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lunargrapejuice · 2 years

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the first time they make you cry

diluc ragnvindr + kaeya alberich x reader with no pronouns used warnings: hurt/comfort, crying, written mostly from the boys pov

diluc

the moment he sees tears rolling down your cheeks the blinding, burning, pit that was his anger quickly dissipates into nothing more than flickering embers, your tears the moisture that snuffs them out completely. his chest feels so tight, his heartbeat pounding in his ears accompanied by the sobs you try desperately to cover up, his hands with a subtle tremble as they hesitate to reach out to you. it only feels worse when you try to hide your sad expression. he hated to see you cry, there is little he wouldn’t do to rid you of the things that took away your smile but to be the one to bring you to tears. it makes his chest ache and his own eyes sting.

he wills his unsteady feet to move closer to you, each step feeling more tense than the last as his anxieties grow. would the last thing you would want right now be his comfort? would he even be able to speak with the guilt and nerves wrapping tightly around his throat? would his touch only make you feel worse? does he even deserve to hold you? his worries and thoughts rattle in his head, on the verge of giving him whiplash. what’s going to happen after this.. what punishment is best fit for making the one person he wanted to protect shrink back and try to hide from him.. would you ask him to leave or leave yourself.. in the face of your crying visage it all feels like a mess inside his normally organized thoughts. the only thing he knows for certain is he wanted to stop your tears, more than anything else - please.. don’t cry anymore.

gulping down the building unease that’s kept him quiet until now his dry lips part to speak but your small voice stops any words from leaving his throat.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, using the pads of your fingers to try to wipe the wetness from your cheeks but it’s fruitless to try. no matter how badly you didn’t want to, you couldn’t stop your eyes from weeping. you know he’s been so busy, his duties ever growing, the stress of the abyss’ threats weighing heavily on him but you hadn’t meant to upset him or to make his already bubbling frustrations worse. you hadn’t meant for your conversation to get to this point and you tried your hardest to keep the tears from spilling past your lashes, you wanted to be strong for him, but under the burning gaze that looked through you rather than at you and in the deep growling tone that normally was only reserved for annoying bar goers and enemies, you found yourself weak to the heart that beat uncomfortably in your chest.

he couldn’t have prepared himself for the way his heart felt as heavy as lead as it dropped to his stomach and his lungs contracted tightly with his quick inhale at your words. you shouldn’t be the one apologizing. w-why were you apologizing? he reaches out for you, to pull you against him, to wipe your tears but he can’t bring his hands to connect.

“y/n..”

suddenly your hands find the lapel of his jacket and your tears begin to collect on the dark fabric filled with his scent as you bury your face into his chest. he doesn’t understand why you want to touch him after he brought you to tears but after a moment of his arms hovering above your shaking figure, he wraps them around you with the intention to never let you go. one hand tangles in your hair and keeps your face against his chest, the other wrapped tightly around your middle, holding you against him as if there was any distance between your bodies the universe would take you from him.

“i’m so sorry y/n.. please forgive me.. my love..” he continues to speak his apologies and comforts in hopes of calming your sobbing, his voice thick with his own overwhelming emotions. if it weren’t for how tightly he held you against him, and how it grew tighter with every word, you might have felt his hands still trembling but his fears no longer hold him back from ensuring he made this right and brought back your lovely smile.

that night, once you’re both calmer and unable to separate from each other, he kisses your puffy eyes with the most tender of kisses, feeling his heart contract uncomfortably each time he remembers it was his fault in the first place. if you accept him, he'd ask to take a bath with you, washing your hair and body, giving you every ounce of his love and affection. he’d smile softly in hopes it would bring a smile to your own face and when it does, his chest would light up with warm, welcoming heat.

he makes a silent promise to himself as you lay in his arms that night that he’d do everything in his power to never make you cry again. he was meant to stop your tears, not to be the cause of them. he only wanted to protect you, all he wanted was a life where you could always be your beautiful, smiling, radiant self and he would do everything in his power to ensure you could continue to do just that.

he finds it hard to sleep that night, preferring to run his calloused fingers through your hair, place loving kisses to your forehead and watch over you. eventually the calming rise and fall of your breath and in the way you clung to him just as he did you, he found his eyes heavy and his breath in tandem with your own, holding you impossibly close through the whole night, pouring him heart, his heat, into every inch of your body that touched his.

kaeya

his whole world around him stops when the first tear rolls down your cheek and suddenly the air feels so thick, hard to breathe but trying to swallow it down only made it worse. he can’t even recall what he was saying the moments leading up to this, the only thing echoing in his ears is your soft crying that you try so hard to hide from him and the voice in his head telling him this is his fault.

“y-y/n,” he stutters. his uneasy voice so different from his normal suave tone. he’s panicking, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest but his own condition is the last thing on his mind. no, please don’t cry.. fuck.. “i’m sorry.” he takes a step forward and reaches out for you with unsteady hands. he had to hold you, surely it would make this right, it could stop your tears. it had so many times before but those times he had never been the cause of your tears. “i’m so-”

his words are cut off when his hand is close enough he can feel your warmth, the pads of his fingers lightly brushing the softness of your shirt just to have it ripped away, leaving him in the cold when you pull away. you had never pulled away from him, never wanted to shy away from his touch unless he was teasing you too much. you always found comfort in him. if nothing else in the world, he was certain he was meant to hold you in his arms and protect you but how was that possible when he was the one to blame from this, when you wouldn’t accept him.

the pressure of his world crashing down on him nearly brings him to his knees. starry blue eyes widen and as if it was even possible, his heart tortures him further, contracting painfully as he tries to process and accept what just happened. were you slipping through his fingers just like everyone else he had loved? was he simply not meant to love and be loved.. he knew he didn’t deserve you, he had always known that he was not a man worthy of love, worthy of you but once you were in his life he could no longer live without you and those feelings only grew as your love flourished. his mind simply can’t stop running with the worst of his fears and reminders of how unworthy he was to hold someone as pure as you. it makes the scar over his covered eye itch and burn once more. how many times would he hurt the ones who loved him..

his feet scream at him to move, to run away or move closer to you or some mix of the two, he truly isn’t sure. which would protect either of you from him? he doesn’t know but the bile in his stomach only grows the longer he stands in front of your shaking form doing nothing. what could he do when he felt so helpless? he doesn’t know and the uncertainty sends his panic further but when he sees your eyes flash up at him, weeping and filled with some many emotions- sadness, fear, longing- he quickly abandons the idea of leaving.

“w-wait- please.. please don’t go k-kaeya..” you plead through your tears and take a step closer to him. something in his stance must have told you of his thoughts, or perhaps it was your uncanny ability to constantly see through the mirage he put up. it hurt to hear him speak to you like he had, you didn’t expect it to bring you to tears so easily and at first you weren’t sure you wanted his touch when you were feeling so overwhelmed but having him leave would be so much worse. you weren’t sure your heart could bear it. “don’t go!” you cry as you throw your arms around his middle in hopes to keep him here with you, your wet cheeks sticking to his exposed chest.

your touch melts the glacier of his uncertainties and worries and the only thing that remains is his determination to make you smile once more, to give you a loving kiss for every tear he was the cause of. he would do anything to make this right. his arms envelop you, holding you as close as he possibly can with his nose buried in your hair, his cool breath against your hair as he speaks. “i’m not going anywhere.” he sounds as steady as the ice he’d use till the end of his life to protect you. “i’m a fool y/n.. forgive me..” even if i don’t deserve it. “please.. forgive me”

kaeya has held you close countless times but never like this, never like you were only mere moments from falling through his fingers like sand, never with shaking hands and such raw emotion filled apologies spilling from his lips that normally only knew words covered in sugar. it brought him comfort feeling you return his intensity in kind. and for the rest of the night, he doesn’t let you go. strong arms carry you into the bedroom and lay you down in the sheets like you were the most fragile thing to be created before your whole world is covered in soft sapphire hair, the smell of wine and saffron, and warm kisses. every remaining tear you shed is captured by the hands that swear to protect you above all else, followed by a kiss from the lips you love and crave more than anything else in this world.

his affections were always plentiful but for the remainder of the night, and many following days after, you would feel them tenfold. even when your puffy eyes closed and you were snuggled safely into his chest with your breath steady in your sleep he showered you with his love, his hands never being able to leave you, his eyes couldn’t be torn from your figure, his confessions of love only stopping when he found himself no longer able to fight off sleep. the fear he’d wake up and your make up would all be a dream kept him holding onto you tightly all night, your smallest movement tearing him from slumber just to pull you closer to him, as if there was any space between you to give from the last time he pressed you against him.

he couldn’t let you go and he would do what he could to never bring saddened tears to your eyes again. there was nothing that he loved more than your smile and he alone would go against the world to protect it.

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#genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact angst #diluc x reader #diluc angst #kaeya #genshin impact x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr angst #kaeya angst

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artificialbreezy · 2 months

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okay so theoretically,,, idek if Matt smokes but i can’t stop thinking abt like,, fwb!Matt who shares his weed but only if you earn it. getting you to ride his thigh, praising you for being so good for him. talking you through it, one hand on your hip to guide you, the other pulling up your shirt so he can leave marks across your chest. he doesn’t even care if you’re making a mess on his pants, they can be washed, but the memory of you getting yourself off, using him to come undone? he could die a happy man

i am simply perishing

girl i’m fucking DEAD over this thought

i’m sorry i’m a sucker for fwb to lovers so don’t mind me

CW: poorly written smut, mentions of drug use (just weed but still), pet names, kinda filthy language, a lil bit of daddy kink bc Matt is in fact daddy. sorry LOL, no actual p in v smut just me rambling really and poorly written smutty themes (im trying bro)

NSFW below the cut ◡̈

but maybe there was a rule of no kissing. kissing equals feelings ya know? so that’s the big rule. like he doesn’t mind kissing your neck down to your chest, but the face? off limits. until today. he’s tired of hiding how feels. he just wants you to be his. he’s tired of people staring at you when you’re in public and his friends making comments about how hot you are. he knows it all. he knows he said no strings attached, but after a year of sleeping together and hanging out all the time he couldn’t help it. so when he woke up that morning and sent you the “hey, wanna come smoke with me?” text, he knew something was gonna happen. he knew he was either reading the situation wrong and this was gonna end the relationship or he was not reading the situation wrong and he’s gonna walk away with a partner.

he was pulled away from his thoughts when he heard his front door open and saw you walk in. “hey dollface.” he smiled towards you. “hi Matty” you blushed his way. you'd think after everything you two had done you wouldn't be so nervous around the man in front of you. You couldn't help it. after the year you've really gotten to know Matt, you couldn't help but feel a certain way. you couldnt help but want to make him happy, you lived to hear his praise. whether that's in his bedroom or around all your friends. you just wanted him to be proud of you. to look at you like you were the only person around, but he said at the very beginning "no strings, honey. you can do that right?" and as much as it hurt to know at any moment he could call it quits, you were just happy to have him in some capacity.

Matt was in front of you with his hands on your waist before you had time to get out of your head. "I have a preroll with your name on it, if you want it of course. you know I'll never force you into it." you chuckled a little, "have I ever told you no before?" he pulled your face to his, lips brushing against yours ever so gently. "never, cause you're my good girl huh?" you nodded against his lips. too scared that if you spoke, he'd move away from you. scared that maybe you were imagining his lips against yours. like this was all some dream. it wasn't until Matt closed the slight gap between the two of you that you realized he was doing this. he broke his rule. there were strings, pulling you to each other and this was proof.

Matt was pulling you towards his couch while his mouth was on yours and his hands traveling down your body until he landed on your ass. he pulled away for a spilt second, just long enough to fall back and pat his lap, signaling you to have a seat. you crawled into his lap, your legs on either side of him. he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to your lips before he spoke up. "I want you, no. I need you to show me something. can you do that for me baby?" nodding, you said "anything you want Matt." "I need you to show me how badly you need me. I need to know how you feel. I need to feel you make a mess all over my pants. I need you to show me what you need."

His hands were on your hips, guiding you against his thigh. "come on, baby. need to hear how good you feel. how good I'm making you feel. when I'm not even inside you." whimpering as you picked up speed, chasing a high you were desperate to feel. "daddy.." "oh there she is, come on sweet girl. I know you want to. can you be my best girl? can you give daddy what he wants?" you nodded vigorously. “uh huh. uh huh anything you want.” “that’s a good girl. I know you’re close. give me what I want and i’ll make it worth your while angel.” that was enough to push you over the edge. Matt helped move your hips once he saw your body stutter so he could help you ride out your high. you slowly stopped, leaning your head against Matt’s shoulder trying to catch your breath.

“sweetheart, we gotta talk about some things.” Matt rubbed your back as he spoke. you nodded against him, scared of what he was going to say to you now. “i’d like to take you on a date, kiss you a bunch more times because now that i’ve gotten a taste i don’t think i can go back and hold your hand in public. if you’ll let me of course.” you didn’t answer him, not trusting your voice. you sat up, grabbed the boys face and connected your lips once again.

#matt dierkes x reader #matt dierkes smut #matt dierkes #matt dierkes headcannon #matt dierkes blurb #bad omens smut #bad omens headcanons #bad omens blurb

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emeraldiis · 3 years

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Enough Trust for Us Both

I’ve written a new fic, this time it’s Bucky x Reader! Read it on AO3 here.

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Contains: fluff and smut, phone sex

You’re going crazy. You are going absolutely insane, and it’s all Bucky’s fault. Stupid, sexy, oblivious Bucky. Sure, you two have the perfect relationship in all other regards. He’s open with you, trusting you to hold him through the night to calm any nightmares, and he keeps you safe. Four months of him hovering behind you like an overprotective parent may have been annoying to some, but you love it. It makes you feel cared for. And you know he loves you, because he says it about forty times a day.

There’s just one tiny, itsy bitsy problem. Bucky won’t touch you. Well, that’s not true. He cuddles you, holds your hand, gives you chaste kisses whenever you do something to make him smile. But he won’t touch you. The kisses never go beyond pecks on the lips, and his hands never wander below your waist. And god dammit, you don't understand why. You’re horny, for fuck’s sake.

You know that you’ve been touchy with him lately, but you can’t help it. The sexual frustration increases tenfold when he grabs your hands with his strong ones, or wraps his fingers around your hips to pull you in for a kiss. You swear your panties are constantly damp around him, and more than a few times you’d had to excuse yourself to go change.

But you haven’t made any moves, scared of being too bold. He’s come so far with you, opened up so much, and you’re afraid that being too forward will scare him off. Still, a girl has needs, and you’re not above dropping a few...hints.

Bucky walks into your apartment with heavy footsteps, nearly slamming the door behind him. You jump, whipping around on the couch to face him, and watch as he winces. “I’m sorry, doll. Sometimes I forget how strong this stupid thing is.” He flexes his metal hand, frowning at the silver digits.

You tsk and shake your head, trying hard to ignore the arousal blooming in your stomach. Every part of him is attractive, you just can’t help but stare. From his shaggy hair, to those absolutely sinful thighs that you want to ride into the sunset. “It’s okay, babe,” you sigh wistfully, then look at him with pleading eyes. “I missed you today, can we go cuddle?” If you can’t get any action, then maybe just some good old fashioned affection would calm your nerves. Doubt it.

With a chuckle, Bucky strides over to the back of the couch with those long legs and leans over to kiss your cheek. “Of course, doll. Just let me go shower first, and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

Nearing falling over yourself in your enthusiasm, you give Bucky a winning smile and race to the bedroom, eager to get under the covers and get warm. As you slide into bed, you hear the shower turn on across the hall, and let your mind wander. Bucky’s muscled body fills your head. Tight abs flexing under streams of water, those metal fingers brushing across his skin, soap running down his chest all the way down to his cock. You’ve seen it before, but only once. Bucky had come home run ragged from an intense mission, and had been too tired to argue when you insisted on bathing him yourself. Even with just one glance while he was soft, you could tell Bucky was huge. He was thick, and imagining that inside of you nearly makes you moan out loud.

You’re so caught up in your fantasies that you fail to hear the water stop running, and end up startling again when Bucky enters the room. “Doll, you’re jumpy today,” Bucky says, blue eyes filled with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m great!” You answer a little too quickly, trying to ignore the uncomfortable wetness seeping into your panties. You’re not wearing any pants--you usually don’t, when Bucky’s gone--and you know that Bucky would be able to feel how turned on you are if his hands go anywhere near there. ‘Which they won’t,’ you think to yourself in disappointment.

Bucky eyes you skeptically, thick eyebrows furrowed, while you try not to drool over his still-dripping form. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of red and black checkered pajama pants that are just one size too small. If you squint, you can just barely see the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric, and your eyes nearly roll and you realize that he’s probably not wearing underwear. Before you can work yourself up again, Bucky shakes his head at you, accepting your white lie, and gestures for you to slide over. You eagerly oblige, ready for some quality time with your boyfriend.

Despite your innocent act, you have a devious plan in the works. It had come to you the second he walked out of the shower looking irresistible. You’d decided that two could play at that game, and maybe he just needs you to seduce him. It’s bolder than anything you’d typically try, but maybe Bucky just hasn’t realized how badly you want him yet. Well, you were going to make it obvious for him.

When Bucky eases under the covers next to you, you purr happily and guide him onto his back, head resting comfortably in the pillows. You lie on your stomach and swing one leg over his hips, then throw your arm around his shoulder, effectively splaying yourself out on top of him. Bucky huffs out an amused laugh and wraps his human arm around your back. “Miss me that much, huh?” He says, voice soft and low. The weight of his arm feels nice draped across you like that, but you crave more.

You can’t help the shiver that forces its way down your spine at his deep voice speaking so closely to your ear. “Mhm,” you mumble. “Need to feel you.”

Cold, vibranium fingers card through your hair, and you don’t even try to suppress the moan that bubbles up. If you were going to properly seduce Bucky, you couldn’t hold anything back. “Well, I’m here, doll, feel me all you want.” His human hand grips your shoulder possessively, and the message is clear. ‘You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe.’

At that, your hips rock involuntarily, and you freeze when you realize that the wet spot on your panties has managed to make contact with the bare skin of Bucky’s stomach. That was a little further than you had intended to take this scheme, and you shift away, praying that Bucky hadn’t noticed.

To your dismay, Bucky rockets up from the bed like a cannon, immediately scrambling to the other side of the room like you had burned him. You start to turn away in embarrassment, then notice the wild look in his wide eyes. Bucky’s terrified. But why?

Seeing the bewildered look on your face, Bucky pauses in his frantic movements, then slowly slides down the wall and comes to a rest seated on the floor. His breathing pattern stutters until it settles into the slow and deliberate one his therapist taught him to stifle panic attacks. Regret sinks into your chest like a thick cloud. Christ, you had really messed up this time. “Baby,” you say softly, voice dripping with worry.

Your boyfriend looks up from the carpet, and tries to give you a reassuring smile. “I-I’m, I’m sorry,” he manages. His normally strong voice cracks, and your heart splits. “It’s not you, I just…” He fumbles for the words, and you keep quiet, pulse high while you await his explanation. “Doll, it’s hard enough for me to control myself when you’re all up on me like that, but I’m just a man, and when you-” Bucky shakes his head frantically, eyes dropping back to the floor. “You just can’t be tempting me like, okay, babe?” His head falls into his hands.

Wait, what? Somehow, you’re even more confused. “Bucky, what are you talking about? You don’t have to ‘control yourself,’ I’m your girlfriend. Hell, I’d be upset if you weren’t sexually attracted to me!” Your voice is rising in volume, but you can’t help it. All these months spent taking cold showers, and he wanted to fuck you the whole time? “Jesus, Buck. I was all over you today because I wanted you to lose control. This entire time we’ve been together I just thought, I dunno, that I wasn’t attractive enough for you?” You can’t mask the hurt in your voice.

At that, Bucky’s eyes widen and he raises his head to look back up at you. “Baby doll, no, you’re the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I just...I don’t want to hurt you. If I lose control like that and let myself go, who knows what could happen? I could relapse, I could seriously hurt you. You saw when I came inside today! I almost broke your door without meaning to, I can’t put you at risk just for my own pleasure.”

Anger swells up inside of you again, and you rise from the bed to stalk towards Bucky. When you reach his place on the floor, you sink to your knees and stare daggers at him. “Your own pleasure? What about mine? Bucky, this isn’t just about you. I have needs, too.” Bucky looks away in shame, and the guilty expression in his eyes manages to cool your temper. You gently take his face in your hands and pull him to look at you. Now that you’ve come back to yourself, you feel guilty for being selfish. You chew on your lips anxiously. “Hey, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that, I know this isn’t easy for you. But Bucky, if you want me, then I’m yours. I know you won’t hurt me, I trust you.”

Bucky pulls away from you, lips screwed up in a pained frown. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just too dangerous.”

You fall back onto your butt, sighing, and try to think. “Okay, well what if we worked up to it?”

That earns you an intrigued look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you start, mind racing as a plan hatches. “What if we started off with something low risk, like phone sex. You could stay at the Avengers tower, I could stay here. How can you hurt me if we’re on different sides of the city?”

“Phone sex?”

Oh, right. Different era. “It’s where we call each other on the phone and get off together. If you really don’t want to try, you can say no, but you deserve pleasure. We’ve both been stressed lately, this can be a good thing.” You try to keep your tone casual, giving Bucky the chance to relax from the brief argument. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, and though he’d never admit it, his cheeks flush just the slightest bit red.

“Okay,” he whispers, brushing back a piece of stray hair from his face and taking a steadying breath.

Your eyes follow the movement of his hand as what he said sinks in. “Really, you’re okay with it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, making an attempt to smile at you. “Just...can we do this slow? It’s been a long time.” He still looks nervous, and you almost want to back off. To tell him to forget it, that you were just being selfish. But it’s not just you that he’s denying pleasure to. Bucky’s suffering, too, and you know that intimacy would be a huge step forward, so you push on.

You grin brightly at him, then stand, offering your hand to help him up, too. After hesitating for a brief moment, Bucky takes your hand and lets you pull him to his feet. He stands, towering over you, and you realize that you’re so tiny compared to him. His worries absolutely held merit; he could crush you so easily, especially with those rippling muscles that you’re always staring at. But you’re not scared of him, you never have been. Bucky has never been anything but gentle towards you, and you know that even The Winter Soldier would not lay a hand on you. Bucky would never allow that to happen, you trust him.

You just wish he could trust himself that much, too.

It’s been weeks since you and Bucky’s conversation, and you’re beginning to think he’s forgotten about it. That, or he’s just pretending that he doesn’t remember in order to avoid a stressful situation. The latter was probably more likely, and you decide not to push it. Maybe you’d been asking for too much. So you put a lid on your desires, and acted like everything was fine for Bucky’s sake, even as disappointment dampened your moods. And when he left for yet another mission, you began to accept that maybe he just wasn’t ready. You can live with that.

Your phone rings, and you hoist yourself off the couch, pausing the movie you’d been watching to trudge over to your phone. When Bucky was away on missions, calls were never anything good. He’d usually send texts to reassure you that things were going well, but he always saved bad news for phone calls. It was a nice gesture, but it just made you associate them with misery.

Steeling yourself, you click ‘answer,’ and force out a cheerful greeting despite the anxiety twisting your stomach.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky’s voice is gruff, and he sounds exhausted. Your hands twitch, wanting to reach for him.

“Hi,” you reply. “Everything going okay?”

A groan floats through the speaker, and you sigh, knowing that your instincts were correct. “I wish, it looks like I’ll have to stay another night in this stupid safe house. We think our cover might’ve been blown and Stark wants to lay low before trying to extract me.” You can hear the apology in Bucky’s tone; he doesn’t need to say it.

You want to scream and throw your phone. Another night away from your lover, spent lying awake worrying that this time he wouldn’t make it home safe. Another night of counting the seconds until he’s back in your arms, and you can kiss away the stress of his mission. You knew what you were signing up for, dating an Avenger, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard sometimes. Still, you need to keep it together. For Bucky. “It’s okay, just stay safe, alright? I need you to come back to me in one piece.”

Bucky mumbles his assent, and you hear shuffling on the other end, presumably him getting more comfortable. You do the same, and make your way back to the couch so you can sit down and talk to him. “At least it’s just me here,” Bucky says. “This would be a hell of a lot more irritating if I had to put up with Sam’s chatter for another day.”

With a snort, you flop onto the couch and lean back. “Don’t be too hard on him, he means well.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbles. He pauses, and you hear a shaky inhale before he speaks again. “What’re you wearing?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Well, this was unexpected. “One of your shirts, why?”

“No pants?”

“You know me, pants are kind of against my moral code.”

Bucky chuckles on the other line while you wonder where this is going. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Another pause. “Which panties do you have on?”

Oh. Oh. Your heart speeds up in excitement as you start to realize what’s going on. “Buck, are you wanting to…?” You don’t finish your sentence, letting your silence speak for itself.

“Um, I think so. If you don’t mind?” Bucky says, voice rising a bit in pitch as it tends to do when he gets nervous.

You’re quick to reassure him, not wanting to screw this up when you’ve been dreaming about it for months. “Yes, yeah!” You blurt out. “I just wanted to make sure we were both on the same page here.” You tug at your bottom lip with your teeth while you think about how you want this to go. “Hold on, lemme move to the bedroom.”

“Okay.” Bucky’s voice has gotten raspier, and it sends a gush of arousal into your panties. You rush to the bedroom, legs more than a little shaky from excitement. You hop onto the bed and settle back into the pillows, putting your phone on speaker and setting it beside you on the sheets. “You still haven’t told me which panties you’ve got on,” Bucky prompts, sounding a little unsure.

“The black ones,” you answer. “They’re the ones that have the lacing around my ass.”

Bucky growls his appreciation at your response. “Those are my favorite.” You beam. Now that he’s finally expressing his attraction to you, you feel like the sexiest woman in the world.

“Your turn to tell me what you’re wearing.” Your fingers tug at the hem of your underwear, itching to dive inside and start touching yourself. But you wait patiently, wanting to take things slow like Bucky had asked.

“Just my briefs. The dark blue ones that you said look nice,” Bucky says. He goes quiet, and you remember that phone sex was a foreign concept to him just a few weeks ago. You can picture his uncertain expression. His eyes always narrowed in a cute little squint, and his lips would purse in a way that made you want to kiss him breathless.

Taking the lead, you shimmy your panties down your legs until they’re completely off. “I’m taking my underwear off now. Do you want to touch yourself?”

Bucky inhales sharply. “Yeah.”

“Do it. I will, too.” You bring your fingers down to your dripping pussy, absently wondering if you should’ve laid down a towel before starting. It’s too late now, though. You slide one finger across your folds, humming softly at the pleasure.

There’s rustling on the other end, and you close your eyes to imagine Bucky pulling down his briefs, thick cock springing free. You think about running your tongue up the leaking head, and your core cramps involuntarily.

“Doll…” Bucky breathes. You hear a slick sound--did he always bring lube with him on missions?-- and then a steady rhythm of slow strokes.

“Does it feel good?” You ask, and bring your thumb up to rub at your clit. A small whimper escapes your throat. There’s no reason to try to stay quiet; this is for Bucky, and you want him to hear that you’re enjoying yourself.

“Y-yeah,” he grits out. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m touching my clit, wishing it was your fingers on me. I wanna touch you so bad.” There’s a whine to your voice, and your fingers speed up.

“I wish I was there,” Bucky says. “Fuck, I bet you look so good right now. I don’t even know how many times I’ve gotten off to the thought of licking that pretty pussy.”

A gasp tears its way from your throat. You never knew Bucky had such a mouth on him, and you briefly think about how many girls he’d talked out of their skirts before the war. You turn your head to the side, burying your nose in Bucky’s shirt and inhale deeply. His scent makes you dizzy with need, and you abandon your clit to dip two fingers into yourself. There’s no need for preparation—you’re soaked—and you easily slide the digits past your opening to reach the most sensitive spots. “I’ve got two fingers inside me now,” you moan. “Wishing they were yours.”

The strokes on the other end speed up, and Bucky curses. “Shit, doll. You’re driving me crazy, here.”

Bucky’s moans are the hottest thing you’ve heard in your entire life. Nights spent fantasizing about how he’d sound in bed didn’t even come close to the real thing. His ragged pants on the other end of the line have you edging closer and closer to your orgasm, and you begin to ramble mindlessly. “Bucky, baby, I need to feel you. I want you here with me, I wanna watch you cum.”

“You know we can’t--”

“I don’t care,” you whine. “I’ll use Stark’s handcuffs to keep you restrained, you can’t hurt me if you’re all tied up. Please, baby, I just need you.” You know that you’re rambling, but you don’t care, it feels too good. Your fingers move faster and faster, chasing your high.

A startled moan echoes through your speaker. “Oh, fuck, stop talking. Please, I can’t--” Bucky’s voice is tight, strangled, but it only encourages you to push him further.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being tied up while I ride you?”

That’s the last straw for Bucky. The rhythm of his strokes stutters, then comes to an abrupt halt as he chokes out a high pitched whine of your name. Hearing his orgasm pushes you into your own, and you claw at the sheets with your free hand. Bucky’s name tumbling from your lips while your hips arch up into your hand, everything clenching and then releasing into bliss.

You lie in silence for a few minutes, your breathing mixing in with Bucky’s as you both come down. Finally, you break the silence, feeling a bit embarrassed now that pleasure’s no longer clouding your judgement. “I-I’m sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“What?” Bucky replies. “No, that was, that was really good. Were you serious about wanting to try restraining me?”

You swallow tightly. To be honest, it was kind of a spur of the moment fantasy, born from reckless pleasure. “Uh, only if you want. I definitely should’ve cleared it with you before bringing it up.”

Bucky is quick to reassure you. “No, doll. At the moment, I only really saw it as a hot fantasy, but now that I’m thinking about it...it could actually work.”

You sit up in bed, not able to believe your ears. God, you aren’t even sure if you’d be able to handle that kind of control over Bucky. You might just melt the second you lay eyes on him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “We’d have to use something that could hold me, but I’d feel better about not hurting you if I was handcuffed.”

A dizzying rush of excitement washes over you. “Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it more when you get back, yeah? You need to focus on getting home safe.”

“You’re right. Thank you for being patient with me, I know you could easily find some guy you didn’t have to jump through all these hoops for.” Bucky’s laugh is self deprecating, and you shush him.

“Shut up, you’re perfect. I’d jump through as many hoops as it takes to call you mine for the rest of my life.” And you really would. You’re head over heels for this man, and it isn’t just the post-nut bliss talking. “Just come back home to me and I’ll show you just how much I’m willing to do you.” You pause. “For you. Do for you.”

This time, the chuckle that Bucky lets out is genuine, and your heart swells. “Okay, doll. I’ll be home in a day or two and you can do me all you’d like.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #fluff and smut #marvel #mcugifs #tfatws #the winter soldier #fanfiction

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goldentournesol · 4 years

Text

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Five)

Chapter Five: Royal Blue Napkins

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: i have totally reinvented the timeline of the show, just go with me. also...this chapter will take you on a RIDE.

Going home that night and getting into bed with her fiance was difficult for Y/N. Of course she knew it was technically wrong to have kissed Spencer back, but the problem is that she enjoyed it so much. Too much, probably. And that was alarming. Was it just because she was bored of kissing the same person for the past...what..11 years and just needed a (really) good kiss before she spent the rest of her life kissing the same man? Or was it because she knew that every neuron in her brain was usually firing at top speed at the near mention of Spencer Reid let alone finally know how her brain acted (nearly exploded) while kissing him?

The wedding was less than a month away now and Hotch was gracious enough to allow Y/N extra time out of the office, when things were calm, to meet with her wedding planner to finalize some decisions about the cake, venue, napkins, all that good stuff. In the middle of it, she caught herself wondering whether or not Spencer would like the color of napkin she chose, instead of her actual fiance. That was enough, the thought of Spencer now invaded officially every aspect of her life. She didn’t know what to do so she cornered JJ one day in her office and hurriedly shut the door behind her.

“JJ, I am freaking out about all this wedding stuff. I-I don’t know if I picked the right color for the napkins, oh God, I don’t even like royal blue! I just picked it because Grant likes it but what if it sucks because I don’t actually like it and it doesn’t match with the centerpieces and I-” she rambled but JJ promptly cut her off.

“Hey! Y/N, relax, take a seat. Take a deep breath.” Y/N followed her suggestions that felt more like orders and JJ watched her carefully, she wasn’t a profiler but she spent enough time around them to have picked up on subtle clues. She knew the woman sitting in front of her was an anxious mess and it was not about the napkins, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know if I like the napkins, JJ.” Y/N’s brows came together and she suddenly felt like crying, she couldn’t explain it, but she felt it.

“Y/N, you and I both know that napkins don’t make or break weddings.” JJ sent her a pointed look and Y/N began to feel small. She picked at her nails.

“Yeah? Well what does?” Y/N asked vaguely.

“What breaks weddings is an absence of love, Y/N.” She said simply and Y/N couldn’t help the frown that crept up on her face, but the blonde said nothing more.

The walk back to her desk was spent trying with extreme difficulty to not split her lip open from biting it too hard. The energy in the entire office was off, although Spencer has a new specific energy to him. He seems lighter somehow, he feels lighter too. Morgan doesn’t know exactly what happened between them but he could sense the shift in Reid’s behavior.

They’ve interacted, though briefly. Spencer pretended there was nothing wrong between them, while Y/N mulled over every interaction. Spencer literally had nothing left to lose, she’d made her choice and he’d accepted that, made peace with it even. He’d even gone as far as putting himself out there on the market. It was time to move on. There was just one aspect of the upcoming month that would make it extremely difficult to do so, so he made a decision.

“Hey, Y/N. Could I talk to you for a second?” Spencer said, leaning with his elbows over her desk as it neared their lunchtime.

“Yeah, of course, just one second... just saving this document. What’s up?” She smiled as she stared up at him, she was sure her heart was about to light on fire in her chest with the mere eye contact.

“Um, so you know how I’ve been meaning to visit my mom back in Vegas for a while now but I haven’t got the chance?” He began, idly playing with one of the candies in the candy bowl that was placed for guests.

“Yeah, of course! Are you planning on going?” She smiled wider, knowing just how much love this man had in his heart for his wonderful mother. Y/N had met Diana when she came into the office a few years back, actually she was the only one who Diana allowed to spend time with while the rest were in the field. Apparently, Spencer had told her more than enough information about Y/N before in his daily letters. Diana liked her years before she even met her.

“Yeah, I’m taking a week off, actually. I’m gonna spend it with her, I’ve missed her a lot.” The corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly as he thought of the week off.

“That’s so awesome Spencer! Will you tell her how much I’ve missed her, oh, I know! I’ll just write her a letter and you can take it with you. When are you going by the way? Do I have time to write it?” She worried slightly, grabbing a pen in preparation and making Spencer laugh lightly at her excitement.

“Yes, yes you’ll have time. I’m leaving on the 16th of August, already booked the ticket.” His voice faltered slightly as he said the date.

“Wait, the 16th? But that means…” He won’t attend the wedding.

“I know, I’m sorry I can’t make it.” He genuinely frowned, knowing just how upset this would make her. Despite their feelings for one another, they were the closest of friends.

“Th-that’s okay! Um, we’ll just send you all the, uh, pictures and stuff.” Her bright smile faltered and Spencer swore he heard a tremble in her voice, the one she made when she was trying to hide how upset she really was.

“Yeah, send me all the pictures, I’m really sorry again, Y/N.” He sent her a look of sympathy, but she understood, he didn’t want to be there.

“No, no it’s okay. I get it, there’s only so many other weeks in the year you could take off, I guess.” she laughed bitterly, very obviously hurt, “Um, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go now. I have something um, for Hotch--Hotch asked for something.” She picked up a random file from her desk and quickly made her way across the bullpen and Spencer’s eyes stopped following her when she entered Hotch’s office. He released a heavy sigh and turned on his heels to leave the building for a lunch that was anywhere but there.

“What can I do for you, Y/N?” Hotch asked, barely looking up from his file at first but then her silence intrigued him to look up, spotting her watching from the window as Spencer left, “Everything alright?” His voice startled her and he immediately took in her glassy eyes and the nervous trembling of her fingers.

“Huh? Oh, um, yes, everything’s fine. Did you...ask for these?” She took a look at what she’d actually picked up and realized they were a bunch of useless forms that the unit chief certainly did not need to waste his time on. It was hard to hide his smirk, having figured out what had happened.

“Do you need to take a seat, Y/N?” He saw right through her, of course he did. She drew in a deep, shaky breath and shook her head.

“Did you know?” She asked in a small voice.

“He ran it by me, yes. I have to approve his time off. If it’s any consolation, I tried to-” He begad, but she interrupted.

“No, please. I’ve heard enough. Thanks Hotch.” She frowned as she made her way out of his office, praying that her tears would--just for once--stay within her waterline.

After that, Y/N barely spoke with Spencer. She found it hard to find the line between being upset with him and understanding why he’s doing what he’s doing. On one hand, she selfishly wanted her best friend to be at her wedding, but on the other, she understood that that was a huge thing to ask from the other man who loved her. He loved her. He loves her. That’s mind boggling to Y/N. Spencer loves her? Even almost 3 weeks after his confession, it’s all she can think about. He’s in love with her.

It was almost time for him to leave for Vegas. Despite her anger with Spencer, she still wrote Diana a letter. Upon finishing and sealing it, she realized she hadn’t even mentioned the wedding once. The (supposedly) single most important event that she would ever attend in her lifetime hadn’t even crossed her mind. She didn’t even give him the letter, she just left it on his desk for him to take. Despite that, Spencer still smiled at the fact that she’d written his mother a letter. His curiosity was killing him, but he’d just ask his mom what she’d written. At the end of the day before he left, he paused at Y/N’s desk, but she refused to look up.

“Bye, Y/N. Um, congratulations in advance.” Spencer spoke, clutching his messenger bag tightly, hoping she’d just look at him once. Hoping he’d get to see her eyes one last time before her soul was tied to another man’s for the rest of eternity.

“Bye, Spencer...have a safe flight.” She replied quietly, busying herself with whatever she was working on on her computer. A beat passed between them as Spencer waited to meet her eyes, but the moment never came. Pre-love confession Spencer would have gone on and on about how he technically had no control over whether or not it would be a safe flight, but now...now he knew his voice was the last thing she’d want to hear. His shoulders involuntarily slumped as he began to walk away from the love of his life. He knew he couldn’t be at that wedding, he just knew it. Hasn’t he been through enough already? Was life that adamant about making him hurt so badly?

But alas, fate was never on their side. Moments before boarding the plane to Vegas and barely three days before her wedding, the team was called in for an emergency case. She had taken a few days off before the wedding to get everything sorted and thankfully, the case was local so she didn’t have to book any hotel rooms or coordinate with the pilots of the jet.

She had invited Garcia out with her to get a bridal manicure and pedicure on her lunch break, since she was the only one available.

“Pen, are you sure they don’t need you right now? I don’t want to interrupt the case.” Y/N signed into the phone.

“Trust me, Y/N/N, they don’t need me right now, besides this is the least I could do. All your plans for the week-of have been kinda ruined by this case. I wanna help you out the best I can! So I’m picking you up in 10 and we’re getting our nails done.” Y/N knew better than to argue with Garcia so she relented.

Near the end of their appointment, Garcia got a call from Hotch, “He’s what?! Oh no! Is he okay?! He’ll be okay, right?” Garcia half-panicked, sending Y/N right into a panic with her. Garcia paused and Hotch spoke over the phone, “Okay, we’ll be there as soon as we can.” She hung up and took a deep breath.

“Garcia, what happened! Is everyone okay?” Y/N asked hurriedly.

“Uh, no...actually Reid got shot in the field. The unsub shot him in the knee while trying to aim for the victim.” Garcia spoke slowly so as to not alarm her, but it was too late, Y/N was already pulling her hands away from the nail tech, who was almost done.

“WHAT?! Garcia! We have to go now! Is he okay?! Is he in the hospital? What hospital is he at? I’ll drive.” Y/N panicked, her breathing getting more and more shallow by the second.

“Y/N/N, calm down! Calm down! He’s fine, okay? He’s in surgery and you should absolutely not be driving right now. Take a few deep breaths please.” Her emotions were already all over the place because of the damn wedding, and now she had to worry about Spencer getting shot? Oh Lord, it was too much for her to handle.

“Garcia, I think I’m gonna pass out.” Y/N fanned her face and the waterworks began. Garcia quickly asked the nail tech if she could get Y/N some water.

“Oh! Oh, Y/N, baby don’t cry, please. He’ll be okay, he’ll probably be on crutches for a while but he’ll be fine.” Garcia tried to console her but the tears just kept coming. Y/N should have felt embarrassed whilst sobbing in the middle of the nail salon, but she was too overwhelmed to care at the moment.

“I’m so sorry Garcia, it’s just all too much. I don’t want royal blue napkins, Garcia! I don’t even think I want a damn wedding! And I-I can’t believe Spence just got shot! This all just feels so wrong! You know what, this is all just one big warning sign from the universe, isn’t it?! And--and I don’t even want to marry Grant!” She blurted randomly in her fit of tears and she stopped crying out of realization of what she’d just confessed. Garcia gasped and her friend met her eyes, they stared at each other for a moment before Y/N broke out into tears again at the confession.

It was true.

She didn’t want to marry him.

Garcia apologized profusely to the nail techs and paid quickly before leading an almost hysterical Y/N out of the salon.

Y/N clung to Penelope and sobbed into her shoulder on the sidewalk, “I don’t want to marry him, Garcia.”

“Y/N, the wedding is tomorrow.” Garcia’s eyes welled up with tears at the sight of her friend being so broken. Y/N shook her head and sniffled loudly, “Are you sure you’re not just super upset about Spencer getting shot?” Garcia continued, wanting Y/N to be absolutely sure of what she’s deciding.

Y/N pulled away from the embrace and stared at her friend, “M-maybe? I don’t know, I-I don’t know, Pen. Oh God, the wedding is tomorrow.” Y/N covered her face with her hands and tried to rub away all the stress and tears.

“Okay, okay, calm down. Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go see Spencer and make sure he’s alright, then you can take all the time you need to decide whether you want to call the wedding off or not, alright? How does that sound?” Garcia reasoned with her, slowly trying to remove her hands from her face.

Y/N nodded and took a few deep breaths, wiping away the last of her tears, “Let’s go see Spencer.”

When they’d arrived at the hospital, Spencer wasn’t out of surgery yet. The team was waiting around in the hospital chairs. The hospital felt cold, so unbelievably cold. Maybe it was Y/N literally getting cold feet. The team decided not to ask about the unmistakable redness around her eyes and nose. They just chalked it up to being scared for Spencer, but it was so much more than that.

She hadn’t even looked at him before he left. She hadn’t seen his eyes or his face so full of its color in so long. When the Dr. announced he was out of surgery and that he should be waking up any minute, the team had decided to let Y/N in first. The sight of him sleeping in the hospital bed made her stomach lurch. She found it hard to contain her tears. It was almost as if her hand had a mind of its own as it reached out to smooth down his wild hair and caress his cheek. She pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head and watched as his eyelids fluttered slightly, but stayed closed. She swallowed heavily and wiped her eyes before walking back out to the team.

“He’s not awake yet, but I, uh...have to go. There’s something I need to take care of. Pen, update me when he wakes, please.” Y/N tried as hard as she could to even out her voice, but it trembled with every other word. Garcia nodded and before anyone could even say a word, she was out of the building. She checked the time and saw that Grant’s shift wasn’t over yet, and she had the house to herself for a bit.

As soon as she made it in, she picked the two biggest suitcases she owned and began to fill them with her things. She’d spent over 7 years in this apartment with Anderson, so many memories and so many laughs were spent here.

But she couldn’t do it anymore.

She didn’t want to have to go through a divorce, she couldn’t go through that. She’d rather not marry him at all. Within two hours, she had packed 7 years worth of her life into two huge suitcases. It was sad and she shed more than a few tears mulling over memories. But she saw her future and it wasn’t with Anderson. She placed the suitcases near the doorway and sat at the kitchen table, waiting for him to come home. Surely enough, Grant came through the door at exactly 5:53 pm, just like he did every day.

“Babe? You home? Hey, whose bags are these?” He said, slipping off his shoes and walking into the kitchen, “Is everything okay, Y/N?” He asked, spotting her in the kitchen with a glass of red wine and tears gathering in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Anderson frowned.

“Um, so...I’ve been thinking. A lot, actually. And I kept asking myself why we waited so long to finally get married. We got engaged in college, Grant. That was ages ago. Most people get married like, right after graduation, but we didn’t do that. We moved here together, I shifted my entire life to fit with yours and yeah I have a great job, but I’m not happy.” She paused to sniffle, “And I think I’m not happy because this isn’t the life I want for me. I think we waited so long because we secretly didn’t really want it to happen, if I’m being honest. But now that it’s happening, I don’t think I can do it. I’m sorry. I just don’t see my future with you.” She frowned as tears clouded her vision. She temporarily let go of her wine glass to slip off her engagement ring and place it in front of him.

“I’m calling off the wedding.” She stated with finality. He looked devastated.

“Y/N, is this a joke?” He frowned, anger settling in.

“No, it’s not a joke, Grant. I’m so sorry. I’ll try to get back whatever I can from all the money we’ve spent on everything, but I’m leaving. Thank you for giving me so many irreplaceable memories. They mean more than you know.” She wiped her tears and got up from her seat.

“Wait, so does this mean you’re quitting the job?” He asked, still in awe of the situation.

“No, I’m staying at the BAU, I love it there, Hotch is a great boss.”

“So that’s it? You’re leaving me?” For the first time that night, his eyes welled up with tears.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m staying with Penelope until I can find a place to rent.” They hugged one last time and she took her things and left.

Just like that.

And she’d never felt lighter. She’d never felt more free.

***

Anderson had requested a transfer to a different unit and so they barely saw each other at work. Everything was going really well actually. Over the past two weeks, she allowed herself only one day of wallowing but her priorities were finding a new apartment to live in. They’d already spent so much money on the wedding, so it was difficult to be spending at the moment, but thankfully Garcia’s freezer was full of individually packed meals from the catering company. She lived off those so far and it’d probably stay that way for the next few months or at least until she found her own freezer to fill with individually packed meals.

She hadn’t seen Spencer since that day in the hospital because apartment hunting in DC turned out to be a nightmare. But it’s fine, she’s been getting all her information from Garcia since she’d been performing daily checkups on him since he’d started his medical leave. Apparently, the ever-so-stubborn Spencer decided to continue giving his guest lectures even on his crutches. Ever since Rossi joined the team, he’d been taking Spencer to different universities and they’d often give lectures together. Y/N should’ve been glad that he’d been leaving the house, but it was so hard not to worry about him. He should be coming in today, his two weeks of medical leave are technically over, but he can’t go out into the field yet.

Also, the team was about to get a new member. Y/N was super excited, she was the one who got to show new members around the office and introduce them to everyone. She was also super excited to finally see Spencer. The ding of the elevator sounded and Y/N leapt from her seat upon seeing Spencer waddle in on his crutches through the glass doors, which were being opened for him by a young-looking blonde woman.

“Spencer!” Y/N exclaimed, bounding over to him and making sure to hug him gently as to not topple him over or hurt him.

“Hey!” He smiled, attempting to return the hug without his arms.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re finally back! The place was starting to get a little depressing!” She smiled, a new happiness filling her. She only noticed the woman standing so close to Spencer when she pulled away.

“Thanks, it’s great to be back.” He smiled at her fondly, resting on his crutches. “Oh, Y/N, this is Agent Ashley Seaver. She’s the newest member of the BAU and actually my girlfriend.”

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 years

Text

Yanois - Second Impressions Can Bring Misfortune

Read Part One here, or check it out on AO3!

Though their first meeting could have gone better, Illinois might be a little fond of the mystery prisoner. Let’s just hope his famous luck doesn’t run out…

Warning: There is an instance of deadnaming under the read-more. It’s accidental, but be mindful if that might cause a little upset. (I promise this doesn’t end on a bad note)

Word Count: 2,448 (sorry, it’s four hand-written pages)

After his encounter with the brash prisoner, Illinois found he couldn’t get the other man out of his head. It was hardly an attraction (no, shut up! It wasn’t!), but he accepted that there was a level of interest in the unknown. Perhaps it was the prisoner’s standoffish attitude, or how he seemed utterly disinterested yet keenly focused. He didn’t heckle during the lecture, so he wasn’t there for the sole purpose of causing trouble.

But the question that plagued Illinois was painfully simple: what was the prisoner’s name? He hated how badly he wanted to know. Ah, the curse of the archaeologist - insatiable curiosity! With no starting point, Illinois took inspiration from his work and fetched his laptop to start the research.

Most prisoners were from Texas, but not all. The stranger’s accent suggested he was potentially from New York, so Illinois decided to sieve through articles that made reference to a transferral to a Texan prison first. His abundance of good luck meant that it only took an hour to find a result that was most fitting. The article was several years old and discussed the outcome of a rather tragic case. The information was put to the back of his mind - Warden Murderslaughter always said to never talk about an inmate’s crime unless they bring it up first - as Illinois instead took the important information. The photograph used of the criminal was old, but it matched. Which meant… He had a name! All he had to do was wait until the next time he was set to visit Happy Trails Penitentiary.

As luck would have it, he merely had to wait a week. When he wasn’t travelling as part of archaeological trips, Illinois would volunteer two Saturdays a month to teach the inmates. Unlike his history lectures, these consisted of smaller groups of prisoners undertaking a short course on several points in history; which would be rounded off with each prisoner completing a short research project on something that interested them in the course. All he needed was to put his possessions in the room he used for classes, and then he would be free to find the right prisoner if he arrived earlier than usual. The inmates followed a set schedule with minor variations depending on when their work shifts were. He had been volunteering long enough to know when one of the crossover periods would take place. It would be easy to find him!

The rec yard was fruitless, as was the library. But it was upon leaving the chow hall that Illinois spotted the man of the hour. He seemed in a hurry as the prisoner dashed toward the hall.

“Ah! Can I have a moment?” Illinois called out. The tattooed man screeched to a halt, bemused once he realised who wanted his attention. Unfortunately, no one else was around, so it had to be him.

“Sure. Fine. What?” His eyes didn’t stay on Illinois, but instead darted to the clock.

“I know this is likely a bad time, but I’d like a chance to talk. We got off on the wrong foot last time.” Even Illinois knew it didn’t go well. “Are you free after your shift?”

“U-uh…. Yeah?” Thrown by the turn of events, it appeared the bold prisoner was willing to cooperate. “I know I’d never hear the end of it if my friends heard I refused. They’s is always singing youse’s praises. ‘Sides, second chances is always a good thing, right?” He looked as though he was about to say something else, but decided against it. Regardless, Illinois was elated.

“Excellent! In that case, I’ll be in the classroom just opposite the library until seven this evening. Call by when you’re free. Even if there’s a class going on, sit in on it anyway.” The prisoner nodded and hurried past once he knew he was dismissed. Before the other disappeared into the chow hall, Illinois belatedly realised he should be more polite about this. He guessed the other might be swallowing his pride in accepting the invitation to chat, given their first meeting. The least he could do was show some manners.

“Thank you! I look forward to chatting, █████!”

Whatever progress had been made was instantly thrown aside. The prisoner froze in the doorway. Though his back was to Illinois, the archaeologist could see that the other was rigid. It wasn’t a reaction Illinois associated with hearing one’s own name…. Unless it was a name they didn’t use anymore.

“O-oh my God, I’m so sorry, I had no -” For once, Illinois found himself stammering in a frantic attempt to get an apology out. It was to no avail, as a fistful of his shirt had been grabbed and he was slammed against the wall.

“I don’t know what sorta shit game youse is playing,” the prisoner hissed, “But if youse is gonna act like youse is better than me by being such a sly bitch…. I really wanna beat the shit outta youse, but I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“Yancy! That’s enough!” The prisoner - Yancy? - dropped Illinois without hesitation and didn’t struggle when two guards rushed over and restrained him. “Bring him into th’ chow hall to calm down. I’ll speak to him in a sec. As fer you…” Yancy was led away by the guards, and it was hard to ignore how withdrawn he seemed compared to minutes earlier. With heavy guilt, Illinois pulled his attention away to finally acknowledge Warden Murderslaughter, who had been the one to stop the disaster in its tracks. His lips were pursed and his arms crossed as he shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Illinois. Out of all our volunteers, I thought you would’ve known our most important rule better than anyone else: don’t provoke th’ inmates with topics that are touchy fer ‘em.”

“But I didn’t know -” Illinois’ head turned toward the chow hall’s entrance. “I only wanted to get to know him. I didn’t mean to…”

“Who told you that name?”

“No one?” He looked back at the Warden with confusion. “I read it in an article covering the trial online.” The Warden pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh.

“Son… You could’ve saved yourself a whole lotta bother if you’d thought to ask someone here, even over the phone. It isn’t like you to mess up like this.” He put an arm around Illinois’ shoulder and began guiding him toward the staff breakroom. “The name you used is correct, if you go by legal documents or the press, but it’s not the name he goes by. Everyone calls him ‘Yancy’. See, his birth name has links to pretty painful memories that I don’t think he’ll ever recover from, and he’s been striving to prove he’s a better person as ‘Yancy’. So to turn ‘round and use th’ wrong name is like a slap to the face and a surefire way for him to hate you. Now, I know you had good intentions and it was an honest mistake, but you need to be more careful. Next time you see him, give him a good, proper apology. Just know he’s probably gonna be frosty toward ya. I’ll go talk to him and check if he’s okay, let him know you didn't mean to use the wrong name.” The Warden threw a glance over his shoulder with a hint of a smile. “Yancy’s a good kid, despite how he acts sometimes. He’s been through some rough times, but his heart’s stayed in the right place. If he can have a friend outside the prison… I think it’ll do him some good. Now, get yourrself a coffee before you start classes.”

Illinois blinked, genuinely surprised to realise they had arrived. Murderslaughter gave him a hearty slap on the back of the shoulder (Illinois had learned long ago the art of hiding the wince from the strength of such actions) before making his way back to the chow hall.

---

In the chow hall, Yancy was a mess. He sat far away from anyone else who might have been there. A cup of water had been given to him, but it was used more as a stress ball rather than a drink. He didn’t know what to think. How could someone act like they wanted to be a friend, then turn around in the same breath and say something that implied the complete opposite? Why remind him of what he did long ago? The cup was put aside so he could slump across the table with a defeated groan. █████… Was that all he was ever going to be to the outside world? Would the attempts he has made to be a better person forever go unnoticed under the large, looming shadow of his crimes? Then again, prisoners like him were locked away to be forgotten about by the world.

His form tensed the moment he spotted the Warden sitting opposite him. This was it - he was going to be scolded and sent to Solitary, and probably lose other privileges on top of that. How dare Yancy lay a finger on the visitor everyone worshipped!!

But it was nothing like that. Murderslaughter checked if he was okay. They sat in silence for a few moments so Yancy could try and collect himself without anyone else approaching. Then, the Warden praised him for not completely lashing out, but then took time to explain Illinois’ side of things.

“- He’s not like the reporters or anyone else who comes to ‘visit’ you. He was a moron who didn’t ask th’ staff for your name. It seems like he wants to try an’ be friends…. But it’s fine if ya don’t wanna see him today. An’ if you’d rather go lie down instead of working, that’s fine too.

“N-no… I’d rather work. Don’t really wanna be left alone with my thoughts just yet.”

Yancy spent the rest of the morning washing dishes. The work wasn’t ‘busy’ enough to keep his mind distracted, but it was labour-intensive and he could work out his frustration on the crockery. By the time he finished his shift and lunch, he returned to his cell with an idea - he needed to get rid of the White Jaguar model. It had to be the source of the blame.

But just like a blasted boomerang, the clay figure kept returning to him in ridiculous manners throughout the afternoon. Yancy dropped it in the trash on the way outside, only to be tapped on the shoulder by another prisoner who thought it was dropped by mistake. Trying to gift it to anyone in the Gang had them refuse - Bam-Bam had initially accepted, but changed his mind when he held the tiny model and handed it back to Yancy with the excuse that it ‘belonged’ to him. He then hid it in the long grass in the rec yard. When no one immediately found it, he went to the bathroom, returned to his cell… And was greeted with the terrifying sight of the White Jaguar sitting on his pillow, staring at him. Overcome with frustration, he decided to simply break it. He threw it at the wall with all his might. Instead of smashing, it ricocheted off the wall and toppled his radio that had been on his bed, before landing neatly on the pillow. Yancy picked it up, he swore there was a look of smugness on the Jaguar’s face, which reminded him of… Wait.

He could simply return it to Illinois and ask him never to speak to Yancy again. It would solve two problems at once.

---

“Come in!” Illinois’ voice was upbeat as he tidied the classroom after a day of workshops. The guilt from earlier had been put aside in favour of professionalism. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all. However, that professionalism immediately slipped the moment he saw who entered.

“Yancy!” The name was blurted out with relief more than pleasantry. Whatever Illinois had been putting into his briefcase was unceremoniously dumped as he gave Yancy his full attention. “Before you say anything…. I want to apologise for this morning. I made the mistake of not checking with the staff what name you prefer to go by. It was careless of me. I know I upset you, and I am truly sorry. You don’t need to forgive me, as I know it’s something that hurt you… But I just want you to know I didn’t mean to use that name, and I’ll never use it again, Yancy.”

Yancy was dumbfounded. No one who deliberately used that name apologised. They never cared that it made him uncomfortable and upset. Emotions stung him for the second time that day, but polar opposites to the anger that had nearly consumed him in the morning.

“I-I, uh… Thanks. For apologising, I mean. Takes balls to admit youse was wrong ‘bout something. But it means a lot that, y’know, youse said sorry. So… If it’s okay with youse, we can consider it forgiven and forgotten.” Yancy looked ill at ease, but Illinois couldn’t blame him. It would be better to find a new topic to talk about before Yancy decided to swiftly dismiss himself. At that moment, Yancy adjusted his stance, drawing Illinois’ attention to his hand.

“Is that the White Jaguar model I gave you?”

Yancy blinked and looked at his hand like he didn’t know it had existed until that very moment. He opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a quick shake of his head. When he did speak again, there was the faintest hint of a smile.

“Yeah, uh… Had a few people asking ‘bout it, but I don’t remember shit from that talk so… Is it too late to join one of these class things you is doing?” Yancy mentally slapped himself for doing the opposite of what he had intended, but it wasn’t met with a cocky reaction. Instead, Illinois’ face lit up like the Fourth of July and invited Yancy to the desk so they could check if there was a class that would fit neatly into Yancy’s schedule. There was a hint of awkwardness between them, but Illinois was optimistic that this could be the start of a better chapter for them.

However, he did get a little ahead of himself and winked at Yancy just before the prisoner left. Yancy rolled his eyes, but the dismissive look had a trace of amusement in it as he left. Once the door closed, Illinois found himself staring at it for several long moments.

Okay… Maybe there was a bit of an attraction toward Yancy after all.

#yanois #deadname tw #illinois ahwm #ahwm yancy #yancy x illinois #writersofmark #cocky adventurer (Illinois)#dramatic prisoner (Yancy)#(I... Think I'm getting a little better at writing Illinois?)

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descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

Text

Encore - Harry Hook x Reader - part 19 - fight

You let out a sigh, looking into the slowly rocking glass of water you had been swirling around. You and Harry had recently fought so now you sat dejected in your kitchen. and it wasn’t like you hadn’t had one before, it's just….this one had hit a bit harder than the last.

It all ended in Harry storming out of your apartment and slamming the door behind him back to his world. It had been three days since then.

And now you sat in your lonely little apartment, watching as the rain beat down on your winders and echo throughout the seemingly empty room.

You took a shaky breath and downed the rest of your water, standing from your kitchen table and walking over to the sink, placing your cup inside, and dragging yourself over to your room.

You flipped onto your bed and curled up under the blankets, burying your face into Harry's pillow.

You felt your nose burn as the sea salt, woodchips, and metal filled your senses. You missed him.

Three days with not even a text or updates from him. You had fought before but he had never left your side for long, sometimes never leaving in the first place, just sitting in the other room until the both of you calm down.

But three days with no contact worried you.

You huffed and picked up your head, laying your chin on the pillow and staring with droopy eyes at your closet door. “maybe I should go first?” you muttered, rolling over and continuing to stare at the door upside-down “but I might make him even madder by not respecting his privacy” the burning at your nose got worse, and you blinked harshly as you scrunched it. Blinking open your eyes, the room around you blurred as tears trailed from the corner of your eyes.

“fuck” you chocked, reaching up and rubbing at your face “god, fuck, shit, ass, cunt”

You gasped as a calloused thumb brushed away a tear from your cheek, you sat up, letting out a low sob as you stared into the shining ocean blue eyes of Harry Hook. “hey” he whispered, leaning towards you and wrapping his arms around you, picking you up and sitting on the bed, setting you on his lap and holding you to him tightly. “I’m sorry my love, it was a stupid fight”

You didn’t respond, rubbing your face into his shoulder and sniffing. You didn’t even remember what you had fought about, it had just escalated so fast. “forgive meh?”

You just nodded into his shoulder, unable to speak around the lump in your throat. Harry let out a relieved sigh, he brought his hand up and thread his fingers through your hair, rubbing his fingers against your head and completely encasing you within his body.

The two of you spent the next couple hours in comforting silence, listing to the rain beating against the apartment and the other's soft breathing.

You had almost fallen asleep to the sound of Harry's heartbeat but he kept shifting and fixing your spot in his lap. At one point you had tossed your arms around him and squished him till he stopped moving, allowing you to properly relax.

Harry pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and lifted you out of his lap, taking your left hand and quickly kissing your knuckles “I’ll go make us some food, what do yeh want ta drink” he whispered. You smiled and shrugged.

“I think I have some sparkling cider in the fridge?” you croaked; voice still shot from your earlier bawling session. He gave a soft smile and nod, squeezing your hand for a moment before dropping it and heading to the kitchen.

You sighed, falling back against your sheets and letting the tension release from your body. Finally, the three days of stress and worry were done. You lifted your left hand in your sights, biting your lip as the red ruby ring stared back at you.

What if Harry had never come back? What if he had decided that you weren’t worth it? Or had decided to break up with you?

It really was just a stupid fight that had ended badly but it had sent your mind reeling after a whole day had gone by with nothing coming from Harry's end.

You sat up as something delicious passed by your senses, you grabbed your (fav color) fluffy blanket from the top of your sheets and wrapped it around you, padding into the kitchen and licking your lips at the sight of Harry stirring something on the stove. “what-what you making?” you asked, walking up behind him and resting your chin on his shoulder.

He turned to kiss the top of your head and muttered against your hair “chicken rice bowl, Desiree was on dinner duty on the revenge and showed meh how ta make it, it's really good and I thought yeh might like it”

“it looks awesome” you muttered, looking over at the steaming covered rice on the other side of the stove, before looking down at the chicken cooking in the pan that Harry was messing with. “do you need me to do anything?”

“aye, make the sauce fer me?” he gestured over to a paper hanging from the cabinets, and you nodded, walking over to the paper and reading down the quickly scrawled recipe.

“homemade teriyaki sauce?” you murmured to yourself, throwing your blanket on a kitchen chair and getting to work.

Luckily the sauce was easy to make, within only a few minutes it was done and ready to be poured into the pan of chicken.

You handed the sauce to harry who poured it into the pan and stirred it around, letting it coat the chicken. “Desiree said ta let the sauce soak in for a bit, so now all we do is wait” you nodded and leaned onto his arm, smiling softly as he lifted it and wrapped it around your waist.

You had thought you and harry would (hopefully) reunite, that it would be awkward and the two of you would take a bit to get back to the way you were before the fight.

But it was as if the fight never happened, and it relieved you.

You and Harry talked about your usual small talk, the lost revenge, Auradon, wedding stuff, and the events of the past two years.

After a few minutes of talking and waiting, the chicken was ready to serve with the rice. Harry separated from you and pushed around the chicken with the spatula. “can yeh get the bowls out love?”

You hummed in confirmation and walked over to the left where your bowls were, opening the cabinet and pulling out two midsized bowls.

Harry took one of the bowls and spooned a good portion of rice into the bowl before doing the same with the chicken, he took a spoon and poured some of the chicken sauce onto the food, smirking as the dark sauce soaked into the rice.

“nice” he muttered, setting the bowl on the kitchen table behind him and backing away, letting you fill your bowl. He picked up his bowl and walked over to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table and turning on the tv. “Mandalorian or….whatever?” he asked loudly, turning to you and raising his brows

“Mando” you called back, pouring the sauce on your food and grabbing your blanket tossing it on the back of the couch, and plopping down on the soft cushions.

Harry sat next to you and pulled you into his side, clicking on the series and setting it to the first episode. The rest of the night was mostly spent quietly eating food and watching movies.

It was a nice break from the last three days. You let out a light sigh and burred yourself into Harry's side, glancing up at the snoring pirate that still gripping onto you tightly.

You jumped slightly at the sudden buzz coming from Harry's pocket, you stealthily pulled his phone and unlocked it, seeing a text from Uma.

Cap’n

Cap’n-Hey, you two okay?

You smiled, you were glad you and Harry had a friend that cared so much about you, even if she didn’t like showing it all the time

You -(y/n) answering from Harrys phone cuz the dork is asleep: yes we are okay, harry made dinner too

Cap’n - good, another day of Harrys whining and I would have combusted, keep him there for a little bit, he worked himself to the bone to distract himself over here, he needs a day off even though he just had one

You - yes ma’am

Cap’n - (y/n)….

You - sorry :’)

Cap’n - alright, night

You - night!

You set Harry's phone on the coffee table and burrowed back into his side, smiling as his solid heartbeat rang in your ear.

It was hard to believe it had been over two years since you had been magically transported to the Descendants world and fallen in love with who was once a fictional character you had a crush on.

You still had no idea how you had gotten there in the first place but, you looked back up at Harry, whose lashes fluttered against his cheeks, you sure as hell weren’t complaining.

-end of part 19-

ALSO, I thought I started this (part of your world in general) back in….December? of 2018, which I think that’s when I started posting on Wattpad but apparently, I posted part 1 of part of your world on October 19th, 2018! So, it’s been 2 years since I started part of your world! Which was the true start to my growth as a writer! I think I’m going to start wrapping up encore soon since there's not much more I can do with it other than random parts with fluff and some angst sometimes, so maybe 10 more parts at max, maybe ending with the wedding? Idk but I think this set of part of your world is coming to a close. Rewrite is still ongoing with D2 being written right now, and a possible D3 if D2 does good. Along with the Full Rewrite/redone versions of Part of Your World/Reprise, it'll be under the same name with just a 2.0 at the end so it'll just look like Part of your World 2.0/Reprise 2.0

Thank yall for reading!

permtaglist

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @random-thoughts-003

@remembered-license @verboetoperee

@rintheemolion

#Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook descendants #harry hook #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #descendants #encore #reprise #rewrite #shuffle playlist

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soheila-1996 · 4 years

Text

My Story- Part Nine

My little disclaimer

I have epilepsy. This details my seizures, I can’t speak for everyone, everyone’s seizures/ experiences are different. This is graphic. Seizures are messy. They aren’t fun and it felt wrong to make it out to be cute when they really aren’t. Pretty much all the things that happen in the plot have happened to me. Well, I’m not married to a king or live in a palace so…there’s that but everything else is accurate. There may be some jokes about it here because I do joke about it sometimes. It makes me more comfortable and I find it helps relax everyone around me. I’m also writing about it because there really aren’t that many fics written about it and I think it’s important to shine light on it.

Any feedback is really appreciated! :)

Tagging people who shared the last part. You don’t have to read it! I just thought you might want to see what happens: @kacie-0156 @texaskitten30, @cordonianroyalty, @kingliam2019 , @bebepac, @kingliam-rys, @cordonia-gothqueen, @kimmiedoo5, @bbrandy2002, @loveellamae @bobasheebaby @losingbraincellseveryday @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @jared2612 @flutistbyday2020 @debramcg1106 @anotherbeingsworld @leaharhys @cordoniaqueensworld @bascmve01

Paring: Liam and Riley

Word count: 3,316

Catch up here

(Riley’s POV) It’s the day after everything happened with Ben. I had gotten a very limited amount of sleep last night. I couldn’t switch off. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. The events of last night were going around my head as if it was stuck on a constant loop. At least Tom- my ex, had the common decency to tell me our relationship was over face to face and did it in a much less harsh manner.

I knew prior to this that Ben is a little bit of a tool, that he isn't the nicest of people but...he was different with me so much so I had made the mistake of thinking that he actually cared about me. Maybe that was down to me being somewhat of a naive teenager.

I wish that Erica would've told me the real reason for his absence last night instead of telling me he was upset which implied that he cared, when he so clearly doesn’t.

I keep looking over the texts and photo he sent me last night. I keep trying to excuse his behaviour. Maybe he’s scared- I would be. It’s a lot to deal with and it is frightening. The more I think about it, the more I try to excuse it, the more I realise that he’s just a bad person- that’s the harsh reality of it.

My eyes begin to fill with tears as I look over the messages and photo again. Even if i didn’t like someone I wouldn't do this. I wouldn't photograph them at their most vulnerable and be this heartless.

I heard a knock at my door before my dad strode in, unaware of my suffering. “Morning Ri!” he said, too chiper for this time in the morning in my opinion. “Come on, sleepyhead, It’s time to get up!” He announced, and I knew what he was about to do.

“Dad no!” I whined at him. I didn’t want him to see the tears that were now streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t want my parents, my sisters and brother to find out how badly I’ve messed up.

He didn't listen and pulled open my curtains allowing the sunlight to pour in. He turned around, his body language changing from being relaxed to alarmed at seeing my teary eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, perching on the end of my bed as I sat myself up.

“Nothing,” I sniffled. His eyebrow raised in question and concern. “I-” I wanted to tell someone about what happened last night but it felt like it was my fault. “I just had a nightmare,” I lie.

He gave me a sad smile. “Well, whatever it was about, it’s not real.”

“I know,” I nodded, wiping at my sore, puffy eyes. He seemed to buy it, he didn't ask any more questions and left me to change into my chosen outfit for the day.

Once I had changed, brushed my teeth and hair, I grabbed my phone and bag from my room then headed downstairs for some breakfast.

My parents, my two older sisters, Casey and Sally and my older brother, Josh, were all sitting at the table by the time I came down. I sat beside Josh since that was the only available seat at the packed table.

I leaned over to grab a piece of toast off the rack in the middle of the table and plastered it in some butter. Everyone else talked with one another but I stayed silent as I ate my toast and sipped at some juice.

My phone sat beside me. It kept pinging with notifications but we weren't allowed to use our phones at the table so I left it.

My eldest sister, Casey, looked over to me when my phone continuously went off for a couple minutes. “Someone’s popular,” she joked.

“Yeah,” I sigh, “I guess so.”

“What’s up? You don’t seem very happy?” My brother asked.

“I'm just tired. I didn’t sleep very well last night,” I explained, shrugging. My phone continued to go off so I picked it up with the intention of switching it off but got intrigued by all the notifications from twitter and instagram as well as some texts from my friends that littered my screen.

I decided to look at my texts first.

Luna: Hey, i’ve just seen the video...Why would anyone do that?

I creased my eyebrows: What video?

Rachel: I thought I’d let you know that there's a video of you having some kind of fit going around at the minute. Loads of people from school have seen it.

Monica: Are you okay? What happened at Ben’s last night?

Phoebe: I hope you’re okay. I just saw the video.

There are a few other texts from my friends but I decide to open up twitter to see what video they’re talking about. My face pales as I open up the app and immediately see what I went looking for.

Fuck

My mom finishes swallowing what’s in her mouth before speaking, interrupting me from looking at the rest of my messages and comments on the video. “How are you feeling this morning? You’re a little pale,” she mentioned.

“Fine,” I nod, switching my phone off. “I’m a little bit sore but I’m fine.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Ri?” Sally asks me. I nod- Of course, I’m not okay, I am now dreading going to school. Everyone knows.

I was dreading going in today anyway since Ben is in all my classes and I’d need to face him but...now apparently I’ve got to face the entire school.

“Yeah, I’m good,”I mumbled quietly. My mom nodded, I can tell by the look she gives me that she’s concerned but she doesn't push it.

“Have you taken your medication?” I nodded as I took a sip of my drink.

My dad glances down at his watch. “We better get going,” he announced.

I said goodbye to my mom, brother and sisters then headed out and into my dad's car.

The drive to school was quick. It was spent mainly in a comfortable silence. When we arrived I gave my dad a quick hug before getting out of the car and heading inside.

It’s a few hours into the day, my best friend Luna and I are now sitting in the cafeteria. Luna is scoffing down her lunch but I'm not hungry. People had been staring at me all day. Some had some empathy and said they were sorry about what the boys have done, while others encouraged their behaviour.

Luna is sitting opposite me on the bench where I’m not really paying attention to her, Ben and his friends are sitting close by and I can hear them laughing.

I look up to Luna when she touches my arm to get my attention. “Are you not gonna eat?”

I shake my head and push the tray away from me, “I’m not hungry.” It’s probably a mixture of things, not getting enough sleep often makes me not very hungry and sometimes a little bit sick, or it could be down to everyone in my school talking about me and laughing behind my back. Either way I don’t feel like eating.

You would think that a group of teenagers nearing adulthood would be able to tell right from wrong. The next few minutes go by painfully slow. Luna doesn’t try to make conversation- I’m thankful for that, I really don’t want to talk about it.

It’s just as Luna is finishing up her meal my stomach feels like it’s trying to do a backflip. I take in a deep breath.

Not here. Please not here.

Luna looks over to me with her eyebrows creased. “Are you okay?” I nodded. “Ri?” She questioned further, not convinced.

“I-I…” I start to say as my vision starts to blur. “I’m not-” I stutter as I unsteadily managed to get up to my feet.

Luna gets to her feet and comes around the bench to stand in front of me. “Riley, what’s wrong?”

“I’m...I’m not…” I stumbled backwards a little as the world began to spin and my arm starts to tingle. She stepped forward and grabbed under my arms to stop me falling backwards. “I’m not feeling well,” I managed to get out.

“Why don’t you sit down? I'll go and find a teacher.”

I shook my head at her suggestion. “N-No. I-I feel...I feel sick.”

“Okay,” she responded, calmly. “We’ll go to the toilet, yeah?”

“I need to-” I was trying to tell her that I need to lay down because I’m not steady on my feet and the world feels like it’s spinning at a million miles an hour. My knees buckle, Luna jumps forward and helps ease me down onto my knees.

I lean forward slightly. I placed my right palm flat on the floor but I can get the other one to do that so I leave it hanging by my side. The world around me spins and I puke.

I feel someone rubbing my back soothingly. “Okay, Okay. It’s okay, Ri.” I think that’s Luna but I’m not so sure.

I hear a loud noise. Like someone’s clapping. “She’s at it again!” The voice is echoey but I recognise it. It’s Ben.

(Luna’s POV) I’m rubbing circles along my best friends back as Ben, the biggest piece of shit in the school, is laughing and clapping along with his friends.

“Ben knock it off!”

My warning for him to stop goes unheeded as he continues. I’m really struggling to comprehend how anyone could act like this.

“She’s only doing it for attention,” he accused.

I turned to look at him shaking my head. “She’s not doing it for attention, you asshole!”

Riley begins to panic and tries to squirm away from me. “Riley, It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Riley fell onto her side, now unable to support herself. I help her to lay down onto her side. I slip off my jacket and place it under her head- this is a familiar routine. My dad has epilepsy, I've had to do this for him on a number of occasions.

Why isn’t a teacher or the nurse here yet?

“M scared,” Riley cries. I turned to look down at her.

“It’s okay. Just try and relax Ri. You’re okay.” Just as I finish my sentence Riley begins to seize and a couple of teacher’s and the school nurse rush in.

I grab my phone and start a timer then answer the nurses questions as a couple other teachers work on getting the other students out of the room to give Riley some privacy.

I looked around us as her seizure continued. I could see some students crowded around us with their phones out- filming it like it’s some kind of entertainment. The teachers managed to get them all to leave and turn their phones off.

It was two minutes later when her movement’s started to slow down as her seizure was stopping. When she was done the nurse made sure she was on her side and wiped away a bit of blood and spit that leaked out of her mouth. She then backed away from her a little bit so not crowd her when she woke up.

(Rileys POV) I have absolutely no idea where I am when I open my eyes. Nothing makes any sense. I can’t really see anything, it’s all just a big blob of colours blending into each other.

I’m trying to move but I can’t. My body feels like it’s being magnetized to the floor.

Why can’t I move?!

Slowly the mixed in colours start to separate and the round around me starts to become clearer. I still don’t understand where I am though. My mind is blank but screaming at the to escape from this place at the same time.

I’m scared.

I can see something crouched down beside me. That scares me, I can’t tell who it is! Nothing makes any sense whatsoever!

I continue to try and squirm away when I notice another one but my body really doesn't want to comply with my commands.

“Riley, can you hear me?” It’s then I realised that I couldn’t hear to begin with. Everything sounds weird, like my ears are filled with water. It's a female voice that I don’t recognize. I realise it’s coming from one of the figures near me.

Who is she?

“Riley?” Another female voice called. I recognize that one. I looked up at the figures as their facial features and other details about my surroundings became much clearer. I realise that My friend Luna is hovering above me and another lady who I think is the school nurse. I can’t be sure though my memory is a little foggy.

I look around the room and figure out that I'm in the cafeteria. “School?” I question.

“Yeah, we’re at school,” Luna answered. I nodded as I tried to sit myself up. I struggle but Luna helps me. I look around me; Why am I here? I don’t remember.

“W-What happened?”

“You had a seizure,” the nurse answered.

I nod. I don’t really understand what’s going on and so her explanation goes right over my head. A little bit of time passes and I ask the previous question again. They both patiently answer them and explain it all to me.

The school have decided to send me home after my stunt in the cafeteria. I’m now sitting in the nurse's office- It’s probably a good thing, I’m not feeling well enough to deal with the impending, inevitable backlash I'm probably going to receive after that. So many people saw...

According to Luna, she saw some people with their cells out recording it so...another embarrassing video was probably about to go circling around the school again.

My brother apparently was on the way to pick me up since my parents are both at work. I don’t need Josh to go into full blown protective big brother mode. All my siblings are quite a bit older than me. There’s nearly ten years between myself and Josh, Eight between Casey and I and six between me and Sally. All of them are too overprotective sometimes.

They had let Luna sit with me until my brother arrived. We both sat in an awkward silence while we waited.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Luna asked me politely.

“My parents, my sisters and my brother are so protective over me because of It and I- I guess I just wanted to be normal so I didn’t tell anyone that way none would look at me differently.”

“I get that but I’m your best friend.”

“ I should’ve told you. I know that now. We’re...still friends though right?”

She playfully nudges my shoulder, “Yes! Of course, we are.”

The minutes later and now I’m sitting in my brother’s car in the passenger seat. We’d been sitting in silence for a little while. I understand why he’s so agitated, it’s his day off work and his day has been interrupted because of me.

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as we pulled up at a red light. “You alright?” I ask. He nods. “I’m sorry.”

He turned to face me. “For?”

“Ruining your day. I didn’t know the school was going to call you.”

He turned to me and gave me a small smile. “It’s fine. You're my little sis. I’d do anything for you.”

I crinkle my nose in disgust. “You’ve gone soft,” I accuse.

“Have not,” He replied, childishly.

I turned to him laughing, “I’ll let you let you have this one; only because you’re my ride home.”

“Smart girl,” he nodded. I rolled my eyes at him. “There’s erm...there’s something i need to talk to you about when we get home.”

“Okay...sounds ominous,” I chuckled nervously.

When we arrived home Josh told me to go and sit down at the table. He stood, with his arms crossed across his chest. “Whats up?” I asked, unnerved by his behaviour.

He took out his phone from his back pocket and pulled something up onto the screen. He set it down on the table in front of me. I swallowed thickly when I noticed that it’s the video Ben took of me last night.

“How did you..?”

“John’s little brother goes to your school, he saw it, told John, he told me. Why didn’t you tell me, Ri?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know... I- I shouldn't have gone to his house last night, mom and dad were right it was a mistake. Maybe if I told him about it we could’ve avoided this altogether. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” He told me. It feels like it is though. “Another thing: you told me you took your medication this morning. You didn’t. Why didn't you take them?”

“They don’t do anything. They don’t stop the seizures so what’s the point of taking them?”

“Riley,” he said in an authoritative tone. “You have to take them. I understand your frustration but if you continue to work with your doctor to figure out what the best dosages are then you’ll be fine. It’ll take time but you still have to take them. Promise me you’ll take them.”

“I promise.” I haven't been completely truthful with Josh. Yes, I’m annoyed that they do literally nothing but that’s not the reason I’m not going to take them. I knew the reason I didn't take them but I was hardly about to tell my brother. I don’t need him getting involved.

(Karol’s POV) The doctors had to stop Riley’s seizure with some medication. It didn’t last nearly as long as it had yesterday morning but it didn't look like it was going to stop on its own and nobody wanted to risk it.

It never gets easier. I’ve seen her have a seizure so many times and it still breaks my heart. She’s my little girl and I feel so helpless to protect her.

She had woken up a little while ago but had fallen asleep soon after- drowsy from the lorazepam the doctor’s had given her to stop her seizure.

Liam and Micheal were speaking with her doctor so it was just me and her. I keep going over what she asked me earlier. I didn’t really understand at the time. I just wanted her to relax because i know if she’s tense before the seizure starts she tends to be sore afterwards. Her speech was so slurred that it was difficult to understand. If I could make it stop I would. I’d take it away from her and give it to myself. I’d do anything to make sure my little girl is okay.

She eyes fluttered open. “Hey, sleepyhead,” I greeted quietly. She turned her head to look at me as she wiped at her tried eyes through a yawn.

“Hi.”

I let a little time go by so Riley could wake up a little bit before I asked my question. I leaned forward in the chair, resting my elbows on my thighs. “Riley, before your seizure you asked me to make it stop. What did you mean?”

I’ve given her time to wake up a little but she still seems really tired. “I don’t remember,” she answered drowsily. Her eyes started to flutter shut again. I stood up from my chair and leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Get some sleep.”

I go to walk away but she weakly grabs onto my hand with her own. “Don’t go.”

“Okay,” I nod and sit back down. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Love you,” she mumbled. I reached over to take her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I love you too.”

#my story #tw seizure #tw blood #tw bullying #the royal roamnce #choices trr #king liam #riley brooks #liam x mc #liam x riley #trr #soheila-1996 writes

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xbrittaniax · 4 years

Text

FNaF: The Rules have changed ch.2

They both made their quiet trek to the front of the building then came to an immediate stop when they saw Jeremy was smiling at them, Uh oh, What did he do?

“Why are you smiling like that…?” They asked cautiously.

“Uhm… Come closer, Please.” Jeremy said meekly.

Phone guy and Mike eyed him suspiciously but got closer to him.

Jeremy threw his arms around both of them in a hugging manner. “Th-Thanks for keeping me calm last night.”

“Hey, No problem Kid.” Mike smiled and ruffled Jeremy’s hair. “We’re all in this together..” “Yeah.” Scott agreed as he slipped out of the group hug. “Now Then. I need to head back home before… Um.. Before i pass out from exhaustion.”

Mike quirked an eyebrow at him. “Scott? Are you alright? You look anxious…”

“O-Oh Me? A-Anxious? Pfft… I don’t… Um… Get anxious…” He responded nervously.

"Riiiight... Somehow i doubt that." Mike snickered.

“If you’re not anxious then can i clue you in on why i wanted to see you guys?” Jeremy asked, His evil smile slowly returning. Scott gave a hesitant nod and Jeremy walked over to him, Whispering something in his ear.

The tension that was written on Scott’s face was now in the air as a smirk found it's way into his features. They both turned to Mike chuckling at his confusion.

“What?” Mike asked, Scott took a step closer, smiling as he spoke.

“You knoooow…” He drew out the word as he took another step. “You just started last night, Meaning you’re new here.”

“And we haven’t… properly ‘Welcomed’ You yet.” Jeremy smiled as he also took a few steps, Mike began to back up once they got closer.

“Yeah you did… You guys welcomed me when the shift started.” Mike replied.

“Oh but That was only part One.” Scott said lowly, Mike knew where this was heading, He took off sprinting towards the door but Scott was much faster than him, He ended up tackling him to the floor within seconds.

Mike was already a giggling mess, He didn’t know what he found so funny about the situation but for some reason his mind registered it as hilarious.

“What are you laughing about? We haven’t done anything yet..” Scott teased. Mike himself wasn’t entirely sure, So he made something up.

“I’m picturing you with a phone for a head.” He giggled more as Scott scoffed.

“Ha-ha… Very funny.” He rolled his eyes, He couldn’t help but smirk though Because Mike’s giggling was a bit silly.

“How would that work?” He snickered more. “Could you make calls with your mind?

Without any warning he dug his fingers into Mike’s sides. “That’s not funny.”

Mike let out a shriek as he squirmed around laughing on the floor. “HAhahahahahaha! It was so worth it! Hahahahaha!”

After a few minutes Jeremy finally recovered from his cackling and joined Scott and Mike on the floor. Mike was panting as Scott had just stopped tickling him. “Come on guys… Is this really necessary?”

“Yes~” Jeremy purred playfully, he wiggled his fingers threateningly as he hovered them over Mike’s stomach. He groaned as a few giggles escaped his lips.

“Oh come on guys.. Why do you have toho do this to mehe… I Hehe got caught by Freddy on my first night..”

Scott smirked as he did the same as Jeremy, Only he hovered his hands over Mike’s ribs. “While that is true… You were making fun of us all night, You even hoped that i would get caught by them.”

“Yeah because I wanna hear what your laugh sounds like.” Mike said. he quickly reached over and gave his knee a squeeze.

Scott yelped as he began tickling Mike’s ribs quickly. “Oh no You don’t!”

“Shots fired!” Jeremy laughed, slipping his hands underneath Mike’s shirt and tickling his stomach.

Mike squirmed under them and laughed hysterically, He latched onto Jeremy’s side and began tickling it, Drawing bubbly laughter from the blonde Night guard. He used his other hand to continuously squeeze Scott’s knee Which was obviously a sensitive spot as he kept trying to move away from his hand, Unfortunately for him Mike had a good grip on it..

“Scohohohohott maahahahahake him stahahahahaaap!” Jeremy squealed as Mike somehow managed to get his hand under Jeremy’s shirt and proceeded to scribble his fingers all over his side.

“I can’t really…. do... anything…” Scott struggled to say, He was trying so hard not to laugh that he could barely get any sentences out. He stopped tickling Mike and grabbed his wrists, Then held them down against the floor. “Got it.”

“Thanks..” Jeremy panted, Once calm he slipped his hands back under Mike’s shirt and began tickling his ribcage, This action drew a shriek from Mike’s lips as he struggled to get his hands free, However this was not an easy task as The tickling was taking his strength away.

“JEREMHYHYHYHY! Please! Stahahahahahahap! AHAHAHAHAHA!” He cried out, Jeremy teased as he had kept tickling his ribcage. "Aww, And here i thought you were tough~"

“Hmm, Looks like someone’s having fun~” A voice said from the door, Scott immediately groaned and released Mike’s arms.

Mike curled up into a ball as Jeremy withdrew his hands. “Morning Vincent.” Jeremy smiled.

“How long were you standing there?” Scott mumbled.

“Morning.” As he walked past them to his locker he ruffled Jeremy’s hair and shot a smirk to Phone guy and Mike. “Long enough.”

“Oh, So you’re Vincent... “ Mike thought aloud, Having recovered from the attack.

“Yes, That would be Vincent…” Scott sighed. “The man who’s never early to work Except for today.”

“Because i needed to catch you before you left.” Vincent finished putting his things in his locker and turned to face them. a huge smile played on his lips. “So on anyone on the night shift’s day off, I’m supposed to fill in…”

Phone guy let out a groan. “And since the last time you were on night shift was two years ago…”

“That’s right.” he grinned. “You’ll have to show me the ropes again.”

“This is why i wanted to leave so badly.” Scott sighed to the others. “When are you supposed to tag along with me?”

“Whenever you get the others acquainted.” he shrugged. "So probably in a few nights."

Scott sighed and hung his head in despair, Jeremy patted his back as Mike finally decided to ask his question. “What’s so horrible about Vincent? He seems okay to me.”

“Don’t answer that.” Vincent mumbled, shifting his gaze from the animatronics to the three night guards. Scott couldn’t help but snicker at the out of character mumbling from Vince. “What’s not horrible about him?”

“I said don’t answer that.”

“Um, We better get out of here before Fritz shows up, He’ll never let us leave.” Jeremy giggled sheepishly.

“If he ever shows up.” Vince shook his head. “The man is always late.”

“Yeah that sounds like Fritz.” Scott smiled as he stood up. “I’m getting out of here, See you guys tonight-- Except you, Vince.” he narrowed his eyes at the purple haired man.

He grinned. “You know, You say you hate me, Yet you call me ‘Vince’ instead of ‘Vincent’...”

“Shut up.” Scott promptly left, The other night guards said their goodbye’s, And followed suit.

---

The time was ten o’clock, Which mean’t it was closing time. Vince and the rest of second shift was cleaning up the place before they left, With the history of the building they found it hard to hire help, So Vincent and Fritz normally just stayed over to fill in for the empty spots. Fritz normally stayed in the office and kept an eye on surveillance tapes while Purple guy stayed out on the floor.

During clean up, Fritz seemingly accidentally bumped one of the buttons on the soundboard, Which played Balloon boy’s laugh in the main room. Vince jumped at the sound, causing him to drop the glass he had just picked up, Making it shatter into a million pieces on the tiled floors. He slowly looked up at the security camera with a glare. “Seriously Fritz? That’s not funny.”

“Sorry Vince.” He said over the intercom apologetically. “I was trying to turn it off… I thought i pressed the power button?”

He sighed and shook his head, proceeding to pick up the broom and sweep up the glass. When he heard Balloon boy’s laugh again. He shot another glare up at the camera. “Fritz!”

“Sorry! I really am pressing the right button…”

Vincent put the broom down and went back to the guard station. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Look for yourself.”

He came in the room and looked down at the soundboard as Fritz hit a button, The same laugh played for a third time. Purple guy was confused, Fritz had indeed hit the power button, But it didn’t turn off. “I can’t turn it off.” Fritz sighed, leaning back into the chair in annoyance.

“Alright, Lemme give it a shot, Go help Tania and the others finish up.” Vince said decisively, Fritz nodded and headed for the main room.

“Now then, Whichever one of you is locking up the power, Stop it.” He said sternly to no one in particular, He tried to power down again, but got the same response. He suddenly heard clanking coming from down the hall, His blood ran cold as he realized which room it was coming from… It was coming from the safe room that had been boarded up.

He hesitantly went towards the room, The sounds got louder the closer he got.

“Vincent, What are you doing?” Scott’s voice came from behind him, Vince quickly turned around to face him. “You hear that right? The spring body animatronic… I think it's…” he trailed off, too focused on the sound.

Scott took his coat off and threw it over the chair, Then followed Vince to the dead end of the hall. “Is it… Active?” he pondered out loud.

“Wouldn’t that be impossible?” Purple guy murmured. “It can only be active if someone activates it.”

“I know, I know…” Scott whispered, trying to listen closely. “We thought the animatronics coming after us would be impossible too, Didn’t we?”

“Valid point.”

Something slammed against the other side of the wall, Making the wooden boards shake a bit.

“S-Spring Bonnie! Stop it!” Phone guy said sternly, But the animatronic repeated this action, Not paying any heed to the veteran.

“Springtrap stop!” Vincent ordered. “Springtrap De-Activate.”

A few more clanks came from the other side, And eventually it went quiet. “How did you do that?” Scott was confused. “Also, SpringTrap?”

“I used to wear him years ago Remember? Corporate had my voice programmed into his power board… Though i didn’t think he’d actually stop…” He looked to the side. “I nicknamed him Springtrap, Because he always tried to trap me whenever i wore him… Then… well, You know… With the sister location…”

“Yeah, I remember that…” Scott quietly acknowledged.

“Anyway, I’m gonna finish up and get out of here.” Purple guy shrugged. “See you tomorrow night~” he winked with a smirk.

“Gee thanks… And here i thought you were gonna end this on a serious note.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. As Vincent’s footsteps got further away, Phone guy sighed fearfully. He carefully examined the boards that were now damaged and loose. “Heh… I-I almost kind of wish that Vince was with me tonight…” He then realized what he said and quickly shook his head. “Oh god, I’m delirious… Actually feeling safe with that idea? I need sleep more than i thought.”

He glanced at the boards one last time. “Still, I hope they last for at least one more night… Because i don’t think Springtrap will halt and go back at 6…” He let out another shaky sigh and went to each Guard room to prepare them for the night shift.

#tickle fic #tickling #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt #jeremy fitzgerald #phoneguy #purpleguy #nightguard #Jeremy and scott have an evil alliance

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

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Confirmation

When a strange mark shows up on Aziraphale's palm, the angel takes it as a great gift from an even greater source. But Crowley may not see it the same way ...

When Aziraphale first sees it, he thinks it’s a smudge.

He’s been filing taxes, filling out paperwork, and inventorying books all day. Those are all tasks he can miracle, of course, but he doesn’t need to draw attention to himself over frivolous things. Besides, there’s something relaxing, and oddly satisfying, about tackling the minutiae of daily life by hand the way mortals do – no magic involved.

It catches his eye once, maybe twice, but he thinks nothing of it, wiping his hands with a handkerchief and going back about his business, periodically glancing at the clock to read the time.

Nearly five in the afternoon.

His demon should be by soon.

Giddy as a newlywed, he scampers to get ready for Crowley’s arrival.

He shelves the rest of the books, tidies up the papers, and with a flourish of his hand, freshens himself up. He steals a second to examines his hands, checking to see how much damage stacking his latest acquisitions have done to his nails, when it finally hits him that the mark on his hand – dark black with a strange gold shimmer, dead center of his right palm – isn’t just a smudge.

It’s a name.

Anthony J Crowley.

And Aziraphale hasn’t a clue how it got there.

At first he thinks it must be a trick by the demon himself – some new dramatic way of announcing his arrival, which should be (Aziraphale checks the clock again) within the next twenty minutes. Aziraphale puts his left hand over it, assessing it for traces of demonic power, but there isn’t any - no Evil energy within it whatsoever.

What Aziraphale feels in the letters imprinted on his skin is love.

Only love.

And suddenly, Aziraphale realizes he knows this.

Isaiah 49:15 – 16 I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.

Love has been used to write Crowley’s name upon his hand.

Not his angel name. Not his demon name.

But the name Crowley chose.

Aziraphale’s heart swells. He takes it as a sign. No matter what has happened before or since, what Aziraphale and Crowley have together is not a mistake. It’s not sacrilege.

It’s not wrong.

And though he doesn’t claim to know God’s plan, maybe, just maybe, their union such as it is, has been acknowledged by God.

The sense of relief that fills Aziraphale creates a blinding light around him of pure joy.

His first instinct is to ambush Crowley the second he walks in and show him, but this name on his hand has more implications than just the love he and Crowley share. It means that God has not forgotten him, and that might not be of any comfort to Crowley.

Crowley doesn’t want to be a demon. There are aspects of it that appeal to him, namely in the power and immortality departments. But he doesn’t want to be an angel, either. If he could find a middle ground where both sides left him alone indefinitely, he’d choose that.

But this - this could mean something huge in the future that he may not appreciate. If nothing else, it takes his entire past, the honor he once held and the pain of being cast out, and shoves it in his face. Being around Aziraphale probably already reminds him of everything he’s lost.

This might end up like lemon juice in an open wound, one that refuses to heal.

Crowley doesn’t need God’s acceptance. He’s said as much a hundred times. But not until now did it dawn on Aziraphale that he may not want it, even if it’s offered to him freely.

Aziraphale doesn’t want to lose Crowley because of this. He can’t lose him now. Not after 6000 years!

He has two choices – none of them ideal: lose Crowley or dishonor God.

He chooses the latter. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before (according to Gabriel). Why should today be any different?

So Aziraphale hides the name.

He starts with simple logic and scrubs his hands with the strongest soap he has, but that doesn’t help at all. It actually makes things worse. With his hands so clean they’re nearly white, the black mark on his palm becomes a beacon, so crystal clear he can read it in the reflection of his shop window from ten feet away!

He lengthens his shirt sleeves so that the cuffs fall over his hands, but no matter how many times he miracles them, they seem to ride up just enough to uncover his palms.

He starts wearing gloves - leather ones he’s owned since the early 19th century. They’re conspicuous as heck, and earn him some weird looks from customers and Crowley alike, but they do they trick … for about a week. By the following Friday, the palm has worn through, but only on the one hand.

The hand with the name written on it.

The name prevails, and he begins to realize, it wants to be seen.

So he resigns himself to telling Crowley, explain how this happened and what it could mean. He wants to have it planned out, do it right, reassure him in every way possible.

But for the name on his palm, he’s taking too long.

It wants to be known, and it goes about it violently.

And with Crowley’s help.

But to be fair to the powers above, Aziraphale asks for it.

“Crowley, dear, can you help me open these boxes?” Aziraphale groans when his gloved fingers fumble the box cutter for the fifth time. “I can’t seem to … urgh … get a proper grip on this blasted thing!”

“Why don’t you miracle them open?” Crowley asks, busy reorganizing Aziraphale’s books to his own liking. “Or take off those stupid gloves you’ve been wearing non-stop? You know, for someone who pampers their hands as much as you do, those musty old things can’t be good for your skin.”

“I have … ngh … my reasons.” Aziraphale sighs. “Please? Then after this, we can take a break. Go to lunch. My treat.”

“Fine. But I’m picking the restaurant,” Crowley says, popping the box cutter off the ground with the toe of his shoe and catching it without even looking. “Someplace with a no glove policy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Aziraphale bends at the waist to hold the bulging, uneven box steady for Crowley to make a clean cut without slicing through the contents inside. “I don’t think such a place exists.”

“I could always miracle them off you,” Crowley says sternly. “I don’t like that you’re keeping things from me.”

“I’m not keeping anything from you,” Aziraphale lies … badly. And he knows it. “Besides, you wouldn’t do that because you’re not that cruel.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Crowley mumbles, sticking the tip of the box cutter into the five inches of sloppily applied tape. “On the count of three, all right?”

“All right.”

“One … two …”

But Crowley doesn’t make it to three. The blade flies through the tape, slicing through as if of its own free will, straight to the other side … and through the palm of Aziraphale’s gloved hand.

“Shit shit shit!” Crowley drops the box cutter and reaches for Aziraphale’s wrist, but Aziraphale pulls it away.

“It’s okay,” he says, sucking in a breath. “It’s only a scratch.”

“Scratch my ass! I’m sorry for this, but …” Crowley snaps his fingers and the gloves disappear.

Aziraphale gasps. “Crowley!”

“Don’t Crowley me! You’ve been acting downright bizarre this past week, so excuse me for wanting to get to the bottom of what’s going on with you! I happen to care about you, you idiot!”

“I appreciate that,” Aziraphale says, dodging and weaving through the crowded space to avoid Crowley’s eyes. “I really do! But I have this handled. I promise!”

“It’s not about you having it handled, it’s about you keeping secrets! Secrets I suspect may be dangerous if you’re this eager not to tell me!”

Aziraphale searches his shop, trying to find a way to clean up the mess, seal the wound, and hide it from view in one fell swoop without Crowley seeing. When he comes up with a plan, it’s a second too late. Crowley predicted Aziraphale’s next move, guarding the door to the lavatory before Aziraphale even thinks to go there. Aziraphale spots a possible solution – another set of gloves lying on his desk. It’ll cost him a valuable second to yank them on, but after he does, he may be able to bless them so that Crowley can’t miracle them away, not using demonic magic.

It’s a little underhanded, but so was miracling away his gloves in the first place.

Desperate to be done with this, Aziraphale swipes his uninjured hand over the wound to clear away the blood, but when he reaches for the gloves, his hand turns and the name shines, even with his fingers curled over it. No miracle can cloak it, and he’s not fast enough to hide it. Crowley launches at him, reaching him in three strides of his long legs. He grabs Aziraphale’s wrist before Aziraphale can squirrel it out of sight, and just like that, the name gets its wish.

Crowley sees it.

Crowley knows.

“What … what is this?” he asks, raising the angel’s hand to his eyes and examining the mark from all angles. He runs his thumb over it, checking to see if it’s a human made tattoo or something more, thoroughly baffled by its presence.

“I … I didn’t do this,” Aziraphale says, not knowing before he does how insulting it will sound falling from his trembling lips. “I mean … it just showed up one day, and I …”

“This is what you’ve been hiding?” Crowley shakes his head, his voice sullen, laced with disappointment. “Why didn’t you show me this sooner?”

“I wanted to but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to hurt you. Or make you angry. But it’s a good thing, Crowley! It’s a really good thing … I assume.”

Crowley raises a fiery brow at him. “You don’t know?”

“I know scripture. I can guess what it means, but I’m not entirely sure I’m right.”

“So, how do you know it’s good?”

“Because I feel it in my heart,” Aziraphale says, his words rising up to reach Crowley’s ears with his eyes following, watching his skeptical demon soften. “And my heart hasn’t led me astray yet. This mark – it’s full of love, nothing else. Just love.”

Crowley runs his fingers over it to see if it will shift, or perhaps burn him. “I don’t want to assume, either,” he says, covering the mark with his hand, holding it gently against his palm, trying to feel it against his skin, “but I think it means I can do this …” His free hand he puts to Aziraphale’s cheek, running his thumb along his cheekbone. Aziraphale watches Crowley move towards him with curiosity and awe, relishing the change in his expression, how his face seems to go from stark angles to subtle planes as he gets closer.

When their lips touch, that light of joy that’s been simmering beneath Aziraphale’s skin with the arrival of that name shines so brightly, Crowley has to shut his eyes. He breathes in deep, breathes Aziraphale in as he pulls him closer. Heat surrounds them, starting at the point where there palms touch, joining at the place where their lips meet, weaving in and out of them, then in to one another, like a fine golden thread sewing them together. It flows up every one of Aziraphale’s limbs and settles in his heart, filling him with a sensation of peace and happiness so sweet it’s almost too overwhelming to bear. He hears Crowley gasp, hears him hold his breath, then feels him jerk away, as if something just occurred to him that he needs to share before he forgets.

But when Aziraphale looks at him again, he’s stunned speechless, his usual mask of cynicism transformed to something a little more … dare he say … angelic.

“Are you okay?”

“I …” Crowley swallows “… yes?”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.” Crowley flexes the hand pressed against his angel’s palm. He turns it over, expectantly, splaying his fingers wide for Aziraphale to see. A mark blossoms there, too, the script flowing before their eyes as if written by an invisible pen, the ink white and silver instead of black and gold. And it reads:

Aziraphale

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #frankie writes

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aboyandhisstarship · 4 years

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Kindergarten AU: car crash

Thanks to @dysphoric-artist for the prompt and proof reading

still written in a diary style and () are still kid adding his thoughts in after the fact

anyway without further ado lets hop into it

Ok now, you may not unreasonably say something along the lines of “Mike, you have literally died, hundreds of times. A good chuck of which happened when you were just a kid…how are you not 8 different kinds of traumatized.” And I thank you for your concern (weird guy who is reading my diary…really who does that you would have to broke into my room and stole this thing…which is uncool in every state) to be frank, I am traumatized…but I can’t really tell anyone why, what am I going to tell a headshrinker?

Headshrinker: so Mike…why don’t you talk to me about the tragic events at your kindergarten….”

Me: *bursts out laughing* which one…the time I got killed by the principle…or bugs, or monty, or Cindy…or the janitor…or those weird monster things (this would go on for some time)

Headshrinker: uhhh, I think you’re crazy…off to the crazy house! (ok in fairness I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work this way…but I’m not exactly keen to find out.)

“Ok Mike” you may retort, “They might think you’re crazy…but you could be a superhero! Like the Flash, or Batman! They could call you….Reapto!” (First off Random guy, Reapto? that’s the best you can come up with?) I tried that once to be the big hero…it can be rather hit or miss.

High school parking lot:

Nugget said with a smile “if friend Mike, Friend Carla and the Pretty Lilly would be willing to accompany Nugget, we will indulge in some super…”

Nugget was interrupted by the loudest car screech I ever heard, my eyes went wide as felt massive pain and the air forced out of my chest.

I shoot up hyperventling as my alarm went off screaming a little bit too loudly “FUCK!”

My mother bless her soul, responded with an “I know you don’t want to go to school today young man but I will not tolerant such language.” (yea that was embarrassing)

I shook my self-off, and considered putting on a tally before deciding that it was a one off death adding to my journal *Don’t go to the parking lot after school Dummy* (normally I leave myself notes like this…and normally they are a lot more helpful, like don’t mix the red and green flowers it blows up the room you know useful stuff)

Hallway, My high school:

I had been glancing at my watch about 4 times and Carla (Perceptive as she is) finally snapped “goddamn it Mike you got a date or something?”

I smiled awkwardly “what me no!?”

Lillie frowned “alright you are sketchy…”

Nugget nodded “friend Mike is definitely hiding something.”

A second later a car came crashing into the school slamming through several walls, nailing all 3 of us I paused briefly musing “man I didn’t think the school was this badly built,” Before hitting the ground hard.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm and groaned grabbing my pillow throwing my face into it saying “not again!”

Before throwing himself out of bed grabbing his marker he added two marks onto my skin

5 loops later:

Ok I didn’t know the school was this badly built, guess what no matter where I was I got taken out by that car, the bathroom, Boom, the library, boom…I even skipped school once…I may have gotten grounded but I laughed thinking I had in fact won, only to get hit by a different car crossing the road, and looping. (I sometimes wonder if the universe hates me…)

But before I died I did get some valuable intel, I saw the death count (the entire school by the way…yea after this I wrote a strongly worded letter to the school board…again) but also the names of the folks in the car, two high school seniors…(now for the sake of timelines I can’t tell you who they are, but mike they didn’t die! Yea yea…just trust me the less anyone knows about the other timelines the better off we all are, tried that once when I first started looping…the planet literally exploded, so no names) so these teens who I dub….Bob and Bertha crash and kill the whole school…and I need to find out why.

So I approached the gang saying “alright sit down.”

Monty asked “what this about mike.” His voice clearly impaintent

so I lifted my arm showing the tally’s, that was it they were all ears as I explained “alright in exactly.” I glanced at my watch “4 and half hours, a car comes crashing into school and kill literally everyone, we need to stop that so ideas?”

Jerome proposed “maybe tell them?”

Buggs shook his head “real high and mighty types won’t listen to us.”

Lilly sighed “well they crashed into the building…so they clearly were not leaving it…”

Billy nodded “that’s right, that means they left are coming back for someone or something…we figure out what and bing bang boom.”

I pointed out “has it literally ever been that easy?”

Ted smiled “me and penny can think about cars, figure out what caused it.” Quickly blushing

Penny also blushed “I would love to Teddy…”

Felix cleared his throat “perhaps me and Cindy can get close to them ?”

Cindy smiled brightly (she had grown out of her bitchiness, but she was natural born queen bee, even if she was cool with us all the snobs and assholes in school love her.) “I can reach out…maybe find out what they have going on and more intel.”

I nodded “right find out what we can but tell me before it happens, so I can write it down.”

Everyone responded “right!”

I spent most of the loop with Monty and Carla using their connections to figure out if they were getting any drugs or other fun stuff to explain there “Skillful” driving (got em….yea ok not the best burn)

Loop 12th:

I woke up with another groan “If I have to read another book about cars I am going to lose it!”

He glanced at his notes the car (a 66 Camaro…I swear those two are like a couple form the 60’s) and the other intel he had gathered from the others (they had indeed been indulging in drugs those bad bad boys and girls…ok I’m not one to talk, seeing the number of crimes I have technically committed…but those were other timelines…and you know what let’s not go down that rabbit hole) but the issue was simple, they had indeed nought some weed from Carla and monty’s secretive network (I never asked) but had not in fact gotten it yet, so the question still stood as to what exactly caused it.

Nugget hole:

The Lair (Ozzy wanted to call it that) is what we call our base of operation’s, I have been spending my time shooting down ideas that we already tried and smiling with evil glee whenever I make ted and penny work together (honestly I want to yell make out already whenever I see them) but then it hit us, instead of stopping the car crash maybe we should stop them leaving.

Now mike, you are likely saying, I literally thought of that after like the third loop, first off no you didn’t you liar, (seeing as we didn’t even know who they were then) also, this loop was different normally there are multiple things that need doing to affect a change in the timeline, so it is almost never that easy (ohh jee mister principle, the star athlete and his girl are going to skip class and kill us all ohh geee, yea real convincing huh?) there was of course the factor, that our group (ok just me) were not exactly popular around school or town, they called us the kinder busters (pretty badass name right?...yea I don’t dig it either) so people consider us bad luck (to be fair…we did end up at two schools run by crazy kidnappers in a row…if that is not unlucky I don’t know what is.)so we needed a couple of people that will actually be believed, now 3 guesses of who my friends who Is the most likely to believed about that kind of thing?

Cindy? Well no seeing as she has her queen bee rep they may think that she is “fronting” (there words not mine…I shuddered just thinking about them trying to street)

Bugs? (HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHA *snort* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA…wait your serious… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA)

Carla or Monty (better, but no joy they are bit to up to something…we need purist faces.)

Ok by now you have either guess correctly (good job!) or are yelling at the page, “stop teasing me mike and tell me!”

And naturally the answer is Ted and Penny, (I mean have you seen those faces! Who could say no to them?!)

Of course I had to convince them to do it.

Nugget hole:

Ted asked “are you sure about this?”

I smiled “of course I am…ninty percent sure this will work.”

Penny smiled “relax Teddy this will be fine.”

I pulled out 5 dollars “here you go get yourselves some ice cream afterwards.”

Ted pointed out “you know I’m a billionaire right…”

Penny took the five dollars saying “deal! Come on Teddy.”

Now you dear reader may be sitting there thinking “that was easy, that’s it, what no boss fight, no dramatic showdown, no sweet groundhog day style montage where you do whatever you want?” (that was happened…more on that later)

My rebuttal to that dear sir, is screw you let me have this, alright most of time when I start looping I have to fight monsters and a whole thing so I think I earned a nice break, but you might be sitting thinking “that was anti-climactic! Did Ted and Penny at least go on a date!?”

My answer to that is a yes… and no, you see both told me (under the promise to never tell a soul after the loop) they also sadly made me promise not tell the other person, now you may say Mike…after the loop they would not remember, you can pull a sneaky and just tell them that they like each other, and while you are right I don’t for a couple of reasons, number one being I keep my promises, number 2 is they would think I am messing with them (I know right those oblivious idoits.)

But sadly this journal is not a relationship journal of ted and penny (sorry guys, but this supposed to be a record of loops) but I will quietly disclose that they may have been a kiss on the cheek (I screamed I tell you) of course they are still claiming to be friends in front of us but I don’t buy it…anyway I should proably end this entry…

So thanks for reading? (I mean you are reading a private journal…so I don’t know why you are reading this)

Mike June 26 20XX

#kindergarten game #nugget kindergarten #monty kindergarten #ted kindergarten #carla kindergarten #penny kindergarten #lilly kindergarten #Ted X Penny #Kid Kindergarten #Cindy Kindergarten #as always feed back and prompts are welcome #this verse is really fun to write for so fire em my way

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imaginebnhaomegaverse · 5 years

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Ohh I love this request! Poly relationships are so cute, especially with these two!

This was written kinda in a rush (especially towards the end. Can you tell?).

Sorry if it’s bad!

Omega Aizawa Shota x Gender-neutral Alpha S/O x Omega Yamada Hizashi

“Are you ready?” You smiled politely, nodding at the driver. Your fingers drummed against your thigh as the car manoeuvred out of the airport carpark, watching the other cars speeding past as your own limo sped down the highway.

To put it simply, you were one of the top heroes in Japan. You’d gone abroad to America to gain more experience (you were thirty, but it’s never too late to gain more experience!) and you’d been overseas for two months. Your public arrival date was next month, but just for the fun of it, you’d decided to come back early, specifically for one reason.

Your omegas. Your amazing, talented, lovable, cute and absolutely terrific mates who were also Pro-Heroes just like you, and they worked as teachers in UA high. You’d wanted to surprise them. It’s been so long since you’d seen them, and you’d felt absolutely terrible about it.

A guilty frown made it to your lips as you wondered how badly their heats must have gone without you, without their alpha.

Slowly, your surroundings melted into more familiar ones. Your inner alpha was crooning at the thought of reuniting with your husbands, and your frown melted into a smile as excitement glinted in your eyes.

Thankfully, the airport in which you landed at was close to the school, so it didn’t take too long for your limo to stop in front of the school gates. You’d called Principal Nezu when you had landed to tell him about your arrival and how you’d wanted to meet your mates, and he’d promised to let you into the school and not announce your presence in the country to anyone.

The security sensors over the archway disappeared, and your vehicle slowly entered the school grounds.

“You can leave. I’ll call you when I need to be picked up.” Your driver nodded as you exited the car, and you paid no attention to it as it drove away, too busy running your hands through your hair to make sure it looked presentable as you jogged up the stairs. You’d dressed in a cloak as you stepped off the aeroplane so your identity wouldn’t be revealed to the public, and it had messed up your hair quite a bit.

“Okayokayokayokayokay... um... it’s noon so that means, uh...” You tried to remember the school timetable, your brows furrowed as you tried to recall what classes your mates taught at this time of the day.

Thankfully, you didn’t need to remember, as you heard a choked gasp from behind you. The light fruity smell of a familiar omega was enough to make you spin around, a toothy grin on your face as you came face-to-face with Hizashi, who stood gaping at you as papers fluttered to the ground around him.

“[N-Name]?” You could hear his voice shake, and you rushed forward at the same time he did, wrapping your arms around the giddy and certainly bawling form of your mate.

“[Name], alpha...!” The blond laughed shakily into your chest as you nuzzled into his neck. “You’re home!”

“Well, I’m at school actually.” Your voice was muffled as you got busy in trying to find a good place to place your mark on his neck, laughing as your arm was smacked by Hizashi. “I’m kidding. I’m with you, so I am home.”

“Th- ah!” Your teeth sunk into the swollen scent glands on your mate’s neck, enjoying the way that he whimpered in pleasure. You sucked at the slightly bleeding wound that you created, laughing lowly as Hizashi rubbed against you to cover himself in your scent.

“Where’s Shota?” Your eyes glanced up at a nearby security camera, which had turned away to give you two some privacy. Hizashi was grinning widely, bouncing in his spot.

“Let’s go, I can’t wait to see his reaction when he sees you!” You grunted as he grasped your hand and raced forward, chuckling under your breath. You two weaved through the school corridors, and you waved at the students that you passed, who were all gawking at you, especially because you were covered in Hizashi’s scent.

Finally, the two of you stopped in front of Class 1-A, and you grew giddy. You could see your mate hunched over the teacher’s desk through the glass on the door, and you had no time to prepare as Hizashi excitedly threw open the door.

“Mic, what have I told you about disrupting the-” Shota’s words died in his throat as he saw you leaning against the doorframe, an adoring grin on your face as you watched him go off at Hizashi.

“... [Name]...?” Shota’s class was gawking at the Pro-Hero at the door who was covered in Present Mic’s scent and was that a bond mark on the Voice Hero’s neck?!

They nearly rioted as their usually tired and uncaring homeroom teacher sped to the door and pushed both the heroes at the door outside.

Mic had to stand covering the door as you were aggressively pinned on the wall by your other omega, who had released an aggravated whine as he pushed his lips onto yours.

“Why the fuck did you not notify me about you coming today?” Shota was seething, but he didn’t complain as you went for his bond mark to renew it.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” You answered innocently, laughing at his furious but flustered expression.

“Um... guys, can we go somewhere private?” Your head snapped up at Hizashi’s begging voice, sighing as you saw him trying to keep the door shut as the kids behind it tried to push it open.

“Babe, staff room?” You offered, and Shota sighed, massaging his temple.

“Only because you don’t smell like me, and it’s pissing me off.” Hizashi scoffed from the door which he was still trying to keep shut.

“Hey, I don’t want you to drown my scent off him!“ You sighed happily as both your mates started to argue.

“I missed this.“

#polyamory #omega aizawa shota #omega yamada hizashi #aizawa shota #yamada hizasho #alpha s/o #gender neutral s/o #bnha #bnha omegaverse #omegaverse #abo #mha #request #oneshot

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erintoknow · 5 years

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the glass labyrinth

fallen hero fanfiction time; i think this clocks in at the second longest singular fanfic i’ve written oof. ~7.1k words [ao3]

this might be easier to read on AO3 where it’s broken into chapters. :v

–––

Take a breath, hold it, let it out. You are not Ariadne Becker. Not here. Not now. You are Adrestia, your suit the color of empty void reflecting no light, cape drawn tight around your shoulders further obscuring your form. Only the mirrored treatment of your helmet betrays you as still human. Still needing to see, still needing to be seen.

Your first goal is to secure the regenerator of course. The miracle device that could be your best ticket out of the mess you’ve dug yourself into. There it is, behind glass, under watchful eye. So close. Two parts to contend with. A central core housing the experimental technology and on a pedestal beside in a too-plain looking briefcase. The schematics to assemble the rest of the unit.

What will the finished product look like? Baptismal font or casket?

“Adrestia. Imagine, meeting you here.”

You turn and there’s a moment of disorientation. Since when are you as tall as Dr. Mortum? – You aren’t Jane. Mortum’s expression is cold but polite. You have to assume she knows that you know about her attempts to get Jane to quit. Her plans to do the same. What’s her play here?

You give a slight bow, and mimic the cold curtesy in her voice. “Dr. Mortum.”

“It occurs to me that this is the first we have met in person.”

You spread your arms wide, twirling your fingers. “And now we have. Am I everyth–thing you hoped for, doctor?”

There’s a brief flash of annoyance and then Mortum regains control of her poker face. “You’ve been taking good care of the armor, I see.”

“You did good w–work.”

“I… you’re welcome?” She hadn’t expected that.

Maybe you can still salvage this. Get her back on your side. You let your arms drop to your sides. “Look, I’m… sorry.”

“Sorry?” The confusion is plain in her voice. “For what?”

“I…” You laugh, then cut yourself off with a wince. The voice filter warps everything. “I th–think we got off on the wrong foot.”

Dr. Mortum’s expression hardens, her eyes narrowing. “If you’ve hurt her–”

“Her? Oh.” Shit. This might have backfired. “Doctor, I would never hurt her.”

Does she believe you? You wouldn’t, coming from someone that looks and sounds like you do. This was a mistake. Reaching out is always a mistake. When will you learn?

“So you say,” Dr Mortum confirms your fear. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” She turns away from you, slips past the gawkers come to check out the auction items ahead of time. You move to follow after her but the crowd doesn’t exactly leap out of your way.

You haven’t exactly been making friends either within Los Diablos’s self-proclaimed ‘villain’ community. Just because you’re all on the wrong side of law now… it doesn’t make you allies. And how many remember Sidestep? You’d swear you recognize a few faces, a few suits. Is that Sharkinator at the bar? You’d recognize the sharkhands anywhere. There’s a blast from the past. When did he get out of Prison?

Are you imagining the eyes burning a hole in the back of your head or are you really being watched? The Boulevard Casino is coated in the hum of telepathic dampeners, a hissing static beyond hearing. If it wasn’t for the physical proximity of the Rat-King, slipping it’s telepathic presence between you and the hum like a shield you’d already be clutching your head in a migraine by now.

Would sneaking in have been better? There’s no point wondering now. You don’t need to worry about evading cameras and security this way. Dampeners, radio jammers, cameras, good old fashioned armed men in fancy suits. Hollow Ground’s security is not messing around.

That’s fine, neither are you.

There’s a pressure on your attention, an urging from the Rat-King. You let it turn you, guide your sight. A woman moving through the crowd, tall, taller still by the antlers spiraling up from a helmet in the shape of an antelope skull. She’s armored, head to foot. Brown faux-leather, almost certainly masking proper armor underneath by the bulk of the thing. Gloved hands hide her skin. Her boots are made up to look like cloven hooves that add to her stature.

Not exactly a practical outfit.

Why is the Rat-King pushing you towards her? The dampeners prevent that. Wait, is that.. Oryx? Small time hitman. Or… hitwoman, you suppose. Was supposed to have fled town awhile ago after a job turned bad. Not that you would have had anything to do with that, of course. You don’t have the time in the day to personally meddle in everyone’s illegal business.

Something… isn’t right with her though. Her movement is… too smooth? Or not smooth enough. Like she doesn’t belong here. Is she going to be trouble? You need this to go off perfectly, you can’t afford any potential complications.

It’s not hard to pick out her path. She’s sticking to the walls, you could intercept her, pull her into an empty side-room before she reaches the auction hall.

No one even bats an eye as you step out from behind the curtain and grab Oryx by the shoulders, pull her backwards into the room. She grunts, elbows you in the stomach to get free and drops into a combat stance as you step backwards.

You raise your arms, try to control your heart rate. That snarl, the way she balances herself, positions her arms. Jesus christ, it’s Argent behind that mask isn’t it? Just your fucking luck. If she has any sanity she won’t risk a fight here. Not under Hollow Ground’s nose. “I d–don’t want a fight.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

“It’s– it’s easier to to talk in private, w–wouldn’t you say…” You incline your head, exaggerating to make the gesture visible through your helmet, “Argent?” Fuck, you need to get it under the control. Adrestia can’t stutter.

There’s silence, and then Argent crosses her arms with a small laugh. “You’re always the worst.”

You put your arms down, “I’d say the same about you.”

“Well? What do you want?”

“I hope you’re not here for my sake.” What on earth is Argent doing here? Are the Rangers involved? They’re hardly at full strength, would they seriously try to bust something this big? It would be a disaster.

“What is this? Fishing for compliments?” She leans in, “You aren’t nearly that important.”

You put a hand to your chest and laugh, “You wound me.”

“Easy to do.”

You elect to ignore that, “You’re hardly the type for fancy parties. Though…” You tap the chin of your helmet, “I suppose you are better d–dressed this time?”

“Excuse me?”

“It suits you.”

Argent’s voice goes low and cold. “What does that mean.”

Shit, what do you mean? You wave a hand, “Never mind, it’s not important.” You can feel her eyes on you under the mask. “W–w–why are you here?”

Argent doesn’t move, unnaturally still. “Personal business.”

“That business is…?”

“Not yours.”

You huff. It’s an active effort to maintain eye contact even shield as you are. But you don’t dare look away. “So, then who else of your little friends are lurking around here? Who can I expect to find Ortega dressing up as?”

“I don’t need them.” Evasive, obviously, but what kind of evasive?

“Or…” You cross your arms, drum your fingers against your arm. “You don’t want them to know…?”

She shrugs, breaks eye contact. Damn, got it in one. “If you say so. What, you think you can blackmail me about it?”

“Oh, please,” You laugh, “They’d never believe me.” Argent’s already a known loose cannon. And there’s too many ‘heroic’ reasons you could trot out to excuse it. It wouldn’t even be hard.

“That’s true,” Argent shifts position, “Ortega has a lot of faith in her friends.”

You find yourself agreeing. “Too much.” Why can’t she see you for what you are? How can she want that? Care about –that–?

“Hrmm…” Argent steps closer, “must be lonely, not having a team.”

You stay put, ready for any sudden movement. “I’m better off alone.”

“Is that so?” She tilts her head down towards you.

“Other people always let you d–down,” you don’t bother trying to filtering the bitterness out of your voice. Let the distortion do that. “Even if they don’t– don’t want to.” The only person you can trust in the end is yourself. If even that.

“I’m not talking about forever,” she snorts, “just tonight. To stay out of each other’s business.”

“A t–truce?” you ask, incredulous. She seriously doesn’t want a fight then. Just what is Lady Argent doing sneaking into a black market auction hosted by the city’s criminal kingpin? What could any Ranger want here?

And how can you use this to your advantage?

“You’re seriously suggesting a truce?” You repeat.

“For now.”

Like hell are you going to let her escape your sight. “Oh r–really now?” You offer her a arm, “then let me be your escort f–for the evening.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“It’s… n–not a joke.” Your let your arm awkwardly drop.

“You’re serious.”

“Easier to–” might as well try honesty, “–to keep an eye on each other that way.”

“…fine.”

“S–so you accept?” You offer your arm again.

“Don’t make me regret this.” Argent sighs, and takes your arm. “Where are we going?”

You laugh, sharp and nervous. No idea what that sounds like on other end of the distorters. Hopefully something more confident than what you’re feeling right now. “W–w–where else would we go? The auction.”

Will you ever escape the path that was laid out for you? When you were Sidestep you fought against boosts and mods that stepped outside the law. Fought to uphold the very system that had enabled your creation and mistreatment.

Now you’re on the other side of the coin and you’re still pulling on what they taught you. Spying, lying… You let your gaze dance across the room take-in and evaluate. Who might cause trouble? Who can you push? Who to avoid? Thirteen years on and what has really changed for you?

You can never get out. Not really.

Argent stands at your side, dressed as a two-bit murder. It doesn’t seem right. You were wrong, it doesn’t suit her at all. What does she want here so badly she’d lower herself like this? The worry is wriggling like a leech at the back of your mind. At this point there’s not a lot more you can do. Either it becomes clear and you deal with it, or it doesn’t and it never matters.

What does matter is making sure no other surprises catch you unawares. Surprises like–

“Shit.” You whisper.

Argent jerks her head in your direction, shoulders tense. “What?”

No point playing this close to your chest. You had done some research via Jane and Dr. Mortum after your first encounter. Mortum had promised to look into it further once the auction was over but… This isn’t something Argent deserves to run into un-forewarned. “Over there, against the wall.” You quickly gesture with an arm, trying not to look like you’re pointing. “The woman in white and red?”

Argent shifts around to hide looking. “Yeah?”

“Shroud.”

“Who?”

“Ember’s enforcer from San Francisco.”

“Ember…” She growls. Not the reaction you had expected. You have to grab her arm to keep her still. “Stay clear of her. She touches someone, they die. Apparently.”

“Oh.” She steps back into place, looks back at you. “Thank… you…?”

What does Lord Ember want so bad he’d send risk sending one of his scariest agents away to collect it? You really hope it’s not what you’re thinking.

Who are you kidding, you’re not that lucky.

“Why warn me?” Argent stands a little too close for comfort.

“Uh…” Why did you? “Just– just because we’re enemies, it d–doesn’t mean I want you dead.”

“Hrm.” You’re not sure what to make of that, and Argent doesn’t elaborate.

“This is… awkward, r–really.” You confess.

“What?”

“Trading quips in a fight w–was easier than this.” You don’t look at her, watch the crowd, the stage. The auction is well under way at this point. Nothing particular amazing just yet. You keep an eye on the countdown timer ticking away at the corner of your Heads-Up Display. Not much longer until showtime.

She keeps shifting her weight back and forth. That’s why you don’t wear high heels to a standing event, honey. You learned that the hard way as Jane. “It’s easier to judge someone in a fight.”

You glance over at her and she freezes up. Huh. That’s a switch. “And so what’s your judgement on me, then?”

“Jury’s out.” She raises a hand as if to fling back her hair and then stops, tries to turn it into a dismissive hand gesture but there’s no saving that one. “But… I haven’t killed you yet.”

“Not for lack of trying.” You’ve had some close calls those last few fights before you buckled down on this project. God knows you’ve done enough to her, if anyone deserves first shot at taking you out, it’s Lady Argent.

“Oh please. I have been playing.”

“Why?”

Argent sighs, turns her head to focus on the stage instead of you. “I have fun, I guess.” She shrugs. “Fighting you, I mean.”

“I… huh.” If things weren’t awkward before, they are now. Hasn’t she figured it out yet? Who really possessed her? Well, you’re not about to come clean now. Not here, not when you’re so close.

Dr. Mortum’s ‘disintegration’ ray comes up on the stage next, packed into a very fancy clear case. Jane had put in some overtime helping Mortum raise money, liquidate assets, finding buyers… but did the doctor have enough? Even if she does… even at the starting bid, that’s going to hurt her.

You could – you could bid against her, drive the price up even higher. You know more or less what her limit is and you’ve got way more than that to play with. You only needed the money to get inside, she needs it to stay in business. And to potentially turn against you.

Or… or you could try to buy it for her, as a gift? The gun clearly has some sentimental value to her beyond the scientific, she’s said as much. Would gifting it help change her mind? Or would she view it as a bribe? See it for what it was: you trying to buy her respect?

The bidding slowly climbs, and Mortum stays in the game as it goes. Maybe… you should stay out of this one. There’s too many variables. Too many risks.

You’ll only step in if Mortum gets outbid. There. That’s as good a compromise as any.

The bidding ends up in a war between Mortum and woman in a business suite far in the back. You tense up, but no, the woman ultimately folds. Dr. Mortum wins her gun back at a very pretty penny. Good for her. Hopefully this won’t come back to bite you in the ass.

The countdown on your HUD chimes. Getting into the final moments now. You glance to your side to check on Argent and – she’s gone. Fuck! When did that happen? While you were focused on Mortum’s lot? Damn it. There’s no time to track her down now.

As soon as time hits zero, the bomb you rigged on the power substation for the block will go off. Power to the whole block of the city will go down. The casino is bound to have back-up generators but enough to power the whole security system? Dampeners are not energy efficient.

Looks like they’re putting the Regenerator up on stage next. Well, that’s handy. You won’t have to dig around backstage to find it then.

The Regenerator… One-of-a-kind prototype. The company responsible immediately shut-down and all their equipment confiscated. And what can it do? Perfect regeneration. The only way to remove your tattoos is to cut deep enough into the skin, practically flay yourself alive. Even if you lived, you’d be crippled, horrifically scared at best.

But with the regenerator in your hands and fully functioning…

Well, it’d be a whole lot easier than trying to overturn the United States Government.

Final count down now. Then showtime. Breath in, hold, exhale.

5…

You’re not scared. You’re Adrestia.

4…

It’s like leaning out of a window, watching the street below.

3–

A bright flash and a piercing boom rock the auction hall and the crowd cries out in a panic. Your helmet visor dims but not quick enough and the eyes hurt like hell, after images swimming across your vision. Shit! Fuck! You stumble into someone in front of you and they shove you back.

Someone else is robbing the Auction Hall?

The lights flicker overhead before staying dark, and the weight of the dampeners pressing in on you vanishes. There we go, there’s your cue. You hum a few notes under your breath as let you mind unfold, track every panicked presence huddling together. Too much light, now not enough. People are scared. Hollow Ground’s supposed to ensure a neutral territory, and yet here’s trouble.

With the Rat-King backing you up, you reach out and wrap your song around the crowd. A jangle of discordant thoughts. The Rat-King buffers you from the worst of it as you smooth out the edges, point them towards the exit. You don’t need to nudge everyone. Just the key parts and the rest will follow or be swept along.

Everyone here is a criminal, be they boost, mod, or norm. It won’t be the end of the world if it breaks down into a mass panic. But trying to keep them calm is good practice for the next time you’re faced with civilians. There’s no need to fill up any more hospitals.

Back in the physical world you slowly push your way against the flow of the crowd. Up to the stage. The emergency lighting comes on, casting the room in grim shadows. You brace yourself for any hint of the dampeners but it doesn’t come. Good, you guessed right then. Even with back-up generators, cut off from the main grid the Boulevard Casino doesn’t have enough power to handle everything.

There’s still too many people. Hardened villains thinking about how to turn the chaos to their own advantage. Is it an attack? Earthquake? Is Hollow Ground losing their touch? How can this benefit me?

You can’t risk any interference. Reach out again, second chorus, worst than the first. Reach in deeper, into the darker spaces. It’s an incoherent barrage from a dozen different traumas and the Rat–King has to pull tight around your mind to keep you from collapsing, from reeling back in shock and snapping the connection.

You can do this. Raise the conductor’s baton, pull it all forward.

Pull them out.

Get out.

Go!

Someone screams and the rest of the crowd starts to move. No calm to it now. Well, you tried. Someone shoves you aside, and oh yeah, physical bodies are still a thing. Switch to low-light vision and the visor tints everything green as you make the rest of the way to the stage. Get back in the game Chickadee.

As you’re about to climb onto the stage, the Rat King pings your attention.

“Dr. Mortum?” You move over to her, and she takes a step back, hand falls on something on her hip. Shouldn’t be surprised the doctor would have hi-tech glasses. Try to get a read on her thoughts and it’s like grasping at a nest of eels. Multiple tracks going a mile a minute. Maybe in another setting you could pry them apart, but you can’t spare the focus now.

“Adrestia.” Her voice is cold, but shaky. Putting on a mask. “This is your doing, isn��t it?”

“Goodness. Y–you think highly of me, don’t you?” You hold out your arms to the side, no hidden tricks up your sleeves. “What are you still d–doing here?”

She doesn’t relax. “Your little light show went off right when I was collecting my gun. I need to find it.”

“You’re serious.”

“I’m not leaving without it.” She sounds serious. Must be to have resisted your mental push both times.

You shrug, try to play off your concern. “I’ve got my own business, but if I find it… I’ll keep it safe. But it won’t be any good if its owner gets herself killed tonight.”

“What are you planning?”

“Nothing.” You turn away from her. “I can’t speak for anyone else though.” You can already sense them, multiple people are on the stage. Prelude to a fight. What are the odds you can grab the regenerator and slip out while they’re busy killing each other?

Ignore the eyes staring daggers into your back as you clamber onto the stage. “Ah, fuck.” There’s a stare-down going alright. Lady Argent, still in Oryx costume is standing between Shroud and… fuck, that’s one of Hollow Ground’s men. Jake Manalo? Jane’s only encountered him briefly. He’s some kind of boost but hell if anyone can give a straight answer as to what. His thoughts are fuzzy, out of focus. Shroud’s are walled, a barrier with the sensation of metal to touch. Only Argent is readable to any extent. Damn.

Try to skirt around the edge, circle back to the regenerator. Wait. Is that Mortum’s gun on the ground? Can you you grab it without being noticed… No luck. Jake spots you, hunches his shoulders. “Adrestia, come join the party. And step away from the merchandise.”

Argent glances back towards you and everything goes to hell.

Shroud makes her move, going after Argent. Argent dodges the outstretched hand, claws slicing through her gloves as she twists to strike back.

Fuck.

Dash across the stage, to grab Mortum’s gun, tossing the case aside like a candy wrapper. Mortum’s gun doesn’t actually kill people does it? It just… stores them for… later. That’s too handy an ace to ignore right now

Jake has left the two women to duel it out in order to chase after you. But whatever Jake’s got, he doesn’t have a powered suit with booster jets. You dash past him, dropping into a slide under his outstretched arm. You come to a stop by the Regenerator, spin on your heel and drop a knee. If you can take out Jake now, maybe you can abscond with the prize while the other two are duking it out.

How does this damn thing work? Hell, when was the last time you used any gun? There’s a light blinking on the side. Battery? As long as there’s enough charge for one shot. You’ll work out the rest later.

Someone off stage yells as you line up your shot. Hold your breath, sight, finger on the trigger… there’s a loud bang and every nerve in your body lights up in terror.

The gun drops out of your hands, clattering on the stage. How? Why? What is that thing doing here? Taller then any one else here, stretching its multiple arms, both organic and metallic up in the air. In the green haze of your low-light vision it could have stepped directly out of one of your nightmares, but no. Very much real. Very much alive. But… something isn’t right. The Catastrofiend’s movements are sluggish and while her skin was in never in great condition to begin with, it looks… wrong? Melted? Skin or clothing? There’s no seam.

Is… this where the Catastrofiend been all this time? Trapped in Dr. Mortum’s teleportation gun? Did she know that when she asked Jane for help in getting it back?

In the back of your mind the Rat-King screams at you to move.

Dive to the left and a blade stabs the ground where you were kneeling. Mortum’s gun rattles on the floor and you manage the presence of mind to grab hold of it again, clipping it back of your belt. In front of you, the Catastrofiend groans, a sickly bubbling sound as she clutches her vestigal human arms to her chest, her other 4 arms unfold and stretch out. Exposed muscle twining into metal, each limb ending in a long razor sharp blade. Like the rest of her, the blades are warped, discolored, wrong.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

“What the fuck is this!?” Shroud yells. The Catastrofiend gurgles and turns to swipe at her. She leaps backwards, almost toppling over.

You need to get out of here.

“It’s the goddamn Catastrofiend.” Jake snarls. At the sound of his voice, the monster turns and swipes at him too. Something… happens, Jake goes blurry and the blade passes through him like air. No time to think about what that could mean.

Argent snarls, razor claws at the ready. “How the hell did it get in here?” When the Catastrofiend turns to swipe at her, she’s ready, stepping in under the arm, slashing at the skin. Something oozes out, but it doesn’t look like blood.

Is it responding to sound? Can she still see? How the hell long was it in there for? Mortum mentioned something about… quantum degradations right…? Your stomach twists. And you were seriously thinking of using it on someone?

With the Catastrofiend taking precedence, a truce seems to settle out. Jake, Argent, and Shroud triangulating. around her. You’ve seen the monster nearly come out on top against the entire Rangers team at their height before. It’s only a matter of time before they break ranks and run. You’ve seen the Catastrofiend survive being shot in the head, even as… wrong as it is, there’s no way the three of them are beating this.

This is your chance.

Two parts to the device, don’t forget. The briefcase gets attached to your suit’s utility belt next to Mortum’s gun. The prototype itself… it’s bulky, you’ll have to carry it with two hands. You wrap your song tight around yourself, willing the chaos to let you pass by unnoticed. In the back of your mind, you can feel the Rat-King echo you back, magnify the sentiment.

You get your hands under the rough metal edges and heave it into the air. Don’t look. Nothing to see here. Don’t look this way. The battle with the Catatstrofiend is way more pressing, isn’t it? Absolutely.

You don’t breath again until you’re well behind stage. A scattering of items that still haven’t been sold off remain, abandoned in the chaos. They’ll notice you’re gone eventually. But will they have the luxury to chase after you? Banking on your luck doesn’t seem like a smart move.

This part of the Casino is well beyond anything you got to scout in-person as Jane. You’ve spent plenty of time studying the schematics however. You can imagine the red line guiding you alone. Into the backstage hallway, hang a right, there’s a room here. Storage closet. Crouch down just outside and put the prototype aside.

Time to put the Nanovores to work, outstretching your hand against the floor, eating through metal supports and vinyl tiles until the indigestible remains of floor begin to fracture and give way. Slap the floor hard with your hand and it drops into something deeper below.

This part of town is shot through with old smuggling tunnels from the Prohibition era. Illegally dug little boltholes, cramped but big enough to fit crates of alcohol. Earthquake country means they’re near suicide to use. Which is why you spent over a week a making sure this tunnel would be usable.

Never let the enemy set the field if you can help it.

At the end of this tunnel is Rosie and the get-away truck. You’re almost there. you can do this.

Once the hole is sufficiently wide, you pick up the prototype. There’s noise coming from down the hallway. Pursuers or just echoing from the fight? You can’t tell. Doesn’t matter, it’s time to jump. A hole this time, not a window, but your heart leaps into your throat all the same.

Your booster jets dampen the fall, but the shock rattles up every joint along your legs regardless. The cart you had prepared ahead of time is right where you left it, save for a scattering of debris. You put the prototype down on the cart and sweep it clean in one motion.

Take a breath. Home stretch. Next step is to get to the first support joist and start the process of collapsing the tunnel behind you.

The tunnel is damp, and crowded, and dark dark dark. You tap on the clip-on flashlight on your utility belt, a tiny narrow cone cutting into the void. It’s not much but it gives your low-light vision something more to work with.

The floor is lumpy, uneven. It makes pushing the cart painfully slow and uncomfortably noisy. With more time you could have smoothed out the floor, but the time constraint on planning this operation had been absurdly tight as it was. Once your far enough away you can start collapsing the tunnel behind you and it won’t–

Scratches against stone echo behind you and the Rat-king screams for you to move. Only to flinch and clutch your head under the weight of the dampeners pressing back down on you. Something runs across your back and you stagger forwards against the handle of the cart as you cry out. Turn and catch the silhouette of Oryx’s horned mask.

“Are you k–k–kidding me–” You suck in your breath as she swipes at you again, press yourself against the wall as silver claws rend the air where you had just been. Did she cut through your suit? Everything still reads green.

There’s a snarl and you throw your heads up, “Wait, wait, hold on–” If Argent could track you down here, the rest of them can’t be too far behind. “L–let’s talk?”

Argent stares you down, your flashlight bouncing off her silver frame. Shoulders hunched, hands ready to swipe.

“We had a truce.”

She doesn’t relax, but doesn’t attack either. “Only as long as it was convenient.”

“You know w–what’s inconvenient? Getting caught.” The return of the dampeners is a significant problem as well, but Argent doesn’t need to know that one. How did they get them back on so quickly?

The tension drags out entirely too long before Argent drops her hands to her sides. “Then what are you saying?”

“If we fight here we risk them finding us, or worse, damaging this thing.” You gesture behind you. “Let’s… get out of here, then w–we can decide if we’re going to k–kill each other or whatever.”

Argent narrows her eyes, flexing her fingers. Quickest of glances behind her, an opening you don’t take. “Fine.” She sighs, “No tricks, I’ve got your number.”

Oh thank god she can be reasoned with. “Come on, help me push, it’ll go f–faster with both of us.” You move to one side, making space for Argent. She scrunches her nose up, giving you a once over and then steps up beside you, grabbing the handle. Together you trundle through the dark.

“How far?”

“A distance but–” you watch her from the side, “we’re close to a checkpoint I set up to–to–to collapse the tunnel behind me.”

She snorts. “Dangerous.”

“Y–yeah well…” try to keep the emotion out of your voice, “it’d be a bother if someone chased after.”

“Too bad for you.”

“Too bad for me.”

The two of you continue along in silence. Pushing the cart is much easier now with Argent’s help. Silence is dangerous however. Too many unanswered questions, such as: “What uh– what happened with the Catastrofiend?”

“Ran. Chased it, found you instead.”

“W–well… fuck.”

“How did that thing get in there?”

“N–n–no idea.” You lie, more than a little anxious that you can’t pick up whether she bought it or not. You still have Mortum’s gun. Should you– no, no, who knows what else might come flying out. And suppose it did work, what would you even…? No. It’s not an option.

The dampeners begin to lighten as you continue further down, gone by the time you reach a split in the passage, joists in holding up the ceiling. Small miracles. “Hold on.” You brush your head over the frame, nanovores reducing it to dust under your hand. The ceiling begins to shift and you grab the cart with Argent again. “Come on, let’s move.”

“Cute trick.”

Would it be gauche to thank her for? Does she know? This isn’t the time to risk it. You can’t bring Argent straight to Rosie. Too dangerous. No, instead, take the other path as the ceiling collapses behind you. This path ends in a brick wall, easily kicked down.

The room on the other side is pitch black as the two of you clamber through. A basement. Old, abandoned. No sense of any other minds nearby. Once you’re above ground you can just radio Rosie. But first you have someone to deal with.

Argent lets go of the cart, turning to face you. “So we both wanted the same thing. Lucky us.” You can feel it now, without the dampeners to mask everything. She’s desperate for this.

“So…” You stall for time as you try to get a read on her thoughts. “You know what this is, w–what it can do.”

Argent hunches her shoulders, reading to move. “So do you.”

“It needs to–to be assembled.” You reach back to pat the briefcase hanging from your belt. “What, are you planning to set it up at the Rangers?”

“Don’t be absurd. This is black tech.” Argent huffs. “Even my leash has limits.”

“Leash?” You shake your head. No time to unpack that one. “W–well, I’ve got a place to assemble it safely.”

“And you know how to do that?”

“Do you?”

“Whatever, that isn’t even the biggest problem here.” Evading the question? Interesting. Argent pulls off her helmet, shaking out her silver hair with a grimace on her face. “This is.”

You take a step back, cross your arms. “W–what is?”

“Us.” Argent gestures between the two of you, “this is going to take time to bring online. Weeks… maybe?” She shakes her head. “I’m not letting it leave my sight.”

“Same.” Too much is riding on this.

Argent barks out a laugh. “Why? You already have secrets you can lord over me… you know what I did: the masquerade, breaking and entering–”

“Oh please, d–d–don’t be stupid.” You wave it away, “I know the Rangers. You could explain it all away in a heartbeat. Infiltrating a villain hangout? Retrieving black tech? They’ll give you a f–fucking medal.” Is she really that scared of being found out? Why?

“And you? What, am I supposed to just trust someone hiding behind a mask?” Her voice is razor sharp, “You’re a telepath.” You wince under your helmet. “you manipulate everyone and everything around and… I don’t even know what you would want it?”

Her thoughts are barbed, hard to read but… she wants to trust you. Doesn’t want to blow this chance. But why would she? Why would anyone trust you? Ever?

You can’t tell her who you are. Not here, not now. If you were lucky she’d just kill you. She’s earned it, certainly. More likely you’ll have to go into hiding, abandon any pretense of the civilian life you’ve slowly been reclaiming. And that’s… Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to do? What keeps holding you back?

Argent is getting antsy. You need to say something before she just goes for it and attacks. Maybe you’d win, but damaging the prototype is a risk you’d rather avoid. You can’t exactly come clean about why you need it either. If she treats you with any modicum of respect now, then it’s because she’s operating under the mistaken assumption that you’re human.

The very thought of risking that, of letting it go. Of never seeing Julia again, or worse– You can feel your heartbeat quicken. Fuck. God damnnit. You’re trapped.

No matter what you do, you’re going to have to trust her with something.

Your hands are shaking as you reach up, find the clasps of your helmet. Across from you, Argent tenses up but doesn’t attack. Why the hell are you doing this? Except – she deserves to know. And what do you have left of your civilian life left at this point anyway? You knew this couldn’t last forever.

The display goes dark as you pop the helmet from the seal, disconnected from the rest of the suit. Your gut twists, a sharp pain as you struggle to keep your breathing under control. You feel sick. Unreal, like you’ve stepped outside yourself. This is such a stupid idea.

You can feel the Rat-King curl around you, trying to protect you from the danger. Joke’s on it, the biggest danger to you here is yourself.

Can barely see as you pull the helmet up, over, hold it in your hands in front of you. In this dim gloom you can’t read Argent’s face, only her mind. Quiet, struggling to process what she’s seeing. She steps toward you and you step back.

“Ariadne Becker.” If there was any doubt about her being able to see in the dark, it’s gone now. All that effort into avoiding her, and you’ve blown it in one go.

“G–got it in– in one.”

Can see her cross her arms through the gloom, shift her weight. “It wasn’t Locus, was it Ariadne?” She snarls. You can feel the fury building up in her head, leaking out through her composure. Didn’t she promise to eviscerate the person responsible?

Die now or die later, might as well jump.

“Y–yes.” You can’t look at her as you say it. “I’m sorry–”

She moves on, grabbing you by the front of your armor claws digging. Panic takes over and you drop your helmet trying to get free, only for white to explode across your vision as your head is rocked hard to the left, pain searing across the right side of your face. Her hand is the only thing holding you upright.

“Don’t you dare try apologizing to me.”

“It– it was w–wrong, I–”

The second slap hits you on the left side of your face, there’s a ringing in your ears, and you can taste copper from biting your tongue. To call her ‘mad’ undersells the storm of emotion radiating off her. Is she going to kill you? Maybe. Of all the beatings you’ve taken in your life, there’s no question you deserve this one.

“I–I–I’m sorry.” You swallow hard, fighting back nausea. “I shouldn’t have– I mean I– I know what it’s– what it’s like and I…” You’re babbling now. Too many words desperate to get out at once.

Her hand comes down again, hard. You can really taste the blood now. “Don’t you fucking dare compare yourself to me.” She growls in your face, as she raises her hand, pulling it back into a fist, and you try not to flinch. Brace yourself. When the blow doesn’t come you open your eyes.

Her hand hovers an inch away from your skin. “You used me.”

“I–I–I did.”

From the corner of your eye you can see her uncurl her fist, fingers slowly elongating into claws, piercing through the glove. “I should kill you.”

“It– It would be… pretty easy right now.” Your heart is pounding, mouth tasting copper, and throat feeling sticky. The Rat–King in the back of your head is screaming at you to do something but this… You don’t fight back, don’t struggle. This is too familiar. Memories of other times, other, brighter rooms. For everything you’ve tried to change, you’re still were you started.

If she did you in now, does the thing you can’t bring yourself to go through with… then isn’t that a victory for everyone really?

“I could do it…” Her hand is shaking, doubts unraveling in her mind. “I should…”

“Then do it already!” You cough, as she lets you go and you stagger backwards, hit the brick wall and try to hold yourself up. “I thought you– why hesitate?”

“Shut up!” She hisses through clenched teeth and comes at you again. This time her hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to send alarm bells. “You really want to die that badly, Becker?” You can feel it running through her head, all the little fantasies she had constructed about this moment.

Your vision blurs as you laugh. “Y–yeah, actually.”

Can feel something sharp poke against your neck, and then just as suddenly it’s gone. Argent hisses air through clenched teeth. “Don’t be a coward.” She touches her other hand to your face, one nail scratching just under your eye.

“W–what?”

“You don’t deserve to get off that easy.”

A line of white fire runs down your face, blinding you in your left eye. Blink, and your vision is back but bloody. You can feel the cut run from forehead to check. Hurts like hell, can already feel the blood running down your face. This is going to need stitches.

She lets go of you, pushing you back against the wall as she steps away. Licking the blood off her finger, she glares at you. “That was for using me. Don’t ever go into my head again.”

You slide to the floor. This… this really just happened. “I–I don’t do that kind of thing anymore.” There’s no way you’ll every be able to explain it, is there? But then, it’s not really about you, is it?

“Shut up.” Argent snaps. “You said you can put it together?”

You nod your head. You hope you aren’t over-estimating your ability.

“Then put it together. Don’t even think about double-crossing me on this.” Her smile in the dim glow of your suit’s flashlight is cold and all teeth. “Don’t worry, Becker.” She puts a finger to her lips. “This’ll be our secret.”

She turns away from you and stalks up the stairs to find her way out of whatever building this is a basement of. As she turns she moves her hand from her mouth out to the side, transitioning into giving you the middle finger as she departs.

You sit there against the wall until her footsteps fade and you lose track of her mind. Gingerly you touch a hand to your face, hiss at the fresh sting of pain. Still bleeding. Will absolutely need stitches. Probably end up a scar.

Well, it’s not like you don’t have plenty of experience covering those up.

Except… maybe you’ll let this one be.

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fhr #fhr/Ariadne #mc #dr. mortum #lady argent #shroud #jake manalo #catastrofiend

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frickfracksnatchisback · 5 years

Text

Say it with Flowers (Snatcher x MC)

Here we go lads! A cute, fluffy snippet of Snatcher confessing his love to his crush! (I was inspired by this ask, if anyone’s wondering) Basically, Snatcher is a dork and his crush is slightly oblivious to what he’s trying to do. Also, the crush will be referred to as “they/them” just so nobody gets confused!

Have fun! ;3

***

As Snatcher waited in one of the quieter parts of his forest, he was starting to become slightly impatient. He could feels himself becoming more and more nervous with every minute that went by. Occasionally, he’d summon a wristwatch to check the time or a hand mirror so he could make sure he still looked somewhat “presentable”. He’d adjust the tie he was wearing, or run his hand through his floof so it wasn’t messed up. But after doing that about five times in a row, he resorted to fidgeting. It was something he hated doing, but right now it was helping. All the while he thought to himself.

Why the heck was he doing this?

Because I told myself I was going to do it, Snatcher thought to himself. And it was true. He had been thinking of confessing to them for a while now. He’d just been putting it off till the last second. And if he didn’t do it soon, these strange emotions were going to drive him crazy. Might as well get this over with now, right? After all, he shouldn’t be afraid of something so...so…

Simple.

Snatcher snapped his fingers, a bouquet appearing in his hands. He turned the roses over to inspect them, carefully touching a few of the petals. He had (begrudgingly) taken Moonjumper’s advice, by getting something special for them. At first, he had just gotten some regular roses from a flower shop in Mafia Town. But then he remembered Moon’s words, “Get them something that shows you care!”. And the roses by themselves...they just didn’t seem like enough. So, he decided to use a bit of magic to make the roses seem a bit more “special”. After doing a bit of research, he use at least three spells that he knew they would be sure to love. One to make the roses glow, another to make them sparkle, and a final one to make sure they would never wilt or die. That showed he cared for them, right?

But as he looked over the magic roses in his hands, a cluster of beautiful reds and pinks, he wasn’t so sure about his chances. Would this really be enough? Would they even accept his confession? Because the last time he gifted someone flowers-

YOU TRAITOR! YOU LIED TO ME!

V-Vanessa, wait-

I HATE YOU! I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!

I-I do love you! Just let me expl-

NEVER! GUARDS! TAKE HIM AWAY!

No! Vanessa, please! This is all just a misunderstanding! Vanessa?!

VANESSA! PLEASE! DON’T LEAVE ME DOWN HERE-

...It didn’t end too well. And while he didn’t expect them to come running at him with a knife (not like he could die again, anyways), there was still a lingering fear of rejection. After all, this was silly, right? Him of all people? Actually in love caring about someone? The all-powerful king of Subcon having a slight, teeny tiny, ever so minuscule crush on somebody? It was a ridiculous notion. And extremely ludicrous-sounding to them, no doubt. Perhaps...perhaps he should back out now. To save the trouble and embarrassment. It’s not like he was too late to change his mi-

“Hey, Snatcher!”

Snatcher let out a yelp of surprise and quickly hid the bouquet behind his back. He smiled nervously, as they walked into the clearing with him. They smiled cheerily at him, giving him a wave. And he smiled back at them, if not a little nervously. While he tried to look as calm and collected as he could on the outside, he was practically screaming on the inside.

They actually showed up, he thought to himself in disbelief. And I didn’t practice anything to say. I’m a complete idiot. I should have written it all down so I won’t mess this up. And...OH MY STARS, WHAT IF I DO MESS UP?! WHAT IF I DROP THE FLOWERS AS I’M GIVING IT TO THEM?! THEY WOULD HATE ME FOR THAT! THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH-

He tried to shake away the worries in his mind and, instead, focused on greeting them.

“A-ah, hello! You arrived earlier than I thought you would...” Snatcher said, trying to put on a confident smile.

“Of course! You said it was important in the letter you sent me.” they replied back. Snatcher felt himself gulp.

The letter! Peck, he had forgotten all about that! Originally, he had thought about talking to them in person. But when that didn’t seem to work, due to his cowardice, he had thought about just leaving the flowers at their house. And when that seemed much too stalker-like, he had decided on a completely different approach. A letter, telling them to visit the quiet clearing in his forest for a “private matter”. At first, it seemed like a good idea. He even managed to convince himself to put his name on it, instead of just leaving it anonymous. But right now the regret was starting to set in.

“Uhhh, yes, It’s very serious, I’m afraid.” Snatcher mumbled out, feeling stupid and wanting so badly to bolt on this. But it was too late now, much to his dismay. Their face fell, looking rather worried at these words.

“Am I in trouble?” they asked, their head hanging low.

“W-what? No!” Snatcher assured them, waving a free hand in front of him. “I-I just...wanted to...” his voice trailed off, his face flushing bright yellow. But he stops there, not able to say the rest. They look at him, confused. Was he feeling alright? He normally wasn’t like this.

“Are you okay? Do you-”

“I’m fine.” Snatcher growled under his breath. They flinched a little at this, and Snatcher quickly noticed. “I-I’m sorry. I’m just...having trouble with this...” he decided to be honest. They liked it when he was honest, right? Now if only he could get the important part out.

“Oh...alright?” they said, feeling a bit more comfortable. They were still very confused though. Snatcher was acting so odd, not to mention flustered. It was actually kind of cute... But what was he so reluctant to say? “By the way, I like the tie! You look very nice!” they complimented him, thinking that would help. And it did, with Snatcher grinning shyly at them and blushing even more.

“Thank you...very much...” Snatcher said, before pulling said tie and clearing his throat. “W-well...I just noticed that...you’ve been visiting my forest quite a lot lately.” he stuttered, cursing at himself in his mind as he did. But nonetheless, they were listening to him patiently, so that helped a ton.

“Heh, what can I say? I have a thing for exploring haunted forests.” they joked, hoping to help Snatcher loosen up a bit. Snatcher did chuckle a bit, rubbing the back of his head.

“Heheheh, r-right. Speaking of that...” Snatcher felt his face growing hotter as he continued. “Whenever you happen to visit my home, to check on me or whatever-” he felt a slight twang of regret at that last part. How did he let that slip out?! Regardless, he tried to keep going. “I feel...I feel...” Snatcher felt himself getting stuck again, as he looked back at them.

They looked so pretty, beautiful, not to mention absolutely perfect. If he still had a heart or pulse, it would be thumping like crazy in his chest right now. He thought how much he liked having them around his forest, which was a new feeling. And they were always so nice to him every time the visited his home. But...how could he ever return those feelings? He was the worst at this sort of thing, considering he hadn’t done it in years. And he was not know for his “caring nature” towards anyone or anything for that matter. Panic started to set in, as Snatcher feared for everything to go horribly wrong.

Oh my stars, they are way out of my league! Why on earth would they say “Yes”?! What was I thinking?!

“You feel?...” they tried to help him along, waiting for him to get the words out.

But Snatcher felt like freezing on the spot. Maybe teleporting away to anywhere that wasn’t here. Or hiding in his home and never coming out. He felt weak and helpless, and he hated every second of it. Not to mention they were staring directly at him, which sapped all courage out of him. He felt like screaming, panicking, and running all at them same time. He gripped the roses behind his back tighter and tighter-

“This...this is so stupid.” Snatcher sighed in defeat, putting his face into his free hand. “I apologize, I must be wasting your time. I just can’t seem to-”

“No, it’s okay! You’re doing just fine.” they encouraged him. “I don’t mind spending extra time with you. It’s why I came here in the first place, silly!” they gave him a patient smile, making a heart with their hands at him. Snatcher could feel his whole face blushing, as his floof puffed up from being so flustered. He tried to hide his face from behind his claws, but it hardly helped since his face was glowing such a bright yellow.

Well...what the heck. What did he have to lose? Besides practically everything-

“I wanted to show you how much I lo-” Snatcher nearly let the “L” word slip out of his mouth, before hastily coughing over it. “I-I mean...really appreciate you!” he laughed nervously, a little louder than he would have liked. Their expression grew a bit surprised, which made Snatcher feel like he was sweating buckets. “S-so, I got you...th-these.” Snatcher slowly removed the bouquet from behind him. He held it out for them, shutting his eyes tight and shaking a little as he did.

“Snatcher...” he could hear their gasp of surprise. He could feel his nervousness growing with every step as them came closer. Now they were right in front of him, as he felt their hands on his. He flinched at bit as this, tightening his grip on the flowers. He braced himself, squeezing his eyes tighter and shaking like a leaf. He waited for the cruel laughter. For the mocking tone of heartless rejection. For the sound of the bouquet hitting the ground and getting crushed by their shoes. Or worse, for the cold unforgiving tone of disgust. With them promptly throwing the roses in his face and-

“Ha, seems like you beat me to it.”

“...what?” Snatcher opened his eyes in surprise and confusion. He was surprised to see that they were much closer to him than he thought. In fact, very close to him, and (sort of) holding hands with him. They stared down at the roses, the glowing spell illuminating their face, making their beauty even more radiant. Snatcher shut his mouth, fearing that he would ruin his perfect moment. If only he had a camera, or a tape recorder. He wished this moment could last forever.

“These are so beautiful.” they said as they looked up at Snatcher, which he was not prepared for. “I don’t think my gift will even compare...” they trail off, smiling sadly.

“A gift? For me?” Snatcher blurted out, before he could stop himself. Their eyes widened, and they turned their head away for a moment. That’s odd, Snatcher thought to himself. Is it just me or do they look...nervous?

“It’s not as good as yours, trust me.” they let go of his hands so they could look for it in their pockets. “I wanted to give it to you after we were done talking. I mean, before I knew you were going to…y’know, surprise me.” they mumbled, rummaging until they finally pulled it out. “Here. I’ll trade ya.” they half-smiled. Snatcher, still a bit in shock, exchanged his gift for theirs without saying anything. And after starting at them blankly, taking in the fact that they were enjoying his gift, he looked down at what was in his hands.

A small, light purple letter.

He opened it carefully, trying his best not to rip the envelope. He opened the flap, and took out a hand-made card. He took a moment to stare at it, dumbfounded, before opening it gently. He noticed how nice their cursive looked, written in red ink with small heart doodles scattered here and there. And then he began to read the message...

Dear Snatcher,

I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time

And I’ve been thinking about it ever since we met

You’re very special to me, and I wanted to ask you...

Snatcher felt his non-existent heart race as his eyes fell to the closing lines-

Would you like to be my SOUL-mate?

Much love, XOXO

Snatcher simply stared at the card, like his eyes were glued to it. He didn’t know what to say, he was at a complete loss for words.

“Do you like it?” they asked him, worried by the lack of response. Snatcher manage to tear his eyes away from the card to look down on them.

“Are you serious? This isn’t a joke?” Snatcher asked them, his voice flat and to the point. They shrunk back at this, afraid they did something wrong. Was he mad at them? Was the pun a little too much? Maybe they shouldn’t have added that in… But they slowly nodded back at him, holding the bouquet for comfort. Snatcher kept staring at them blankly, making them extremely nervous.

Then Snatcher started to laugh.

But it wasn’t a cruel laugh, or even his signature evil laugh. It was a laugh of delight and cheer, as he flashed a giant smile at them. Then, before they even saw it coming, Snatcher scooped them up off the ground and into his arms. They let out a surprised yelp as he spun himself around, floating higher up in the air before eventually sinking back down. Both of their gifts fell to the ground, but they landed just fine and weren’t even ruined. Which was good, considering that Snatcher was too busy holding them in his embrace.

“Hahaha, yes! Thank you so much!” Snatcher exclaimed, hugging them close. Joyous tears started to build up in his eyes, but he didn’t care. Because right now he felt like the happiest ghost alive! Not only did they accept his confession, but they felt the same way about him! And he wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything in the world. Not even all the souls on the planet could make him as happy as he was now.

“Snatcher...you’re squishing me...” they grunted, their face buried in Snatcher’s floof.

“Oh! Sorry!” Snatcher quickly apologized, letting them breath. “I just…I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.” he said softly, blushing. They looked back at him, once they got their bearings, and smiled at his cute flustered face.

“Good. You deserve to be happy.” they whispered as they went to gently hug him around his neck. They leaned in close, pressing their cheek against his. Snatcher was taken aback, before nuzzling them back with a dopey smile on his face. He sighed, closing his eyes and beginning to purr.

They both jumped at the sound, looking at each other. Snatcher felt like his face was burning, going entirely glowing yellow. They started to giggle at the sight, he was just too cute!

“So...you can purr?” they asked, putting a hand over their mouth to stifle their giggling.

“Sh-shut up.” Snatcher grumbled, his floof puffing up to the extreme. This just made them snicker more, before eventually letting it die down.

“Well, I think it’s cute, dork.” they added in that last part, before leaning back to plant a small kiss on Snatcher’s cheek.

“Ack! D-don’t do that!” Snatcher yelped in annoyance, trying to hide himself in all the fluff. But secretly, he enjoyed the smooch that they gave him. A little more than he would like to admit. They caught Snatcher’s attention again by fixing the tie around his neck. And he couldn’t help but smile, and sigh at them dreamily.

“Whatever you say, nerd.” they chuckled, tightening the tie before leaving it be. And the minute they were done, Snatcher brought them back into a hug. They were taken by surprise, before smiling and hugging him back. “I’m glad you told me, Snatcher.” they sighed, rubbing their face back into his soft fluff. Snatcher started to purr again, but he paid no mind to it. It was actually starting to become rather comforting with them around.

“Yeah, ditto.” Snatcher sighed back, holding them closer.

And as the moonlight lit up the dark forest around them, and the two held each other lovingly, he felt like this was the best moment in his afterlife. To think, that he would ever be able to love again. And for once, his loved one loved him back! Actual, real love for a person like him. It lit a spark in his non-existent heart that he had, surprisingly, missed being able to feel all these years...

He was starting to like this whole “affection” thing.

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teamchuffyfansite · 4 years

Text

Try - Chuffy Fic

She sits alone listening to a song on the radio – not a Christmas song, that would be too much, but she needed something to break the silence.

And you know I got to try Even though my heart is on the line Even if I'm broken on the inside There's nothing I won't do to make it right You know, you know I got to try

Listening as tears roll down her face she picks up a pen and begins to write.

December 25th 2018

I don’t know what to say, I don’t know how to start this letter to you, I don’t know how to change things but I’ve got to try, if I don’t try then we have nothing and I cannot accept that, I won’t accept that – I just can’t.

Oh, Charlie, what have I done? What have I done to you? To us? To me? I do understand how you are feeling, I understand that right now you cannot bear to see me, touch me, be near me. I understand that I have caused all of this pain that you are going through but please try to understand what I’m going through too.

I’m not well Charlie, I haven’t been well for a while. When I said that I’ve got a fight on my hands I didn’t mean about him, about getting over him (he means nothing to me, he never did mean anything to me – I cannot stress that enough to you, but that’s up to you to believe me or not). I meant that I have a fight on my hands to get well, to see a way through.

You are going to read this and shake your head in that way you do, I can see you now rubbing the back of your neck with your hand, wincing slightly. I am sorry I haven’t told you this, I couldn’t. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t find the words. I thought that if I said them out-loud then it would be true, that my world would come crashing down around me, but it already has and I didn’t say anything. I’ve lost you already – what more can I lose? You are my world Charlie Fairhead and I’ve lost you so it can’t really get any worse.

She takes a deep breath, wipes away the tears that just will not stop and continues…

I went to the doctors a while ago now, he prescribed me anti-depressants – I was feeling so down, as if I just couldn’t go on any more. You were working so much, we were working different shifts, we had become strangers, nothing more than work colleagues who saw each other from time to time to say hello to – we weren’t us any more. Please don’t think that I am making excuses for my behaviour, I’m not – really I’m not, I just want, need, you to understand how I’m feeling, how I’ve been feeling for a long time.

She pauses, puts the pen down and reads what she has written, shaking her head she wipes new tears away wondering if what she has written is too much, if it looks like she is blaming him for what happened. She tunes back into the music playing in the background…

Even if I'm stopped at every turn Even if I lose it, crash and burn I won't quit until your love I've earned You know, you know I got to try

The song resonates so clearly in her head – it means so much, he means so much. Picking up her pen, she continues to write, knowing this may be the last chance she has to explain herself before she leaves for good, before she picks up her already packed bags and … well, she doesn’t know, but she does know she cannot stay here, not without him loving her, not without him being there by her side. She just cannot do it.

This isn’t sounding how I wanted it to, I don’t want you to think that I’m blaming you in any way. This is all my fault, I have accepted that, I accepted it at the time it happened. So, please, don’t think that I am writing this to blame you. I just need to explain.

It all started months ago. I’ve spent a lot of time looking back on my life since then, trying to understand where I’ve gone wrong, where it all went wrong. In doing that, I’ve started having flashbacks. Flashbacks of different parts of my life – never the good parts though, always the bad parts and there are so many to choose from! The main one seems to be to when I was raped. I’ve r-lived that night so many times over the past few months, I constantly find myself asking myself why I didn’t go to the Police at the time. Alicia was so much braver than I was when the same thing happened to her. She faced him in court. I didn’t. That is something I have always regretted. I have lived with that regret for decades, how could I have let that man get away with it? How many more women could he have raped because of me not having the courage to tell? I live with that guilt on a daily basis. You and Megan were so kind to me, you honoured my decision and looked after me, I could not have asked for anything more, but it haunts me all the time. Things are different now – counselling is offered to victims of such crimes, but it wasn’t available then. I do wonder how differently I might feel had I have been offered something like that back then.

Then the panic attacks started. Every day I have at least one – it is so frightening, I don’t feel like me anymore. I was so happy and confident when I came back from New Zealand having left Ryan, I had finally done something for me – not for him, not for the boys, but for me. I had a bad one when I nearly gave that young woman the wrong medication, after you shouted at me. What would have happened if you hadn’t seen me doesn’t bear thinking about. The panic attacks have got worse since I started taking the tablets, I thought they were meant to improve things but they haven’t – if anything I’ve got worse.

When Jan brought me into the ED that time when I had fallen I lied Charlie, I lied. I have fallen before, more than once, more than twice, too many times for it to be “just be an accident”. Previously, I have managed to sort myself out but this time I actually hurt myself badly – I wanted it to be you that came home, you that saw me there on the floor and you that sorted everything out…but you sent Jan.

I black out, I stumble, I trip, I lose my balance and when I come too (yes, I do lose consciousness) I don’t know what has happened and why I am lying on the floor.

It’s not just that though Charlie, I’m depressed all the time, I feel so down and fed up with everything. I am tired all the time, I cannot sleep at night which makes me even more tired, I try to sleep but I just can’t. I am so lonely in the house when you are at work. I just rattle around on my own willing sleep to come, then, I get up in the morning and go to work so tired I am irritable and agitated all the time.

I don’t know for definite what is wrong with me Charlie, but I’ve got a good idea. I am slowly losing my mind, I’m forgetting things, losing things, I put things down and I can’t remember what I’ve done with them. What I do know is that I cannot deal with this on my own – I need you to fight with me, to fight for me when I can no longer fight for myself.

Once again, she stops to wipe the tears away. How can she send this to him? Make these demands on him after everything that has happened, after everything she has done. Perhaps leaving without sending it is the better option, running away has worked in the past – how many times she has run away instead of confronting her fears, her feelings, her life? Too many to count really, too many to think about now. The song has changed; she listens to the lyrics, losing herself in the words.

Feels like I've been up for days I've been in a purple haze Round and round and round I go Can't we start again and just take it slow

I know you're hurt, you're hurting bad And you got every reason to be mad But I know you wanna be with me Well this is crazy

I know we're better, better, together, together Oh, what a mess we made I know we're better, better, together, together We may never be the same

Picking up her pen one final time she finishes her letter to the man she loves with all her heart, who has been there through everything, who was, is and always will be her best friend.

I know I don’t have the right to ask anything from you (not after what I have done to you, to us), but I cannot do it alone Charlie, you are my best friend, the man I love more than anything in the world.

I love you my dear, sweet Charlie

Forever yours

Duffy

Xxx

She folds the letter up, puts it in an envelope and picking up her bag walks out of the door to her room at the B & B, closing it quietly behind her. Walking slowly out of the building she looks up at the sky and smiles faintly at the stars that twinkle above her, tears still streaming down her face she turns left down the street she has come to call home towards his house, their house.

Darkness shrouds what was once her home, clearly there isn’t anyone in, assuming he is at work she lifts the latch on the gate and slowly walks up the path and posts the letter through the letterbox.

“That’s it,” she whispers to the door, “the end, goodbye my Charlie, I love you, I will always love you.”

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

Text

Osaka-shi Serenade 2 / 4

IN WHICH there is Christmas dinner and intense bonding, drunken shenanigans, and smut!

SUMMARY: When Emma Swan’s high school sweetheart betrays her she runs away, as far as she can get… all the way to Japan. She tells herself it’s not running, it’s an adventure, but when she meets a handsome Englishman as broken as she is, will she be brave enough to embark on a new adventure with him?

A//N: THANK YOU ALL for the lovely response to this story! As I said it’s a very personal one, and slower and sweeter than the kinds of things I usually write. I loved living in Japan and writing this has been a trip down memory lane that I’ve very much enjoyed. I’m so pleased you’re enjoying it too!

RATING: M (for this chapter!!)

On AO3

TAGGING: @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @searchingwardrobes @shireness-says @thejollyroger-writer @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and of course @katie-dub and THANKING @distant-rose and @thisonesatellite for being brilliant betas.

(please let me know if you would like a tag!!)

PART2:

Christmas was, of course, not a holiday celebrated in Japan.

Of course it wasn’t, thought Emma, as she got ready for work on the 25th of December, five weeks after she’d moved to Osaka. Japan was a primarily Buddhist and Shinto country, and also, as Belle had explained to them in their last team meeting, the New Year was huge, and they would have a full week off for that. Emma understood.

But still, going to work on Christmas felt weird.

She’d already Skyped with Ingrid and Ruby and wished them Merry Christmas. There was snow in Storybrooke and her adoptive mom had carried the laptop outside to show her the snowman she and Leo had built, and all the presents under the tree, and even though Emma knew it was really just another day on the calendar, although she’d already lived through missing Thanksgiving, although Christmas carols played everywhere in Osaka all. the. time. since she’d arrived, she still couldn’t help feeling sad.

Adventure, she reminded herself as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door. Trying new things. There would be other Christmases.

The expat pubs in Osaka, of which there were very, very many, seemed to understand her melancholy, or at least found a way to profit off it. Every one of them offered “Christmas dinner:” a choice of roast turkey or beef with potatoes and vegetables, smothered in gravy and accompanied by a pint of Guinness.

“I like a good roast dinner as much as anyone,” remarked Killian as they stood in a hugely crowded pub, looking for a seat and observing as those already seated ate their food, “But that is not a good roast dinner.”

“It suits me, mate,” said Will. “I intend to get pissed tonight, all I need is somethin’ to cushion the alcohol.”

“Well, I’m going to find a less… popular place to celebrate the Yuletide,” said Killian. “If anyone would care to join me?”

“I will.” Emma didn’t like the look of the roast meats or the thin gravy, plus it was too loud in the pub and far too hot. She felt claustrophobic and very un-Christmassy.

“And me.” Anna had been subdued all day, for the past few days actually, and the prospect of a Christmas dinner had cheered her almost back to her usual self. But now she looked down again. “Let’s get out of here.”

The three of them headed out into the streets, still busy and bustling though it was nearly midnight, and decided to walk towards Shinsaibashi.

“There must be someplace there that’s nicer than that bloody pub,” said Killian. “I don’t know why we go to that place so often, if I wanted a piss-up in a run-down local I’d’ve fucking stayed at home.”

Everyone was grumpy tonight, thought Emma. They could all use some Christmas spirit.

“We could always go to KFC,” she attempted to joke. “A student told me today that’s a Japanese Christmas tradition. A bucket of KFC and a strawberry cake.”

“No,” said Killian firmly. “I want a decent meal. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

“So have I,” Anna agreed.

They pushed forward through the thickening crowds, but when they reached the entrance to the covered part of Shinsaibashi-suji, where the lights were so bright it almost rivalled daytime and where shops, restaurants, pachinko parlours, and karaoke bars were all jumbled together in a bright mess of noise and energy, Anna held back.

“I don’t know if I’m really feeling this,” she said.

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked her. “You seem down.”

“Yeah, I just— I don’t want a lot of noise. Can we maybe try someplace else? What about down here?”

They turned down a quieter side street, still bright and bustling but far less crowded. After a few minutes Anna stopped.

“How about this place?” she asked, indicating a red-fronted building with a dark-painted wooden door and a sign outside proclaiming it Osaka’s best steakhouse in almost correct English.

“Charley Brown’s?” said Emma, reading the sign. “Yeah, okay. Fine with me.”

Killian opened the door and they went in, indicated with hand gestures to the smiling and bowing hostess that they wanted a table for three, then followed her up the stairs to a small candlelit table in a quiet corner of the spacious room.

“This is nice,” said Emma, determinedly cheerful.

“Aye, it really is,” agreed Killian. His earlier mood seemed to have lifted, but Anna was still frowning.

She hovered next to the table as Emma and Killian sat down. “I don’t think I can do this,” she said.

“Do what?” said Emma, trying not to be annoyed. “I wish you’d tell us what’s wrong.”

“It’s— it’s Kristoff,” she said, looking sideways at Killian. “My ex. I— he— I talked to him last night and I’m just— I’m not feeling great.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” offered Emma.

“No. Thanks. I think I just want to be alone.” She tried to smile, though the strain in her face was evident. “You guys stay though, please. Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. See you.” Emma watched her go, then turned to Killian. “What was that about?”

He scratched behind his ear. “I think she’s just having some troubles with people from home,” he said. “She and her ex ended in a weird place.”

Emma could tell that wasn’t the whole story but she wasn’t going to try to pry someone else’s secrets from Killian. He and Anna were close and had been friends before she’d met either of them, and it really wasn’t her business.

Yet Anna’s departure left her and Killian alone together in an atmosphere that was undeniably and inescapably romantic. Their table was small and felt secluded in its little corner, lit with tea lights in decorative holders and by the soft glow of the shaded wall sconces above them. It was intimate and elegant, and the nicest restaurant Emma had ever been in.

“Well,” said Killian brightly. “What looks good?”

The menu was extensive and a bit confusing, but Emma’s attention was caught by a small card tucked between the salt and pepper shakers on the table, advertising a Christmas meal that looked delicious, far better than what the pub had been offering. Five courses plus wine for 4,000 yen. It was expensive, but it was also Christmas, and Emma felt like she’d earned it.

“I think I might just try this,” she said.

Killian picked up the card and nodded. “Sounds great,” he agreed. “I’ll do the same.”

The waiter appeared and they gave their order, and once he had taken it and bowed himself away, silence fell between Killian and Emma, alone with each other for the first time and for the first time feeling awkward.

Emma was determined not to be.

“So are you ever going to tell me the story of your notebook?” she asked him, a hint of challenge in her tone.

“Do I look like Nicholas Sparks?” quipped Killian, and she chuckled politely but she knew deflection when she saw it, and she was not about to let it slide.

“I have no idea,” she retorted, “But I suspect your notebook would be a heck of a lot more interesting than his.”

“Not a Sparks fan then Swan?”

“Stop trying to change the subject.”

Killian sighed, and rubbed behind his ear again. Emma made a mental note to play poker with him someday; with a tell that obvious he’d be an easy mark.

“Well if you must know I was taking notes because… because I’m thinking I might write a book. Someday. And when I have ideas I think could possibly go in it, I write them down.” His ears had gone pink, and the tops of his cheeks. Emma could not have been more charmed.

“Why would you feel like you needed to hide that?” she asked. “I think it’s amazing.”

He shrugged. “It’s just theoretical at this point, I haven’t actually written anything. But I used to write short stories when I was younger and my brother always said—” he broke off.

“What did he say?” she prompted.

“He said I had a gift.” Killian replied in a low voice.

“Sounds like a good brother.”

“He was.”

“Was? What happened?” The words were out before she could think better of them, and she tensed, hoping she hadn’t pushed too far.

“He died.”

She remembered what he’d said during their first meeting, on the subway. “Was that the funeral you wore the tie to?” she asked. “The tie you threw away?”

He nodded, looking down at his hands where they rested on the table. “Yes.”

“I’m so sorry, Killian.”

“It was a long time ago.” He looked away again.

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.” She knew this, of course. Firsthand.

“No.”

She also knew how important it was to talk about things that hurt. “Will you tell me about him?”

Killian looked up at her and she sensed apprehension but also relief, that he actually badly wanted to talk about this with someone who would understand. That he was hoping she would understand.

He had no idea just how much she did understand.

“Liam was my hero. That might sound foolish—”

“It doesn’t.”

“—but he was. He was eight years older than me but he always used to let me tag along with him and his friends. I didn’t realise what a big deal that was until I got older myself. In the summer he would take me to the library and help me find books to read and then sometimes we would get the train to Weymouth and go to the beach. He made me play rugby even though I do not have the build for it because he thought it would make me tougher than football would, and when our father went into drunken rages he would take the brunt of it to protect me.”

These last words came out all in a rush and his expression was almost defiant, expecting pity or judgement.

She offered neither, just took his hand and squeezed it hard.

“How did he die?” she asked. “If you don’t mind telling me.”

“I don’t like to talk about it, but… I think I’d like for you to know.” He took a deep breath and his fingers tightened on hers. “It was a car accident. Just a stupid, pointless accident, only I was driving. I was seventeen and practicing for my driving test, and I turned onto a busy road and some arsehole wasn’t watching where he was going and plowed into the passenger side, and killed my brother. Instantly. Just like that and he was gone. The police said there was nothing I did wrong, but I can’t help feeling like—”

“Like you should have been able to do something to prevent it.”

Relief flashed in his eyes, and gratitude. “Yeah.”

“I get it. My parents died in a car accident too.”

Relief turned to empathy. “Oh, love.”

“Yeah. I was twelve, and my brother Leo was two. So we have that in common too, that big gap between siblings. My dad was killed instantly, like your brother, but my mom died pulling me and Leo out of the wreckage.” She paused, blinking tears back, breathing deeply, pushing down the panic this memory still incited, even after more than a decade. “She pulled me out first, I was easier to reach, then told me to wait while she went back for Leo. She got him free but she had internal bleeding and strained herself too much.”

Her voice broke, and Killian held her hand even tighter. “Fucking hell,” he whispered.

“Yeah.” She swallowed hard, focused on her breathing. “It was pretty awful. My mom— she put Leo in my arms and then she collapsed and never got up again, and I— I have spent the past eleven years thinking if only I had stayed with her maybe I could have saved them both.” Her confession came in a rush, as his had done.

“Or maybe you’d have been killed too.” Killian’s voice was hoarse. “You were a child, Emma, there is nothing you could have done.

“Maybe. As it was all I had was a few bruises and Leo barely a scratch.”

“But that’s good, love. You had your brother, and he had you. I’m sure knowing that would have made your parents happy.”

It was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her about the accident, much less someone who had lost his own brother so cruelly. Emma felt the tears she’d been fighting back spill over, and wiped her eyes with an embarrassed laugh.

“So that’s why you don’t like wearing ties,” she tried to joke. “At least that mystery is solved.”

“Aye. My father made me wear one to the funeral and cuffed me on the side of the head when I protested, said I was being disrespectful to Liam’s memory.” Fury flashed in his eyes, barely leashed, offering a glimpse of how terrifying he would be if he ever let it loose. Showing that his memories were as fresh as hers were. “Like he hadn’t spent Liam’s entire fucking life being disrespectful, like it’s so respectful to take out your drunken bitterness on your own bloody child.”

“So what did you do?”

“I put on the tie and I went to the funeral. Then when my brother was in the ground I burned the tie, and the suit, punched my father in his fucking face and left. I haven’t seen him since.”

Emma could imagine him, young and lost and drowning in pain and fury. She wanted to hug him, but instead she gently rubbed her thumb across his fingers. “Where did you go?”

“I’ve always loved the sea so I went down to Weymouth, where I used to go to the beach with Liam. I went to the harbour there and found myself a job as a labourer on a fishing boat, backbreaking work but I was lucky to get it. I worked there for just over a year, until I had enough money saved to pay for university. What about you? What happened after your parents passed?”

“It was pretty confusing for a while. We stayed with my friend Ruby and her grandmother since my parents didn’t have any close family to take us in, but then the state wanted to put us into the foster system. They said they’d keep us together, but I didn’t trust them, so when the social worker came to talk to us I wouldn’t let her in. I held the door shut and then I kicked and scratched and bit her, and eventually she gave up and left. She was furious. She shouted at me that Leo could be adopted into a nice family and if I was good they’d take me too. She said I was going to ruin his life, but I knew my parents would have wanted him to grow up with his own family. Even if that was only me.” She gave a self-deprecating shrug.

“Eventually my mother’s distant cousin, Ingrid, heard about what happened. She came and found us and took custody of us. Three years later she adopted us. She even moved to the little town where we lived so that we wouldn’t have to be separated from our friends and familiar surroundings.” She sniffed as tears prickled behind her eyes again. “I don’t know what we’d have done without her.”

Killian smiled, though he looked teary himself. “So a happy ending, then, of a sort.”

“As happy as it could be I suppose. Leo’s thirteen now and he’s a normal, happy kid. He loves Ingrid and doesn’t remember our parents, which—” she paused and took a deep breath before speaking, words she had never uttered to another person, words she had barely even managed to think. But she’d already told him so much, what was one more painful revelation? She could analyse her seemingly irresistible urge to spill all her secrets to him sometime later. “—I almost envy him for that,” she whispered. “I miss them so much. Even after all this time. I cry every day on the anniversary of their deaths.”

Killian’s hand shifted in hers, and she felt the soft brush of his thumb across her knuckles. “I cry on the anniversary of Liam’s,” he said, in a voice that held sadness and pain and profound empathy. He understood, of course. She’d known he would.

The waiter arrived with their first courses, shattering the intimate mood, and abruptly they were self-conscious, pulling their hands apart and smiling with forced cheerfulness as plates were set before them. Emma could still feel the imprint of Killian’s fingers in hers as she picked up her fork.

“This looks good!” she said brightly.

“Aye. Far better than that slop from the pub.”

They ate in silence for a minute and Emma, desperate for the ease of understanding between them not to grow strained searched for some topic of conversation less heavy than dead families.

“So why did you—” she began.

“What brings you to—” started Killian, and they laughed.

“I was just going to ask why you came to Japan,” said Emma.

“Funny, that’s what I was going to ask you.”

She grinned at him. “You first.”

“Well it’s not that interesting a story, really. After uni I took an awful boring job, in public relations. I’ve no idea why I even took it, my degree is in Modern Languages, but they needed someone who spoke French so they offered it to me. The salary was better than any other offers I’d had and they said they were a ‘cool young’ firm and I wouldn’t have to wear a suit, so I thought why the fuck not for a year or two. But then before I knew it, it was five years later and I was bloody miserable. I hated every morning I had to wake up and go to work, but I stayed in the job because I didn’t really have any idea what else I even wanted to do. Then one day out of nowhere I ran into Graham in London. We’d been at uni together and hadn’t seen each other since, so we went for a drink to catch up and he told me he was there for an interview to teach in Japan. He made it sound like an amazing opportunity, said I should come too since they were still recruiting, and I had always wanted to go to Asia so I said I’d give it some thought. And then the next day my boss told me they were cutting the staff and offered me voluntary redundancy and I said hell yes, took the money, and before I was even out the door was on the phone with Graham for the details of that job.”

“Wow, it’s lucky you ran into him.”

“Indeed. We weren’t ever that close and I hadn’t spoken to him in years. It was just a weird coincidence that we happened to be in the same place at the same time. What?” he asked, seeing her face.

“Nothing, really, it’s just I’m kinda here by weird coincidence too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I— I wanted to get away. From my life, and from my ex.” She glanced up at him, hoping he wouldn’t ask for details. She really didn’t want to talk about Neal, not with Killian. But he just nodded for her to continue. “So I just randomly googled ‘jobs in other countries’ and this came up. I’d never even considered going to Japan or even leaving the US, but it was like once the idea got into my head I couldn’t get rid of it. I felt like I had to go. Ruby thought I was nuts.” She laughed. “Maybe I was. But also, like, the interviews were being held in Boston, which is a three hour drive and a longer train ride and I wouldn’t normally have ben able to manage it, but the day they wanted to interview me I happened to have plans to be in Boston anyway, with Ruby actually. It was just all so easy, like it just fell into place. I don’t normally believe in signs, but that sure as hell felt like one.”

Killian shook his head, an odd, small smile on his face.

“What?” she asked him.

“I was just thinking of all the little things that had to come together in order for us to meet,” he said. “The odds against it were staggering.”

“And yet here we are,” she said softly, matching his smile with her own.

“Here we are,” he agreed.

—

They left the restaurant feeling content, full of wine and good food and the excitement humming softly beneath their skin at this hazy, undefined, unspoken-but-still-very-real thing that was blossoming between them, the attraction and the understanding and the sense of kinship that was unlike anything either had experienced before. Killian held the door for her and then when they fell into step his hand brushed against hers and Emma thought the spark might actually set her on fire. She edged closer and let her knuckles brush his in a way that was unmistakably deliberate, then his fingertips were tracing across her palm and—

“Oi, Jones! Emma!”

Will’s voice rang out from across the street and Killian and Emma all but leapt apart.

She didn’t know why, Emma thought crossly. They hadn’t been doing anything, yet the nothing they’d been doing was new and fragile and intensely personal, and she imagined Killian didn’t want their friends interfering in it any more than she did.

She glanced at him and he shot her a wry grin, and they crossed the street to join the group. Will was with Graham and Smee and all three were very much the worse for alcohol.

“We are goin’,” said Will, with the painstaking enunciation of the very intoxicated, “to sing karaoke. An’ you two,” he poked Killian’s chest with his finger. “Are comin’ along.”

“Mate—” began Killian, glancing again at Emma.

“Come on!” Will grabbed Killian’s arm and took a step forward, stumbling over the curb into the street and almost sending both himself and Killian flying headfirst into the gutter.

Killian steadied them both. “I’m not sure you’re in any state for karaoke, mate,” he said. “Maybe we should all just go home.”

“The night is young!” declared Will.

“It’s almost four a.m.”

“And we don’t ‘ave to be at work until three p.m.!”

Killian looked imploringly at Smee and Graham.

“Killian’s right, Scarlet,” said Graham. “You’re plastered and the rest of us are knackered, let’s get a taxi and go home. We’ll do karaoke another time.”

“Fine if you lot don’t wanna sing. But I am not goin’ home yet,” retorted Will, pulling his arm away from Killian and stalking off, as best he could stalk when he could barely keep his own feet under him. They watched him stagger for a minute, and finally Graham sighed.

“I’ll go after him,” he said. “Get him home safe. You guys don’t have to wait.”

“You sure?” said Smee. “I can go with—”

“No, you get a taxi with Emma and Killian, you all live in the same direction so it makes sense.”

Emma and Killian exchanged looks. It did make sense, but Smee lived at the same subway stop as Killian, which meant…

“Okay.” Smee grinned at Emma. “I’ll be h— happy to escort you home, my lady.” She felt Killian tense up beside her, and when she glanced at him his jaw was clenched tight. He caught her eye and shrugged. What could they do? Ditch Smee because they wanted to be alone in the taxi, maybe go back to one or the other’s apartment together?

Was that what they wanted?

It was definitely what Emma wanted, and she thought Killian did too, but they could hardly discuss that here.

Graham said goodbye and hurried after Will, chasing him deeper into the noise and crowds of Shinsaibashi, while Emma, Killian, and Smee turned in the other direction and headed for the taxi ranks on the quieter street of Midosuji.

“Imazato chikatetsu eki, kudasai,” said Emma to the driver as she got into the taxi between Smee and Killian. Her stop was closest.

“Imazato, hai!” he replied, and swerved the taxi in a sharp u-turn out into the street, tilting Emma almost into Killian’s lap. She braced herself against him and his hand came to rest on her knee, and when the taxi evened out along the wide avenue he didn’t move it.

Emma shifted, as subtly as she could, leaning into Killian’s side and pressing her leg against his. She could tell he was looking at her but she didn’t turn her head, didn’t dare risk seeing his face. He moved his fingers against her knee, almost imperceptibly, and when she merely pressed her leg harder against his he slid his hand slowly up her thigh, just to the middle of it. Casually, she let her hand come to rest next to his, looping their little fingers together. She heard him exhale slowly, as if trying to control his breathing, and he shifted himself, pressing his body all along the length of hers and twining their fingers more tightly together. Emma glanced over at Smee, but he was leaning his head against the window, oblivious.

All too soon they arrived at Imazato. Killian got out of the taxi to let Emma out. As she brushed past him he caught her waist and gave it a light squeeze. She looked up at his eyes, so blue in the bright lights from the subway station, brimming with emotions that made her heart race. Another time, his eyes said, and she nodded.

Emma ran across the street to her building and up the stairs two at a time, all five flights of them. She was feeling exhilarated and jumpy and humming with energy. She flung open the apartment door and kicked off her shoes, almost dancing into the living room.

“Do you mind,” said Aurora’s voice from the sofa. “We are watching a movie.”

“Oh.” Emma turned to see Aurora and Mulan sprawled out with a laptop on the table in front of them, sharing a set of headphones. “Sorry. I thought you guys would be at work.”

“We did a half day today,” said Mulan.

“We finished about an hour ago,” added Aurora. “You’re back really late.”

“Oh, I just went out to dinner with a friend. For Christmas. Um, Merry Christmas, by the way.”

“About that,” said Aurora. “Just so you know, next week we’re having a party. For the New Year. With some friends from our shift. Just so you can make your own plans.”

Mulan shot her an apologetic look, but Emma just shrugged. She was used to Aurora’s passive aggression by now. “That’s fine,” she said. “I’m, um, gonna go to bed now. See you guys later.” She could hear Aurora whispering as she slid her bedroom’s thin doors shut but she tuned it out.

Her mind and heart were still racing as she got into her pajamas and flopped down on her futon. Just one more week, she thought, four more days of work and then they had nine days off for the New Year. Nine days of vacation, surely, surely she and Killian could find some time to be alone with each other again.

She closed her eyes with a smile and fell asleep thinking about him.

— 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵

The following week passed much as the ones before it had. She saw Killian at work and he still flirted and shared his lunch with her and outwardly everything was almost the same. And yet… whenever the group was together they made sure to stand next to each other, closer than they would have stood before. They sat closer too, at lunch, and shared little private smiles, and now and then when she was laughing or talking animatedly she looked up to catch him watching her with an intensity that made her heart pound.

After their shift on December 29th the group headed out, back to Shinsaibashi to a new bar Will wanted to try.

“I hear they make some fuckin’ killer drinks, mates,” he said. “There’s this blue shite, right, that has five different shots of liquor.”

“Five, really?” said Graham. “You’d be dead.”

“Nah, mate, not after one. It’d take at least three to end me,” chortled Will.

He held the door open for them with a flourish, and rubbed his hands together as it closed behind him. The room was brightly lit, done in shades of electric blue and glaring white and the bar was made of glass and decorated to look like a fish tank. Emma frowned at it, watching carefully until she was certain that the realistic-looking fish were not actually swimming.

“I think they’re just… part of the glass?” said Anna.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. Weird.”

The bar’s glass top was scattered with laminated menus, featuring pictures of vibrantly hued drinks.

“That’s it!” crowed Will, pointing at a drink the same blue shade as the neon sign above the bar. “That’s the one. I’ll ‘ave one a those, kudasai.” He pointed at the menu and the bartender nodded.

“Make it six,” said Will, holding up his left hand with the five fingers splayed wide and his right index finger held vertically across its palm. “My treat, mates.”

“Roku, hai,” acknowledged the bartender.

The bar was staffed by three terrifyingly efficient men, and their drinks arrived quickly. Emma took a sip of hers and grimaced. It was good, but it was strong.

“What the hell is in this?” she demanded.

“Not sure,” said Will. “I think one is absinthe.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” queried Anna.

“Maybe not in Japan,” suggested Graham.

“Absinthe is green,” Killian informed them, holding his drink up to the light. “Famously so. I don’t think there’s anything green in here, this is likely the bluest substance known to man.”

They all laughed and kept sipping, and the more they sipped the louder their laughter grew until the blue beverages were all consumed and Will was asking the bartender for more.

“I don’ think I could drink more,” said Emma, leaning heavily against Killian as the room spun gently around her, not even caring about the sharp look Anna shot her as she clutched the sleeve of his suit jacket. She liked Anna, very much, and whenever they were alone the other woman was friendliness itself but as far as very-pleasantly-buzzed Emma was concerned, she needed either to say she wanted Killian or not say it, but all these little wordless glares whenever Emma was close to him were starting to get tiresome.

Especially as Emma had every intention of getting much closer to him before the night was done.

Will was arguing with the bartender who refused to make them more blue drinks, offering them every other colour on the menu, and Graham was trying to intervene. Smee was watching them with his habitual slightly vague expression and Anna was pretending to watch while actually keeping her eyes on Emma as she laid her head on Killian’s shoulder and his arm snuck around her waist.

“All right, Swan?” he murmured.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I feel good.”

It was one of the nicest buzzes she’d ever had, in fact. She felt light and loose and carefree, but not confused or out of control. Like she was floating on a marshmallow or rolling on a cloud of cotton candy.

She giggled, which was not like her, nor was the whimsy. But maybe both were what she needed tonight, she thought.

Will clapped his hands triumphantly as he won his argument with the bartender, who agreed to make them one more blue drink.

“Have at it, lads,” Will said, offering the drink around the group. Emma took a large swig then passed it to Killian, who did the same. She swayed as the added alcohol hit her, and now the cotton candy was in her brain, clouding her thoughts and sweetening them. She tugged on the lapels of Killian’s jacket.

“Let’s go somewhere,” she said, hoping the words didn’t sound as slurred as they did in her head.

He looked down at her, his eyes glassy but intensely focused.

“Where?” he asked.

“Somewhere. Anywhere. Just— take me somewhere.”

His eyes widened as he caught her meaning, then dropped to her lips and he swallowed hard. She swayed towards him but the room was far too bright and too full of their friends for what they both wanted.

He cleared his throat. “Are you sure, love?” he asked. “We’ve had a lot to drink—”

“I’m sure.”

He nodded, eyes still on her lips. “Yours?”

Emma struggled to think. Did Mulan and Aurora still work tonight, or— but it really didn’t matter because she wasn’t about to bring Killian to her place if there was any chance of Aurora being present. “No, my roommates are home,” she said.

“Is that a problem?”

“We have shoji doors, they are literally made of paper.”

“Ah. Well mine has normal doors but my flatmate is having a party.”

Emma wanted to snarl in frustration. How did other people do this when there was no privacy in this country?

Then she remembered how, from the whispers of other teachers and the blasé tales of her students.

“What about a love hotel?”

Killian’s eyes finally left her lips and he stared at her. “Really?”

“Oh, come on, like you haven’t wondered what they were like,” she teased.

“I have definitely wondered, but—”

“There’s one just down the street isn’t there?”

“Emma, let’s think about this.”

“I don’t want to think.” She clutched his lapels again, pressing her body as close to his as it could get, close enough that their breaths mingled, that she could feel the catch in his against her cheek. So close that half an inch was all that stood between them and the kiss they had both been craving for a week. For longer.

Well, that half inch and four very rowdy drunken English teachers and a glaringly bright Japanese bar.

“I just want to be alone with you,” whispered Emma. “Just you and me somewhere with a door that locks and where no one cares what we do.” She released him abruptly and stepped back, towards the door, grabbing his hand from around her waist and giving it a tug. “I don’t care if it’s tacky, that’ll be part of the fun. C’mon. I’ll pay.”

“You absolutely will not,” said Killian, and she knew she had him. He glanced around them and seeing no one was looking wrapped his arm around her waist again and steered her to the door. “Let’s go.”

They stumbled out into the bustling night, just drunk enough to make the flashing neon seem softly romantic. Killian held her close against his side, his arm firm around her waist, and she slid her hand into the back pocket of his trousers. A wild giggle rose in her throat as she realised they must look like the sort of couple people shouted at to get a room.

And that was exactly what they were going to do.

The lobby of the love hotel was surprisingly elegant, with soft lighting and dark-wood panelling along the clean lines and sharp angles of the room. A smiling woman stood behind a large wooden desk in the far corner. She said something in rapid Japanese and Emma struggled to pick out any of the words she knew.

Killian replied, also in Japanese.

What the fuck, thought Emma, gaping at him, wondering if she were drunker than she’d thought.

He shot her a slightly sheepish look as the woman began to tap on her computer. “I’ve been taking lessons,” he said.

So had Emma, but she wasn’t anywhere near that good.

Though her body was still thrumming with excitement she began to feel a bit awkward as Killian and the still-smiling woman arranged their room. There was only one reason people went to love hotels, the clue was quite literally in the name, and despite the fact that this was the woman’s job it felt weird to think that she knew what Emma and Killian were there to do.

Killian caught the look on her face and squeezed her hand. “You can back out any time, love,” he said. “No hard feelings.”

She shook her head, and returned his squeeze. “No. I want to do this.”

He smiled and the look in his eyes made her belly quiver.

The smiling woman handed Killian a key and a pamphlet and pointed them in the direction of the elevator with an elegant hand wave and a series of bows.

“Come on, then, Swan,” he said, flipping through the pamphlet. “We’re on the twelfth floor.”

“There are twelve floors to this place?”

“More, even, I think.”

They got in the elevator, which was as dimly lit as the lobby. The darkness made it easier to slide close to him again and press her cheek against his chest as he kissed her hair.

She supposed that was the point.

After the tasteful elegance of the hotel’s entrance and elevator, the sight of their room had them stopping dead in the doorway, gaping in shock. This, thought Emma. This is what I was expecting. The commitment to the theme was impressive.

The room was large, with gently curving walls and tall, blacked-out windows, but what really drew the eye were the hearts. Heart shaped pillows of varying sizes and hues of pink and red cluttered the heart-shaped bed with its heart shaped headboard, over which hung a heart-shaped mirror framed in sparkly red hearts. The walls were striped with lines of fuchsia hearts and in the corner sat a small table, square but lacquered in black with bright red hearts and accompanied by two matching chairs, with heart-shaped backs.

Emma tried to swallow her hysterical giggles but then she caught Killian’s eye. He was biting the inside of his cheek and when she widened her eyes at him they both burst into laughter.

“This is brilliant,” said Killian, after they had caught their breath again. “It’s everything I hoped it would be.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” she agreed, and they both knew they weren’t just talking about the room.

Their laughter had dissipated the awkwardness leaving only the insistent pull of sexual tension, and when Emma hooked her fingers under the waistband of his trousers and pulled him closer she could feel the pounding of his heart and the heat of his gaze burning into her as she slid her hand into his hair.

“I’m feeling more sober now,” she whispered.

“Is that bad?”

“Exactly the opposite. I want to remember this.”

“So do I.”

She pulled his mouth down to hers and stood on her toes to meet it halfway as his arms wrapped tightly around her. Their lips met softly at first and then harder, and Emma’s head began to spin again as she opened her mouth and his tongue stroked hers, soft and wet and warm and tasting faintly of alcohol. He kissed her firmly and with obvious skill but let her take the lead, responding to her cues and adapting to her pace, and for the first time ever she felt like kissing was something being done with her rather than to her, and for Emma this was a revelation.

Soon she was breathless and barely able to stay standing on her shaky legs. She leaned against Killian, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her just off her feet and walked them over to the bed, lowering her gently onto the pile of heart pillows and following her down without breaking their kiss. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly, letting his fingertips trail along each newly revealed inch of skin until every last button was undone and she practically ripped the shirt away, desperate for more of his hands on her.

They pulled apart just long enough for her to yank off her bra and toss it away and for him to remove his own shirt, heedless of its buttons, and when they came back together she moaned at the rough sensation of his chest hair against her nipples. It felt amazing, his skin against hers felt amazing, and the hard press of his cock between her legs made her heart race and her fingers tremble in anticipation. She bucked her hips against him and he groaned into her mouth.

He tugged at the waistband of her trousers. “Get these off,” he growled, as with his other hand he began to undo his belt. Emma shimmied out of her pants and underwear, too eager to feel all of him against her to be anything like self-conscious. When they were both naked he paused, taking her in, then reached out a trembling hand to trace the contours of her breast and waist and hip with the tips of his fingers.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, almost in a whisper. “I can’t believe—”

“What?” she whispered back.

“I can’t believe I’m here with you. This is like a dream.”

She knew exactly how he felt.

“You’re beautiful too,” she said, trailing her own fingertips over his chest and down his abs, stopping just shy of his cock. He caught his breath, the blue of his eyes almost lost to black, but managed a smirk.

“Devilishly handsome, I think you’ll find, Swan.”

She laughed. “That too.”

He pulled her back into his arms, running his hand down her back to press her as close as he could, curving it around her ass to pull her hips into his. She gasped, rocking against the hard swell of cock, desperate to feel it inside her, when she was struck by a terrible thought. “Wait,” she panted, pushing against his shoulders. “Do you have a condom?”

Killian pulled back, panting himself. “No. But the love hotel provides.” He leaned across her and pressed a button on the side of the headboard. A small drawer popped open, from which he withdrew a strip of six condoms, smirking at her as he brandished them.

“Ambitious,” remarked Emma.

“Aye, perhaps, but I do love a challenge.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed. “How did you know those were there?”

“It’s in the brochure.”

“When did you—” she began, but he cut her off with his mouth on hers and his hand sliding up the inside of her thigh, making her gasp against his lips.

“Hush, now, love, remember we have six condoms to use before two o’clock this afternoon, we need to stay focused.”

Her chuckle became a strangled moan as his fingers stroked through her slick flesh, finding her clit with impressive speed and accuracy. He pressed it lightly with his thumb and then began to rub gentle circles around it.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, half expecting him to reply with some quip about how just Killian would do, but he was too intent on watching her reactions to his touch. She could almost see him cataloguing what she liked, thinking vaguely that she should feel uncomfortable being the centre of such focused attention, but then he increased the pressure of his thumb and slipped a finger inside her and she forgot to think at all.

She arched her back, pressing her core against his hand and her head back against the pillows as her hands clutched at them. She wanted to watch him as he watched her; the intensity of his focus and determination to please her turned her on as much as anything about him did, but her eyes refused to stay open, fluttering closed as the heady sensations built and intensified and then her orgasm burst over her and she actually screamed.

Killian continued to stroke her until she opened her eyes then withdrew his hand, resting it on her hip as he propped his head on the other one, watching her with an expression that managed to be both soft and smug.

“You,” she panted, “are looking awfully pleased with yourself.”

His smirk deepened. “Well, darling, I did just make you scream.”

She gave his shoulder a sharp shove, toppling him onto his back and quickly swinging her leg over to straddle him. “Let’s see who screams next,” she said.

He cupped her breast, thumbnail flicking across her nipple and she tried to stifle her gasp, without success. He licked his lower lip, slowly. “You’re on, love,” he growled.

Damn it, thought Emma, she was fully turned on again, ready to go.

“Where’s the damn condoms?” she snarled, snatching them from his hand when he held them up. Ripping the first one from its packet she quickly rolled it down his length, following it with her body as he pulled her close to take her nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck,” she moaned as twin bolts of pleasure shot through her from her breast and her core. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea,” murmured Killian against her skin. He gave her ass a light slap. “Get on with it, then. I thought you were going to make me scream.”

Emma resisted the urge to smack him, instead lifting her hips and slamming them down, taking him deep, triumphant when he groaned and the hand on her ass gripped her hard. She braced her hands on either side of his head and concentrated on finding a rhythm, taking him as deep as she could and watching him as closely as he had her, trying to memorise what he liked best.

There seemed to be nothing he didn’t like, and soon he was thrusting up to meet her, fingers digging bruises into her flesh as she leaned on one hand and dragged her fingernails down his chest. When she flicked his nipple as he had done hers, he made a noise she’d never heard before and flipped them over, lifting her knee up to to her chest and plunging back into her deeper than before.

Emma no longer cared about the noises she herself was making; she was lost to everything but him, to the delicious friction of his cock inside her and his chest hair against her nipples, the softness of his lips on her neck. She’d had no idea sex could feel like this, like she was coming apart but also more whole than she’d ever been, her body incandescent with sensations that were almost more than she could bear. When she came it caught her by surprise, bursting from her core and flooding her with pleasure to the very tips of her fingers and toes. She gripped Killian’s forearm, nails digging into his skin as she clenched around him and he moaned her name as he came.

He collapsed and tried to roll away but she held on, wanting his weight on her for a few moments longer. He let his head fall against her neck and she could feel his breath ruffling the fine hairs on her nape as she sank her fingers into his own hair, damp with sweat, and as her senses slowly returned she tried not to worry about how not awkward this whole thing felt.

Even with Neal she’d always been awkward after sex, and she’d known him for years before sleeping with him. The whole business of being naked with someone once the urge to fuck had gone made her feel far too vulnerable, to say nothing of the messy cleanup and the general damp stickiness of it all. She generally escaped as quickly as she could and went to take a shower.

But with Killian not only didn’t she want to run she actually wanted to cuddle. His hand was moving up and down her hip in a touch more soothing than sensual, in time with her fingers sifting through his silky hair and it was… nice. Comfortable and sweet and lovely and she had no idea why this didn’t scare her.

Eventually he turned his head and nuzzled her cheek, kissing it lightly before pulling out of her, careful not to lose the condom. He went to dispose of it and she stretched luxuriantly, ogling his ass as he went.

“I could really use a shower,” she remarked.

“There’s a tub in here,” Killian called from the bathroom. “A big one.”

He poked his head out of the doorway, his expression at once challenging and shyly hopeful. “We could both fit,” he said.

What the hell, thought Emma. She’d already blown up all her old rules and boundaries with him, and she wasn’t about to run off until they’d had at least one more round, so why not take a bath together? She pictured him flushed and damp and looking at her in that way he had that made her feel cherished.

“Is it heart shaped?” she joked.

He laughed. “No. A missed opportunity there, really.”

“Oh well. Let’s use it anyway.”

His face lit up before disappearing back around the doorframe, and a moment later she heard the sound of water running.

“There are some bubbles though,” he called out. “In a heart shaped bottle.”

“Good enough,” laughed Emma. “Put ‘em in!”

She rolled off the bed and sauntered into the bathroom. Maybe it was the residual effect of the blue drink, maybe the fact that she was still buzzing from the best sex of her life, or maybe it was just the way Killian looked at her, but Emma was feeling bold and sexy, and when she appeared in the bathroom doorway and his eyes darkened as they travelled slowly down her naked form that feeling only intensified.

“You’re stunning,” he said.

She grinned. “So are you. Are we gonna do this again?”

“I know by ‘this’ you mean ‘trade compliments,’ but I’m going to ignore that and say hell yes we are but let’s have a bath first.”

“Good call,” she said, and stepped into the warm water. The bubbles smelled like roses and she sighed in bliss, and when Killian got in behind her and pulled her against him she snuggled into him with a sigh of a different sort, feeling happier than she could remember being since that dark, tragic night when she was twelve years old.

NOTES: For anyone unfamiliar with love hotels, they are basically just hotels that are designed to be places for people to go to have sex. They are not specifically for prostitution, though they can be used that way, but more for couples who just need some privacy in a very densely populated country with thin walls. In many traditional Japanese homes the sleeping space and the living space is the same space, and people just roll up their futons and put them in closets during the day, plus extended families often live together, so you can imagine it's hard even for married couples to find any space to be alone. They're not all heart-themed, but many have other themes like anime or S&M, and increasingly they are getting rid of the themes entirely.

You can read more here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_hotel

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #japan #english teachers #non magic au #friends to lovers #smut #fluff #smuff for days #there will be angst #but first the fluff #and japanese expat life #profdanglaisstuff #Osaka-shi Serenade

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crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years

Text

Love Lasts/Last Love

Septics Inverted

A JSE Fanfic

Who like finals messing with your time and energy?! Nobody? That’s what I thought! So because of said time- and energy-draining finals, this part is considerably shorter than the Inverted stories usually are. Also I’m working on storing up writing for the May event. Also I wanted to focus on another AU that has a big story coming out later this week. But enough about that! It’s time to get some updates on Stacy’s situation and leave everyone on a cliffhanger-type thing! *fingerguns away*

Read the intro story: Part One | Part Two

Various other AU-related stuff found here

Taglist: @evyptids @awkward-bullshit @watermelonsinmyattic @asunachinadoll @a-humble-narcissus @metautske @odysseus-is-best-boi @acuriousquail @beerecordings @elizabethnordwell

He’d given her a phone number after their last meeting, telling her to call or text him if she ever got in trouble. Stacy wondered exactly how the number worked, if it led to an actual phone or if it connected to somewhere in digital space that only Anti could access. Either way, she hadn’t expected to use it so soon. It was May 20th, three days after he last showed up. She was sitting in the front room, having just dropped off the kids at school. In one hand, she clutched the letter. In the other, she typed out a one-handed text on her phone, and sent it.

And just a few minutes later, the lights overhead flickered, and Anti appeared, leaning against the television. Where he made contact with the screen, it flickered with colors. “So what’s the problem?” he asked.

Stacy didn’t say anything, just held out the letter. Anti stared at it. Then all of a sudden she wasn’t holding it anymore, he was, and he was reading it intently. His eye got narrower the longer he read. “When did this happen?”

“That same night after you told me they could be tracking me,” she said quietly. “I—I think they were.”

Anti looked up. “Do you want to keep this?” he asked, holding up the letter.

Stacy bit her lip. “I...don’t know.” She really didn’t. Obviously, it would be better to get rid of it, to move on. But it was hard. Mostly because it had actually been a really sweet letter. For a moment, she could almost forget everything that happened between the two of them, and pretend they were back in university, having the time of their lives swept up in the early years of young love. Before the stress of working two jobs to provide for the kids, before the financial problems, before the alcohol and the fights and everything else. She knew it was impossible to go back, but she liked the reminder of happier days.

“How about...I keep it for you, and you can text me if you ever want to read it again?” Anti proposed. When Stacy nodded, the letter disappeared, falling apart into fading pixels.

She took a deep breath. “I...I’m sorry for calling you over something so little. But...I just needed to talk to someone about that. Figure out what to do.” She laughed. “And also, I-I guess it would be good for you to-to get an update on the stalking situation.”

He shook his head. “Come on. It’s fine. It’s just how humans work, talking about a situation makes it less big and scary. Though I do wonder if you don’t have other people to talk to.”

“I have some friends,” she said defensively. “A lot of them I know from work now, or they’re parents to the kids’ friends. But...I don’t th-think they could help, um, with this.” She folded her arms, shrinking into the couch cushions. “Not only would it be weird to tell them I think my ex is magically stalking me, but they don’t...they don’t even know everything that happened. Just that I’m divorced and it’s a sore subject. I think Shelly assumed there was an affair somewhere. Dunno if that’s better or worse.”

Anti shrugged. “If you’re asking me for romance advice, you’re absolutely talking to the wrong person. I don’t much care for it.”

“Do you care for any sort of connection?” Stacy asked impulsively. Then she regretted it when she saw how much his expression darkened. He looked over his shoulder at the television screen. Colors flashed wildly on it. “S-sorry,” she mumbled.

“Accepted,” he said, voice blank. “You can keep talking if you want.”

Stacy looked down, face getting red. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything for a while, and the room was silent except for a low electric whine. “It...it was a nice letter,” she finally said, voice so quiet she wasn’t sure he could hear her. “That’s why I didn’t know if I wanted to get rid of it. I th-thi-think the only thing that was...you know...was that there was a moment he said he couldn’t live without me. That might be...you know, a reference. Or it could just be trying to be romantic. Worked for both, the way it was written.” She sighed. “I don’t know when it happened for him. I know when it happened for me, but I don’t know when...when he stopped loving me. If he ever did in the first place.”

He was quiet, for long enough that she started wondering if she’d somehow upset him. Until he spoke again. “I think he still loves you,” he said. “Sure, it’s a dysfunctional kind of love, and his way of showing it is pretty fucked, but in his mind, he still loves you. I don’t know if that makes any of this better or worse, but I think it’s true.”

“...maybe,” she sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know.” She blinked rapidly. “Thanks, by the way. For just...listening. I know it must be interrupting something important, so I...I really appreciate it.”

“I can always catch up on security footage,” Anti shrugged. “And I can check the city’s cameras at the same time I listen to you.”

“You can?”

“Of course. I can be in multiple places at once.” He said this casually, as if he wasn’t currently breaking the laws of physics. “And so far, nothing’s happened. I don’t have anywhere to be until I need to try another dream contact tonight.”

Stacy hesitated before asking, “Dream...contact?”

The TV screen flickered with colors again. The overhead light switched off and on again. “Yes,” Anti said shortly. “It’s just...an attempt to jog some memories.”

She dropped the subject. Clearly, whatever this was, it was a bit too close to home for Anti. “Alright.” She turned around, looking out the window. “What...what are we gonna do about this? They’ve found me, and...I don’t want to...” She couldn’t find the words.

Anti was quiet, thinking. “I already gave you the phone number. That was what I planned to do about this. I could go out and confront him, but it could go badly for you if word got back to the others that I’m helping you out. If you want, I could put some cameras around your house. Or even inside.”

“Maybe outside,” she said. She briefly wondered where, exactly, he got the cameras, but if he could hack bank accounts just by thinking, she figured he didn’t have any problem with breaking in to more...material places. “Just around. So you can keep a closer eye on things. Doesn’t the neighborhood have cameras by itself?”

“A few, but this is one of the safer areas so there’s some blind spots that someone could easily use to sneak around undetected.”

Well, that was worrying. “Yeah, I think just around the house cameras would be helpful,” she said, standing up. “While you do that I-I’m going to go to the shop, get some food. Is that okay?”

“Hey, it’s your house. Your groceries. I don’t care.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll...I’ll see you later, then.”

The grocery run to the shop should’ve been easy. But as soon as she left the house, Stacy once again felt like she was being watched. She assumed that this feeling was the result of being tracked, and since she couldn’t do much about that, she forced herself to ignore it. It faded as soon as she got to the grocery store. But she didn’t quite relax.

And it turned out she was right not to.

She was in the cereal aisle, picking up her son’s favorite sugary excuse for breakfast food. She glanced to the side for a mere moment, and saw a head duck away at the end of the aisle. It looked like someone had been peering down the stacks towards her. And she knew who it was. She’d recognize that hat anywhere.

For a moment, she stared, her feet frozen to the ground. She forced herself to take deep, even breaths. She knew it was happening. But that didn’t stop the squirmy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her first instinct was to turn and run, but...maybe it was getting rid of the letter, maybe it was her brief conversation with Anti, it didn’t matter which. All that matters was that she realized she had a chance, right here, right now, to put a stop to this. She took a deep breath, then pushed her cart down the aisle toward the spot where she’d seen him. He wasn’t at the end, but when she turned into the next aisle, she spotted him. “Hello, Chase.”

He looked as shocked to see her as she’d been to see him. Maybe he hadn’t been expecting her to confront him. She hadn’t even been expecting that. “H-hi, Stacy,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” she asked tiredly.

“Oh, uh, y’know, just getting groceries. It’s a weekly chore in—in the house.”

“You don’t have a cart,” she pointed out.

“I left it back at the beginning of the aisle. It gets heavy.”

“Chase. No more excuses.”

His mouth opened, perhaps to deliver a pre-prepared denial, but then it snapped close again. “I...wanted to see you.”

“You’ve been wanting to see me for a while, then, haven’t you?” Stacy said, staring. “Chase, I’m not blind. I know you’ve been following me.”

“I...yeah.” He shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “I know it’s creepy, but I just —I needed to make sure you were...okay. I needed to see you.”

“Have you been following the kids too?” she asked.

Chase shook his head. “No, I didn’t—they’re always around someone who would freak out. And, well, a grown man hanging around the elementary school would seem a little suspicious.” He paused. “Are they...doing okay? Physically and, like, mentally? Do they...miss me?”

They did. They’d been quieter ever since the separation. “They’re fine,” Stacy said simply. “Healthy, in both ways. And emotionally too, as far as I’m aware.”

“That’s good.” He took a deep breath. “Stacy—”

“No.” She was surprised at how firm her voice was. “Chase, I don’t want to listen to you. Last time I did, you managed to convince me to stay, and another year passed with no change at all. And if you’re—if you’re fucking stalking me instead of showing up at my house like a normal person would, I think that’s a sign that everything’s still the same.” Her voice softened a little. “It’s better this way, Chase. I can’t—can’t help you the way you think I can. I can’t make everything alright just by being there and telling you it’s going to be okay. And the kids are in a better environment now, one where we don’t have to worry about them overhearing raised voices or finding empty bottles. So just...just leave, okay? Find a better way.”

Chase’s eyes widened. His hands, now out of his pockets, were shaking. “No, no you can’t—Stacy, you can’t just—everything was better when we were together. We were all happy. A family.”

“At first, yeah. But things change. You changed. And I stopped being happy the way you were.” Stacy sighed. “Let’s just leave it here, please?”

He was speechless, wide-eyed. “You can’t...just leave again. At least listen to me.”

“I can’t, Chase,” she said softly. “Every time I listen to you, you convince me to stick with these...these bad habits.” She took a few steps back. “I’m...going to check out now. Don’t follow me.”

“Stacy?” He reached out, but then froze, hand dropping back to his side. “I...I love you.”

Stacy stared at him, her eyes pools of sadness. “I loved the person you were.” And with that, she turned and left. Something...something had changed. She breathed more easily now. There was still a tight knot inside her, one she’d have to work to unravel, but...it had loosened, just enough. She didn’t look behind her as she walked away.

Chase remained rooted to the ground. She...she hadn’t even heard him out. He hadn’t even been ready to talk to her yet, despite all this time trying to find the words to say. He could feel the hot tears coming, so he squeezed his eyes shut until they went away. Why...why did everyone leave? Well, it might have something to do with him. Him and the hot pile of garbage that was his personality. But she...she stayed before. What changed? Why couldn’t everything go back to the way it was before? He needed this. He needed it to be like that.

An inkling of an idea dripped down into his mind. For a moment, he recoiled. But then, thinking about it further...he’d already done it, hadn’t he?

Chase pulled out his phone, opening up his messages. He typed out a simple text: Hey do you remember that idea you had a while ago?

The reply was almost instantaneous. Of course I do! Did you something happen to change your mind?

I guess you could say that. Not exactly tho. Im still sure i can do it, i just need her to sit down and listen to me. But shes not gonna do it shes gonna keep walking away. She just needs to stop doing that.

I see your problem. I’m sure I can get her to come down for a visit. You can have your chance to convince her, and if that fails, well. My original offer still stands.

No. This is different. I can do it on my own.

If you insist, Chase. I’ll swing by tonight, if that works for you.

Yeah, thats fine.

Chase took a deep breath. He was really going to go through with this, wasn’t he? God, this was like something you heard on the news, not something you ever thought about doing.

But...he’d already done worse, hadn’t he? What was one more sin, as long as it was in the name of love? And if that didn’t excuse it...well, he’d long ago accepted that he was the villain.

#listen to 'i say no' from heathers while reading this its perfect #the anthem of their relationship (thank evy for providing that song a while ago)#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #chase brody #antisepticeye #septics inverted au #invertedau #brigid writes fanfiction

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