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winderlylandchime · 7 months

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1/2 and we are at 4x06. He came back and sat down and went ‘okay so i am now fully relaxed and chill. I talked to myself in the mirror. And we both agreed that going forward, i will be now more calm.’ ‘What is this? Ohhhh Kinnetik launch party! awww he gave the check back. I knew it was killing him to accept the help…quick question, why didn’t he remove the showers? JUSTIN! Are we back to normal? Oh shit, Deb and Em are roommates!! BLONDIE IS BACK! MY BLONDIE IS BACK! Aww Brian, is gonna make a speec- why the fuck is Lindsay following him up there? Girl get the fuck out, you have nothing to do with any of this. AWW FEMALE BLONDIE IS UP THERE. See! SHE makes sense. Linds doesnt. AND JUSTIN! Now he makes sense because HE NAMED IT! Shoo lindsay, this isnt your moment. LOOK AT THEM KISSING! I LOVE THIS! This was nice! Finally my blondie is back!’ ‘Now why the fuck is Debbie ignoring Vic? Right, she’s angry but still. RAGE? A MOVIE?! HOLY FUCKING SHIT! She needs to stop being a bitch to Vic. I get shes angry but still’ ‘awwww he immediately went to Brian to tell him the news! Of course he did. MY BLONDIE IS BACK! That’s right Brian, go back to school Justin! Look at him making time to celebrate Justin. AWWWW’ ‘TED! AND EM! oh shit, this is gonna be tough, isn’t it? Yeah, i was right, this is tough. Fuck. I feel ripped in half. Im happy for Ted, i understand Em, but i want them to be friends again. Fuck’ ‘oh ben is miserable. And jealous and a bitch. Bro, he is your partner, you’re supposed to be supportive no matter what. Fuck you man’ ‘okay, i get Ted but dude! Come on. Hasn’t Blakey been through enough? Let that man live, he can’t catch a fucking break’ ‘FINALLY VIC AND DEBBIE MADE UP! We have a lot of catching up to do so let’s get to it babies! *waves to deb and vic* this is us when we grow up. Why is she bringing up what all she did for him because of aids? That’s wrong. I take it back, this isn’t us when we grow up. OH FUCK YOU DEBBIE! TOTALLY NOT US! NOT US! NEVER US!’ *he forced me to pinky promise that that wont be us* ‘did they change babylon? I dont remember this bench thing, because i know for a fact that they wouldve fucked on it by season 2. Ohhh Justin being sassy to Brian. Ohhh ibiza *says it like justin and then brian corrects justin* okay, my bad. He could have anything he wanted and he is betting school? HE REALLY CARES ABOUT HIS EDUCATION AND FUTURE. Fellas, how about this, you both fuck him. That way, you go to ibiza AND back to school? Win win’ ‘no Ben, the only piece of shit here is you. What a jealous prick. Who does that? Mike literally told him that he shouldnt judge his book cause he’s not smart enough since he didnt go to community college, which was fucked up b-t-w just to make up for hurting his feelings and this fucker cant even pretend to be happy for a moment? Fuck you. YEAH, GO OFF MIKE’ ‘aw Blake and Emmett. I need them to be friends. Oh god, i just had a realization. I sound like that chick in mean girls who wanted to bake cupcakes and make everyone friends. Blake, deserves the world!’ And now we are at the Britin/gym scene ‘it took 4 seasons for Justin to go with him to the gym? Bullshit, this man was stalking Brian like crazy in season 1. He would’ve had gym membership AND his personal trainer by episode 3. Ohhh its that guy! Damn, Brian really wants him to go back to school. What is he doing? Justin, what did you do? CRABS? What a little shit. I missed this. I missed them’ ‘Lindsay, what the fuck are we doing here again? Bagel? Hair and outfit, looking like that? Babe, what is going on? This is weird AND creepy. DUDE HANDS OFF HER ASS! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. YOU SHOULD’VE PUNCHED HIM HARDER AND LET HIM FALL! PIG’

Brother shouting about Lindsay being up on the stage at the launch party is so correct. WHY IS SHE THERE?

Your brother getting all worried and upset about Vic and Debbie's fight. I'm going to cry.

BRIAN DOES CARE ABOUT JUSTIN'S EDUCATION! I am so soft about that.

it took 4 seasons for Justin to go with him to the gym? Bullshit, this man was stalking Brian like crazy in season 1. He would’ve had gym membership AND his personal trainer by episode 3 OKAY I snorted at that. So accurate.

UGH the start of Lindsay and that guy. UGH

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023

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bootyyy-shaker9000 · 4 years

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Give Me A Chance

D.Danny x G-N! Reader [Oneshot]

Relationship: Pining - Romantic

Warnings: Slight Cursing, A Suggestive Joke, Fluff.

"Here ya' go, Big Mama!" Heaving five large worn-sacks of what you expected to contain Yokai goods, the three partners-in-crime grinned triumphantly. "Managed to loot them flashy broads from a few blocks down, slipped in and out no problem."

Big Mama's features gleamed in awe as she watched the rugged men stroll through her lobby, nearing towards her with her prize. "Oh, splendid! Well, I'm sure you are well aware of sorting your share."

From your positioning nearby Big Mama's grand table, you inspected them as they lugged three of the five bags of plunder onto a convenient marble surface.

Mickey bobbed his head in affirmation. "Sixty per cent on your end, Boss. Just like we promised ya'!"

"Formidable work, boys. I once again thank you for your service." The woman's gaze wandered, examining the stash as she wavered her hand over it all. "Now, I'll just have my assistant here take care of this while you fellas make yourself acquainted."

The mention of your given role had peaked your attention, giving the Mud Dogs a once over before making your way to the table. Big Mama placed a delicate hand on your shoulder, her mouth nearing towards your ear whispering: "Keep a close eye on them for me. Don't want their grubby fingers finding themselves somewhere they shouldn't."

Your eyes trailed up to Loathsome stretching out on a nearby settee with Malicious gawking at the fine art that scattered across the lobby's walls. While Dastardly - the only Mud Dog that had "conversed" with you on multiple occasions - perched his elbows on the tabletop's edge with body facing towards you, awaiting your arrival.

Your over-watch would basically be unnecessary when you already have the rat's eyes watching your every move. Not that you minded his attention (to an extent), you just had no idea what enjoyment he was getting out of it.

"Will do, Chief."

With that, Big Mama made her way out of the area with a rhythmic sway of her hips. While in turn, you stalked over to the pile of moolah you were set to examine, having to position yourself beside the dapper rat; who seemed all too eager to stay close.

"So uh," Dastardly adjusted his footing, tilting his head to get a better look at you. "How's work been holding up for ya' recently?"

You halted your inspection to take a subtle glance around, Danny taking note of it on the spot. "The coast is clear, doll, don't worry 'bout it."

He nodded reassuringly with his brow quirked before you dragged out a long inflated sigh. You flipped your back to the table, the small of your back resting on the table's edge as you mirrored the rat's laid-back stance.

"It freaking blows. Literally the most boring job known to pretty much anyone." You combed your fingers through the roots of your hair, giving your scalp a small rub in the process. "It's shocking how exhausting it is to do absolutely nothing, seriously. I'd rather be on my feet actually doing something, you know, like you guys. Being an errand boy or whatever."

"Errand boys?" An offended scoff was sent to you in return, the sound already making the corners of your lips turn up. "I'll have you know it takes a lotta skill and precision ta' do what we do half the time."

"Yeah and the other half you just spend it aimlessly goofing around."

"Meh, whatcha gonna do?"

You chuckled before lazily hoisting yourself up onto the counter, careful not to get an ass full of coins by avoiding the bags of loot. "Hey, I wasn't exactly saying it was a bad thing. It's gotta be fun at least."

With your body slumped, you held your position with your palms pressed to the marble surface. Peeking out from your downcast gaze, you caught a glimpse of Dastardly inching himself closer to your side. The left side of his hip rested on the slab as he dug his hands deep into his pockets, eyeing your form intently.

"Y'know... We could have some fun, just you and me."

Your head struck up in an instant. "Woah there, Casanova. Try to keep it in your pants, you're supposed to be a professional."

"Whaddya m-" His brows drew together in confusing before his cheeks tinted as the realisation dawned on him. "Oh! Oh, shi- no! Jeez, toots, I just meant 'fun' as in taking you outta' dinner or catch a show or somethin'."

A brazen grin made its way to his lips, his nostrils slightly flaring. "Unless that other offer is on the table then-"

"-It isn't."

"Well," Faltering only for a moment, his thin lips stretched back into a small smile but it didn't quite reach his dark eyes, "how about that date then?"

You just... Didn't understand.

"What makes you so interested in going out with me?" Your brow raised in question, tapping your index finger anxiously on the cold marble. "We've barely even talked."

Bashful, Dastardly brought a clammy hand up to rub the back of his neck, giving his tendons a slight message. "Heh, that’s kinda the reason why, toots. I can't figure you out."

The man let out a sigh before slumping back onto the edge of the table, crossing one ankle over the other as he shifted his weight.

"Usually, I can look at someone and read em on the spot, but you don't put too much of yourself out there. Every time I'm here you give me feelings I ain't totally sure on how to handle, but I sorta like it. I always wanna hang out with you and do stupid shit without the boys taggin' along, it doesn't even matter what we do!"

You winced as he got excitable the more he went on. "Danny..."

"Just hear me out, please." He set his hands out in front of him to figuratively set you on pause. "I wanna get to know ya, and a part of me thinks you wanna get to know me too. So, if you're willin', lemme take you out so we can get to know each other. Outside of all this."

Of course you wanted to get to know him. He was this mysterious guy in a striped suit that would waltz in and out of your workplace every week and actually take the time to notice you around. You couldn't help the curiosity that welled deep in your belly every time you caught him eyeing you from across the room.

You just couldn't wrap your head around the fact that he actually wanted to know who you were. Not just one of Big Mama's collaborators. Not just the associate that idled around wherever your boss lurked. Just you. You couldn't help but be fond of the man for wanting to do so.

Though you were still cautious of his intentions...

Huffing lightly, you replied. "So there are these guys that have been pestering Big Mama, right? They've been digging at her to pay up whatever expenditure she owed them, and obviously, she did. Holding up her end of the bargain as always."

"And this has somethin' to do with the date thing because...?"

"Lemme finish. But as you also know, that woman isn't one for letting someone give her such a hard time without 'semi-retaliating'..."

"I'm reckoning that's where the boys and I come in." The rat roughly adjusted the collar of his shirt, loosening the top button. "So doing this job is the only way I'm going to have a chance with you, huh?"

You couldn't help the nip of guilt that caught you. "See it as more of a test, Romeo."

Hopping off of the counter with ease, you manoeuvred yourself in front of the man, setting your hands on his lapels. You fixed his blazer with a slight pull while straightening it out in the process.

"Do this particularly important job, then I'll consider..." Your eyes reached up to meet Danny's, observing his pink-tinted features for a brief moment. "The date thing. Deal?"

Despite feeling grateful for the offer, he sounded slightly defeated. "Consider?"

Tugging gently on his lapels, you brought your mouth up to his ear, keeping your voice hushed. "It's a definite yes if you get your ass back here quick enough."

His ear flicked back as his dumbstruck eyes stared at you in what seemed to be a mixture of disbelief and excitement. Coughing out to compose himself, he turned away from your form to face the two Yokai that loitered across the room.

"Aye, boys! D'ya hear that? We got a job to do, move yer hides!" Danny ushered them to the exit with a vigorous waft of his arms, ignoring any annoyed protests.

Before leaving the building himself, the suited man pivoted on one heel to bid you a due, with a smug tip of his hat. "See you soon, sunshine."

In return, you gave a simple short wave of your hand goodbye. Though you couldn't help but reflect the flashy grin that he held onto your own features.

The realisation only just settling in, you sprung up to halt him from leaving the lobby. "Wait, Danny! I haven't even told you the job yet!"

Almost cartoonish, the Yokai poked his head back through the door way. "But I just- i just made a big deal with the leaving thing! And no- oh y'know what, I'll be back tomorrow!"

"Okay!" A hearty laugh escaped your lips as you watched him leave for the second time, leaving you desolate.

Maybe he's worth that chance.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt dastardly danny #rottmnt dastardly danny x reader #rottmnt mud dogs #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt imagines #tmnt 2018 #gender neutral reader

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say-writes-sometimes · 3 years

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"So maybe I am jealous"

Nathan Young x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: nothing really but slight language, heavy kissing

a/n: This is just Nathan getting jealous when you go to the bar, he starts getting a little possessive

This is my first Nathan Fic so yeah, constructive criticism is definitely wanted 💛

As you were cleaning the windows of the community center you were not oblivious to the glances Nathan threw at you. This had been going on for a while now and you were desperately waiting for him to finally make a move. He was usually too cocky for his own good, but when you actually wanted him to be honest and upfront he kept his pretty lips sealed.

You thought your hints were quite obvious, the way you laughed at his bad jokes and smiled at his disgusting antics. Nathan didn't seem to pick up on all of this though.

Wiping down the soapy window, you spied a young man walking through the community center looking around rather lost. You walked past Nathan, sparing him a lingering gaze he didn't notice and stalked through the double doors into the community center.

-"hey, I saw you wandering around in there multiple times, uhm anyway can I help you find your way?"

-"yeah that would be nice. This place is like a labyrinth and I keep on walking the same halls over and over again"

-"oh, believe me I know. Where can I guide you... ?", you asked noticing you didn't know his name yet and letting your sentence drifting off into nothingness.

- "I'm sorry, it's Ken, I am looking for Sally, do you happen to know her?"

-" I'm [y/n]. I know Sally, she must be wandering around here somewhere doing whatever she does all day long, but I can show you to her office if you like?"

-"Thank you [y/n], you are my saviour!"

You chuckled lightly at his comment and started to lead him to Sally's office, still smiling softly to yourself. Ken was a good looking young fella, there was no denying that. Easy conversation flowed between the two of you as you passed the window the other five were currently cleaning. You could feel their gazes on you as you passed. Nathan's eyes followed you far longer down the halls than you would have expected.

-"What is she doing there with that twat?", Nathan exclaimed rather irritated.

-"What do ya think, dickhead, she's talking to him", Kelly stated matter-of-factly while rolling her eyes at Nathan. His thoughts kept bothering him. He didn't know why he was so irritated by you hanging around with another guy, it's not like there was something going on between them, was there?

You arrived Infront of the office doors and saw Sally sitting inside talking animately on the phone.

-"I should get going before she sees me. I don't want to get any more work put on my shoulders today. See yah around sometime?", you said hurriedly, really not wanting Sally to catch you there when you had work to finish.

-"wait!", Ken called out to you as you turned around, "would you like to go out for a drink tonight?", he finished, his cheeks starting to glow in soft hues of red. His smile stayed on, though, and turned quite cheeky. He was up for mischief and you most definitely knew it. He actually had the balls to ask you out, unlike the guy you set your eyes on. Getting your mind of Nathan for a night won't hurt right?

-"yes I would like that"

-"I will meet you here at seven then [y/n]?"

You agreed before bidding your goodbyes and hurrying back to the windows, smiling goofily.

"Mind telling us who the guy was [y/n]?", Alisha asked smirking, nudging a very grumpy looking Nathan.

"Uhm, that was Ken, wanted to talk to Sally I guess", you answered, unsure where this conversation would lead.

"he looks like he could give you right a good time, you know?", Alisha added, evil smirk broadening, splitting her face.

Nathan grumbled a quiet "I'm done" under his breath while turning to leave.

"I might find out t'night, we're going out for a couple pints at the bar later", you answered not knowing whether or not you wanted Nathan to hear about your plan. The question answered itself as soon as you finished when Nathan twirled back around, eyebrows pulled together and exclaimed: "Oh really? Have fun shaggin' the bastard then tonight". You noticed the sarcastic tone in his voice and for a split second you thought you heard a pinch of pain in his voice, but the thought disappeared as soon as Nathan stomped away.

"What's the matter with 'im?", Kelly wondered out loud. The answer was unknown to you all, Kelly probably hearing your thoughts trying to put the pieces together.

Later in the locker room you took your time, hoping to get a moment alone with Nathan but he seemed to be too much in a hurry to get away from you. He did not look back, he didn't even say goodbye to anyone that day. You tried to shrug it of as well as you could while changing out of your orange jumpsuit.

At seven sharp you reached the Community Center and saw Ken already waiting for you, looking at his watch absentmindedly. As you reached him you couldn't help but smile. He was dressed in Jeans and a dress shirt. You looked out of place dressed in your usual jeans and sweatshirt.

-"You look lovely tonight [y/n]", Ken beamed at you.

-"Thank you, you don't look too shabby yourself there", you answered, slightly blushing at his words.

You walked to the bar close to each other but not quite touching. Smalltalk flooded the cool evening air and you welcomed the comfortable heat inside the bar he chose, as you stepped over the threshold.

He was the definition of a gentleman all throughout the date. Polite, charming. But something put you off, it seemed forced and not genuine. Nonetheless you enjoyed yourself and you had a good time.

He walked you home that night, confidently grasping your hand, his grip was tight and not comforting at all, but you brushed it off. When the two of you arrived at your doorstep you lingered for a few moments.

-"so this is it. That's me right here."

The moment you said that Ken leaned down and his face closed in on yours. Shocked and overwhelmed by his sudden action you turned your head away. His lips brushing your cheeks instead. He pulled away, "when will I see you again?", he sighed.

-"soon", was the only thing you muttered as you turned and opened your door, slipping inside and leaning against the closed door, letting out the breath you held.

As you walked to Community Service early the next morning you thought back to the little date you had the night prior. Even though it brought a slight smile to your face and a glow to your skin, it also made you shiver slightly.

Last night after the community service Nathan left the locker room as fast as he could. He didn't want to talk to [y/n] then, he doesn't want to now either. In his tiny mind you chose that bastard over him. So that night he sat alone on the balcony, letting his legs tumble down swinging them lightly. He had pizza that night, but the knot in his stomach didn't let him finish it. He himself couldn't tell what was wrong. A scowl decorated his usually carefree face.

"Ken? What's that for a Barbie doll shit name?", he mumbled to himself. But there is no way he could be jealous of that wanker.

Nathan looked into the mirror. He had it all, face, body hell his hair should be enough to sweep [y/n] of her feet.

He was back to his cocky self when you entered the locker room, slight spring in your step and a gentle smile tugging at your lips.

"Hey there, how are you today?", you greeted him, trying to sound casual.

"Amazing, why wouldn't I be ? How was your date with Barbie?", he bit back.

"Is somebody jealous?", you teased wondering where this new found confidence came from.

"Why would I be jealous of him? I mean have you seen him? Have yah seen me? ", Nathan replied hastily, you could see his tough exterior faltering slightly.

"Nathan, I think you are", you were getting more and more sure of yourself, some might even say you were getting cocky.

"So yeah maybe I am jealous but what does that matter anyway now? You got that dickhead with ya now", he didn't even try to hide his sarcastic tone.

"Who told you that, I am nobody's property", you told Nathan as you stepped closer to him, "I think you're cute when you're jealous, Nathan".

"I am not cute [y/n], do you want me to proof that to yah?", Nathan , now smirking, closed the distance between the two of you. You backed up against the cold metall of the locker with a thud. His green eyes bored steadily into yours, occasionally flicking to your slightly parted lips. You were at a loss for words at his sudden boldness, but you weren't complaining. This was what you were waiting for all along. As your thoughts tumbled around your mind, Nathan leaned in an captured your lips with his. Slowly at first but the kiss grew heated fast.

Your heart rate exhilarated, and both of your breaths grew heavier. You pulled away to get a gasp of air into your lungs. One of Nathan's hands rested next to your head and the other softly at your hips. Your foreheads leaned against eachother as you caught your breaths.

"You don't know how long I've been wanting to do that and way more to you", Nathan breathed out. "Yeah, me neither", you contered, chest still heaving heavily. Without any more words you leaned back in, continuing where you left off. Tounges battling for dominance exploring each others mouths thoroughly. Nathan's narrow hips started to grind against yours, eclicting a soft moan from you, harmonizing with his low grunt. You totally lost yourself in him when the sound of the heavy locker room door destroyed the atmosphere.

"Oh .. my god... That is disgusting", Kelly exclaimed, "what do you think you're doing in 'ere?"

"I was just showing [y/n] there that I am not cute, and was about to give her a demonstration of the beast that is now awake", Nathan said while biting his lip and suggestively winking in your direction. You blushed, the taste of him still lingering in your mouth, leaving you wanting more. To be continued, you hoped.

#robert sheehan character fic #imagines #oneshots #jealousy #misfits #robert sheehan #nathan young

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90spumkin · 3 years

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Unexpected Switch (Final)

Summary: Tessa has been caught. Can reader handle it? What does Spencer and the rest of the team really think of reader?

A/N: Okay so I know I was going to write at least two more updates, but while writing this I felt if I tried to drag it out any longer I would abandoned the storyline. So here it is my first series has come to an end. Thank you to everyone who has read it, liked it, and reblogged it!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, criminal minds talk, mental health talk

Word Count: 2319

One would think after chasing Tessa all this time and all the terrible things she had done, that it would be easy for me to see her arrested and interrogated, but that wasn’t exactly the case. Watching through the glass as Matt and Luke interrogated my sister there was a feeling of guilt consuming my chest. I clutched a hand over my chest; I shouldn’t feel guilty. She’s a murder! The feeling didn’t cease no matter how many times I chanted those words in my head.

This of course did not go unnoticed by the profilers standing beside me. Rossi shot me a concerned look while Emily placed a hand on my arm and asked, “Are you okay? You don’t have to watch this.”

I just shook my head and straightened my shoulders. Emily furrowed her eyebrows in worry, but just nodded in understanding.

Tara and Spencer joined us not long after. Spencer’s presence in the small room instantly relaxed me. He managed to wedge himself between Emily and I, his shoulder bumping mine. He gave me a sad smile before turning towards the interrogation and asked, “Has there been any progress?”

Rossi huffed, “She’s only admitted to stalking and harassing. She plays dumb very well when it comes to the murders. However, she said something that makes us think there was an earlier murder.”

Right after Rossi finished updating Spencer, through the speaker we heard Luke ask, “Okay so if you aren’t the ones who murdered those people. Then at least tell us why you stalked and harassed your sister.”

Tessa just rolled her eyes as she responded, “Aren’t you fellas the big FBI agents? Shouldn’t you know this already?”

Matt spoke this time, “Enlighten us. Please.”

Tessa leaned forward placing her arms on the table, “Well since little Mrs. Perfect decided to forget me as she was handed the new wonderful life, I thought ‘Hey why not have some fun with the snobby bitch’.”

Luke was about say something but was cut off by Tessa. It was like her hatred for me just began to flow out of her with every word she said. As she spoke her whole-body language began to change like she was getting ready to defend herself.

“You know she’s not as perfect as she leads people to think. Y/n has secrets. Dark secrets. And I mean how can someone be that great when they purposely forget and leave behind their twin.” As she continues, she looks towards the two way mirror; all she sees is a reflection but to me it’s like she’s looking straight at me as she says, “She’s such a selfish bitch that she got her parents killed.”

I sucked in a sharp breath at her words and couldn’t seem to let it out. I felt a hand grab on to mine at my side and looked down and then up at the one person who could make me feel better at a time like this. Spencer leaned down and whispered in my ear, “If you start to feel an attack coming on give my hand three squeezes. But don’t let her get in your head, we know the truth.” I nodded and tried not to let a tear escape.

Matt and Luke pushed on a little longer, but Tessa seemed to have the perfect answer to everything they threw at her. After getting no where they left Tessa and joined us on the other side of the window. My sister just sat there with a devilish grin plastered on her face as she stared at her reflection.

Spencer’s voice brought my attention to the conversation between the profilers when he said, “I think I may have an idea. What if we play on her anger? She’s a narcissist based off the fact that her anger for y/n is solely based on her achievements. She wants to be noticed and I think I can make her crack.”

Emily was nodding a long with everything Spencer was saying, “That could work. But Spence it’s going to be like a Cat Adams scenario. You’re going to have to lay it on thick.”

Spencer glanced at me quickly before saying, “I think I can do that.” He began to walk towards the door but was met with resistance. I hadn’t even realized I was holding his hand in a death grip. He pulled me into his chest and hugged tightly. Once he pulled back Emily was once again at my side and grabbed ahold of my hand and reassured Spencer, “I got her.” Tara was there to grabbing my other hand and giving Spencer a quick nod.

Spencer nodded and gave me a longing look. A longing for what, I wasn’t sure. He retreated to the door and my eyes never left him as he walked into the lion’s den.

-------

Spencer had only been talking to Tessa for maybe 5 minutes and I had to leave. I couldn’t watch him flirt back with her and agree to the belittling things she said about me. I knew it was a mind trick to get her to feel comfortable to then start comparing the two of us to get her flustered. It was all too much. I was being silly even if the flirting was real, I had no right to be jealous or upset.

I don’t know how long I had been in the little conference room in the local police station before I slumped into a chair exhaustion taking over my body. I felt weak and like there was no need for me to be there anymore they had caught her the BAU team would tie up all the loose ends just fine.

I was so lost in thought I didn’t hear someone open and shut the door as they entered. So, when a hand was placed on my shoulder I jumped completely out of my seat and l let out an involuntarily squeal. I turned to see Spencer trying to cover a smile while I tried to slow my erratic heart rate.

“Jesus Christ Spencer! You scared the hell out me!” I leaned against the table facing him. Spencer just chuckled, “Sorry y/n. I just wanted to come check on you and let you know what happened.”

I turned my gaze to a spot on the wall not wanting to make eye contact with him any long. I shook my head, “I can’t handle a play by play.” Then scoffed at myself, “God you all probably think I’m so weak. I can’t watch an interrogation without needing someone to hold my hand. And the flirting I- “I cut myself off realizing what I was about to say. I dared to look at Spencer. He was looking at me intensely but there was softness around his eyes.

“We don’t think you’re weak. That’s your sister in there. Though you may not really know her that is still hard on anyone.” He moved closer but not touching me. A smile played on his lips, “And for the flirting. It was hard for me, but since you both look so similar, I just told myself I was talking to you.”

I looked up at him with shock written across my face, “Really?”. I couldn’t help but to let out a giggle, “I thought my crush was making me read to much into things”. Spencer moved even closer, his body pressing against mine causing me to push back into the table. He put a finger under my chin and lift my head. His lips were breath away from mine and they ghosted together as he said, “Not in the slightest.” Then his lips were fully on mine. The kiss wasn’t rushed, but slow and beautiful like a dance. We both smiled into the kiss before pulling apart. He laid his forehead against mine and let out a breathy laugh, “Didn’t anyone tell you I was a germaphobe? I don’t hug or hold hands with just anyone. The number of pathogens passed between hands is staggering. It’s safer just to kiss.”

This made me let out a real laugh that shook my whole body, “Well I think I can handle the kissing.” Spencer laughed and said, “Oh me too.” His lips were back on mine and this time the kiss became a little more heated. Spencer’s hands were on my hips pulling me as close to him as possible. Before anything could progress, there was a knock on the door followed by Matt poking his head in, “Hey guys they just- oh. Oh!” Damn that man and his terrible timing!

Spencer and I pulled away. Our faces flushed and our lips swollen. Spencer spoke before my mind could catch up to what was happing, “Thanks Matt we’ll be there in a sec.” Matt nodded and as he was shutting the door, I thought I heard him say, “Damn it I owe Luke 20 bucks.”

Spencer must have heard him also because he looked at me and we both were lost in a fit of laughter. Once we composed ourselves Spencer said, “We better go out there.” I nodded in agreement. Right before he opened the door Spencer grabbed my hand like it was a natural thing for him to do. As we walked out the team was waiting near the door and was giving us knowing looks. Emily and JJ did this weird thing with their eyebrows which made me giggle. In that moment I didn’t think about why we were all there and what had led to me meeting this team of amazing people. In that moment I was happy.

-------

A year passed since Tessa uprooted everything in my life and I couldn’t be more thankful for it. That day Spencer interrogated her she admitted to everything and even three other bodies we didn’t know about. I asked him how he did it and he just told me that he was glad I didn’t stay to watch. I of course just left it at that.

Once Emily had everything settled for Tessa to be transported to the prison where she would go to await her trial date, we headed back to Quantico. She pulled me into her office and offered me a spot on the team. My whole life had been turned upside down and I felt lost, but when Emily made me that offer, I felt home and haven’t looked back since.

We were away on a case when Tessa’s long-awaited trial was taking place. My mind was so wrapped up in trying to catch this psychopath who got his kicks from mutilating children that when Emily’s phone rang, I didn’t think much about it. It was the solemn look and her soft “Y/n.” That made it all come crashing back down. Spencer was right beside me though always being my biggest support. I felt his hand in mine as Emily continues, “The judge sentenced Tessa to life in prison without possibility of parole.”

A sigh of relief left me. Yes, she is a terrible person and deserved to rot in prison, but she was also my sister and I don’t think I could have handled her being given the death sentence. Spencer and Emily both hugged me. Once they both were sure I was okay, Emily went to tell the others the news.

Spencer hugged me again and rested his chin on top of my head. I could have stayed there forever just listening to the beating of his heart. His chest rumbled as he spoke, “You know in a way I owe your sister a thank you.” At that I pulled back and gave him a very confused look.

He chuckled and pulled me back into a hug as he said, “If she hadn’t done those terrible things, not saying I would thank her for that part, but I would have never had met you. I would never have known I could love someone as much as I love you.” I smiled at his stumbling over words and hugged him tighter, “I love you too pretty boy.”

Spencer groan at that, “You just had to ruin the moment. No more hanging out with Derek.” We pulled apart and started to walk back to the team hand in hand. I gave him a sly smile, “In my defense I was calling you that before I ever met him.” Spencer nodded and said, “Y/n that is my point exactly.” I barked out a laugh as we entered the room where the team was gathered. I was given shoulder pats and hugs due to the news Emily had delivered to them. I assured them all I was fine, and we set back to work.

We caught the guy with little to know hiccups and saved two little girls. The ride home was quiet like it always is after a case dealing with kids. So, when we landed Emily told us to go home and get some rest that the paperwork could wait till in the morning. Of course, none of us were going to complain.

We were almost to the double glass doors when I remember I left my keys in my desk, “Spence hold the elevator please I forgot my keys.” He nodded and gave my hand a squeeze before letting go and making his way to the elevator.

As I was getting my keys, I noticed the picture of us from a family dinner at Rossi’s that I had framed. I looked at each smiling face and thought back to how a year ago I was working a job I hated and had friends who no longer speak to me. Now I have a wonderful boyfriend and a real family. There’s a quote Spencer told me once and I think it is so fitting for everything that has happened, ‘Life takes you to unexpected places. Love brings you home. Melissa McClone.’

@criminalmindzjunkie @hendersonsshadow @brooklynxnicole @martinafigoli @misschil3 @rainsong01

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

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meowdymista · 4 years

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The Love Spoon (A You-tensil)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Notes: Title sounds more provocative than it is. I tried to write it as a Charles x Arthur, but it came out better in first person. Fluff

~ NOW ON AO3! ~

“What are you doing?”

Arthur all but jumps out of his skin, colour rising in his cheeks. “Nothing,” he says a little too quickly.

You dismiss the secrecy. It doesn’t worry you, merely piques your interest a little. Usually it’s his journal he’s so protective over, but the knife in his hand and the shavings of bark in the grass suggest he has found another outlet.

“Mind if I sit here?”

He looks at the space beside him on the salt bleached log and shakes his head, hiding his eyes beneath the rim of the worn gambler’s hat he favours. “‘Course not. Free country.”

“Not for fellas with bounties,” you tease, and he chuckles, returning to his work.

You let the silence stretch, breathing in the cool breeze sweeping in over Flat Iron Lake and listening to the bird song. The coffee in your hand is too bitter and thin for your taste, but you continue to sip it stoically, knowing you’ll suffer later if you don’t.

“Much planned today?”

You sigh and struggle to smother the smirk tugging its way to the surface. “Fixin’ that wagon you and Mrs Adler took to town.”

He tuts. “They don’t build ‘em like they used to, a’right?”

You hum into your tin cup, wincing at the flavour. “Don’t know what magical wagon you used to drive. S’far as I can tell, they’re making them same as ever.”

Laughing, you let him land a gentle punch to your upper arm before taking the opportunity to stretch with a long groan.

“Guess I’ll catch you later.” He tips his hat at you with a small smile as you turn back into camp to begin chores.

***

“What the hell is it, Morgan?”

You shake your head, draining the last of the stew from the bowl. Sometimes it was a wonder the Pinkerton’s weren’t just listening out for Bill’s brawdy boasting or Dutch’s eloquent enunciations of faith to track them down. You toss your dish and spoon into the tub and look back out across to the sunset. A lone canoe drifts over the still surface, leaving a V of ripples in its wake. Whilst you appreciated the peace and quiet of this somewhat more remote camp, you worried for potential enemies eavesdropping from all manner of directions, especially as some members of camp had more than made themselves at home.

“It don’t matter what it is, I already told yer, it’s not for you!”

“Then why the hell you bring it over here? And what the hell’s it for?”

“Mind your damn business!”

“Gentlemen! What seems to be the problem?” Hosea’s tranquility smoothes over the tension.

You’re torn between conceding to your curiosity and keeping your distance from the drama until it’s cooled off. You glance over to your tent and inadvertently catch Arthur’s eye. You look away quickly, taking a deep breath as your cheeks fill with colour. It’s not what you think it means, you tell yourself, repeating your internal mantra. It's a coincidence. Let your head guide your heart. Don’t chase daydreams. It’s not what you think it means.

You watch the canoe disappear behind the trees. No man ever got out of the woods on his heart alone. You need to listen to logic.

You look back, but Arthur’s back is to you. As it should be, you reason as you walk over to the campfire, denying any intent to eavesdrop to yourself.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“Wh-What do you think it is?”

“A spoon carved from basswood!” Hosea laughed. “Didn’t you used to have one like this? Your mother’s, if I’m not mistaken?”

He grunts as Bill splutters. “Ain’t gonna do much eatin’ with that, Morgan! It’s almost flat! You’d be better off eatin’ off a butter knife!”

“It ain’t for eatin’ with!” he snaps, snatching it out of Hosea’s hands and turning on his heel. “It’s stupid. Forget it.”

Bill cries out as Hosea’s hand makes contact with the back of his head. “You drunken oaf. Read a room why don’t you!”

“Read a room?” Bill blusters. “I ain’t seen four walls since that bank job-”

You push yourself to your feet and track him down with ease. He has stormed off towards the treeline and stopped by his horse, leaning his elbows on the saddle patting the mare’s neck distractedly. He throws the item towards the shore in a fit of frustration and pulls himself up onto his mare with a huff. You’re too close in the clearing to be able to hide when he looks straight at you, but despite stiffening in surprise, he yanks the reins to lead his horse out of camp without looking back.

You wait until you’re sure you’re alone before stalking out to the grass, looking for whatever it is that Arthur threw. It takes a while, but eventually you find it.

It’s a rough whittled spoon. On closer inspection, you can see the detail scratched into it and where he’s tried to sand the edges to smooth them. The lip of the spoon is, as Bill stated, too shallow for much use, but the handle is intricate and suggests it’s purely a decorative piece. The wood winds into itself, plaiting itself awkwardly up to the head of a stag. You walk it back to camp carefully, keeping it out of sight in the fold of your shirt. Finding a quiet space near the first aid cart, you study it closer. The handle is not carved with plaits as first surmised, but a feather. The detail is exquisite. It fans out near the top, like a peacock feather, but instead of the target or eye, it blossoms with the angular snout of a stag, it’s antlers stretching up above.

Arthur couldn’t have finished this today. You think back and realise you have seen him asking Sean to teach him to whittle, asking Hosea how best to carve details. No wonder he snapped at Bill - the time he must have spent on this… and for it to be made from a singular piece of wood with no mistakes...

In your lapse of attention, Hosea has crept up on you.

“You found it then?”

“I suppose so.” You straighten up and hold it out for him to examine in the light. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“Arthur has never done anything by halves.” He chuckles and presses it back into his hands. “D’you know, when we first met him, he had something like this in his pocket. Said his grandmother had given it to his mother as a gift on her engagement. Something like a love spoon? It’s some sort of British tradition, I think. His was lost after the stables we were sleeping in caught fire. Lost a few possessions to that fire, sleeping bags included, but that was one of the few things that couldn’t be replaced.”

You murmur a few words of wonder and Hosea shrugs. “I’ve never found much on it in the way of literature about them. I’ve tried asking John, Sean, Molly, Mac, Davey... and many other Brits we’ve picked up along the way, but no one seems familiar with it. It’s like it lived and died with his family.”

You leave him to his musings and carefully carry the spoon back to your tent. Taking some cotton from a torn shirt (damn Night folk and their knives) you wrap it gently and leave it on the cabinet at his bedside to find later.

You don't hear him return that night. You wake from a dreamless sleep, thinking of the day ahead as you pour yourself some coffee and look out across the horizon. With a twist of your heart, you recognise the silhouette on the same log as yesterday, and hesitantly make your way over.

"Morning."

Arthur looks up at you and gives you a small smile. "Morning."

You sit down besides him and together you rest in comfortable silence. Eventually Arthur holds out the remains of your shirt and you accept it with a small nod of acknowledgment.

"Thanks for… for finding it for me." He moves the spoon between his hands, turning it over, embarrassed. "It's stupid, I know."

"I don't think it's stupid." The morning light has made his pupils retract enough for you to see the essence of green in his irises. "It's a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. I've never seen anything like it."

"Nah, the one my mother had was better."

"Hosea told me about that." You slide your hand out to close the gap between you. "Said you lost it in a fire?"

He sighs heavily. "Yeah." His lips thin as he thinks hard. You give him the space, finishing the last of your coffee which is a little better than yesterday’s. Eventually he takes a deep breath and turns to you, his eyes scouring your face for any signs of repulsion or amusement at his expense. You mirror him, keeping your face as neutral as you can.

“My… my taid - or my grandfather - gave one of these to my nain. It’s… it’s a traditional gift we used to give to each other as a token of appreciation. My grandfather gave it to my grandmother when they got engaged, and she gave it to my mother before they came to America.”

You nod slowly. “Was it a cultural thing?”

“Yeah. We didn’t have a lot of money, so this was something you could make to show… well show how much you cared, I guess.”

He holds the elegant utensil out to you, a blush creeping over his cheeks.

“I had a look at it last night. It’s beautiful, Arthur. The detail… it must have taken you weeks to carve.”

“About two months in total.” He rubs the back of his neck with a grimace. “It took me a few tries to get it right.”

“The care you’ve put into it… It’s really something.”

“I, err, made it for you.”

You manage to catch your jaw before it hits your lap, but the colour is already flooding your face without abandon. “Are you sure?”

“‘Course I’m sure. Unless you don’t want it? It’s stupid, I know-”

“But- why? Why me?” You let your fingertips trace the grooves of the feather and slide over the smooth antlers. “Don’t you want to keep it?”

“I made it for you,” he repeats, his bottom lip disappearing as he chews it. “It won’t be any good for eatin’ with, but-”

“Neither are your sketches, but that doesn’t mean they lack value.” A laugh escapes you as you reach out and squeeze his hand. “Thank you, Arthur. This is… wow!”

He peaks out from under his hat, a smile pulling at his lips at your reaction. “You mean a lot to me. It’s the least I could do.”

You’re leaning forward unconsciously, like he is the centre of gravity. Your heart thuds as you realise he’s also teetering towards you.

“A thank you would have sufficed!”

He scoffs, his gaze softening. “You know what I mean.”

It’s not what you think it means.

His breathing is unsteady as it brushes your face. You can feel the warmth of his hand gliding up your back as he closes the gap and gently presses a chaste kiss against your lips.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption fic #Arthur Morgan x Reader #arthur x reader #meowdymista

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artistsxcreatives · 3 years

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"Love, Life, and Your 20's" by Phil

Whether you're finishing up undergrad or preparing for a long stint in med school, your 20's define the rest of your life. Freedom, fresh knowledge, and ambition have recently fallen into your young hands. Now you just need a job and someone that you can stand for longer than three months. We know that your 20's can be perilous, but we think that we have a few tips to make sure that your 30's and 40's are enjoyable ones.

Time to Explore

All of your life, you have been told what to do, where to go, and how to do it. Now is the first time in your life when you are the official captain of the ship. Don't give up the captain's chair or set sail before you are ready to go. It's a big beautiful world out there, and just because others may have some experience in familiar waters doesn't mean that they can guide you to your personal destination. Unfortunately, now that you're out of college, your life is basically back a ground zero. No matter how many accolades you had, you aren't the big shot anymore, and there are now vast amounts of people smarter, stronger, and more experienced. You may be getting someone's coffee, you may be scraping every dime you have for your start-up business, but one thing is for sure. You're the new guy you're and a long way away from your partner. Additionally, you are in that weird phase of dating where you finally might have an idea of what you want, but now the girls around you always seem to be on the barely legal side or the cougar side (and it doesn't help that you're not used to either). These are all areas that may take some time to navigate, so our best advice is to pack a hefty lunch and start getting to know the place. Here's how.

Career

Suppose you didn't already know about 25% of recent grads are unemployed. In that case, 25% are underemployed, 80% of life's most defining moments take place by about age 35. If that wasn't enough, 2/3 of your lifetime's wage growth happens during your career first ten years. So what does that mean for you? Stop looking around at others and focus on your plan for success. You will drive yourself insane comparing your life to your engineer friend who's making 90k fresh out of college. It's cliche', but life's not a sprint, and for this marathon, you need stamina. This also means that the money will come, but you have to think long and hard about what you want to do before it does. Don't settle for a miserable job or major that you know it is going to be the scourge of your existence. So you wasted four years on a major you didn't like, so what. If you found out what you really wanted to do as a result of that, then it was worth every bit of it. Now, if you waste 20 additional years in a state of delusion, then that is the real tragedy. Make mistakes, bet the house, go all in, and have no regrets. You will be surprised by what you are capable of, and this is the one time of your life when this is totally acceptable. Actually, it's encouraged.

Love

With more than half of Americans are married or are dating or living with their future partner by age 30, this might be where the romantic crap hit's the fan. You may find yourself scrolling (stalking) Facebook just to see your high school sweetheart pregnant with her second child and long-time college fling getting engaged. You're desperately trying not to be that old guy still at all the college parties, but you do want some female company, and mom's ain't cutting it. Relax.

Before you have an emotional meltdown and a mid-midlife crisis, take a breather. We feel your pain, but this is, in reality, your perfect opportunity to mingle. You probably have more money, time, freedom, and dating experience under your belt than you have ever had before. Use it! Don't squander things and force unhealthy relationships; set yourself free and find your soul mate or a few drifters (whatever floats your boat). Sometimes it's a good thing that you don't have any personal ties holding back you from exploring any new face or regions of the world. With that being said, if you are in a healthy relationship, don't be an idiot and blow it. There is something to be said about puppy love, but relationships in your 20's are far more meaningful and lasting (for the most part). You are beginning to understand why Tom Hanks needed Wilson in Cast Away because companionship is something that all people desire at any level.

These are the glory years of dating where you (hopefully) learned from all your boneheaded mistakes in college and have started looking for girls who have a lot more staying power. Let's face it; the stakes are higher. No one should be forcing you down the aisle, but if you are with someone that you know for sure isn't the one. Do each other a favor and end it before pointless years go by and someone gets really hurt. Regardless of where you are at this time of your life, you should fully embrace it. Love is a beautiful thing, and you will certainly know it when it happens (so will your wallet). Just remember that you have a long life to live and that who you decide to be with is exactly that; who YOU decide to be with, whenever that may be.

Personal Development

This may be a shocker, but your personality can change more during your 20s than at any other decade in life. The brain caps off its last major growth spurt, and you are either refining good habits or re-enforcing bad ones. The good news is that this heightened self-awareness usually leads to a desire to improve one's self inside and out. Below are a few areas that need to be on the list if you aren't already looking to improve. We know you got everything under control, and we are going to let you finish, but these are kind of the essentials of your existence now. Pay attention.

Style

Okay, guys, it's time for you to lose those ridiculous tri-colored embroidered pants and get some real clothes that reflect your age. Yes, you will see terrible dressers at every age for the rest of your life, but now you no longer have a pass. It's no longer a phase; it's no longer a statement. It's childish, and we will laugh at you. Wearing sweats your college hoodie to the bar doesn't sound particularly bad (actually, it's pretty comfortable), but in reality, it's a sign of immaturity. As a man, your style should have evolved from frat house chic to young professional. Not having one good fitting suit and blazer is simply unacceptable at this age. It doesn't matter if your job calls for it or not, there are some places flip-flops just can't take you, and that's a good thing. If you can walk into an Urban Outfitters and fit in with every tinnie bopper, that doesn't mean you're a hipster. It means that you need to donate most of your clothes to Goodwill. Take it from us you don't want to be embarrassingly underdressed to work or dating functions. You might be able to skate by with a lackluster wardrobe, but is that really how you want to paint your 20's? Ditch the Nike's and grab a pair of desert boots; you will thank me later.

Gym & Diet

No, someone didn't pull a hilariously cruel joke on you and switch all your mirrors with the ones at the carnival. You're getting fat, and sadly your not getting any slimmer. Now that you can actually afford to eat whatever you want, your metabolism is throwing you a reality check, and you can bank on the fact that there will be plenty more deposits. If you don't want to lose that amazing physique that you have had all your life, you need to fight for it. Here is where gym memberships are at an all-time high and carbs at an all-time low. Now you don't have to go all vegan on us, but if you don't start investing in yourself now, there won't be much later for your twilight years (not a movie reference). Cutting down on the sweets and poor eating habits is just something that comes along with adulthood. The faster you realize this, the easier the transition will be. We all know the women will love your sculpted abs and the confidence they bring, but this is for your own self-preservation. But if you need some extra incentive, women will love your sculpted abs and the confidence they bring (just saying).

Personal Grooming

Alright, this last one isn't something that should have started in your 20's, but it is something that becomes blatantly obvious when not taken care of during them. Guys, it's time to start caring about your hair, your beard, and yes, your pores. What's the point of having a perfect body with an unsightly beard and body odor. This may be a shock, but 80-99% of people will not see your pecs during the course of the day, but they will see your filmy teeth and Eddie Monster widow's peak. Shaving, regular showers, and timely haircuts are beyond expected now. There was a time where you could get away with not being up on all three; that time is over, fellas. Good hygiene separates us from animals (that and iPhones), so don't feel feminine for wanting to make sure your skin isn't filled with toxins or that you smell pleasantly every time someone comes near you. One last thing, clip your nails. Just do it.

Now that you are in top shape, these are milestones that you need to go on. When you 21, 25, and 30 are causes for celebration and significant birthdays in your life. They each mean higher access in life and mark your growth as a man. Other important days to step out are on New Year's and reunions; they all trigger much-needed self-reflection and evaluation of life thus far. Don't focus on what you have done wrong, but more so on the experience, you have had and the people you shared them with. Grab a drink, get to work, and enjoy your roaring 20's.

#lifestyle #wellness #phil

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slyreaderslibrary · 5 years

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Ch. 3 Suspect Number One

AO3: Here

Fanfiction.net: Here

Summary: Keeping a secret identity secret is normally hard enough but when you’re as beautiful as Minako Aino you’re bound to have all kinds of creeps and weirdo stalking your every move. Now there’s a cop hot on her trail and she’ll have to be quick on her feet if she’s to keep her identity on the DL. Just what is a gorgeous super-heroine to do?

No one could ever accuse Keisuke Koizumi of being a cowardly man but there were moments where he wished he wasn't so diligent towards his work. He eyed the flock of girls corralling around him and thought that now was one of those times.

"So what's a handsome fella like you doing here?"

"You're not waiting for anyone I hope?"

"A bunch of us our going out for drinks, you're welcome to join us if you like."

"You're totally my type, can I get your number?"

Keisuke smiled and pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his jacket. He didn't smoke, they were props he used as a cover at times, but he hoped the act would be repellent enough to discourage the girls' further interest.

It wasn't.

"What's your name?"

"What's your blood type?"

"When were you born?"

"Ladies, ladies," Keisuke laughed, lighting a cigarette with a single strike of the lighter. He turned to exhale and made a face at the taste before returning to the girls. "I'm just meeting a friend. Perhaps you know her, Aino Minako?"

"Aino!" An average sized, brunette with broad shoulders and narrow hips screeched. "What do you want with her?"

A short, sweet looking young woman to his left sighed in such a way that Keisuke guess she did this often, and answered the other woman.

"He's her friend, Narumi."

The third one, a tall but mousy looking woman, brushed a hand against his leather jacket, letting it linger in a practiced manner that left Keisuke on edge. "You don't want to hang out with her, all she ever does is hang out at the Crown playing video games or attends that karaoke bar across from the Rose Cafe. She maybe something of a celebrity but she's totally boring."

"And not even that pretty," snickered Narumi.

The short woman frowned. "How could you two say such things? She's never been anything but nice to you."

"Oh come on Miki, it's not like you don't agree."

Miki squared her shoulders back and lifted her chin. "I don't. I've often seen her in the park visiting with other women and she's constantly inviting us to events set up by one friend or the other. She's so busy, the Crown is probably where she goes to relax!"

"Video games are laaaaaame."

"We know Sakura."

Keisuke took one last drag of his cigarette, having heard enough. He extinguished it on the sole of his shoe and slipped the butt back into his carton. "Well thanks for the companies ladies. Miki-san?" She looked up at him with wide brown eyes and Keisuke smiled down at the kind, young woman. "I hope Aino-san knows what a great friend you are."

Miki blushed and smiled shyly back at Keisuke, who nodded one last time before departing the group and heading towards the exit. He was already past the gate when he heard one girl cry—Narumi from the sound of it, "Wasn't he supposed to be waiting for Aino?"

Keisuke smirked, pulled out his favorite aviators and slid them on.

He had an arcade to visit.

~~~

"I told you he was trouble," Artemis griped, "I told you to be more careful but do you ever listen to me? Nooooo."

Minako ignored him. She had learned ages ago that if there was one defining trait about Artemis, it was that he loved to complain no matter what she did. If she went to school and studied, he'd complain that she wasn't stopping youmas. If she fought against evil and lost a little sleep, he'd complain that she was lazy and bad at school. You'd think he was a dog the way he hounded her and there were enough people chasing her tail as it was. Speaking of which, hopefully the copper would give up staking out her school. Otherwise she might have to attend class via video chat for the next couple weeks.

What was the world coming to?

Shaking her head, Minako picked up her speed and arrived at her destination a few minutes later. The Crown looked only a little busy today, no doubt the kids who usually frequented it were taking advantage of the sunny afternoon to play in the nearby park. She pulled out her crescent mirror for the second time that day and did a quick scan of the vicinity to insure it was free of police. Coast clear, she strolled into her favorite arcade, both arms and smile wide as she greeted Motoki.

"Onii-san!" she grinned, leaning her upper body against the counter. "It's been awhile since I could drop by! How have you been?"

Motoki blinked, his cheeks flushing pink, and then smiled good-naturedly back at her.

"Minako-chan! It's great to see you!" Motoki threw his bar towel on the counter and walked around the structure to greet her properly. "I thought you were busy with a shoot in Guam?" He gave her a quick, warm hug and then stepped back to lean against the bar. "And I've been well, just working like always. How about you?"

"You should really learn to take a vacation Motoki-onii-san. Enjoy the sun a little." Minako gestured at herself and smiled when Motoki's eyes followed. "I know I did."

Motoki's blush grew a little deeper but he just shook his head in amusement.

"Not all of us our graced with good genetics. The sun may love you but I'm afraid it would fry me to a crisp."

Minako pursed her lips and tapped her finger against them playfully. "You could always go and visit Nishimura-san in London, plenty of sun coverage there."

"That…" Motoki paused, considering. "That might actually be a good idea."

"I don't know why you're so surprised, I am known for them."

"You're not actually." Motoki frowned, as if suddenly realizing who he was speaking to. "What you are known for is trouble." He eyed her suspiciously. "You're not up to something are you?"

Minako stuck her tongue out at him.

"I don't know why everyone always asks me that." She turned and scanned the outdoors, her spidey senses tingling. The silver fox was nowhere to be seen but she wouldn't put it past him to show up soon. She turned back to Motoki, eyes wide and pleading, and earned an exaggerated sigh in response.

"What do you need Minako-chan?"

"I just need to slip into the control room for a little bit, Senshi business you know." Minako rolled her eyes like the subject was tiresome and Motoki played along.

"Still doing that are you?"

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid." She grinned and dropped the act. "Hey do you mind keeping a lookout for a big, hot silver haired fellow? He's kind of been following me all day."

"What?" Motoki jumped to his feet. "You mean someone's stalking you?" He looked torn between rushing out and searching for the creep or staying there and comforting her. Minako placed a hand on his arm, making the decision for him.

"I wish," Minako sighed. "No, he's just a cop, sadly. They use to lay out traps for me back in my Sailor V days but haven't bothered me in awhile."

Motoki nodded and then, wide-eyed, leaned in close and whispered, "Is he crooked?" making Minako giggle.

"No!" she snorted, shoving him away. "They just get tired of me upstaging them." She smiled and looked out the window again. Still no sign. It should be a good thing...but it was making her suspicious. "Anyways, I'll be down in the control room. You remember who to look for?"

Motoki nodded, throwing his bar towel over one shoulder and shooing her away. "Tall, silver and handsome. I got it."

Minako grinned.

"Thanks Onii-san! You're the best!"

~~~

Keisuke zoomed in and focused the image, snapping a series of pictures when he was pleased with the settings. He had found Aino-san at the arcade, just like her classmates had said he would, and now he was watching her flirt obnoxiously with the local shopkeeper. Something about the sight annoyed him but if he had to say why, the only reason he could come up with was that he had better things to do with his time then watch a couple make goo goo eyes at each other. That and the man was a little too old for her.

A text came through on his phone, interrupting his camera function, and Keisuke frowned when he saw who it was. Commissioner Goto had been apparently asking for him, no doubt planning to stick him on a different case after this morning's briefing fiasco. He shot off a quick text to his superintendent, letting him know that he was out digging for leads and turned back to his number one suspect.

Who had disappeared.

He cursed, both her and his superior's poor timing, and did a quick scan of the street, only calming down when he didn't see her long golden hair anywhere. She must still be inside the arcade. Considering she was no longer flirting with the shopkeeper, she was most likely deeper inside the building than he could see from his current location. Based off what he'd been told, she'd probably be awhile.

Keisuke shot off another text to his superintendent informing him he'd be off the grid for a few hours and then struggled to find a comfier position. Fire escape staircases always made great stakeout locations, no one ever thought to look up, but they weren't exactly designed for stretching out on. He sighed, eventually giving up on comfort, and focused his lens back on the Crown's windows and front entrance.

At least he no longer had to watch their flirting and, given a little more time—and evidence, he definitely needed evidence, Goto would murder him otherwise—he'd make sure Aino wouldn't have the chance to flirt with anyone else for a long time to come.

Notes:

#minako x kunzite #minako aino #sailor venus #kunzite #sailor moon #fanfiction #a relentless pursuit

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jayankles · 7 years

Text

Future Dreamboat

Pairing: Time Traveller/40’s!Dean x 40’s!Reader

Summary: Based on 07x12 – Time After Time so yeah. Dean gets thrown back in time, when he needs a break he asks Eliot Ness, where the nearest bar is. A woman is in an alley that needs someone’s help, which just so happens to be Dean’s.

Warnings: Mentions of inappropriate touching

Word Count: 1445

A/N – This is my second entry for @demondeanismybaby’s Which One Are You Challenge with the quote: ‘aren’t you a handsome son of a gun,’ which has been highlighted below. This could also be an entry to my own challenge because no one snagged it so why not?

Dean was thrown back in time, quite literally, he was sent to the 1940; 1944 to be exact. It was a time of danger, anywhere anyone went. Luckily, Dean knew how to handle himself, until he ended up in jail that was. The police search Dean and find an issued police badge from 2012 which happened to be 68 years into the future.

He didn’t know until he was cuffed to a table, he wasn’t in there for long, one of his heroes – Eliot Ness – is aware of the hunting world. Thankfully, Eliot released Dean.

Since the two men found out they were hunters, they joined forces, together they could defeat the monster of their time; Chronos.

The first stop, though, Eliot had suggested, was to a tailors. It would be better for Dean not to stick out like a sore thumb.

Ezra Moore. She was Eliot’s trusted tailor. Now Dean could tell that she was a character but she was definitely good at her. Ezra had shoved Dean into the dressing room where she had prepared clothes. In the dressing room, he was outfitted in a sleek navy suit. A white dress shirt paired with black and blue patterned tie. The waistcoat that adorned his torso complimented the suit as well as the brown suede dress shoes that he wore.

Even Dean’s hair had a side parting and was smoothed over to the right side of his face.

‘Well, aren’t you a handsome son of a gun.’ Ezra had admired Dean as he stepped through the curtains separating him from the tailor and the other hunter.

Dean smiled, appreciating the attention, as Eliot whistled at the transformation. Glancing at his right, he had to do a double take, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflective glass. Waltzing over the the body length mirror, taking in the new look. Of course, he had worn a suit before but never a three piece with his hair worn like this. Ezra was behind him, smoothing out the back of the suit jacket that was slightly creased.

The tailor walked around Dean and swiped a hand over his clothes, he deducted that, although he couldn’t see any more creases, she knew what she was doing or she was just used to patting down everyone’s smart attire.

Your floral knee length dress attracted the attention of unwanted men, even though there was a war going on, they we more focused on making a pass at you and trying to bed you. Anything that would get them into your unmentionables.

They would start by calling you ‘baby-doll’ a term of endearment or affection that you thought should only be used between a couple. To you, hearing that, especially coming from a few of those that were inebriated most of the time. There was no escaping them. On your way back to your home, was the saloon, it held all people some of them you had seen often and they were all the same, but you didn’t know what hurt most; when they called you a cold fish or a call-girl. None of them were flattering in the slightest.

You were either at one end of the spectrum or at the complete opposite. Being a woman, you can’t win in a world like this, not if you are with someone and have that protection, otherwise you were just another broad, another piece of meat that they could devour without having a care in the world.

There has been a few occassions where there have been a couple of creeps get a little to close and way too handsy. Tonight was one of those times. Men; they were pigs, thought with their downstairs brain and more concerned about getting some action rather than respecting another person, no less a woman.

You leant his name to be David, from the hollers of his companions from outside of the tavern. It was a little more quieter, you thought it was going to be one of the better nice, where you wouldn’t be harrassed. But the footsteps behind you alerted you that today was not to be one of those times.

Dean had asked Eliot if there was a bar nearby and there happened to be one only ten minute walk from where they were. The Winchester hunter’s head was adorned with grey fedora and most of his body from the waist down was covered in a long grey coat.

Strolling the pathway, side by side, Eliot and Dean exchange their stories so far about the hunting life in different time. There wasn’t many differences, much to both of their surprise. Only the technology and the hybrid species in the future that was about it, but Dean couldn’t reveal anymore, Sam would kill him about altering the timeline. Not that it matter with the amount of times they had already done it, and came back from the dead.

‘Please. Stop! I told you I don’t want to! Please.’

The two men had heard as they neared the bar that Dean had requested to go to. In an alleyway, they saw a woman pushed against the brick wall. Her eyes clenched shut as the man pressing near her had his hands on an inappropriate place, travelling almost deviously up and under the skirt of her dress.

‘Hey! What do you think you’re doing? The lady said no.’

His deep voice was enough for Dean not to shout, enough to intimidate the guy without raising his voice.

'What’s it to you, fella? I think you just keep walking and find your own gal.’ The woman’s eyes were closed, tears threatening to fall as she hovered from foot to foot. The back of her one and a half inch heels hitting the wall as the man hovered too close to her.

'She is my girl, so get your dirty paws off of her.’ Dean stalked over, an angry glint in his eye. Eliot stood on the outside of alley, letting Dean take the lead of the incident.

Without speaking any more, the guy took a step away from the damsel. Dean threw back his elbow and brought his fist forward to collide with the man’s nose, breaking it on impact.

Whimpering and moaning, the man scrambled back before running passed Dean and eventually passed Eliot, barging into Ness’ shoulder, not bothering to apologise as he held a palm to his crimson dripping nose.

When Dean was sure that it was only he, Eliot and the girl, Dean kept a respectable distance with his hands in the air, showing that he was no threat to the girl.

She was still. Unmoving. To scared to move in fear that he would be like the other monster of a man. He waved off Eliot, silently communicating that should deal with the man whilst Dean would help the girl.

‘My name is Dean. I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. What’s your name?’

‘My name? My name is Y-Y/N. He’s-he’s not coming back is he?’ Y/N worried, her delicate hands fisting at her cardigan and pulling it tighter around her body.

‘Hey Y/N,’ Dean had calmly murmured, still gaining her attention. His callous yet soft fingers grazed hers, it seemed like her panic had wound her up so much that the contact had caused her to fall into Dean’s arms. ‘He’s not going to hurt you anymore. I’m right here. I’ll drop you home, make sure you’re safe.’

‘Thank you.’

Dean had tucked you under his arm as he led you to the apartment that you called home. There was something different about Dean, besides the fact that he made your insides warm and made you feel safe, he wasn’t like the other men, He was a dreamboat that was for sure but he still valued women as equals.

The walk, now that you were with Dean, was miles too short for your liking. Climbing the stairs, you didn’t let go of Dean but he had the right idea following you inside and getting you settled into your own house.

He had sat you on your couch as he boiled water over the stove and made you a hot beverage, wrapped you in a blanket before smoothly stalking through your aprtment to your bedroom, seeking a nightgown and robe. He handed them to you, telling you to give him a shout when you had changed into your nightwear.

‘Where did you come from?’ You muttered under your breath. There was no way that this man was real.

‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Y/N.’ You could see the pain on his face as a bittersweet smile arose.

Lemme know what you think…

@thorne93 @becaamm @jotink78 @love-kittykat21 @jensen-jarpad @myserium @kurosaki224-new-blog @supernatural-jackles @cyrilconnelly @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @iwantthedean @ruprecht0420 @mrswhozeewhatsis @feelmyroarrrr @redlipstickandplaid @mogaruke @pureawesomeness001 @mizzezm @jpadjackles @jesspfly @1amluke @skybinx-blog @aubzylynn @deansbaekaz2y5 @plaidstiel-wormstache @lilasiannerd @valerieshubin @be-amaziing @akshi8278 @purplediamon @graceforme86 @its-my-perky-nipples @nervousmemzie @mrsbatesmotel53 @lavieenlex @percussiongirl2017 @oneshoeshort @whit85-blog @muliermalefici @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @moonlover19 @emoryhemsworth @reallyverynodansi @milo-winchester-4ever @captainradicalpassion @captainemwinchester @alicat-life @cojootromuelle @essie1876 @dancingalone21 @misticty @dslocum89 @atc74 @superwhomerlockinuum @spnbaby-67 @anitalasirenita

@daydreamingintheimpala @deanssweetheart23 @ravengirl94 @avasmommy224 @jalove-wecallhimdean

#Which one are you challenge #dean x reader #time traveller!dean x 40's!reader #40's!dean x 40's!reader #supernatural oneshot #dean oneshot #prev. buckysmetallicstump #jayankles #jayankles writes #bailey writes

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darkhymns-fic · 7 years

Text

Murder with a Side of Lies (Ch. 8)

A discarded notepad sits on the table, crinkled and stained with ketchup...

It doesn't belong here.

Fandom: Undertale Characters: Sans, Flowey Rating: PG Chapters: 8/8 Mirror Links: AO3, FF.net Notes: The sequel to Kidnappings in the Early Evening by Sky. A fusion of detective noir fiction and courtroom drama! All stories, art, etc., related to this main story will be under the tag #undertale noir. (chrono)

Suggested reading music and some rain...

First Chapter Previous Chapter

[Chapter Missing]

nice. free notepad. paps must have forgotten it. finders keepers

butts.

hehehheh. butt butt butt. my favorite pie is buttspie with lots of butter.

What did one wave say to the other?

Nothin’ he just waved.

What did the grape say when he got stepped on?

Nothin’ he just whined.

i should probably have someone actually say something for these jokes to be a bit more effective, huh? nah.

What’s a mummy’s favorite music genre?

Mummy wrap.

heh. heh. that one’s really really bad aint it. that’s a keeper.

some reason i get the urge to write more than just bad jokes here. like I wanna say more. that’d be weird tho, wouldn’t it?

heh, and i aint weird.

What did the flower say when his house caught on fire?

Nothin’, he made like a tree and leafed.

Why did the flower need a job?

He was dirt poor.

Why was the flower feelin’ so blue?

Can’t find the root of the problem there.

really got flowers on the mind, don’t i? wonder why that could be.

you know, it’s strange. i keep coming back to this notepad even though my mind says why bother. what’s the point in writing down what I see or feel? not like anyone’s gonna read this, heh.

but why not. let’s give it a go. i’m interested, for whatever reason.

i’m sittin’ here at tori’s bakery shop. it’s raining outside, like always. got a plate of that butts pie im so fond of. it’s good, but(t) could use more butts. table I’m sitting at is uhhh… looks like a table. yep, sturdy. round? It’s round. that’s how these things go. you describe all the stuff here, right?

it’s pretty late here. no one’s around at this time of night. tori’s nice enough to let me hang out after closing and feed me the leftovers she didn’t sell, and I’m cheap enough to take ‘em. she really goats me, i guess.

usually tori would be swappin’ bad jokes with me right now, but she’s been pretty busy since that trial ended. turns out, no one was willing to take over the family’s duties after ol’ gorey got sent away. Not even fish face. kinda expected her to take over. guess she’s too busy playin’ detective with my bro.

tori, bein’ the nice lady she is, decided she’d take up leadership. probably for the best. if anyone can manage building homes for the poor and being generally kind to all us monsters, it’s her. i certainly don’t know what bein’ the leader entails, and im not exactly rarin’ to find out.

although, between you and me, it does get a bit more boring in the shop without her around. oh well. guess that’s why im writing this, isn’t it?

it’s so boring, i don’t think I even have anything left to write. dang. guess i’ll just go back to writing bad jokes.

Why didn’t the Flower eat chloroform?

He was chlorofull.

heh. really havin’ a bad time tryin’ to think of something other than flowers.

maybe it’s cuz I’ve been thinking about my good pal, flowey, a lot lately. can’t blame a guy, can you? tori literally has him on her person at all times.

Well. Most of the times.

I don’t think Tori knows it, but that little scamp escapes sometimes when she’s not lookin’. Heh, but it’s not like he’d get into any trouble, now would he? No, no, that doesn’t sound like the good natured Flowey I know. His parents would never allow him to get into any trouble.

His parents would probably protect him from anything. Even though he didn’t see ol’ Gorey much, I get the feeling Flowey’s dad really cared about him…and I mean really cared for him.

I shouldn’t be gossiping. But, it’s not like anyone is going to read this anyway, right? There’s nothing wrong with writing down some of my own little speculations. Just a hypothesis, is all.

Now, while I’m sure Gorey was quite the nice guy, he did some awful things. Maybe he did them because he thought they were right. Maybe he did those things knowing it was wrong, but believed it was for a good cause. Honestly, can’t say I blame him all that much either way.

This leads us back to the trial, though. Boy, that trial was objectively a good time. I’m so proud of my bro. He proved me wrong a number of times. If it weren’t for him and fish sticks, I probably would have sent an innocent person away.

Instead, I sent a not-quite-innocent person away.

Heh. heh. Tori had me promise I’d be a fair judge. A good judge. She told me to take it seriously, don’t mess around, don’t favor anyone. Me, like the bonehead I am, I promised her I would.

Why do I keep making promises I know I’m just going to break?

Oh. Spoilers, I guess. I broke that promise towards the end of the case. I don’t think Asgore killed that Burger fella. In fact, I’m pretty sure he didn’t. Still, I let them convict ol’ Fluffybuns.

I wasn’t sure what happened until he took the stand of course, till I heard all the facts from metal head and fish face. The ideas, the guesses, they were always in the back of my skull, gnawing away in the dark, but I suppose I’m good at ignoring things like that.

Something needed to be done with Asgore, after all. He needed to stop those little bad habits of his. I couldn’t see a more peaceful solution than this. Us monsters have never really needed to make a jail, after all. They were strangely forgiving, even knowing what he did.

The monsters in charge of the judicial system, (Mettaton, Gertrude, myself and a few others) decided we’d keep him under house arrest. At least, that’s kind of the best way to describe it. He’s not allowed to leave his home, not really allowed to do anything without The Family (aka Tori) knowing. People can still come visit him, ask him for advice, make a bit of tea, but that’s about it.

So I get what you’re thinking. Asgore (supposedly) kills an innocent kid. A monster kid no less. He only gets house arrest? He got off easy. Well, to be honest, we thought about the death penalty. It was an uncomfortable subject and it was clear there was no monster out there that would be able to carry it out.

Well, heh, guess that’s not completely true.

The guy’s pretty sad still. But, I think he’s feeling a little better. He’s left to those plants and flowers he loves so much. Not many come to visit him, though, but I think they’ll come around. This is probably the happiest ending that could come out of the situation, isn’t it?

Still, if Asgore didn’t kill that monster, though, who did? Who did, I wonder? And why?

Once again, I want to remind anyone reading this (but no one is reading this, so it doesn’t matter) that this is all speculation. I don’t have any proof, and I never witnessed anything myself.

But…

I get the feeling my pal, Flowey, killed Burgerpants. Strange, I know. Very strange. Flowey is such a cheerful, happy, helpful little friend, isn’t he? Why would he ever do something like that?

Well, first, we need to understand why he was with Asgore at the scene of the crime that night. I have a hunch. I think ol’ Gorey finally got enough of what he wanted out of his little bad habits. I think he wanted to give the fruits of his effort to Flowey, hoping that maybe it’d turn his son back to normal.

Problem with that, is Tori wouldn’t let Asgore near Flowey. She was very adamant, believe me, the arguments those two would get into got pretty heated. (get it, cuz fire magic) But, my good friend, Flowey, he’s a crafty little guy. He’s made some escapes; he’s gotten into contact with his father before without his mother’s knowledge.

How do I know that? Just a hunch, that’s all. What? I’m not the type to stalk people.

This brings us to that fateful night. If I had to guess what the scene would be, it’d probably be like this:

The rain musta been pouring like it always is. Asgore probably waited in that alley way for a good amount of time, without an umbrella. He was soaked to the bone, but poor Gorey felt he deserved it. He had soul and he had determination.

Once Flowey actually showed up, he probably did that sickly sweet thing he likes to do. Call him “daddy” and all that nonsense, really get into Asgore’s head. It must have been difficult seeing his son like this, but I bet Asgore was thinking it’d all be worth it. All those horrible things he did, all of it would be worth it if he could see his son again.

Although, thinking on it, human souls and determination are all well and good, right? You can do some great things with those on your side, but isn’t it missing one important ingredient?

Right, right, I forgot. A monster’s soul.

Flowey doesn’t have one of those, now does he?

Still hypothetically speaking here, of course… Asgore knew all this. He knew a monster soul would probably be needed. But, I don’t think he meant for it to be Burgerpants. I don’t think Asgore planned on giving any monster’s soul but his own.

Flowey, being the precocious scamp that he is, also knew a monster soul would be necessary. This whole thing was probably just a misunderstanding.

Poor Burgerpants, though. Wrong place, wrong time. How can a guy be so unlucky? Hey, whenever I’m feeling down, at least I can remind myself some other guy had it way worse.

Anyway, this Burgerpants fella shows up, and here’s what I think happens. Flowey misunderstands the situation. Or maybe he didn’t care. Maybe those dark habits of Asgore rubbed off on him in that moment. Maybe Flowey was just feeling particularly grumpy that day. Who knows? I certainly can’t read that flower’s mind. Don’t want to either. Hope I never do.

Flowey kills Burgerpants on the spot before Asgore can even react. A huge vine, full of thorns, slams him into the dumpster. Looks like a claw mark (or maybe a trident mark), heh. Now, remember, little flower boy is the son of two incredibly powerful fire users. Even if it wasn’t on purpose, I think he’s still got a little heated edge to his attacks. Explains why the time of death couldn’t be figured out. Dust was still hot. No one expected fire magic.

This frightens Asgore. This was meant to be his son, Asriel? How could this cruel being before him claim to be his son, yet be so full of hate? Maybe Asgore blamed himself at that moment.

Either way, he couldn’t go through with it after that. Maybe everything he did would go to waste, maybe those humans died for nothing, but he couldn’t keep making mistakes, now could he? Just because he buried a hole so deep for himself, didn’t mean he had to keep digging and take everyone with him, right?

Probably good thinking, I’d say. Best thinking he’d done in a while.

I’ll bet Flowey lost that sweet charm of his after that. I’ll bet he demanded those souls and that Determination from Asgore. “Why won’t you give it to me?! I’m your son!” he probably said. Maybe even threatened him when things didn’t go his way.

Asgore must have been feeling real bad at that time, but you gotta remember, through it all, he is still a father. A father disciplines his child. For the first time in years, maybe even ever, I think Asgore raised his voice at Flowey. I think he told Flowey “Go home to your mother, never speak of this again.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I get my --”

“I said GO!”

And just like that, Flowey was afraid. He’d never seen his father like this. Ol’ Fluffybuns actually mad? Boy, almost wish I coulda seen that.

But I didn’t.

Flowey must have dug back into the ground, running away to his mama while papa cleaned up after his mess.

Heh, it’s a good thing no one else figured it out, right? If Tori found out about this, would she be able to live with herself, I wonder? I have no idea what she might do. What would everyone think if they found out Flowey was a killer?

I think it’d be a lot of trouble for the little guy. I think he knows better now, though. I don’t think he’s ever going to hurt anyone again, or else he’ll have a pretty bad time.

Luckily, this is all guess work. No one has to know. No one needs to mess up this happy ending we got. No one’s going to read this.

guess this is just between you and me, isn’t it, pal?

...

The notepad had appeared on his bedroom table that night. Flowey knew it wasn’t on accident. He read the thing, read through the crappy jokes and the even crappier handwriting. His leaves trembled slightly, his vision blurred multiple times.

With an angry toss, the notepad slammed into the lit fireplace. The flames ignored it completely, of course. Toriel’s fire was never hot enough to burn.

With the grit of his teeth and the furrow of a brow, the fireplace erupted in flames. The notepad was devoured, disintegrated.

Turned to dust.

The thought unnerved him, haunted his mind. It was best to douse those flames now, forget it ever happened.

The fire cackled at him.

And the rain poured.

That smiley trashbag…

#undertale #sans #flowey #sans undertale #flowey undertale #undertale noir #multi chapter #sky's fics

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[RF] Horror

Horror

“The light, damn it the-”

“Absolutely snapped at me.”

“On your left.”

“Where is it?”

“On your…here I’ll do it.”

A harsh lights up on the sweaty faces of Paul and Marianne, stumbling now into their much-too bright apartment. Paul leans a shoulder against the door frame, and slides down slightly, watching his wife trip over the disassembled crib in the center of the living room. In the corner, Marianne braces herself against a leaning nightstand and fumbles with a small electric lamp until it casts a dim yellow glow up against her face, darkening the wrinkles there.

“Now?” Paul with his hand on the light switch.

“Yeah.”

Paul flicks off the overhead lights. The room, which should only ever be barely lit, appears much smaller now in the low lamplight. These long opaque shadows drape over the dusty coffee table and its books, and the sofa with its arms destroyed by cats now dead, and the pictures on the wall which Marianne does not look at. This place is full of habits. From the little ritual with the light switch, to the way Marianne tilts the lampshade by some imperceptible angle and casts her face with less offense. Even the conversations: all the same dialogue rehashed again and again, night after night, ever since some long gone premiere, when stage light did not butcher them.

Paul crosses the living room into the kitchen, this choreography instituted deeply in his legs. He feels along the wall, as if he were blind. Even if he was, it wouldn’t matter. He would find the liquor anyway.

“I’m just saying, and and and you listen to me now Marianne-“

“Do you have to be so loud?” Hand to her forehead.

“I coulda killed her, swear to god. The way she tore me up in front of all those people, I mean. She ripped me to shreds. Thought I was bleeding out.”

Somewhere in this exchange Paul has assembled the drinks. He brings out the glasses, brown liquid contesting the edges, spilling over, and staining his white cuffs. He hands one over to her and licks his finger. He has a toothpick in his mouth and it jabs upwardly as he speaks.

“I mean, thank god I’ve got a good sense-a humor right? Right? Right? Jesus Christ.”

He downs his drink in one gulp, which would be a shock if she hadn’t already done the same. She passes her glass over for a refill. This is a habit too. He pedals backwards into the kitchen, and she angles her eyes forward to the point where he stood, to the dark room that they have made of their home. She rocks her head backwards and up, examines an amoebic stain on her ceiling. The stain is brown and jaundice yellow and from when the young woman upstairs flooded their apartment last month.

Marianne had never met her upstairs neighbor until that night when the young woman answered her door in a bathrobe that could not have been hers, was too old to be hers, must have been her mother’s, and which draped white and loosely around her thin body. Her face was young, but stretched tightly over too much bone. She had bright red hair that erupted and flowed down to her shoulders. Her name was Ilana. Marianne imagined herself saying the name, though she would not dare to do so out loud. The young woman had not had her bathtub recaulked, or at least that’s what she said, many many times. She was Jewish and spoke with an affect that Marianne recognized and loved in a way she could not understand.

“I haven’t recaulked it. I really should have recaulked it. Oh god.”

She retreated into her apartment, leaving the door open as an informal invitation. Marianne stepped into the doorway, but could not bring herself further. It was too bright. There were mirrors on nearly every yellowing wall, alternated with posters of Ilana in various states of peril. Her stockinged leg emerging voluptuously, miraculously, from a pit of green, surging snakes. Backed up against a stone wall in a torn lionskin chemise, fending off a lion. In a tight red bathing suit, a dark murky hand wrapped around her leg, swimming upward from a dark undersea trench to the bright open sky only a few inches above her outstretched fingertips.

Ilana reappeared from the bathroom, and noticed Marianne staring at this one.

“Oh they’re all crap. I don’t even know why I keep them around.”

Her concentration broken, Marianne realized that she had stepped well into the bright room, and for a moment could not recall exactly why she was there. Had she tripped and fallen over something, she might have remembered. Her habits did not live there.

“I’m an actress.” Ilana laughed unconvincingly. “Or I used to be. You don’t really act in horror flicks, you know? Oh you just kinda scream a lot and wait for some fella to save ya. Pays the bills, I guess.”

Marianne looked at the girl in the bathrobe that must not have been hers.

“How old are you?” Marianne tried not to look like she was staring. She was not doing a great job.

Ilana gave her a light and airy laugh, one that she had memorized and committed to habit. It was a laugh for men, one that confirmed that she was alive and there and no more. Marianne was familiar with the laugh. She would catch herself laughing this way sometimes, mostly when no one had said anything to her in a very long time. She had first heard it from her own mother, usually at funerals. It was passed down this way. It was not a young woman’s laugh. Something horrific had happened.

“You’re very um…very beautiful.” Marianne said quietly, not quite sure even if she had said it.

Ilana turned and walked back into the bathroom. “Yeah they draw you real good for the posters.”

After she left the young woman’s apartment, Marianne did not tell Paul about the girl and the posters. He would have gotten stuck-up the way he did about people who made money that way. When he asked about the ceiling, Marianne told him about the old man who lived above them who overwatered his plants. The actress had her bathtub recaulked and there was never any more water or any reason for Marianne to see her again. In fact, Marianne never went back to that room and that girl surrounded by her performance of fear, swaddled in a bathrobe that must not must-not-must-not-must-not be hers.

Paul reappears with two glasses and sits on his wife’s lap, burying his face into her neck.

“Nearly cut my pinky off just now.”

Marianne takes a sip. She used to hate drinking, always thought it was ugly.

“I was gonna put a flower in your cup, and I uh, really this is what I did, I took one of the roses you didn’t want to bring to the party, figured they wouldn’t last too long anyway seeing how old they were when we bought ‘em and I figured you wouldn’t want them and seeing as we didn’t bring ‘em to the party and all and-and-and I thought I’d put ‘em to some good use, you know? You know? And anyway I wanted to be sweet to you. I was gonna put a flower in your cup. Oh god. But I nearly cut my whole hand off.”

He sinks deeper into her lap and she rocks him back and forth, one hand on the back of his head, and the other around the glass she raises to her lips. Their bodies together cast a round tumoral shadow growing in the lamplight, and she sips her drinks. Water drips from the ceiling.

A knock at the door. Paul slinks off of Marianne’s knee and down on to the floor, where he sinks so low that he can watch the fleas crawling up errant stalks in his carpeting. Marianne lets him fall, knowing that her husband’s abject horror had never been a dependent sign of anything concrete. He would go into convulsions when the sun went down. His fear was as constant as his drink, which he still had in his hand, and which Marianne kept her eyes on, fearing too that if she were to look up at the door that someone, or something, would be knocking. Another knock. Marianne rises, knocking Paul to the floor, where he reaches up a hand that grasps nothing. He looks up at her, every essential part of him failing to see her there.

As she crosses the room, Marianne tries her best to tidy up for a guest, picking up tiny pieces of broken glass and flower, dragging the child-sized mattress frame to one corner of the room, and flicking on the overhead lights before opening the door.

The girl has changed drastically over the month. Her gown has many holes in it, and falls gracelessly off her arms like the feathers on a waterlogged bird. Marianne hardly recognizes her but for her eyes, which are still full of something impossibly wide, red, angular and glowing.

“Mind if I come in? Landlord’s running over with the key. I locked mine in my room if you can believe it. God what a night. I’ll die if I don’t get any sleep.” Marianne makes way for the young woman, who walks into the room like she would on to a set, only with a slight hobble to her step. Marianne would remember it as a fine performance.

His eyes still adjusting to the light, Paul squints at the young woman crossing towards him. It would be too much to say that he recognizes her, only that she makes him very afraid. He wishes he were a bug. He raises his glass.

“How do you do, miss?”

Paul smiles widely and notices the sweat on his forehead for the first time that night. He spreads his arms out, revealing the fraying undersides of his jacket. The girl can see right through to his undershirt.

“You’ve come to get me? I suppose.” He laughs wildly, spilling his drink everywhere. “Well I’m not going out without a fight. No you’ll have to drag me out of here. God.”

But Marianne is already guiding the girl to the kitchen.

“If you were good, you’d shut up. Come on dear. Let me get you something to drink.” Marianne says, leading Ilana into the kitchen.

The women gasp at the carnage. Wet whitish-pink rose petals cling to every piece of linoleum, some peeling and falling off the counter and on to the floor or into the sink. The stems still float in the vase on the counter, though they’ve been drowned, the skin bursting blackly with edematous swelling and lesions. There are petals in every cupboard, and in every drawer. The window above the sink is open, the pus-yellow curtains clinging to the humid windowsill, which is covered in leaves. There is blood too. She could never convince her husband that flowers could be overwatered, that in fact it was the over-caring, the nurturing element, that could kill them. She will never forgive him for that.

Ilana reaches down to the floor to pick up a piece of glass, but Marianne snatches the girl’s wrist, smiling too widely for it to mean anything at all really.

“Sweetheart you’ll hurt yourself. You don’t worry about that. I’ll clean it up. I would just like to…what would you like to drink? We have milk, I think.”

Ilana smiles at her. Marianne tried not to notice the lines on her face.

“What is your husband drinking?”

Marianne can feel her smile faltering, a weight dragging it down. Her eyes fall to the young woman’s breasts, though her gaze penetrates to the blood-stained floor beneath her. Marianne does not break character. In fact, she saves the performance, keeping her smile drawn end-to-end across her face. She reaches up for a glass, and hands it to the young woman, before reaching over the sink and drawing the curtains closed.

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