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angelsswirl · 3 years

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Been Through

Chapter 6: What have I become

Notes: Sorry these last few posts have been ugly. I'm on mobile atm. But I'll be sure to fix them up on desktop sooner or later.

All that shame and all that danger. I'm hopin' that my love will keep you up tonight.

Things were different with Jennie than they were with Lisa. And sure, that makes sense. They're two different people.

But it went deeper than that.

With Jennie...you were in control, and you were never tricked into losing it. It was one of the reasons your relationship lasted so long in the first place. With Jennie...everything was easy. Palatable, if you will.

Take, right now, for example.

You were sitting in a restaurant with Jennie. She had asked you out the day she stalked you into that bar. Then she had to do it again the next day when you weren't nearly as drunk because you had promptly forgot she asked you anything at all.

You were mildly put off by the fanciness of the restaurant, but that wasn't cutting into the insurmountable control you had over everything that was happening.

You took a sip of your merlot and frowned. You weren't poor by any means of the word, but you definitely preferred boxed wine over the bottled stuff. You think it has less to do with flavor and more to do with practicality. There's just something satisfying about the novelty of having to use a spigot to access your wine, reminds you of using the water fountain in highschool. Or that water dispenser that was in the break room of your boring office job you had in korea right before you met the girls.

So, yes. With Jennie...things were simple and easy and calm and collected and controllable.

And then there was Lisa.

Lisa.

With Lisa...you experienced the very opposite of everything you experienced with Jennie. It replicated the start of your "relationship". A "relationship" that was born out of loneliness and drunken necessity and maybe even a tiny bit of manipulation. With Lisa...everything was hard. Unpalatable, if you will.

Take, four years ago, for example.

You were sitting in a crowded bar with Lisa, drinking soju like it was your lifeblood. She had brought you there after seeing how broken up you were over your and Jennie's break up. You're pretty sure she didn't have any intention of sleeping with you. She just didn't like seeing you sad.

You were extremely put off by your own whilrwind of conflicting emotions and drunkenness. And your control had crumbled like a sandcastle as soon as Lisa put her hand on your lower back to guide you into the bar.

You had slammed a shot of soju and grimaced. To you, that stuff tasted like how rubbing alcohol smelled. Lisa met you shot for shot. You're still astonished to this day how she never got recognized, or at least no one had voiced that they recognized her. You preferred straight up bourbon to soju. You're not sure why, but hey, too each their own. Something about your conflicting emotions and drinking half your body weight in alcohol had caused you to throw yourself into an early heat. It wasn't due for at least another month. And your ability to make good choices had been turned off hours prior. Lisa was right there and ready and willing and what were you supposed to do? Not let her fuck you into the mattress of some hotel? That simply wasn't an option at the time.

So, yes. With Lisa...things were complicated and hard and conflicting and out of hand and uncontrollable. And, oh God do you hate that.

But enough about Lisa. You're own a date with Jennie. So, enjoy your date with Jennie.

~~~

"You know, when my assistant said I had a meeting, I thought he meant with one of my bosses or clients." You said as she sat in your desk chair.

"I am a client." Chaeyoung pouted. Jisoo who was seated next to her nodded in agreement.

"No, you're a friend."

Chaeyoung's face grew mischievous. It was then that you noticed the notepads and ink pens, her and Jisoo were brandishing.

"Speaking of friends...how'd your date go with Jennie?" As if to emphasize what they were doing, the two clicked their pens in sinc.

"Oh no. I'm not talking about that with you too. This was supposed to be a meeting about the book."

"But this is about the book." Jisoo whined.

"How?!"

"We still need to write the happy ending! And this is apart of that."

"Why don't you write about one of your relationships instead of mine?"

"That's not nearly as entertaining." Chaeyoung said as if it was obvious.

"So, what if I told you that after the date she kissed me goodnight and it was so good I couldn't resist bringing her up to my room for some more fun. And then she slept over and we did it all over again in the morning."

Chaeyoung and Jisoo scribbled in their notes frantically.

"Yes! This is great, keep going."

"Oh. I can't."

"What?"

"I just made all that up. None of that happened."

"What the fuck, Y/N?"

"You wanted a story. So, I gave you one."

Jisoo glared at you while Chaeyoung pouted again.

"You're a liar." Jisoo exclaimed. You think she might snap her pen in half with how hard she's gripping it.

You rolled your eyes, "No. I'm not. I was just messing with you."

"You kind of are tho." Chaeyoung said almost as an afterthought.

"What are you talking about?"

"Okay, well maybe you're not a liar, but you do lie. You told me that you didn't know who Lily's other parent was, but I think you at least have an inkling. You want all of us to believe you don't love one of them over the other, but you most definitely do. I can hear it in the inflection in your voice when you talk about them. You want us to believe that this isn't about who you love, that this is about the "better fit", that this isn't about you, but it is. This is about who you're in love with. It's only one of them. You're kind of obvious. This has nothing to do with who's the better fit. You wouldn't have fallen in love with her if she wasn't. This is all about you, Y/N. Not your daughter, at least, not directly. You make decisions on autopilot when it comes to her because you're a mom. It's what moms do. This is about you and how over the last four years, you've convinced yourself that you're unlovable." Chaeyoung shrugged as she finished her monologue.

Jisoo seemed to be mulling over her member's words just as much as you were. You could practically see the conclusion jumping playing on her face.

"Oh my God! You're in love with-"

"Would you shut the flying fuck up?!" You shouted. You brushed your hands over your face harshly.

"So, maybe you're right. Maybe I do have an inkling. I'm her fucking mother of course I have an inkling. I fucking see her everyday. I know her personality. I know her likes and dislikes. And she might look like me, but you she sure as hell doesn't act like me. Yes, I want you to believe all those things. Because that's what makes all of this easier. I've never been more stressed out in my life. Not even while I was pregnant. Or that first year after Lily was born. And yes I feel unlovable. I feel yucky and gross. I feel like a whore. You don't get it. I would sit in my apartment, with my feet propped up on the table dreaming about how I wished I could rub them because they hurt so damn bad. But my giant whale of a stomach was in my way because I was growing a fucking person inside of me. You think I've been single these last four years on purpose? You think I don't want my daughter to have a normal fucking family? NO ONE WANTS TO DATE A SINGLE MOM!...Did they even try to contact me after I left?" You stood from your chair, a mistake because your legs felt like jello. But you remained standing even when you realized your makeup was melting from the warm tears you were pouring over it.

"You blocked their numbers-"

"But I didn't block yours."

Chaeyoung promptly closed her mouth.

"Or Jisoo's."

"Y/N-"

"Nope. Just let me yell at you, there's blood on your hands too," You took a deep shuddering breath before speaking again, "Not. One. Call. From any of you. No one even tried. No one called me, or my mom, or my sisters."

"And I know what you're thinking. I obviously didn't want to be found or contacted. But maybe, just maybe, I needed to be."

"After Lily was born, I got diagnosed with postpartum depression. I would look down at the beautiful baby girl in my arms and feel absolutely nothing. I would be confused as to what I was doing with a child. One day, I'm not sure how, we'll call it "mother's will", I snapped out of it. I went to a therapist and got my life back. It was just her and I agaisnt the world. And I didn't want it to be. It was unfair to Lily to only have to rely on me. I dated anyone I could. Alphas, beta, even other omegas. And nothing stuck. So, excuse me if I feel unlovable. But that's just because I am. And yeah, maybe I am head over ass in love with her, but it doesn't matter. She'll never love me back. You can write all of that in your precious little book." You sat down heavily in you desk chair.

"Y/N-"

"I'm going to get your case transferred to one of my colleagues. I probably shouldn't have taken it in the first place."

"Can we please talk about this?"

"We just did. All of that talking pushed me to another conclusion actually. Not only am I unlovable, I'm simply unobtainable. No one deserves me."

"Come on. That's not true. At least not the first part. You're extremely loveable. You'd know that if you just talk to her. And sure, maybe no one deserves you. But could you at least let her try?" Jisoo spoke with a severe intensity that made your shoulder's tense.

You swallowed a large lump in your throat, "Please, leave."

Chaeyoung rolled her eyes before practically stomping out the room. Jisoo stayed back for a few seconds longer. Only leaving with a shake of her head when she finally realized you really weren't going to listen to anything anyone had to say.

And you? You just cried.

#blackpink fanfic #jesssica's fanfic #lisa x reader #jennie x reader #lisa fanfic #been through #jennie fanfic

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years

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it took me a while to think of something but how about a dialogue prompt? "I don't know what you want from me." for buddie!! fluff or angst, you get to decide :)

COMBINED WITH BUDDIEWEEK2020 PROMPT

July 10th - Day 5: “It’s okay, you can cry.” + comfort

living that two birds one stone lyfestyle bc I am what? a lazy pos.

anyway here's some fun Buckley siblings feat Buddie xoxoxo

There were several things that Eddie knew to be true about Buck.

One, was that he loved Buck, with every piece of his heart.

Two, that Buck loved him with his whole entire soul.

Three, that no matter what happened, no matter who came into their lives, long after Eddie was dead and gone, Buck had Maddie, and Maddie had Buck.

The Buckley siblings were both bound by trauma, so to speak—they had survived natural disasters, complete miracles, their parents, and they were more or less connected at the hip. It was good, a camaraderie that Eddie wished he had with his sisters; who were nice enough when they wanted to be, but who's teasing remarks cut a bit too deep when they weren’t careful.

Buck and Maddie had a built in support system with one another, and that much was obvious.

What was slightly less obvious was how fiercely, painfully competitive the Buckley siblings were with one another; a fact that was typically forgotten until it was too late.

It started out harmlessly enough.

Hen had invited everyone and their kids to Dave and Busters for Denny’s birthday. It was a nice enough gesture in a fun, neutral location—a huge building filled with games, prizes, and that kind of greasy food that looks amazing in the moment and leaves you feeling sluggish for days. Buck and Chris were stuck together like glue—Eddie had learned long ago that simple acts of fun were as good for Buck as they were for Chris, and it was easy for Eddie to cheer them on in whatever shenanigans they took on; he wasn’t about to allow anyone to call it out and risk Buck feeling an ounce of unnecessary shame.

Besides, he really couldn’t find anything in him but delight as he watched Buck scoop Christopher up in his arms and promptly launch them both into a ball pit, the bright peal of Chris’s laughter ringing above the low din in the building.

Chim, as usual, was the one to ruin everything.

(Okay, not ‘as usual’, but still.)

He and Maddie had arrived a little later on in the evening, their arrival perfectly timed between the stampede of children and cake cutting, their gift bag nestled securely on the present table that Denny kept eyeing with growing excitement.

Chim was the one who let out a whistle when he walked into the building, taking in everything around him.

Chim was the one who bent down to greet Chris, letting Buck’s attention stray from Eddie’s kid, going over to hug his sister.

And it was Chim, who opened his fat mouth, when Maddie and Buck were less than an arms length from one another, as he ruffled Chris’ hair and looked over to the far wall of the building.

“Who the hell thought a Mario Party tournament would be a good idea?”

Eddie could feel a cold chill run down his spine, his stomach dropping in despair as he caught the matching glints in Buck and Maddie’s eyes.

“Mads, do you wanna…?”

No, no, no, Eddie could literally feel his sanity sliding away as Maddie pretended to think it over.

“I mean, if you’re in the mood to lose…”

Eddie shot a nasty look at Chim, who was blissfully unaware of what hell he had just served up on what was supposed to be a child’s birthday. A fun night. A night where the kids got to be kids, and the adults were supposed to know how to act.

Correction—the adults knew how to act. The adults were just choosing to act like kids.

Because that’s what they regressed to; Buck and Maddie were both two professional adults, who worked with high stake situations for a living. They were both mature adults. And when they got into it, they literally regressed into teenagers, shoving one another, bickering at a rapid fire pace, hell, Eddie was surprised Maddie hadn’t gone for a noogie or a wet willy yet, anything to assure her victory.

If Eddie had to be honest, he was pretty impressed with Buck’s focus, and Maddie’s state of mind (it didn’t feel right to say he was ‘proud’, so impressed would have to do). Most of the time, when the Buckley’s got into it, the rest of the world was a blur, but they were more than a half hour into a game and there was not a single fuck word dropped so far.

That wasn’t to say that the tensions weren’t high—and somehow, the mini games made it so much worse for everyone involved. As amusing as it was to watch Maddie self-sabotage when she was paired up with Buck to ensure he wouldn’t get any points, Buck’s stress levels when he was paired up with one of the CPU’s were nearly apocalyptic.

At the very least, Eddie seemed to be far from alone in thinking that the competition between the two was at least a little bit funny—by the time the Buckley’s had entered their final turn, they had a small crowd of children gathered around them. Eddie wasn’t sure if they were watching the game or just laughing at the antics of the two overgrown children, but honestly, he couldn’t blame them either way.

“Nooo! I don’t know what you want from me, Luigi!” Buck wailed—literally wailed—as he sunk down to his knees, looking more dejected than Eddie had ever seen him before, just moments after his CPU partner had pushed him into an oncoming bomb.

That moment seemed to be enough to turn the tide of the game—Maddie was able to pull ahead in coins to secure her spot in the lead, and when the last mini game started, Eddie couldn’t help it. He was actually holding his breath, secretly rooting for Buck to absolutely trash her. But in a supportive, future-sibling-in-law kind of way.

He felt himself groan as the game swung the other way—something about Maddie literally cackling when she got the final, tie-breaking bonus star sending a shiver down his spine. That woman was vicious, and part of him wanted to warn Chim to watch his back—but then again, Chim was the one who got them into all of this in the first place. The group that had gathered around them started to disperse as Maddie started her victory dance, and Eddie had to sigh as he waded through the sea of children.

For now, he had a man to attend to. A man who was literally laying down on the floor of a glorified Chuck-E-Cheese’s, but that was his man none the less, damn it.

“C’mere Buck, come on.”

“Eddie, it’s not fair.”

“I know, baby.”

“I was so close!”

“It’s okay, you can cry.” Eddie said, sighing as he easily scooped his overly-dramatic boyfriend into a bridal carry, kissing his temple. It was almost amusing—at the very least, Eddie was biting his lip, doing his best not to laugh as Buck made a sound that actually sounded like he was on the brink of tears as Eddie deposited his dead weight back into his side of the booth. He knew better than to suggest that it was just a game, because it was never just a game, not when the Buckley’s were concerned.

Maddie was beaming as she slid into the booth across from Buck, her eyes lighting up with another win beneath her belt, and Eddie could appreciate that; hopefully, it meant that they would cut it out, and Eddie could actually enjoy some time off with Buck, and—

“Buck, they have an air hockey table open.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

—and nope, Buck was already on his feet, previous trauma forgotten as he bolted to the ATM to get another stack of quarters.

Eddie wanted to be annoyed, he really did—but he couldn’t seem to get the dopey smile off of his face as Buck started to cackle. All he could do was order another beer on Maddie’s tab, clinking bottles with Chim as he cracked it open.

“Damn, you got it bad.” He really did.

“Shut up, Chim.”

He really, really did.

#buddie #911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #maddie buckley #madney #if you squint #911week2020 #the sibling rivalry is a very real thing #my siblings and I used to settle everything in a very fair and diplomatic way #and by that I mean we would have bottle rocket fights #I have SO MANY burns on my legs #mutually assured devotion

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winifredsandersonsbitch · 4 years

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“Wallow”

Spike x Summers!Reader, BTVS

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of sex, S6 SPOILERS!!!

Description: Out of the five stages of grief, anger is the one that appeals most to the reader. Spike gets the brunt of it during training.

writing fanfics doesn’t feel so appropriate atm, but I wanted to take a break from signing petitions/writing letters (which I encourage you to do as well) and do something creative for a minute. Posting in case anyone else is in a similar situation

Training started up again the day after Buffy’s funeral.

It was important to keep moving, now more than ever. Spike didn’t think it was a good idea, but you shut him down every time he tried to bring it up. What you needed was not time or space or love. You needed to be prepared. You were not going to lose another sister. No one else was going to die. The universe had taken more than its due.

“Again,” you panted, and Spike lunged at you. He couldn’t go in with the intent to hurt you or his head would fill with white hot pain, so you were always uncomfortably aware of how much he was holding back, how easily he could take you if he wasn’t. Most times, he still beat you, although he always offered to fix you up after. All in all, he was a patient teacher, better than you deserved. But even he had his limits.

Spike tackled you to the ground, knocking the breath from your lungs, but you recovered quickly and aimed a punch at his face before he could pin down your arms.

Wheeling backwards, he stretched a hand out to his aching jaw, running it over the bruising skin. “Listen, sweetheart, I know my stamina is legendary, but we’ve got to give it a rest.”

“Again.”

This was all there was for you now. Practice and duty and anger. You wondered if this was how it had been for Buffy, near the end.

You woke up every morning with your skin a mottling greenish purple, darkening with time. Everywhere ached. You covered it up with makeup as best as you could for your shifts at the diner, but your coworkers were starting to notice.

No doubt they blamed it on the blond who sometimes came in to sit at the corner booth during your shifts.

Today hurt more than most. Spike had hurt your back the last time he slammed you against the alley wall, complaining that you fought like a rabid animal instead of a person when you tried to bite him to get away.

“Use anything that you have at your disposal.” You spat blood into the gravel. “That was your first rule. Come at me again.”

That was when he threw you across the alley.

It wasn’t the first time you had been tossed around in a fight. But for some reason, this time you couldn’t get up. You hit a pile of crates and struck your abdomen before rolling over onto your back.

You had practiced being thrown before, falling, all of it, but this was different. Today your anger had gotten the best of you. You had only been focusing on hurting him, not on protecting yourself. And now you couldn’t move.

Spike appeared above you, a bone-white face in a field of black night. You wheezed, trying to take in air that wouldn’t come.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to throw you so hard. Can you sit up?”

“Something cracked,” you said, and Spike reached out for you, then yanked his hand back like he was afraid he’d hurt you more by touching you. Then he covered the side of your waist with either hand, trying to relocate the pressure that would come with hauling you up to his body instead of yours.

“Here, I’m going to help you up, we’re going to take you to the hospital. I’ll call the others. We’ll— What the hell are you— Stay down, woman!”

You put your hand flat on the crate nearest to you and hauled yourself to your feet. Then you put your fists up, your knuckles bloody from where the scabs had split.

“We—don’t—stop,” you puffed, each word more difficult to get out than the last. “A real fight doesn’t— stop— for anything.”

“This isn’t a real fight,” he reminded you. He reached out and you ducked under his arm, a lightning strike of pain shooting up your side where the bone had fractured. But you came out on the other side, planting your feet.

“It’s real. You’re a vampire.” You needed him to be as worked up as you were, so you pushed this button deliberately. “I’m the new Slayer.”

“You’re not—”

“I am.” You were taking shallow breaths now, trying to stay steady. “She’s gone and I’m here. Someone has to take over.”

“There’s already a new Slayer out there, you don’t have to—”

“I promised my mom I would take care of her. And if I couldn’t do that, then I’ll make damn sure I take care of Sunnydale. Now fight me.”

With one swift move, he had your wrists pinned behind your back, making your ribs groan.

Jesus Christ.

“You can handle it,” Spike said, reading your mind. “Don’t think I’m going easy on you. Not when you seem to like the pain so well.”

You weren’t strong enough to shake him off. Months of this, of trying to train your body to do better, and you still didn’t possess a fraction of what Buffy had.

“Why don’t you tell me what this is about, love?”

He bent his neck over your shoulder like he was playing the part of the loving boyfriend getting ready to place a kiss on your cheek, maybe hold you from behind like he was helping you to line up a shot in golf.

“I need to get better.”

“You’re killing yourself.”

“No.” You almost broke your wrists pulling out of his grip and he had to steady you before you fell back. He placed a hand on middle of your ribcage where the skin was beginning to swell, wincing. “I wouldn’t do that to Dawn. To any of them. I’m only trying to make it right. Willow will look me over when we’re done.”

Spike shook his head. “I know this is how you deal with grief from your mum, but this is ridiculous.”

“This is nothing like that.”

“No?”

You picked your jacket up off the ground, shaking it out. You got hot during training, but you were freezing now.

“No.”

He followed you out of the alley doggedly, his thunderous footsteps right behind your own. Across the street, down the sidewalk, and into your car. He climbed in before you could lock the doors. Sitting down made the pain in your ribs flare, but you filed that away under Things to Deal with Later.

“Tell me.”

“It’s just different.” He continued to watch you steadily. Stealthily. Hungrily. You reached to start the car, but he stilled your hand. You slapped his away.

“Why do you care? Do you really have so few other friends that you have to follow me around like a lost puppy? Get out, Spike.”

“You know why.”

You did. He told you before, before Buffy took the high dive, but you had ignored him. Even when he offered to kill Drusilla for you, even when he almost got himself killed by Glory to save Dawn. You believed he felt something. Lust, a proximity to danger. Something to make his immortal life more interesting. But as you had told him before, that wasn’t the same as love.

“Get out.”

“I care about you,” he said through clenched teeth. “For the last year, I’ve only tried to do right by you. You say that you don’t want to play the part of the broken girl, but here you are. I should nominate you for a bloody Oscar.”

“Just because I don’t want to fuck you doesn’t mean that—”

Spike almost broke off the handle as he slammed open the car door, his jaw tight.

“Don’t come crying to me when no one else is willing to stomach your bullshit.”

You stewed in the car for all of two minutes, smacking the horn and screaming at the top of your lungs, before you calmed down enough to think things over.

You were miserable.

Mostly because of Buffy’s death, but also because you were tired of trying to fill her shoes. You couldn’t come up with that many puns in combat or put slaying ahead of everything else. You couldn’t lock down your feelings in order to get the job done. You couldn’t even be honest with the people you loved about how you felt.

You fully considered letting Spike walk out of your life and never come back. You probably would have, too. If he hadn’t been right. If he hadn’t found a way to get you the money you needed after your mother’s death. If he hadn’t volunteered to watch Dawn, to do extra research, even to make dinner one night when you were feeling especially out of it. He almost burned the house down, but he had tried.

You had lashed out at him more times than you could count, and he always took it with a steadiness that kept you grounded when it counted. And now, when he finally bit back, it was because you had suggested that all he wanted from you was sex.

You rolled out of your seat, locked up the car, and tucked the keys in your pocket, swiveling blindly. Where had he gone? Back to the crypt? To the alley? You saw a flicker of black disappear around the corner and followed.

You caught a glimpse of Spike ducking into a decrepit all-night bar. Tugged your jacket tighter around yourself. Prayed that no one would recognize you. Stepped inside.

It was the seedy kind of monster venue that only he could like. Demons leered at you from behind tables marked with blood and vampires ordered drinks at the scuffed bar top. Spike was ordering a Bloody Mary when you sat down next to him. The stool creaked beneath your weight, but he didn’t so much as look at you. The bartender glared at you disapprovingly but let you be. To soften him up, you ordered your own drink, although you didn’t know if you’d be able to take a single sip. The place didn’t look very sanitary.

“I know when I’m wrong,” you said to the glasses behind the bar. “I’m not trying to put up walls. But I don’t want anyone taking care of me. I don’t like to be treated like I’m fragile.”

That wasn’t true. You remembered that one night after your shift when all you had wanted was to be babied. To have someone else take the load for you. But that was before and this was now.

Spike stayed silent. You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to dangle anything in front of you. When I suggested we train together, I wasn’t leading you on. Or I didn’t mean to be leading you on. It’s just different being around you than the others.”

You could practically hear crickets chirp in here. The bartender dropped off your drinks and Spike took a long sip. Like you didn’t even exist.

“I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

You were conscious of sounding like every annoying movie protagonist ever.

“Not that we have anything, only—we’re friends, aren’t we? I don’t want the only reason for you hanging out with me to be that you’re waiting for the day you can get in my pants. So I ignore it, like it’ll make it go away,” you babbled. Demons were giving you disgusted glances now, but you rushed on. “And I meant what I said, about how this isn’t like when my mom died. I always knew that any one of us could meet something we couldn’t come back from. I had a plan then. I saved and I learned how to do taxes and I made sure Dawn got to school. But now when the money’s almost run out and we’ve been through two funerals, I can’t—I can’t do this. Any of it. And if you’re only in this for the chase and I give in, that means I have one less person on my side, and I used to have friends, people I trusted, but then life started revolving around Buffy like she was the sun and now— Now she’s gone. And I don’t want anyone to love me ever again, I only want to know that I can take care of myself in the absence of love. I only want to know that I can take care of who’s left.”

He still wasn’t looking at you. And whose fault was that? You had burned your last bridge to the one person left in your life who had known you and cared about you more than Buffy. Who was more concerned with your life than her death. Wasn’t that awful of you? To have ever wanted that?

“I’m sorry,” you said again. You left the money for your drink and stood up. “I thought you should know.”

God, your ribs fucking hurt. You applied pressure to the swelling like you were holding in your internal organs as you dragged your feet to the front door. Then you heard one of the barstools squeal as Spike spun in a full rotation, casual as the devil.

He finished his drink and stood, meeting your eyes for the first time and prying the keys from your hand.

“Come on then. I’ll drive you home.”

#btvs x reader #btvs season 5 #fanfiction #spike x reader #buffy the series #angst

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remussims · 6 years

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Yay for hitting your first milestone! But please make sure to loose weight in a healthy way. Unhealthy ways to loose weight don't wait for a certain weight to do damage! (Just worried about the way you said it in your post, I'm sure you're doing great.) I'm really proud of you, it's a hard way to go but you're getting there!

Hey! Thanks a lot! And please don’t worry, I do it in a very healthy way as I permanently changed my eating behaviour (therefore it’s not a diet per se). I did the same about 8 years ago, lost 25 kg and maintained for several years until life got quite stressful and I lost track. Back then I felt damn comfortable with myself, but most people weren’t glad with me either, so at least this time it doesn’t hit me as bad. There may be reasons for these reactions but I don’t want to assume anything at this point.

Atm I stick to ~1200-1500 kcal a day. As soon as I reach my weight goal, I will go up to 1800 kcal (I gradually gain weight when I eat more than that, unfortunately. That’s why it’s so easy for me to overeat and get fat again as soon as I lose track. But since I’m older now, my metabolism might have changed and we will see how many kcal I need to maintain).

My overall diet consists of less processed food, more veggies, fruit and smoked salmon, but I still snack from time to time. In general whenever I am hungry, I eat. And I don’t count calories when we go out for dinner (something we don’t do regularly though).

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lamealternatereality · 6 years

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So I suck at ice skating (or, how Yuri lied to me).

There’s an ice rink pretty close to where I live so I went to check it out last night for the first time. It was pretty daunting to go on my own but hey, there was a free skate session and I figured I couldn’t be the only newbie (thankfully I was right about that). Checked in, got my skates, got on the ice, and...

Fell on my ass.

It was only that one time so it wasn’t too bad, but my butt is pretty bruised from the impact. After that I learned how to stay upright a bit better but I think it’s going to take some time before I really get the hang of it. Damn Yuri on Ice for making it look so easy and beautiful.

I really want to improve so I’m gonna go back as often as I can afford it. I’m also going to work harder on losing this extra weight I’ve got on me atm (though I have to say, having a cushy butt to land on was better than a flat one!) and I made myself a promise to work hard at the gym. I managed to get there this morning and now my arms feel like noodles, but it’s nice to know I actually did something other than laze around for a change.

I have three months left before Japan and I really want to be fitter before I go, so it’s time to stop making excuses for myself and just do this. 12 kgs down, 18 to go...I got this.

And I’m sure I’ll be happier for it.

#personal #thoughts #me #Yuri on ice #ice skating is haaaaaaaaaard

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jarienn972 · 7 years

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The Right Place - Chapter Six

This chapter is entirely a flashback of Killian’s perspective on the robbery and his attack where we’ll get to see our hero pirate in action and get a few more clues toward solving the mysteries at play.

Earlier chapters on Tumblr: Prologue/One Two Three Four Five

On AO3 and FF.net

Sunday Afternoon, Casco Bay

Countless decades lived as a pirate had undoubtedly honed Killian Jones' ability to think quickly so recalling that in addition to the local currency that Emma insisted he carry, he also had one of his plentiful doubloons tucked away in his pocket and that provided him with an idea. The two would-be thieves were displeased with the fact that the shop's proprietor had less than one hundred dollars in her till and being the weekend, had already banked the prior week's profits on Friday evening. There was little gain for them so they'd turned into bickering bullies, threatening the woman with harm until Killian stepped in hoping the shiny coin he possessed would provide both a temporary distraction and serve as a lure to get them out of the confines of this little shop.

"Leave the lady alone," he spat at one of the masked men, positioning himself between the beleaguered shopkeeper and the robbers.

"Well, aren't you the chivalrous type?" the bullies of the two men mocked. "We'll deal with you in a moment. Right now, our business is with the little lady here…"

"No – your 'business' is going to be with me," Killian stated forcefully, unfazed by their bravado. He'd faced far tougher foes than these two, but the trick remained finding a point where he would gain the upper hand. "I'll say it again – leave the lady alone," he repeated his earlier statement, tone still unabashedly even and stance unwavering. "And I won't repeat myself again…"

"You won't repeat yourself?" the apparent leader of the two thieves sounded amused by Killian's brash attitude. Who did this guy think he was – some kind of fairytale hero defending the damsel in distress? "Why don't you back off before you get hurt, mister. We're here to get some money out of her and we'll damned well do it one way or another…"

"You're certainly going about this in the wrong way then," the pirate stated with a cocky smirk – a smirk that immediately resulted in a fist colliding with the right side of his face, knocking him back a couple of steps. He managed to stay on his feet and proceeded to start laughing which only further incensed the masked man.

"Wrong way?" the man shouted angrily. "I'll show you the wrong way!" He charged toward Killian but didn't get far as his partner intervened before the situation got entirely out of control.

"Look – we came for money. Let's take the lady and drag her to an ATM or let's just take what we've got and get the hell out of here…"

"So, you'll harass this poor woman for such a small score?" Killian chuckled. "A few of her hard-earned dollars…?" He started to slip his hand into his pocket only to have a gun barrel shoved into his face. "Easy – I don't have a weapon," he insisted as he raised his hand in mock surrender. "I was just going to retrieve something from my coat pocket that might be of greater interest…"

"And what the hell would you have that you think would be of 'greater interest' to us?"

"I've a gold coin in my right hand pocket," Killian informed them. "Check for yourself if you don't believe me," he offered. The more aggressive of the two gave a nod and motioned for his meeker partner to approach. With Killian's hand still raised, he shoved his own into the right side pocket of the pirate's jacket and retrieved the promised object – a single, solid gold doubloon. He held up the prize for his partner to see while giving Killian a shove backward. Satisfied that they'd taken the bait, Killian lowered his hand to his now throbbing right eye, delicately prodding the tender, soon to be black and blue skin.

"How do we know that's real?" the brutish one asked skeptically.

"It's as real as they get," the pirate assured them. "And I've more just like that…"

"More?" Killian could see the eagerness in the masked man's eyes, but still a hint of disbelief. "Where?"

"Back on my vessel… But if you're still more interested in this poor shopkeeper's meager bankroll, so be it…" Killian gave them a crooked grin, infuriating the lead robber who lunged forward to grab a fistful of the pirate's vest.

"You have more of these coins on your boat?" he demanded as he yanked an unimpressed Killian toward him until they were practically standing in each other's space.

"Is that not what I said?" the pirate responded sarcastically, satisfied that his tactic had worked. Now he was the one plotting their course.

"Where's your boat?"

"She's anchored off the coast of Peaks Island. I'd been awaiting the ferry to return to my vessel when you lads barged in."

"Well, good… We can give you a ride out there to relieve you of those coins. We've got a boat docked right out here in the harbor."

"Then I suppose you need me more than you need this lass," Killian began, the advantage slipping further into his favor. "Leave her be and I'll direct you to my vessel and the rest of my coins."

"That's a pretty bold offer…," the masked man chided. "What if you're lying to us?"

"Aren't you the one brandishing the pistol?" the pirate countered snidely. "Guess there's only one way to find out…"

"Let's go then, wise guy," the hotheaded one stated, waving the gun mere inches in front of Killian's face before muscling the pirate around, spinning him toward the shop's entrance as the barrel was now shoved against Killian's spine.

"What about her?" the other thief wondered, gesturing toward the store owner as he tagged along behind his partner and their captive.

"Leave her. Even if she calls the cops, we'll be miles out into the bay before they get here."

Being led at gunpoint along a still predominately deserted harbor front wasn't particularly the way Killian had planned to return to the Jolly Roger but it was preferable to being trapped inside the tiny store with few options available to him. He hoped that the shopkeeper had sought aid from the local authorities, but he didn't expect anyone to arrive in time to assist him so he was left to his own devices. Neither of his captors gave off an air that they were comfortable with the sea which the pirate intended to use to his advantage. To these two masked men, a boat taking them across the bay was merely transportation but Killian was at home on the ocean waves - which for him, was a definite asset to his present situation.

The craft that they intended to make their getaway in was foreign to this old pirate. It was only about a third of the length of the Jolly Roger, hewn from some shiny white synthetic substance instead of wood or steel. What was likely the vessel's name, DONDONN12 – ridiculous as it might have been - adorned the stern, emblazoned in bold, scarlet script. The helm or whatever the steering mechanism was called on this sort of vessel was in an elevated, partially enclosed compartment above the main deck and as they approached, Killian noted at least two hatches that likely led to a lower deck or cargo hold.

"Onboard now!" he was ordered, nearly losing his balance as one of his abductors shoved him toward the rickety metal bridge that served as a gangplank before another blow to his shoulder blade propelled him forward. "Go fire up the engines," the masked man shouted to his partner before returning his attention to their hostage. "I suppose you know how to untie those lines?" Killian nodded and as instructed, unhitched the heavy ropes mooring the vessel to the dock, hearing a loud roar then rumbles of what must have been the craft's engines to his left. If the noise of the engines was an indication of performance, this must have been a swift vessel even if she barely seemed seaworthy. Once both the bow and stern lines were loosened, the masked man brandished the pistol before Killian yet again. He unceremoniously shoved his prisoner down onto one of the built-in benches stretching toward the bow. "Get comfortable."

Recognizing many of the land forms he'd passed earlier that morning while traversing the bay from Peaks Island, Killian attempted to gauge how far from the harbor they'd traveled. He wasn't certain how much time had transpired either, merely guessing that it had been about a quarter-hour. The two masked men holding him captive had taken turns manning the helm, relying heavily on the small screen of an electronic device to navigate their course amongst the islands. They might not have been true sailors but they were at least moderately adept at operating the craft.

He had informed his captors that his ship was anchored off the coast of Peaks, which hadn't been a lie, but the pirate had absolutely no intent of bringing the thieves anywhere near the Jolly Roger. He sat quietly, studying their movements, biding his time as he awaited just the right distraction to make his move, feeling the weight of the trusty little dagger he was carrying safely pressed between his ankle and the leather of his boot. Neither of the two anonymous men had bothered to search him for weapons which led Killian to believe that they weren't particularly skilled in criminal exploits either – again something this seasoned pirate would capitalize on. When they'd barged into the store earlier, they'd appeared to be deliberate in their actions – locking the door and confiscating phones – yet they didn't recognize value. Their focus had solely been the cash register and safe until Killian had offered the doubloon. They'd either overlooked or perhaps ignored the three valuable rings he was wearing – the one on his index finger alone worth far more than their miniscule take.

Before interjecting himself into the fracas, he'd paid close attention to the actions of these two shrouded men. The burlier one had been making all of the decisions, hyper-focused on the shopkeeper herself. The other was less forceful, clearly there as a mere sidekick. If he could manage to overpower the aggressive one, Killian suspected the partner would be unlikely to pose a threat. He just needed the right opening to strike and as an experienced seafarer he knew the rolling ocean swells would soon provide just that window of opportunity.

Brazenly, he stood and took several steps toward the enclosure protecting the vessel's helm where the leader of the two thieves stood guard, none too pleased to see his hostage approaching him.

"Thought I told you to get comfortable…" the masked man growled.

"Don't suppose there's a head on this vessel, is there?" Killian asked as the pistol was raised toward his chest.

"What the hell are you talking about?" the gunman asked, clearly perplexed by the query.

"A head? A bathroom?" the pirate stated, perturbed by this sorry excuse for a sailor not knowing a rather basic, although decidedly modern nautical term.

"We'll be out to Peaks Island in less than thirty minutes. You can hold it."

"Thirty minutes is a very long time…"

"Not my problem," was the flat response Killian received.

"It likely could become your problem, mate," Killian pressed, intentionally popping the T to further antagonize his captor.

"Go sit down," the man ordered, growing increasingly incensed by this obnoxious hostage. "Our agreement was that we leave the lady alone so you take us to the rest of that gold. 'Never said anything about creature comforts, 'mate'." He repeated Killian's sarcastic tone right down to that emphasized consonant.

"Think I'd rather just stand for a bit," the pirate grinned, defying the order. "Have to get my sea legs back. Besides, it's not like you gents have any inkling where you're headed. Arguing with me won't get you to that gold…"

"Maybe we'll just beat you into submission," the thief said as he signaled to his partner to put the controls on autopilot.

"Hardly concerned about that," Killian practically snorted. "My lovely wife has a far more fearsome left cross than you…"

And there was the tipping point. The enraged masked man charged at Killian, but the pirate was well prepared for this attack, swiftly dodging his abductor as the boat listed hard to port when cresting over a large swell. The aggressor lost his balance to the choppy seas and stumbled, squandering his grip on the gun as it skittered across the teak planks. He scrambled to retrieve his weapon but Killian was faster, fetching the pistol and heaving it over the side to level the playing field. His opponent immediately came up swinging, connecting his left fist with the pirate's open mouth, leaving his lip split open and bleeding. Killian took the blow in stride, smirking as he licked the coppery blood from his lower lip before retaliating with a solid right of his own, punching the still faceless man in the jaw then repeating with an even harder blow that made his knuckles sting but successful dropped the thief unconscious at his feet.

The more subdued man had cowered near the helm during the skirmish, genuinely surprised that the seemingly compliant English gentleman they'd taken hostage had just turned on them with the agility and skill of a professional fighter. Before the second man could react, Killian cornered him against the bulkhead and yanked off his black knit ski mask, revealing the petrified face of a young blond haired man not more than twenty five years old who was likely more of a timid college student who got dragged into something stupid than a hardened criminal. Tossing the mask aside, Killian crouched to retrieve the dagger from his boot and directed its business end toward the frightened young man standing before him.

"I believe it's time to turn this vessel around," Killian stated. "I'll be talking over the helm of this craft and…" But he didn't finish the statement as he halted mid-sentence, startled by an unfamiliar voice that resonated from behind him.

"Will you now?"

It was the first time that morning that Killian's blood ran cold with fear, but his brain wasn't allowed time to focus on the unknown voice before he found himself crying out in agony – a sudden, searing flash of pain radiating through his torso. He couldn't stop his body's reaction to the trauma, his legs suddenly too weak to support him, hand trembling so much that he relinquished his grip on the dagger. The blade clattered to the deck just before his knees gave out sending him crashing to the teakwood planks. He lowered his chin to allow a trickle of blood to trail out of his mouth now seeing the pointed end of a different blade jutting out from his ribcage. Hunched over while struggling to remain kneeling, his hand tried desperately to reach the handle of the knife protruding from his back, but his fingertips couldn't find purchase.

A third man. He hadn't factored in the possibility of a third…

"He saw my face," Killian heard the blond thief he'd just unmasked say worriedly as he found himself struggling to breathe, fighting back swells of nausea and forced to verbalize his anguish once again when the blade was drawn from his body as violently as it had been thrust into it.

"Your own damned fault," the unseen man with the knife scolded the young man as he stepped around his victim's collapsing form, careful to avoid the spreading crimson stains pooling on the deck. Killian's strength was waning rapidly as he could no longer maintain his balance, collapsing forward, but managing to hold up his head long enough to catch a fleeting glance at the man who'd stabbed him before his vision began to blur. Struggling to remain conscious, he noted that this man was older than the others – fifties or maybe sixties, but it was the way he spoke to the two bumbling thieves that provided the pirate with more information. The tone was authoritative – a man used to being in charge. "You and your partner over there were supposed to bring the Scott woman out here and intimidate her. Who is this guy? Kidnapping a complete stranger wasn't part of my plan…"

"The woman didn't have anything valuable," the blond man tried to explain. "We barely got a hundred bucks outta her. This guy was in the store and had a huge gold coin in his pocket - worth a hell of a lot more… He was supposed to lead us out to his boat where he had more…"

"And you two idiots believed that?" the older man chastised, shaking his head in disgust. "I'll have to find another way to deal with Ms. Scott since you two screwed everything up."

"We did what you asked – we robbed her and got her all riled up…"

"You were supposed to scare her – that's what I paid for, not this. It wasn't about money. There are things more valuable than whatever coins this guy offered you."

"I'm sorry – what do you want us to do with him then?" the younger man asked timidly as he gestured toward their barely conscious hostage as his partner came to, massaging his aching jaw which would soon bear the imprint of Killian's knuckles.

"You both can clean up the mess you've made," the older man stated firmly. "Toss him overboard. He'll either drown or bleed to death, but either way, we'll be long gone and he won't be around to identify us. Then make sure you scrub all of the blood off of my deck. It had better be spotless."

"Yes, sir," the young man nodded vigorously in agreement as his boss made his way to the helm and took over the controls, easing back on the throttle to slow the craft while his partners lifted their wounded prisoner and heaved his semi-conscious body over the railing on the port side. They never even heard the splash as Killian broke through the surface of the frigid water as the engines roared to life sending them speeding away.

The shock of striking the icy salt water stunned the pirate for a few seconds, but a lifetime spent at sea reminded him he needed to gather his senses if he was to survive. He forced himself back to the surface, gulping in equal parts seawater and air while struggling to keep his chin above the swells. Even if he hadn't been wounded, he was intelligent enough to know that his muscles would tire quickly in these cold temperatures and if he lost consciousness, he was a dead man for certain. He knew they'd passed by one of the smaller islands only minutes ago but while he could make out what was likely the shoreline on the western horizon, he had enough sense to realize it could be merely a hallucination. If it indeed was the shore he spied, was it within his reach? The closest object within his grasp right now was a red and white buoy bobbing maybe a hundred yards away. If he could make it to that buoy, he would at least have something to cling to – something to keep him afloat - although he immediately regretted the fact that he was wearing the prosthetic hand instead of his hook which would have been far more useful right now.

Despite the rough waves tossing him and the blinding pain in his chest, Killian managed to half float, half swim to the buoy, but by the time he approached it and attempted to reach for the metal bar that encircled it, he couldn't get his weary arm to comply. All he managed to take hold of was a dangling oblong scrap of bright blue fabric that had been tied to that same bar. He tugged on the fabric hoping to teeter the buoy toward him, but it tore free instead, plunging him back into the waves. Still undaunted, he made a second attempt to grasp the bar but couldn't put more than a fingertip onto it forcing him to concede that the sea may have gotten the better of him this time. His eyes fell closed, picturing his wife's golden tresses, jade green eyes and sparking smile as he gave in to the pull of the blackness…

Yet somehow he didn't slip beneath the waves and drop to the depths of Davy Jones' Locker. A familiar cackle – nearby, yet out of his line of sight and the sensation of a sinewy, scaly appendage wrapping about his upper body brought him around and as he compelled his eyelids to open, he found that distant shoreline was suddenly within range. Certain he was hallucinating, he couldn't fathom how he'd gotten this far only now his chest was being constricted even tighter as he found himself being lifted from the sea and almost playfully tossed onto the sandy beach. Once he was safely on land, the appendage released its grip and retreated, leaving him a soggy heap on the shore.

Mustering his remaining energy, he shifted onto his left side and battled through muscle fatigue and so much discomfort to raise his head enough to gaze out to the bay. He caught only a fleeting glimpse of a familiar face, hearing the sound of her cackle as she spewed something about him being the luckiest damned pirate she'd ever encountered. Then with a flick of her powerful tentacles, she vanished into the depths as he lowered his head and faded into the welcoming bliss of unconsciousness.

#cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fan fiction #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #the right place

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