted out in a double elimination.
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