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saturatedboy · 3 years

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Hey can you do a fic of Lady Alcina x GN!reader where the reader has ADHD so little things just gets forgotten and jumping topics so fast it’s kinda hard for Alcina at first and she’ll get frustrated but still loves the reader just how they are? If so that would be fantastic! Have a great day!!

Alcina Dimitrescu x GN!Reader

My apologise for taking a while, a thunder and lightning storm happened near me and it blew up the fuse to my internet box. But I'm here with more writing so I hope you enjoy!

Requests: Open

Words: 2.5k

The vast castle that had loomed over the Village of Shadows had always been ancient and portentous. The unknown creatures however that hovered over the sky close to the pole towers were always a great sight to see from the village. However, those who live far away from the castle merely thought to them to be birds with a wide wing span that would fly around and bless the castle with their saint fortune- however if you knew the castle and it's true owners, you would find everything to be more depraved of it's fake nature.

Humming softly, you dragged the wooden comb through your strands, being careful to not pull on any knotted ends too hard. You stared at the mirror with soft eyes, it had been quite the evening for you after the day being filled with lessons on acting like a true noble. You could hear the young ladies down the extended corridors, arguing over who would get the first drop of the sweetness a simple maid had once carried. Although not a vampire yourself, you strived yourself to be lucky amongst those who were caught in any of the young and head mistresses claws. Ah, the mistress. The simple thought of her had brought a rose tint to your cheeks, you smiling unconsciously as you let your mind wander off into far lands that were filled with no violence, only peace amongst the dammed. Only a sudden knock had transported you back into the real world. Coughing, you placed the comb down on the vanity and turned on your buffet, facing the door with hands folded on your lap. "You may enter," You spoke out loud, awaiting the turning of the knob.

The sound of slight clicking of the knob being turned brought your full attention to whoever was to enter. The door became ajar, then pushed to an opening with the guilty entering. A wide smile had stretched it's way onto your face as you stood to greet the one who knocked. Bowing your head slightly, you raised it to be met with the eyes of the lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu. "My lady."

"My darling," She spoke back, closing the door behind her as she looked down upon your small form, however still slightly taller than her three daughters. Seeing your smile brought one onto her face, her eyes gleaming softly at your relaxed state. Looking around your neatly tided room, she let her eyes graze back over to yours and tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. "Why are you still awake? You should be asleep by now."

Awkwardly, you had bit your bottom lip and looked away in shame. Any of the pink fairy dust that was once coating your cheeks had turned deeper than the pinks in a sunset. "Well, my lady, you see I-" You had quickly cut yourself off. You weren't going to tell her that you was awake because you could hear the cries of the maid. And no you weren't going to tell her that she had been running on your mind either-

"Well?" She softly asked as she crossed her arms under her chest, placing herself to sit on the end of your bed as she watched you fiddle with your fingers with a long-lost look within your eyes.

"I'm just feeling energised." You saved yourself as you silently thanked your mind for quick thinking. Well, you weren't exactly lying but at the same time you had been because the cries of the maid had woken you from your slumber. Not wanting to get into any sort of trouble with the Lady. Lady Dimitrescu nodded in reply, not fully understand to why you would be energised after a long day of training to be a noble but none the less, she was glad you weren't hurt at all or hiding any sort of pain.

"Hm, I suppose that may makes sense. Though I don't remember you having any sort of sugary treats to be feeling so much energy to stay awake..." Dimitrescu had trailed of at the end, instantly becoming entranced when you had grabbed the comb once again and brushed through your hair. Tutting slightly, she stood and walked over to your sitting form, plucking the brush from your hand and using it to comb your hair for you. "Your combing wrongly, follow the flow of your hair- don't try to change it's path."

Feeling her gentleness as she combed through your hair had made you start to fidget in your seat. Although you loved the feeling of her hands caressing your hair, there was something about it that made you want to adventure further. You didn't want to stay here, no you couldn't. This wasn't right sitting here anymore. The feeling was so sudden- and you knew why. Arguing in your head, you dragged your mind away from the reality of the world into a blank space where you could try sort out these mixed emotions. However as you were away from the reality, your body had reacted on its own recordings. Your leg began to bounce with your hands intertwining with one another then letting go only for them to become fists. Without any thought of it, Alcina hadn't notice your sudden change in mood, she was too focused on trying to get a certain knot out of your hair.

Yourself on the other hand, was stuck fighting for movement or staying in place. It wasn't till the noise of wood being placed back onto your vanity and the hand that had blocked your view from the mirror that brought you away from your argument. Without a second thought, you stood abruptly and turned to face Alcina with a wide smile. "We should go for a stroll! The night will be young and I'm sure the young mistresses will be busy with their feeding tonight. How about it my Lady?" You held your hand out, your white tunic and grey pants had provided enough heat for you to want a walk in the breeze of the lost screams within the castle.

Alcina had looked at your hand, so small and doll-like. Holding your hand normally brought great warmth to her soul. The feeling of a human being alive and wanting to be close to her had always brought a soft, comforting feeling. And she had only felt that with you. So, wanting to feel the same feeling again she cupped your small hand within her own and used her other hand to straighten out her hat. "Lead the way my love."

Within no second to spare, you speed-walked out of your room and practically dragged the Lady behind you. Why were you so excited for a walk? She had no clue to what was exactly going on in your mind, she never understood what was on your mind but that was because she couldn't read you like an open book. She had always had people praise her like some Goddess which brought much pride to her, but seeing you hold her hand and walk with her like she was a regular person- maybe like what the children would do in the village when they found something interesting and wanted a parent to see it quickly- that what you had reminded her off. "My darling, aren't you going a little fast?" She asked, although having no problem keeping you with your speed, she found it unusual for you to be walking at this speed.

"Nope! Now come on, we have the castle to explore more of!" You giggled and and bopped your head side to side like you were listening to silent music. "Oh! When we explore the castle we should play hide and seek! Do you think the other girls would love to join, I'm sure they would! Ooo maybe you could teaching me how to sort out flowers to make a beautiful boutique like you had done once when Lady Beneviento was over!" Your rambled on about activities you both could do as you let go of Alcina's hand and walked off by yourself. Your stranded look had brought Alncia to be slightly worried about your change of state. Being quick, Alcina followed behind you keeping close tabs on trying to make out what you was saying since you were getting further ahead of her.

"Darling....Darling!" She called out as you kept walking onwards, twisting through the hallways and moving yourself out of the way for any maids that were walking around or cleaning the hallways. Alcina shook her head and sped walked to catch up to you so she could take swiftly your arm within her grasp to make you stop walking away from her. The sudden yank that she gave you made you lock your lips together and looked up at her over your shoulder. "Darling your speaking too quickly and mumbling half of it. Speak with a clear tone and articulation. I taught you this today before you went up to bed."

You looked at her with glossy eyes that held your innocence. Her figure over you had somewhat calmed your mind to rest, or maybe it was her touch- you couldn't decide on which. You focused on her hand around your arm, her fingers going back to her palm as her larger hands captured your arm within her grip- no movement could make you escape. You opened your mouth to speak up but your words were caught in your throat. Again you tried but only slight noises of struggle came out. Taking a deep breath, Alcina sighed out in annoyance and rolled her eyes. "Would you mind telling me what's going on. One minute your relaxed, the next your up and walking away like you have to catch a carriage. You're also changing your mind on what to do-Sweetie you said you wanted to go for a walk."

Trailing your eyes from her hand up her arm and peering at her face, you saw a clear look of her being stumped with your actions. Pulling your arm out of her grip, you cradled it close to your chest. "I'm sorry." Was all you could mutter before taking a deep breath in and out, steading your breathing after the fast walk you had travelled with. Leaning against the closest wall in the hallway, you swept strands out from your eyes and gazed down at the wooden floor with deep crimson carpets. "I've always been like this- It's something that is hard to control." You gathered the small courage to face her again, looking at her with a guilty stare.

Alcina patted her dress down as she heard your voice speak. She had no way in understanding why you act like this because this was the first time it happened so suddenly and well- she hadn't been a human for a very long time now. You remembered times before you came to the castle that down in the village you would take off through the woods to lose the energy you gained for no reason and speak to any animal life you could find. It was much more relaxing to talk to someone who couldn't say anything back- you couldn't interrupt anyone or get the harsh reply of 'Stay on a subject' because your mind jumped from one thing to another. That was actually how you met the Lady of the castle in the first place, and it was the first place you confessed your dying love to her. But now- everything happened without yourself even realising it was happening, you felt like the one to blame for putting the Lady in this position of following you about and practically making her own mind run in circles.

A delicate hand lifted your chin that had dropped to rest on your chest, a finger running along your bottom lip. The hand belonged to Alcina whom had knelt to the floor in front of you. "(Y/n)." She spoke your name with tenderness and a tone that would forever make your heart melt with affection. "You have nothing to be sorry for. If this is how you are, then I love you for who you are." She felt your lip quiver under her thumb, her other hand pulling you into her chest where soft sobs had came from your mouth. She held you close, humming a tune to calm you down. Your salty tears had wet her long white dress, but she didn't care. She cared for the fact that you had been dealing with something that had made you think you were in the wrong for feeling it. "If you wish to ramble about anything on your mind, go ahead. Tell me stories, tell me knowledge, tell me how you feel. I will listen to everything to have to say- even if it does get mixed up that's okay." With a vision blurred, you tilted your head up to look at her as yo used your hands to clear the spots of wetness of your face. "I may not be able to fully understand, but I chose to love you and that means anything that you come with is something I adore my dearest."

A chuckle escaped your lips as you felt her hand glide itself down under your arm and slightly tickle you. "W-wait that tickles-"

"Oh I know~" She whispered into your ear and she playfully picked you up in bridal style within her arms and began her own journey somewhere. Still watching her face and feeling her arms wrapped tightly around your form, you couldn't help but wonder what she was doing.

"Where are we going? Are we going outside or are we going back to my room?" You asked as you continued to clear your eyesight from the specks of fuzzy marks. Adjusting you in her arms slightly so she could instead carry you with your head resting on her shoulder as she held you under your behind and legs wrapped around her upper torso, she replied.

"We are going to find my three daughters and tonight as a family we shall play games. A game night. I figure we both could need one of those especially your hard work of being a noble." She kissed your cheek as she carried on walking, you on the other hand had tried to say something again but it came out with stutters.

"But what if I talk about something stupid or make a fool of myself. Maybe I might not be able to sleep and you need your rest m'lady,"

"Oh darling, I wouldn't sleep without knowing my precious dearest is safe and sound under my gaze. If you can't fall asleep still we shall sit by the fire in the main room and I'll read whatever you wish for." Her words were sincere. She was being truthful. She didn't need to know about your condition, she just understood that she will be there for you in your tightest moments and fit what is right for you. And anyway, she also loved your voice- it was secretly one of her favourite features about you. Why wouldn't she want to listen to you, anything to hear her dearest talk would make her heart swoon with love.

Only a love that she was willing to give to you.

#lady dimitrescu #castle dimitrescu #residentevil8 #resident evil x reader #alcina dimitrescu #alcina x reader #resident evil dimitrescu #oneshot #gender neutral s/o #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader

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suganovakawa · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , platonic hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , implied car accident , amnesia recovery

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐗 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 .

your first day back at seijoh doesn’t seem so bad . . . but that boy at the window sure does pique your interest .

word count : 1.4k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀"hajime, was i always this... popular?"

⠀unsure of how to accept a bouquet of flowers from an unknown face as you and the only friend you could confide in walked through the halls of the vast school, your mind was only left to ponder aimlessly. did you always think this school to be so big? maybe it was because you had no recollection or memories of this place, that it seemed like a never ending corn maze.

⠀"well, word travels quickly, y/n. everyone here is worried about your safety. we're all glad you're back, safe and sound." you turned to the male walking beside you, his hands loosely stuffed in his pockets. that same gaze turned to the flower bouquet held tightly in the embrace of your arms, echoes of well wishes and greetings filling your ears as you struggled to find your classes. iwa was assigned to be your personal guide until you got the gist of the seijoh halls once more, and he made sure to make it crystal clear he was your go-to guide incase you needed some assistance with anything.

⠀"i feel guilty, not being able to remember anyone..." your voice hushed into a whisper, only loud enough for hajime to decipher. "everyone i've spoken to is so nice, i wish i could at least remember everyone's names to thank each of them properly." every time anyone reached your vicinity, hajime was the one who had to inform you of their name before they approached the two of you. you had to explain of your amnesic situation, to which each of them understood... to an extent.

⠀you'd always get a mix of emotions in reaction to such horrific news, depending on the person. many shown pity, while others attempted to empathetically understand your frustrations. a select few were skeptical upon first hearing the news, but there was nothing you could be lying about. amnesia wasn't something to be joking about; at least, you found no reason to joke about it. the way it erases your mind of your precious memories with those you love and cherish is cruel in its own right. you remember how distraught your parents were when you had no recollection of their faces. you believed them to be your family, as you assumed they had no reason to lie, but that was as far as credibility went.

⠀hajime was a tremendous help through it all, too. after his first meeting with you - when you awoke from your supposed coma, he brought in a large group of boys, around the same age as the two of you. though their names were a blur, the one thing that stuck out to you was when they each thanked you for being their volleyball team manager.

⠀the aoba johsai volleyball club team. that's who they were to you. could a team really be so tightly bonded they'd even visit a mere manager? the thought of it humbled you, and your heart felt fuzzy. you were able to smile genuinely once more, bringing joy to the boys' faces. though their visit wasn't that long, you were able to remake some friends, and maybe met new ones before returning to seijoh.

⠀you snapped out of your daze as you accidentally bumped shoulders with another student, flinching at the sudden contact. hajiime reacted to your movement by looking to see who you bumped into, but it was too late for him to speak up first.

⠀"watch where you're going, will you? damn." he snapped at you as his nasty glare stared you down, his posture slouched over and grumpy. even with an appearance as unique as his - bleached buzz cut, darkened eyelids, and two brown stripes on both sides of his head - no name came to mind. his intimidating aura worked on you all too well, and your mouth clamped down nervously, since it technically was your fault you hadn't paid attention to where you were walking.

⠀"kyoutani." there was a bark, to which both you and the strange male looked towards hajime, whose glare was darker than the other's. "don't talk to her like that. it's y/n."

⠀as if it was some sort of special cue, kyoutani's snarl lightened oh so slightly, his eyebrows arching upwards as he cleared his throat before looking at you once more. "oh, y/n." his voice lowered to a mumble, "sorry about that. glad to know you're back in one piece." in astonishment towards his abnormal attitude change, you weren't able to say anything in reply as he quickly shuffled past the two of you and disappeared down the hall.

⠀"who was that, hajime?" you were freaked out about how easily iwaizumi was able to change such a grumpy attitude with just a snap and your name. were you a sensitive topic to talk about amongst the students? sure, your accident was pretty bad, but it could've been a lot worse than memory loss, right? amnesia was probably the luckier gamble of the entire situation.

⠀unless if there was something else he hadn't informed you of already?

⠀"oh, don't mind him. he was part of the volleyball club team, too. he's just more on the... lone wolf side. he doesn't interact with us that much." he only shrugged at your curiosity. "he knows of what happened, and it's nice to know he has enough manners to wish you well."

⠀there were so many questions you wanted to ask him; the problem was, you didn't know where to start. there was that standing fear of overwhelming him with too many inquiries, too. just how much did hajime iwaizumi know? what doesn't he know? he seemed to be capable of informing you of everything that you'd need to know, but even if there was anything he was hiding under the surface, you would have no notion or clue as to what it was.

⠀and while you were eternally grateful for his presence and overwhelming kindness, your curiosity of rediscovering everything continuously poked at the back of your brain. maybe when you got back on your feet, stable enough to figure out things on your own, hajime would let up and see things for yourself. for now, you were content with him being at your beck and call - whether it be for better or worse.

⠀"we're here." you filled your lungs with a sharp inhale as hajime opened the door for you, reintroducing you to your first classroom of the day. seeing your nervousness, the brunet merely smiled comfortingly, placing a hand on your shoulder before looking to the others, who were trying to hide their curiosity in seeing you standing under the doorway. "there's no one you should be afraid of, y/n. you sit next to me anyway, so you'll be fine."

⠀"thank you, hajime." there was nothing to be afraid of, he was right. why were you hesitating? there was no need for that self inflicted worry.

⠀two empty desks stood side by side as majority of your classmates rose from their own to greet you the moment you stepped in. unfortunately for you, there were too many people reaching for you all at once, so hajime was a bit behind in naming all of them for you. as much as you tried and appreciated their concerns, all you really wanted to do was just sit down and let everything sink in. today was going to be a long day.

⠀"oikawa, are you not going to say anything to y/n?"

⠀oikawa?

⠀your head turned at the name, noticing how a small bunch crowded a single desk in the back of the room, their faces less than pleasant as they glared at the lone male sitting by the window. an uneasy knot grew in your stomach as you caught glimpses of the student; you ignored hajime repeatedly calling your name, instead focusing on the boy sitting in the back of the room.

⠀why was someone so attractive sitting all the way in the back like that? alone, no less?

⠀the male ignored every advance towards him, and the students who ganged up on him had no choice but to back away, grunting in their failure as they plopped down in their own desks. you, however, still felt strange. oikawa... there was no ring to it, just as everyone else's name was in aoba johsai.

⠀but you couldn't deny it, he was the one.

⠀and such a thought was solidified the moment he turned from the window to gaze into your eyes. it was only for a second, but that stare meant something; you could feel it.

⠀oikawa...

⠀the first one to see you when you woke up.

a / n : writers block hurts so much i deeply apologize for the absence 😭 i’ll def be updating more frequently now , don’t worry !! n don’t mind me crying over this chapter , casually crying as i write this on tooru’s birthday— happy birthday sweetie

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terrascookiejar-archive · 4 years

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Purple Yam canonically has PTSD

Hey I’ve been thinking a lot lately and want to offer an alternative take on a character the fandom seems to LOVE to Hate. Purple Yam Cookie.

Purple Yam Cookie’s rage comes from the fact that he is deeply traumatized.

Now a lot of people tend to take things about Purple Yam at face value, for a few reasons. But we’re not going to get into the race debacle or bigoted opinions here. We’re here to talk about the thing everyone overlooks, His Character.

And yes if you take time to actually read and consider what is in the game about Yam, you’d understand that a character was there.

Starting at the place where we learn the most about cookies initially, his story

Now there’s two very, VERY important takeaways from this story I want to bring up to all of you.

Purple Yam was baked in extreme temperatures again and again until the heat finally got to his head. Ever since, Purple Yam Cookie has been in an angered state (to say the least!) that’s why we advise being extremely cautious around him.

and

The Cookie (Purple Yam) claims that no one has suffered in the “flames of hell” more than him, but little does he know that - in fact - other Cookies went through the Witch’s oven too...

We know that Yam likes to talk a lot about “The Fiery Hell” and how we “Have No Idea How Hot it was In there”

I think the one thing we need to think about is the fact that Yam didn’t just go through the Oven ONCE. He went through it an UNKNOWN amount of times until it BROKE him MENTALLY.

Now trauma isn’t always someone becoming reclusive or someone becoming weak or depressed, etc. etc. The fact of the matter is everyone experiences trauma differently, and anger? Anger is a VERY common side effect of trauma. In fact a very, very common symptom of PTSD IS Anger!!

Now there’s a great article on PTSD and not just how but why Anger is a common side effects, from the US Department of Veteran Affairs (Because, well, PTSD is a common thing coming back from war)

Anger is often a large part of a survivor's response to trauma. It is a core piece of the survival response in human beings. Anger helps us cope with life's stresses by giving us energy to keep going in the face of trouble or blocks. (...) One way of thinking is that high levels of anger are related to a natural survival instinct. When faced with extreme threat, people often respond with anger. Anger can help a person survive by shifting his or her focus. The person focuses all of his or her attention, thought, and action toward survival. Anger is also a common response to events that seem unfair or in which you have been made a victim. Research shows that anger can be especially common if you have been betrayed by others. This may be most often seen in cases of trauma that involve exploitation or violence.

Now all these things we can attribute to Purple Yam in spades.

Purple Yam’s whole skill is based his anger, reaching a fever pitch and becoming “a tornado of rage.” It’s a trigger response, and when he reaches the end of his energy??? He gets blasts of rage that happen very rapidly, It’s a the end of his energy. This is his survival instinct.

And too, we need to identify the fact that Purple Yam seems to very much believe that no one has it worse than him. He might not be aware that other cookies have gone through what he has, though I think the most likely attribution is that he thinks his experience was worse because he was forced to experience it over and over again. You could say that others attributing the fact they went through the oven as well might make Yam believe they are challenging him by marginalizing what happened to him. In fact, everything is a challenge to him now.

Purple Yam is always looking for a fight. Always.

Fighting seems to be the one outlet for him to get all this rage out. This is the only way he can cope with his anger. The anger and rage that he was baked to his breaking point into having can only be satiated by fighting.

One could argue that losing to Dark Choco was SUCH a blow to his pride, because fighting is the only that makes Yam feel GOOD about what happened. Losing was the ultimate threat to who he IS and what DEFINES him at this point that he NEEDS to get it back. He NEEDS to find Dark Choco and RECLAIM the ONE thing that makes Yam happy and proud. His raw power as a fighter.

and this doesn’t just extends to fighting, his anger overtakes EVERYTHING.

Going back to the article, it illustrates my next point well.

In people with PTSD, their response to extreme threat can become "stuck." This may lead to responding to all stress in survival mode. If you have PTSD, you may be more likely to react to any stress with "full activation." You may react as if your life or self were threatened

Now Purple Yam is not great with any other emotions, he literally responds to ANYTHING from a threat to a COMPLIMENT with ANGER and INSTIGATION. Yam is literally so unable to cope with anything that’s not anger, that the stress of it turns itself around and back to being anger again.

Everything he can’t deal with his activating that survival instinct and turning back to anger. Which only adds to the destructive nature he gives off. Every little thing becomes as bad as his life being in danger, even if it’s small.

With this all established. There’s one more important thing I’d like to talk about. There’s more to Yam than his anger.

Yes Purple Yam has PTSD, Yes Purple Yam is very angry and anger is his one outlet to his trauma. However, like an actual Sweet Potato, there’s actually an inner sweetness to Yam beneath all the heat.

We need to remember that someone with any kind of Trauma isn’t just someone WITH trauma. They are someone

Very much brought upon symbolically, like many cookies, through his magic candy item.

This sweet potato might look scary with its sharp spikes, but it tastes like heaven. But who could be brave enough to try this thing in the beginning?

Scary with spikes, but something much nicer on the inside? Hmmm.

Now to round this out, how do I know that there’s potential for Yam to be something more that isn’t just defined by the anger that he uses to cope? Why the first guild adventure of course!!!

The first time we see Yam, he’s busted down the walls of... some place and meets Milk Cookie who, in Milk Cookie fashion, greets him with open arms thinking he’s here to join his guild.

Throughout the adventure, we see something NOBODY likes to talk about. A CHANGE IN YAM’S CHARACTER.

In the beginning, things are very tense between Milk and Yam once Milk finds out Yam wants to challenge Dark Choco! Milk Cookie doesn’t just easily let Purple Yam get away with the idea that he’s going to hurt the cleric’s mentor! So Milk cautiously follows from a distance whilst being threatened by Yam to stop following him.

That’s when they encounter a jellyworm and a fight ensues.

The next time we see these two, Yam is still questioning why Milk is following him. It can be assumed that not many cookies would stick around Yam up until his point. A lot of the tension that mired the beginning is gone, and Milk seems to be more trusting of Yam as a cookie. Perhaps after the encounter starting to realize that inner good that Yam has under the surface. While Yam has gone from threatening to mild annoyance at Milk’s refusal to leave him alone. Seemingly to only let Milk follow along because he won’t leave the Berserker alone.

After saving Purple Yam from a close call, Milk Cookie suggests that perhaps it would be better if the two work together. Purple Yam, though begrudgingly, agrees. Though when Milk Cookie frames it in the form of the challenge, Purple Yam is far more on board. Almost as if Milk Cookie has come to understand how Purple Yam’s mindset works and it can be attributed to a positive goal rather than a negative one.

Yam has gone from being hostile, being threatening, being mildly annoyed, to accepting help in the form of Milk Cookie to ultimately reach his goal. The two might have different goals in mind, but thanks to Milk Cookie’s patience and perseverance he’s managed to even get a cookie as stubborn as Purple Yam to work with him to make it to the end.

Now I’m not gonna say the obvious. However I will leave you with this thought. Someone is suffering heavily from trauma that results in episodes of anger, and someone comes into their life who doesn’t entirely get what’s going on, but wants to help. It might be met with animosity... yet with patience, perseverance, and understanding can come to help that person to cope. Thus allowing the one with PTSD room to open up and perhaps find outlets outside of anger. Gaining someone who, though might not always agree and have all the answers, can be one they can trust to help them.

Maybe there was always more to the first guild adventure than meets the eye.

#Purple Yam Cookie #Cookie Run #Cookie Run Ovenbreak #Cookie Run Discourse #Something to consider

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dioko · 3 years

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Agnosthesia.

Shinso Hitoshi x gn! reader (apologies for the low quality image)

s'my first time writing something that isn't sunshine-and-rainbows, i hope it's good. practice makes progress i guess heh

Word Count: ~801

Summary: Your days drag out slowly, agonizingly so. Shinso stays by your side, ever-so-loyal and caring. It's not your fault that your love for him died, though - right?

Includes: Angst (?), flash-fiction, shinso/reader pairing, please notify me if i missed something.

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Agnosthesia, n.

a state of confusion, when you don't understand how you truly feel about something in your life. the only thing you can do is bear the weight of this unknown burden.

Ah, you didn't know how it happened.

Soft, purple hair and tired eyes - though, you knew them as kind eyes. This was the Shinso Hitoshi that you knew so well. Filled with determination, and maybe a little bit of spite; sarcastic and pragmatic, but that's how you liked him. With a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue, he brought out the best in you, and you the best in him.

Or so you thought.

It took time to fall in love, it takes time to fall in love. You knew it did with you and Shinso. The two of you weren't even in the same classes when you'd met. Eventually, something managed to blossom. True love, you thought, took time. Love was quite slow-moving. Love was like poison.

And you, be it for better or for worse, had become immune.

It was only natural that you’d think that falling out of love was just as slow, as painful. You’d jumped to the conclusion that it’d be like tearing a band-aid off your skin bit by bit - that it’d sting and burn and feel all kinds of horrible.

Never in your life had you imagined that whatever feelings you carried the night before could be gone when you woke up.

Falling out of love was swift and ruthless; if only you could be the same.

On this cool spring day, basking in the sunlight and feeling warm breeze on your skin, you should have enjoyed the time you spent around your boyfriend. He was a high ranking, successful pro hero - the two of you rarely had time to appreciate each other’s presence like you did now.

So why was it that you couldn’t?

Why was it that as he walked down the quiet streets with you, asking what you wanted to do today with hands intertwined, that you were incapable of feeling a single thing? Shinso Hitoshi had not changed from the introverted, coffee-adoring man you knew since high school, so maybe you’d changed.

Were you not as empathetic as you once were? Perhaps it was the stress of adult life that finally pushed you to cave in. Your heart didn’t rush up your throat when he whispered... things in your ear anymore.

Maybe this was it! It’d been years since your graduations, but maybe you’d gotten past your honeymoon phase mindset with him at last. That was probably why you had different reactions to him than the past.

“Hitoshi,” you squeezed his hand gently, “lemme see your face.”

He looked puzzled for a moment - it wasn’t unexpected, though, you stated something completely unrelated to your conversation out of the blue.

“Sure?”

Gentle, purple irises, and bags under his eyes that just refused to disappear no matter how much he slept. You smiled. He was still your Shinso, so handsome and alluring.

But, there’s a difference between physical attraction and emotional.

Weeks ago, his features would have made you feel warm, comforted. Something fuzzy would stir up in your stomach that made you want to hold him close to your chest for the rest of your life, and kiss him as many times as you could before you both ran out of breath.

Today, all you could think about was how he was just another guy.

God, it hurt.

You knew and didn’t know what was happening to you all at the same time. It was as if a boulder sat on your chest constricting air flow and blocking off all unrelated thoughts. But... you could change that. Falling out of love was a different kind of poison - not a poison at all. It was like a saber, cutting through anything like it was nothing. You could be like that too.

God, it hurt you to not love him, but it would hurt him more to be stuck with a shell of what once was you.

Even now, he was talking to you, and you lacked the decency to pay attention.

“- and I thought we could visit it today, you know, having the day off and everything-”

“Shinso.”

He stopped abruptly, casting a worried stare at you; you hadn’t called him that in years.

“... yes?”

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

This, you told yourself, was for his own good. The confusion in your head would fade away; your gamble would pay off once you tore his heart into shreds, right? It would be for his own good when you left him, no one wants a loveless romance. Be that as it may, you knew the pain you were about to cause him was still all for you.

a/n: unedited so mb for the grammar, notifs ab any mistakes are cool :) like always, requests would be greatly appreciated 💙

#angst #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #shinso hitoshi #shinso x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou x y/n #bnha angst #bnha shinso #eraserheads kid #aged up #pro hero au #angsty shi #hehe this was fun

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Friends With Benefits Chapter 10 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter X ~ Don’t Look Back in Anger.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Word Count : 3.2k

Warnings : nsfw, smut. hella angst.

Series Summary : What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

Notes : Welcome back! This is a special chapter, as much of it is in flash back. Flash backs are indicated in >italics<, present scenes are indicated in >normal text<. Side note, flash backs are not in chronological order. I really hope I’ve written this in a way that doesn’t confuse anyone. As always, please leave comments and feedback if you get a moment, they mean more than you can imagine. Enjoy!

Chapter 9 Recap : Y/N adjusts to life without Keanu after she ends their physical relationship, stuck missing him dearly and remembering how they used to be. When a friend from her past; Matt, meets her, she invites him over for an evening in to catch up, resulting in sleeping with him to get over Keanu. Back at Keanu’s house, he finds himself laying awake thinking of her, ultimately deciding to go to her in the morning to confess his feelings. However, upon arrival, Keanu finds Matt leaving Y/N’s house, realizing she’d been with him the night prior. They stand in awkward silence together, unsure of how to tackle the conversation.

You can’t stand in a fire and not be consumed. You should have feared,

when you looked into that same fire and smiled. More so, when that fire burned the best, most treasured memories inside you.

And some of the best memories, moments; are the ones you can’t tell anyone about. No one but him; the man who made them within you; set that burn inside you.

The man with the same fire, burning, igniting. Crumbling.

-Do you ever wonder how you wound up, where you did? Where you went wrong?

He stands at your doorstep, defeated.

“Can I come in?” A fragmented Keanu asks, voice low, thick cut with rasp. His eyes had just seen what his heart couldn’t bear fathom.

Betrayal. He felt betrayal. You were never his, he’d never had you, despite the proximity. Yet, he feels the cut so deep.

Sodden with dejection, you state dryly. “Yeah, sure.” Moving aside, your gaze probes anywhere but connected to his. He looks tired, blue, disheartened. Through a petulant twitch of his lips, you swore he’d been about to say something; yet falters.

Thick, dead silence.

Silence all around,

When it was the last thing you remember used to be, when you and him were still okay.

~𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲;

He touched you gently,

Held you tenderly,

Kissed you passionately,

Undressed you slowly.

You couldn’t forget him; couldn’t forget the things you did.

That night long ago, you’d asked him to come see you. The tedious night threatened your sanity, and you didn’t want to be alone. LA rains drummed each surface that evening, the drive to your apartment would have taken him an extensive hour through the violent downpour. Howling wind sputtered through the sky, dusk fallen horizon taking him your way to where you’d wait for him, needing him so critically, so closely.

He’d came, dressed in black with rainfall speckled skin. Bourgeoning pulses of thunder boomed above, the hallow ache of fear inside your bones eased when he’d arrived, staying close. You hadn’t felt much that day; weary limbs dragged through the tiresome day hoping so greatly to feel some sort of liberation, anything to ease the brew inside.

He held your hand for the first time that night, in a way that felt as if so much more. He held it, all the way to the haven of your bed when he’d asked you what you need. What you need, what you want, what was okay. No one had ever portrayed that level of complete, unconditional regard before; never so unselfishly assured you were safe. Safe, entirely.

In the darkness of your room that night, you realized you felt safest in his arms. You’d learned it that night.

You’d gently, slowly peeled off each other’s clothes; his skin had been damp under the fabric of his black t-shirt. To his mane, delicate whisps of wet hair curled at the ends, some clinging to his skin in a beautiful frame. You’d brushed them away for him that night; let him kiss your lips so slow that night.

He’d touched a part of you then. A time so distant, so long ago it felt foreign. But that evening, that night set the course of what brought your end.

That was markedly the night, when you’d known you’d fallen. Even if so little, so slight, his touch captured your soul that night.

Underneath him, you felt so much, for the first time in a while. Hadn’t been held that close before, hadn’t been touched that affectionately before. Palm stationed to your back, he held your body in his arms; flush to his chest as if a porcelain doll; body snug to yours as he moved inside you, in and out so leisurely, so slowly it burned. His member pumped you so delicately, so full, so proximate that his hot breath stippled to the crook of your neck, tingles and shivers igniting each inch of your skin from his intimacy.

You remember his moans, his soft whimpers as your bodies moved together, the way he twitched inside, the way you throbbed around him, the way he fit as if made only and solely for you. The way he took you as if you were the missing piece. Sharp breaths sucked in, wet and warm kisses marked into each other’s skin, each curve, each crevice of each other’s bodies memorized in those two hours spent together, moans and pleads swallowed up in passionate wails.

You felt every vein, every inch of him. The feel of his base hitting your core relentlessly, the feel of his hips snapping into your own so passionately to the rhythms of breathy sighs and shallow gasps. Fingers tightening near his shoulders, you’d swore you’d marked fingerprints into his skin forever, reminding him always of how dearly you’d held on that night; how much you needed him that night and how much he’d been there. Each second savoured, he pumped passionately into your slick arousal, splitting erection tight inside your wet and warm sanctuary. The pain, the soreness, the girth, the stretch, it’d all been replaced with searing pleasure. Nothing but undeniable, irreplaceable burn. That was the day.

It had become clear that night;

How much he’d become that evening; how important he meant.

Your release washed over, Keanu’s hips going stiff and rigid as he slows pace, grunting quietly as he came deep, deep inside. That was the longest sex you’d ever had, with anyone. Because it wasn’t sex.

It wasn’t just sex that night.

It was the feeling, the assure being there. Of hoping so desperately to wipe away all things bad, all endeavours that threatened peace of mind. The feeling of prolonging nothing but pure, unconditional intimacy.

Even after release, he’d stayed positioned inside, cock sheathed inside to your end, so warm, so full. So fucking close.

It had almost slip that night. You’d almost told him you loved him through the act.

Burn isn’t anything without even the smallest trace of love. Even the smallest spec.

How could you forget him,

and the things you did?

Keanu quietly slips in when you gesture, his gaze fallen and downcast as he watched Matt leave. Not a word has been exchanged, not a syllable spoken in the cloud of cold silence.

Cold, stoic silence. Unsure of the words that could even be spoken. Unknown to the quarrel of feelings, thoughts, emotions bubbling inside both your minds. The balance had never been there for you and Keanu.

You still hadn’t found the balance.

“Did you sleep with him.” Keanu blurts, so sudden, so soon.

Taken, your expression twists with ponder, struck. “Excuse me?”

“Did you sleep with him.” He reiterates, with a sudden sternness. Something so,

unfamiliar.

~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞;

Surrounded by sheets, the morning you’d woken up to was nothing like the ones you remembered. Light burns underneath your eyelids, release of tone through a muffled groan out your thin lined lips. A half formed groan bubbles at the back of your throat, morning air greeting you with wavelengths of drained doze. Between a sea of silky sheets and cotton pillows, the weight of the dipped bed beside your frame held a weight far too familiar,

The weight of a friend. Someone who should have never seen you in the ways he did the night prior. Someone you should have never felt the way you did in the early AM.

You’d both needed someone that night, needed to feel something that night.

Yet, the quarrel inside never subsides. Was it sufficient?

Was it reason enough?

Was it even, enough.

Your eyes crack open slowly, blinking away at the ceiling; bleary eyed and disoriented. Underneath the sheets, your figure lays bare, naked and exposed with the satin glow of your skin on full display. The morning is early, and he seems to still be under a deep snooze. With his forearm to his head in efforts to block out light, a messy tousle falls to his chocolate locks, shirtless chest covered partially by the heavy duvet. On the floor around, a symphony of your long forgotten clothes pepper the hardwood, the ache between your legs reassuring; last night was real.

Last night happened.

You and Keanu happened.

Your eyes ponder, you lie awake. Staring at the crème ceiling, the dots and specks a thousand too many. When he’d wake, the end would be near. There was no coming back from this. No erasing this from memory. History would remain; the course had been set.

You hadn’t noticed his eyes flutter, breath pulled with a heavy stagger as his pupils adjust, collecting where he’d been, eyes barely fluttering the objects and corridors of the room before he remembers,

the things he’d done the night before with you, the things that would engrain to his memory for a lifetime. He turns, gazes met with voiceless realization, an awkward exchange of greeting with the covers modestly bestowed higher.

What once was open, friendly, close; was now awkward.

“Y/N,” He sighs, cautiously making sure to not touch you. He wouldn’t intrude, wouldn’t pose himself on you, despite waking up together after a very physical evening. Suddenly, you’re further aware of your nude chest, dangerously exposed under the thin barrier of the duvet. You release an unsteady breath, staring at him in mute shock. “I’m really sorry, I apologize.” His deep baritone rings. You’re both still nude by a drape of the duvet to cover your modesty. “I’m sorry, I should have controlled myself.” He acknowledges as you shift, quick to hush his lament of worrisome thoughts.

“No, no. It was…” You sigh, gaze to the clothes below. “It was both of us.” Reflecting back, you remember how right it felt in the moment, how complete it felt to have his lips on yours, hefty palms glazing your each curve, each dip. “It was a heavy night. I’m sorry we let it…happened.”

Silence.

Heavy,

Awkward,

Dreary, silence.

Clearing your throat, your eyes gloss the covers to his chest, eyeing. “Do you…have anything on…?”

“No.” He quietly returns, heave a sigh when he realizes not only was his manhood undressed under the blanket, his clothed laid miles across the stiff floor. Your expression drops and you swallow all too thickly, chuckling in attempts to ease the mood.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, shielding his eyes away from your half nude figure beside him. “I can look away if you want to get dressed.” And with a shift away and guard to his gaze, you cautiously, lowly drape a sweatshirt and pair of pajama shorts to your skin, quietly announcing as you leave the room. “I’ll just be outside.” You unobtrusively voice, shut of the door behind you.

And to the dew of the morning sun filtering the skyline windows, you sigh lowly, heels of your palm rubbed to your temples in a shuddering exhale.

What had you done.

What had,

You done.

Moments later, he finds you waiting to bid him goodbye, merely a few exchanges of words drabbled as he finds his belongings. His expression ceases with a subtle, unspoken ponder; a pain that would all too soon become far too familiar, as he watches the way you silently stand in quarrelling guilt.

Quietly, his mind remembers how a mere 12 hours ago, things were still normal. You and him were still normal, still good friends.

Leather coat daubed to his broad shoulders, he frowns in good riddance, and the smile on your lips stays brittle, never quite reaching to the rest of your features. At the doorway you stand, wishing him goodbye as you try your best not to think back.

Not to remember that something as silly as faulty, negative, soul searching sex had ruined you. Just about to walk away, Keanu stands still, sincerely reminding. “Hey, Y/N.” His voice is thick, reprimanded with guilt and something so respectfully him, so familiarly enticing. “Take care of yourself. If you need a talk, I’m there.” Nodding his head, he attempts a sincere gesture. “You’re a good friend. You have been and still are.”

A gentle exhale greets you, expression crumbling when he leaves and you close the door dreading. Dreading that you let it get that way.

Dreading that you ever let sex become a part of it.

“That’s none of your business.” You return, piercing ache to your temple all to familiarly settling in, yet again. There’s a firmness to your stance, and you wonder if today would end in the ruins of your relationship, for good.

If this would be the absolute last time you’d see him.

Keanu stills, jaw clenched before he continues. “No, Y/N. It is. It is my business.” Confident, his voice reverts to that certain astonishment, that firm accusation. “I’m tired of you acting like it’s not.” He sighs heavily, voice lowering, calmed to his usual softness. His chest almost heaves slightly, a boil of anticipation, a singe of words so desperately needing to be spoken.

Feelings long overdue; emotion long hidden.

Silence.

“Y/N, you came to me. You wanted this. You wanted us to be what we were. What we are.”

There’s a sadness to his tone, a reminder of what had once been conceived.

What turn out to be.

~𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞;

The porch step. Dark, secluded, the gateway to what would soon become.

His house was much larger than yours; big opaque door with pillars and dim tile leading the way. In the gloom of the night, it seemed rather dull, haunting almost. Or perhaps that, haunting remembrance is what you memoire from that unforgettable evening.

Rain pouring, heart thudding. Cold, stoical shivers tapping your bones. Your shaky grip had barely knocked the door, when he’d come to your call. Flustered, surprised, yet pleased. Pleased that you were there, even after what had happened between you two only nights prior.

You remember, standing there in front of him. Watching the way his compassionate eyes looked into yours; he kept a feasible distance, unsure of if you would want him near after what had happened.

Its funny, how we work. Only days ago, he’d been so close, so fucking close. Days ago, you were in his arms the entire night. And now, today, as you stood at his dreary front door, the distance lengths miles long between.

“Y/N,” He greets, hand raked through his raven strands. “I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything okay?” Wondering, his tone is kind-hearted, familiar. Your own lips twist; feelings bubbling of wanting the closeness again. Keanu’s eyes track your expression intently, his own words interrupting the coil inside your mind. “Come inside, please.” He gestures, sincerely leading the way. “It’s cold out.”

It hadn’t taken long, only a mere couple of moments before he’d understood what you wanted. What you’d come for. Despite the recoiling memories of leaving through awkward goodbyes only mornings ago, he couldn’t have denied it either.

That night it happened for the first time, was satisfying; gratifying. The most comfort, ease he’d felt in a while. Being with you was bliss; it may have been wrong, but it was bliss. You were the best he’d remembered in a long, long time. Intoxicatingly indulgent.

Within moments, his lips were on yours again that evening, strong arms carrying your body to the halls of his bedroom walls. It was happening again; the need, the desperation to feel had caught the best of you both, yet again.

You felt pathetically fragile in his arms, and the heat of his palms sinks into your chilled skin pleasurably. He’d filled you so well, so whole, subsided the emptiness for a while. The grounds for what would become had been established; wrapped in his arms with his erection brushing hard strokes to your bare thigh underneath his body. Your legs wrapped around his waist while your arms pulled him further down; closer. Bare skin moved together, pressed flushed against each other’s bodies all evening, yet again,

and deep down inside, you’d known it way back then as well. He’d already been more than just a friend. He was always more than just a friend. You’d lied to yourself through clenched teeth and a firm jaw all evening while he made love to you, all evening while your bodies moved together, complimenting; fulfilling that dire hole inside you both lacked.

“This is okay. This is alright. You know him. You’ve already done this with him once before. You don’t have to hide from him.”

You’d lied to yourself the entire time, lied because it felt too good; so good to stop. And with muffled moans and subtle claws raked across the bare broad of his back, you sighed into his touch while he worked you, filling the void.

And for the first time in a long time,

the loneliness hadn’t felt alone.

“Just sex.” You remember saying, sprawled on your back on his white bedsheets into the midnight eve. Keanu laid beside you, his own gaze taut on the ceiling above, chest heaving breathy sighs from the feverish pace he’d exhumed seconds prior, channeling nirvana into you.

“Right.” Keanu notes. “Just sex.” You lay beside him, completely nude, exposed, yet comfortable. “And,” He nods your way, gaze barely flickered to the space between your bodies. “There’s nothing wrong with that. As long as it works for us, that’s all that matters.”

That should have been it. That second time you had sex should have been it.

Everyone relapses, everyone has weakness.

Everyone has vice.

But you did it again, and again, and again.

You feel deeper for him, again and again, and again.

“You wanted it too, Keanu.” You bite your lip, through an uptight declare. “You said as long as it works, it works.” Keanu breathes deep, almost laboured to block out the words searing his ears. He never thought you’d ever have this conversation.

Anything but this conversation. “Those were your words.” Flatly, you reiterate.

His eyes drink in your figure, your features, expressions; your unreadable stance. He wonders if you knew how much agony sears through his veins right now. The way he peers at you, the look makes you feel strangely vulnerable. Strangely defenceless- only adding to your need to appear stronger than he is.

Stronger than the ghost of a woman who let it get this way.

“Y/N,” he barely voices, a sound that dies in his throat as soon as it emits the air. His features prove tolerant, as if abiding to what he didn’t want to spill. The thoughts, months of built up suppression. Lips twitching, he seems as if he’s going to say something, but doesn’t.

You move slight, limbs barely dragging the apartment door shut with a thud. Against the doorframe, your back ignites with cold shivers when touched to the surface, leaning against the frame with your hands held behind your back. You watch him, observe him standing, surely a thousand words reeling his own thoughts. “Why did you come here?” Your question pierces the thick tension, eyes barely wrinkling when you see him peer down to the wooden floor.

“To talk.” He simply replies, hands reducing into his blue jean pockets.

Your head dips and you nod faintly, dragging your hands up and down the soft fabric on your thighs until you feel the tremor inside subside, slightly.

“Fine. Let’s talk.” An echo of the conversation that should have strung a long time ago,

Only you both knew. You knew well, that coming your way, would be nothing remotely resembling the exchange you’d wanted. Would ricochet nothing close to the words you needed to hear.

You’d both hurt today.

You’d both hurt, perhaps more than you had,

-ever;

>>Chapter 11>>

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglists will be posted in reblogs from now on. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from either this series, or the permanent!

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves x you

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dr-charlie-eppes · 3 years

Text

SHOOTING MY SHOT - A RedFinch College AU

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, @kathreestars. I was your Secret Santa as part of the @newsies-secretsanta gift exchange.

I really hope you love your gift. It is a RedFinch College AU, as per your request. I have never written either of these things, so I hope it’s good and in character (but no promises :D!) It turned out WAY longer than expected, too :P. Oopsie daisies!

The story begins below the cut, and I will also include a link to when I have cross-posted AO3 (sometime in January).

Please enjoy!

“Shooting My Shot” - A RedFinch College AU

0000

It was the night before Albert moved out of his childhood home and went to college. He was nervous and excited and rushing through packing his boxes. Sure, he should have done this earlier, but that didn’t matter now. Folding his last sweatshirt into a box, his mind wandered.

Tomorrow was the first day of a new chapter of his life. He was about to move to New York City to study paediatrics, starting his career as a children’s nurse. It was what he’d wanted for years; he was more than happy it was coming true. All the same, he was full of nervous energy. The next few days held so many unknowns. He was struggling to wrap his head around what was going to happen next.

A small mountain of pristine cardboard boxes, a visual representation of what mattered enough to bring with him, lay before him. Each was adorned with a great many strips of duct tape to keep them shut. He hadn’t labelled any of them since he would just unpack them the second he arrived, and he only had to open them to know what was inside. It seemed like a waste of time to go digging through his things to find a Sharpie to deface the boxes.

His phone dinged twice is quick succession. One was from Jack, letting him know he was on his way over from next door. They were travelling to college together in the morning, seeing as they had made it into the same school. The second was from Race, wishing him luck.

Race had been Albert’s best friend since kindergarten. They hadn’t spent more than about three days apart since they met, living in each other’s back pockets and practically joined at the hip for as long as anyone could remember. They had planned on going to the same school, rooming together through college. However, Race had been accepted last minute to his dream school in Brooklyn and was leaving Albert, following his passion for dance. Albert wasn’t mad, not at all; in fact, he was thrilled for his friend. Brooklyn wasn’t that far, so he was sure they’d see each other often. However, without Race, he wasn’t sure who he’d be rooming with.

Continuing to pack his boxes, Albert’s mind wandered to his roommate situation. He was, admittedly, nervous. Without Race, he would be rooming with an unknown student. By the time he’d worked that out, the deadline had passed to submit a request to be paired with someone specific; He would be added to the lottery to be paired up at random with his new roommate. He was worried about that: sharing his space with a whole stranger, stuck together in close quarters, learning to get along. What if he was paired with someone disrespectful, or homophobic, or creepy, or just plain annoying? Albert knew he could be hard to get along with, tending to mistime jokes and miss queues, rubbing people the wrong way. He could sabotage their relationship without even knowing. And even if he didn’t, that didn’t guarantee it’d be smooth sailing. They might not get along, but what could they do? They’d be stuck together for at least two semesters. Dorm rooms were sometimes roomy, but not enough to avoid each other.

The anxiety wasn’t productive: Albert knew that. He couldn’t help it. Change was hard; he didn’t feel ready.

And Jack Kelly was not helping matters. Sure, Jack was one of his best friends - basically a brother, really - but he was an ass. He would do anything to embarrass or inconvenience Albert. That was in part due to their prank war, which had started in ninth grade when Jack replaced his gym shorts with a purple tutu and was still going strong on their first day of college. Of course, he’d never miss an opportunity to get Albert back. Nothing was sacred, no object or situation safe from Jack’s interference. All things considered, Albert should have seen this coming.

Jack offered to help him carry them to the car; there were a few, and it was already late, so Albert accepted. That was his first mistake. Jack took one look at them and started goading him.

“You should label your boxes, Al.” He said as he picked them up.

“No.”

Then, on the landing, “How are you gonna know what’s in ‘em? It’ll be a pain to unpack.”

“I know what I packed, Jack.”

“They look naked without labels.” He whined as they walked out the front door.

“Shut up.”

They started to load them into the car, slotting them in the trunk with the lightest ones on top.

“What kind of psychopath just puts their stuff in a box and closes it up?” Jack questioned with an edge of challenge.

Albert rolled his eyes, taking a medium sized box - possibly containing his desk lamp - and stacking it on top of the others.

“This ain’t a pass-the-parcel, Al, you’re allowed to know what’s in the box.”

“If you don’t shut up, Jackie, so help me, you’ll be trying to run without kneecaps.”

The seemingly endless prods and pokes continued as they loaded all his unlabelled boxes into the car. Jack continued his stream of nonsense, his arguments devolving into snipes and jabs. Albert shut the trunk forcefully, fixing Jack with a look.

“I ain’t labelling ‘em,” he stated with finality, “I know what I packed, and I’ll just unpack when I get there. If they ain’t labelled, Ma can reuse the boxes for something else later without having to scratch the writing out. It’s just easier.”

Jack gave him an unconvinced look but shrugged and let it go. Al should’ve known that was suspicious. Jack never could back down from an argument. Why would this one have been any different?

His second mistake was leaving the car unlocked. They lived in a good area; there wasn’t any reason to lock it. Besides, who would want to steal a bunch of blank boxes full of sweatshirts and towels? However, this turned out to be his downfall. The lock was the only barrier between Jack and his boxes, the last defence. Without needing to steal Al’s mom’s keys, there was nothing standing in his way. He was free to wreak havoc on his things.

His third mistake was not checking his boxes in the morning. They were in a hurry to get on the road - which was not unusual - so Al planned ahead and double checked everything when he brought the boxes down. He knew he had everything he needed, saving time in the morning. Without those last minute checks, he had no chance of catching Jack's little prank before they arrived at the campus.

Jack hadn’t let on that anything had happened. Crammed in the back seat, surrounded by his own boxes and bags, he appeared to the world perfectly angelic. Well, as angelic as Jack Kelly could be. In truth, he was the same snarky and sarcastic man he’d always been, cracking jokes like normal. Albert had no reason to suspect a thing.

So you could imagine his shock and regret when he lifted the trunk to find his boxes, all labelled in Jack’s scratchy block letters with obscene and embarrassing labels. Roadkill - California to Texas. Grandma’s ashes - This way up! (Decorated with arrows pointing to the bottom of the box, naturally). Meditation CDs - Pokémon, Ru Paul, My Little Pony. And right on the top, the Crown Jewels of Jack Kelly’s mayhem: Dildos - Size M-XL.

It was hard to embarrass Albert - it really was. He’d spent his high school years being tormented and humiliated by Jack and had grown a tolerance for this kind of thing. Carrying a box labelled ‘dildos’ across campus was far from the worst thing he’d ever had to do. However, he did worry about what his roommate might think. If he was worried about being paired with a weirdo, others must be too. This was one of those first impressions you couldn’t take back. Joy of joys.

Undeterred, he grabbed the box and braced for impact. Making his way swiftly and unashamedly to his dorm, he ignored the stares and snickers of his peers. Look at my box of dildos, folks. Take it in. They could have guessed that this was a prank, but the surprise of it still caught most of them off guard. Albert pressed on through the crowds, rolling his eyes.

If they can’t tell that this is a joke, then they ain’t smart enough for college.

He just hoped his roommate could see the humour in it.

Speaking of his roommate, he rounded the final corner with his package. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see shadows moving under the door. Taking one final, bracing breath, Albert shuffled the box onto his forearm and pushed the door, embracing his fate.

A trick of timing, the universe’s cruel joke, caused Albert to enter the doorway at the precise moment that his new roommate fired a sticky dart from his Nerf gun. The dart shot through the air. It travelled with a great deal more speed than it should, zipping through the room. No doubt it would have continued into the hall had the doorway been empty. However, it was stopped by Albert’s moving box, adhering at the dead centre of the “O” in dildos.

All movement and sound stopped as Albert looked eyes with his new roommate.

What a first impression.

0000

Moments earlier, Finch had been alone in his dorm. The last few weeks had been a blur of emotions, and he was trying to wrap his mind around it before his new roommate arrived. His first impressions were often lacking, and he hoped that he could start out this relationship on the right foot.

His decision to come to this school had been rushed. Life had spiralled out of control, leaving bad blood between him and his folks. He got an offer to move here to Manhattan, far from them, and he jumped on it. His new life was stretched out in front of him. King of his own destiny, he surveyed his territory. And sure, a cramped college dorm room that he had to share with a stranger wasn’t much of a kingdom. But the hum of the radiator sounded like freedom, and the carpet was soft. He could learn to be happy here.

He was already unpacked, all three of his boxes piled up in the corner. In his hand, he held six plastic Nerf targets. He’d bought them at the dollar store in the ninth grade, using sharpshooting as an escape from life. Since then, his skills had grown, and he frequently moved them around to give himself more of a challenge. Mapping the room, he weighed his options. He was, of course, limited to his side of the room, which made it harder to place them in a way that would challenge him. Still, he was resourceful. And maybe his new friend - he really hoped they would get along - might let him spread them around a bit.

There was one classic place, though. In all the time he’d had these targets, one place stayed constant. He went and hung the first bullseye at the dead centre of the door on the inside. He could hit it with his eyes closed, in his sleep, or with his hands tied behind his back, but he didn’t care. The target on the door had been the most stable relationship he’d had in years, always there, always within reach.

He dumped the rest of the targets on his bed, liberating his Nerf gun from his backpack. It had been his first, and it was the favourite of his whole collection. Modelled like a sawed-off shotgun, it was easy to aim and familiar. He’d carried it with him everywhere since he’d gotten it. This little green and orange eyesore was practically an extra limb, an extension of Finch himself. He’d gotten more high-power guns since, ones that could throw darts faster than he could blink, but he loved this one the best.

Loading in a sticky dart, he aimed for the door and pulled the trigger.

In a statistically remarkable series of events, someone pushed the door open at the precise moment he pulled the trigger. They got in the path of the dart, the new target of the shot. Thankfully, the person was carrying a box - otherwise, they would have been hit square in the chest; not exactly a great first impression. The dart, however, sailed gracefully through the room and stuck to the stranger’s box with a satisfying sticking noise. It lined up perfectly with the writing on the box, centred in the middle of one of the letters. If he’d been aiming for it, Finch would have been impressed with his shot. As it stood, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Bullseye, I guess.

0000

Both men stood, frozen in time. All the sound had been sucked from the room, leaving only a thick silence. Neither was sure what to do to break it. Albert wanted speak - he really did. Wanted to laugh, introduce himself, settle in. However, his mouth was dry, and any words died before they could reach his throat, all systems at a standstill. He couldn’t even walk through the door for fear he would break the spell.

Why? Well, the man in front of him - his new roommate, the one holding the Nerf gun - was insanely hot.

He looked like a Renaissance painting. Classically beautiful, without being plain. A long thin face that reminded Albert distantly of a horse, smooth angles that caught the light and held it. Bright pearlescent teeth and unnaturally brown eyes. He looked as if he had stolen the light from the sun, soaking in its warmth and making it his own. All his brightness and sharpness was contrasted with his soft, green sweatshirt and bare feet, the picture of domesticity. All of it was at odds with the keenness of his shot, the Nerf gun still aimed dangerously at Albert’s chest. Nonetheless, every inch of him was beautiful.

Of all the things he’d been afraid of, falling in love with his roommate was the least expected.

He was suddenly a lot more worried about his first impression.

0000

He needn’t have worried: because on the opposite side of the dorm, the same things were going through Finch’s head.

Finch had always been a sucker for a redhead; the man in front of him, with his strikingly fiery curls, was no exception. Every line of his face was beautiful - from the creases around his eyes to his goofy grin. His eyes were a sweet brown, like Nutella or hot cocoa, deep and inviting. They caught the light like a Pokémon trainer catches them all. His lips were pulling slowly out of a grin into a shocked gape. Even in his confusion, he was breathtaking. His arms cradled his moving box like Cupid cradles his bow - invitingly and full of undiscovered love. His legs were obviously strong, judging by the way his jeans were stretched over them.

Finch couldn’t move or breathe or look away. He needed to lower his Nerf gun, introduce himself and explain, something, anything. Instead, he stood, transfixed and in awe. If this man were the moon, then Finch were the tides - unable to move without his say-so. His every thought was directed by this beautiful stranger.

His new roommate.

His roommate.

His.

That snapped him out of it.

0000

The beautiful stranger cleared this throat.

“Sorry!”

“Nice shot,” whispered Albert.

The stranger smiled, brushing the back of his neck. He spoke again.

“Uh, hi?”

Albert nodded. That was exactly what he’d been trying to say.

“Hi.”

A moments more of silence settled around them. Neither was entirely sure how to come back from that introduction, and both were too transfixed by the other to risk saying the wrong thing.

Albert eventually found his courage. Shuffling his moving box onto one arm, he extended his hand in greeting.

“I’m Albert.”

Tossing his Nerf gun to his bed, the stranger followed suit.

“Patrick, but the guys back home called me Finch.”

“Why 'Finch'?” Albert asked.

“I put a bird in the principal’s office 'cause he was homophobic,” the boy - Finch - shrugged, “It’s my greatest achievement to date.”

Albert didn’t know if he could fall more in love than he was already. His heart felt like it might explode. This adorable, Nerf-gun shooting, homophobe-hating man was all he could think about. He was distantly aware that he needed to bring his stuff in from the car, needed to put down the dildo box and unpack, but he was happy just standing in the doorway watching Finch.

However, his standing was misinterpreted by his new crush, who suddenly smacked his forehead and stepped to the side.

“Oh, sorry, I’m totally blocking the way. Come in.” He swept his hands to the side like a waiter, ushering Albert in.

He took his chance, stepping in and putting his box on the empty bunk. It tipped merrily onto one side, revealing another of Jack’s secret messages. Albert flopped his head back with a groan. Finch caught sight of the new scribble as well. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Albert excused himself to get the rest of his boxes from the car, but also so he could get some fresh air. Finch was beautiful and badass. He was unlike any other guy Albert had met. If he blew his chance with him, well, he’d never forgive himself. He might be getting ahead of himself, but he kept wondering what Finch might look like in a tux and what song their first dance would be to. His mom had always called him a hopeless romantic, so had Jack. He was inclined to agree. He loved the idea of falling in love and marrying his favourite person ever, having a husband to share life’s moments with. And yeah, he’d only known Finch for ten minutes, but every fibre of his being seemed to think this guy was the perfect candidate.

He daydreamed all the way back to the dorm, trying to think of something charming to say to Finch. A pickup line? Or maybe some poetry. Where was Jack when you needed him? That man could charm the pants off of anyone. Although, from memory, he and Davey met when Jack accidentally tipped his paint water out over the art room balcony and all over Davey’s head.

As he stepped through the door of his dorm, he took a breath and prepared to ask Finch out. However, his new roommate was already speaking, pointing at the box on his bed.

“Okay, I gotta ask-“

“-It’s not dildos, I swear,” Albert cut him off.

“-who defaced your box?”

“Oh.” Wasn’t expecting that. “Um, Jack. Pain in my ass.”

Finch nodded, snickering, and gestured the box in Albert’s arms. This one read TIME MACHINE - DISASSEMBLED.

“So is he ya boyfriend or something?”

“Oh, fuck no.” Albert laughed - imagine him dating Jack, yuck - and clarified, “He’s sorta my brother? Lived next door to me and my Ma. He’s just up the hall now, helping Davey unpack.”

“Davey?”

“Jack’s boyfriend,” Albert shrugged. He wondered what Davey saw in Jack but decided not to think too hard. Davey was a least twice as smart as Albert would ever be; he would have his reasons. He expressed this to Finch, who laughed and offered a similar anecdote about a friend called Spot who was dating some extroverted Manhattan twink with a sarcastic streak a mile wide.

“They’re perfect for each other because no one can understand them,” Finch smiled, “the peanut butter and jelly of people.”

They continued to laugh and talk about their friends, bonding over their weird friends with weirder names.

Albert ducked out for more boxes. He moved every crass title from his car to his dorm, unpacking them as he went to discover their real contents. Finch offered the help him carry them back to his mom’s car when they were empty.

On the way, he asked about Jack’s prank again.

“So, Jack’s a prankster?”

Albert nodded, “Yeah, we’ve had a prank war going since the ninth grade.”

“War, huh?” Finch raised an eyebrow. “How you’re gonna get him back?”

“No idea yet, but it’s gonna be big.”

Finch was sure that it would be. He told Albert as such.

“Let me know if you’ll be wanting help,” he smiled, playfully elbowing his ribs, “I’m a sharpshooter, after all.”

Albert wasn’t sure how that would come in handy, but he filed it away for later use.

0000

In their first week together, they circled around each other, teasing and testing. It was an easy tension of learning each other’s habits and personalities.

As it turned out, Finch was a troublemaker. With his keen eye and trained aimed, he and his Nerf gun could wreak all kinds of havoc. Albert found himself stuck with more darts than he’d ever seen. He learned to listen for the quiet ‘snick’ sound of the gun being loaded, hyper aware of the bright orange darts as they landed around him.

Finch used his talents for good, sometimes, shooting bananas off the hand with a carefully modified ‘knife dart’ - which turned out to be a Nerf dart with a straightened out paper clip in it. He could also switch the lights off from his bunk with one flick of the trigger. Both were pretty cool tricks, but Al found himself loving Finch’s cheeky moves more.

He had returned to the dorm after class to find that Finch had used his posters as target practice, using strategically placed darts to block out certain letters and leave crude messages for him. The next day, he was greeted with a flurry of darts as he entered the room, Finch raining down on him with his most quick-firing gun. He also left Albert notes on the dorm door, where anyone could read them - thanks for letting me borrow your toothbrush! and Adam from the butt-lift place called - they can fix your pancake butt! and Where’s the haemorrhoid cream?

Albert loved it. In return, he reset Finch’s ringtones to weird and embarrassing sounds and short-sheeted his bed. He also stole Finch’s hats and sweatshirts, basically combining their wardrobes into one mega-wardrobe. He also replaced all of Finch’s stationery with sticks of gum, which turned out to be less of a prank and more of a genius ice-breaking hack.

They grew closer. All the pranks led to them getting to know each other’s likes and dislikes, their insecurities and routines. The more Albert learnt, the more he wanted to know. Finch was becoming his best friend. The crush he was nursing grew into a warm and unexplainable thing. Each passing day brought new moments of friendship and growth. Finch challenged him, distracted him, entertained him. He was bright and annoying, glued to his hip like a loyal puppy and floating around him. Albert grew to love his company, loved how he would ask questions while you studied - that was more helpful than he could have known, helping Albert to identify the gaps in his knowledge. Finch was the puzzle piece he had been missing.

Finch felt the same, although Albert didn’t know that. He loved the way that Albert would respond to his cheek and snark with jibes of his own. Albert enjoyed his pranks and put thought and time into retaliating. He was quieter than Finch, happy to just share the room with you without needing conversation to fill the void. He seemed to light up when Finch asked him questions, explaining the complex medical topics he was learning. He was full of adrenaline and grace, not often static. Finch found himself following Albert’s movements when he paced, drawn in. Albert was his muse. He couldn’t get enough of the beautiful redhead.

0000

At the opening of their second week, Albert returned to their dorm with a twinkle in his eye and a bagel in his hand. Finch, with Nerf gun in hand, shot a dart into the hole of the bagel.

“You!” Pointed Albert.

“Me?” Questioned Finch playfully.

“How would you like to help me get back at Jack?”

Finch nodded, “I’m in. What’s the play?”

As it turned out, Jack had planned a secret date for Davey. They hadn’t had a lot of time since coming to college, so Jack wanted to do something nice. He’d told Albert that he and Davey were going to have a picnic on the sports fields in the evening. Super romantic, at least it was supposed to be.

“I want to crash their party,” explained Albert, “but I need your help.”

He then explained that they needed a way to get in and out fast. If they lingered, Jack’s wrath would rain down upon them. Speed is of the element, Finchy, Albert had said. Luckily, Albert had become sort-of friends with one of the security guards. This guard, Denton, agreed to ‘accidentally’ leave the keys in one of the school’s golf carts for their use. As long as they returned it in one piece, no one would be the wiser.

“Where do I come in, Al?”

“I want you to get your best Nerf gun -one o’ those ones that shoot really fast. While I'm driving, I want you to spray ‘em with darts. I got some toilet paper to throw. I just didn’t think that was enough. Plus, you’ve got a wicked sense of aim. I could use a little help.”

It was a solid plan. Like Jack’s box prank, it wouldn’t hurt anyone. Albert assured him Davey would think it was funny too. He was almost as much a part of the war as Jack or Albert. If anything, he'd take it as an invitation to get his own revenge. No one’s day’s gonna be ruined.

“I’m your guy,” smiled Finch, “when do we start.”

“We ride at six. Wear something stealthy.”

0000

Six o'clock rolled around quickly. Finch had ducked out to the dollar store, picking up some more sticky darts. When he returned, he found Albert. His crazy roommate was dressed like a cartoon cat-burglar, complete with a black turtleneck and war paint. He was hastily stuffing toilet rolls into his backpack. They were armed to the teeth with Nerf darts, toilet paper, and biodegradable party confetti.

“Looking good, Al,” laughed Finch.

He was also dressed for the occasion, a mismatched all-black ensemble. He even opted for some fingerless gloves he saw at the store. He had never been one to half-ass a prank. Besides, going all out might impress Albert.

“Ready?”

“Born ready, Finch.”

“Funny, I thought you were born ‘Albert.’”

A roll of toilet paper hit him in the head.

0000

The plan was in motion.

Denton had left the cart parked by the dormitories. They were set to go, just waiting for confirmation that Jack was in position. Sure enough, Davey posted a sappy picture on his Snapchat story, toting Jack’s merits as a caring boyfriend. They were clearly on the sports field, spread out on an honest-to-goodness checked rug, picnic basket and all. The sunset painted pastel lines behind them.

As the light of sunset faded to night, they started up the cart. Crammed in with the ammo and a truly gigantic nerf gun, Albert and Finch were pressed into each other’s sides. Unbeknownst to them, both were enjoying the contact, pining for more than just the necessary contact of the cart. They drove at agonisingly slow speeds towards the sports fields, staying in the cover of the shadows of the campus. If they were caught, it would all be over. Luckily, the pair thrived on adrenaline.

Their trip to the sports fields was short and silent. Albert couldn’t help but hold his breath as if the sound of it might give their location away. It didn’t occur to him that the sounds of the cart would get them caught before his breathing would. Finch kept directing him with hand signals, guiding the cart through a maze of secret tunnels that kept them hidden.

Eventually, the great secrecy of it all got the better of them. Albert could picture them, both dressed like the bad guys in a cartoon spy movie, zooming through the campus with reckless abandon. They weren’t going fast at all - he thought it might not even bruise if he fell out of the cart. But here they were, leaning and ducking with each move as if they were in a Fast and Furious movie. Finch was holding onto the roof to stabilise himself. They were surrounded be a hoard of completely harmless weapons, yet they acted as if they were heading into a war. That last thought, along with the image of what they must look like, cause Albert to giggle.

Once.

Twice.

A snort.

Then Finch started.

Their silent voyage was overrun with laughter. Finch was shaking, trying to contain his sounds. Albert was hiccuping out barks of laughter. The noise grew until it drowned out the hum of engines. Try as they might, there was no stopping it. Tears filled Albert’s eyes. Finch took hold of the wheel and directed the cart as he snorted. They continued on, the most joyful caravan in the country. They couldn’t stop their noise until they saw the sports fields.

It was a bracing and sobering experience. Two weeks of thinking and planning had led them to this. The importance of their mission overcame their joy. They pulled their adrenaline back in, the noise level dropping below the noise of the cart. It was time.

The light from the fake tea light candles on the rug guided them. A moment of quiet and a few hand gestures revealed that there would be no way to sneak up on them. The cart was too big, the moon too bright. The element of surprise would be lost too quickly if they approached cautiously. Albert made the motion for ‘step on it’, pressing his palm out in front of him. Finch nodded. Mouthing the words, Albert counted down from three. He threw the golf cart into gear, shredding across the lawn at max speed.

The pickup in speed caused them both to shout. Any semblance of sneaking in was abandoned as Albert and Finch began a deafening war cry of whooping and cheering. They bounced across the field, the cart shaking with effort. One hand on the wheel, Albert loaded himself with a roll of toilet paper. Finch aimed his Nerf scope, fixed on the happy couple.

Jack caught sight of them too late.

“ALBERT!”

A shower of Nerf darts cut off his cries. Albert hit him square in the chest with a roll of paper. Davey, shocked and excited, burst out gleefully at the shower of multicoloured confetti, picking up handfuls and tossing them at his boyfriend.

The drive-by took only a few seconds. There was chaos as they unloaded all they had at Albert’s friends. It would long be remembered as the highlight of the whole prank war. The picnic rug, previously set out romantically with breadsticks and candles, was now littered with darts and rolls of paper and a sprinkling of reflective paper strips. It was glorious. Strangely, it looked like the leftover mess from a child’s birthday party. In Albert’s eyes, this was perfect revenge.

“That’s for the boxes, Kelly!” He screamed as they sped off.

The cart barrelled across the fields and out of sight, leaving Jack and Davey in its wake. The boys, happy with their successful mission, tore off into the night in fits of giggles once more. They didn’t stop until they were well out of sight. Only when they had pulled the cart to a stop outside the security office did they finally calm down.

Pressed close and sweating awfully, they breathed through the rush of adrenaline. The whole evening had come to a crescendo. They both smiled, calming down.

“That was awesome,” Albert laughed, “Thank you, Finchy.”

Finch slung an arm around him, “Always, Al.”

They stayed intertwined for a second. Albert liked the feel of being so close to Finch, tucked into his chest safe and warm. He didn’t want to pull away, but he was becoming more aware of how close they were. This was closer than friends. He was sure Finch knew that.

Pulling back, he looked to his roommate.

“Finch?”

“Hmm?”

He took a deep breath. It was now or never. He was going to say something.

“Would ya like it if we-“

He was cut off by Finch’s lips on his.

Oh, yeah, let’s do that.

His brain went offline, surprised by the kiss. Finch’s lips were dry from the cold night air but soft and cool against his own. He could feel the flush of Finch’s cheeks. He gasped through his noise - a noise of shock and approval.

Finch pulled back as he tried to reciprocate. He looked him cautiously in the eyes.

“I sure hope I didn’t read that wrong.”

Albert chuckled. He pulled him in by the shirt, nearly tipping Finch out of the cart with his enthusiasm. This kiss was perfect. Longer and deeper than the other, they were chest to chest by the end. They weren’t yet used to this motion, so their chins and noses bumped as they moved, prompting little giggles between their lips. It was the happiest kiss Albert had ever had. Finch was warm and close and all his for a few moments.

Finch bit his nip with a mock growl, pulling back to smile at him. Albert looked flushed and overwhelmed. However, the smile that split his face betrayed his emotions.

“I hope that’s my last first kiss ever,” Finch whispered.

Albert looked shocked, but his smile didn’t fade.

“Okay,” he nodded.

They tumbled out of the cart a minute later. They knew that wasn’t the end of it. Finch was sure he wanted to marry Albert, but there was more to do. They needed to get to know each other more and finish college and meet each other’s families. They weren’t at the end yet, but this was a damn good place to start.

They walked back to the dorm with hands intertwined. No matter what happened next, Albert knew this was the start of a beautiful life.

0000

He was right, too. He and Finch got married six years later, after college. Never had there been a better couple, better friends, or better lovers. They had grown into the most badass and unstoppable team.

They drove away from their wedding with cans tied to the back of a golf cart.

0000

Again, happy holidays and seasons greetings, @kathreestars. Hope this is everything you hoped for. Best wishes, Corbin.

#Newsies!#newsies secret santa #for @kathreestars #gift exchange 2020 #redfinch #Albert Dasilva/Finch #college AU

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

Text

Benefits

aaaand adding one more alias of adam driver to my list, here is my first ever adam sackler fic! im pretty proud of it, so i hope yall are gonna enjoy!

pairing: Adam Sackler x Reader

warnings: sex, swearing, talking about alcoholism

word count: ~7k

masterlist

Walking into the room you’re still unsure if you actually want to be here, but a small voice in the back of your mind is telling you that this is exactly where you need to be. The place looks similar to the one you used to have your meetings back in Seattle, it’s simple, people are sitting in a circle and there is a small table with cookies and drinks at the side. There aren’t too many people and luckily they don’t really get stuck on the arrival of an unknown person so you can take an empty seat without getting any attention to yourself.

“Alright, everyone sit down, let’s start!” a tall, skinny guy speaks up, clipboard sitting on his lap as he patiently waits for everyone to sit in the circle and start the meeting.

You look around anxiously, the group is pretty diverse, men and women gathered from seemingly a lot of races and ages, though your eyes stop at one particular person sitting right across from you.

The guy seems tall, extremely tall to be honest, his almost black hair is grown out to reach almost his broad shoulders and it’s pushed back, eyes curiously examining the guy who just spoke as he licks his plump lips. He is not the typical handsome type, but there is just something in him that keeps pulling your gaze towards him even when people start talking around you.

A young guy starts talking two people to your right as you are still staring at the tall mystery guy when his eyes dart over to you and your gazes meet. You can’t help but feel intimidated even though nothing can be read from his face. You keep eye-contact for a few moments before turning away and forcing yourself to look at the guy talking. However you feel his eyes on you for a while before he finally decides to look away.

“That’s amazing, Tony, we are all proud of you!” Carl, the guy who spoke at the beginning of the meeting says as a short round of applause follows Tony’s speech. “Adam, do you feel like talking today?” he then turns to your guy and now you know his name. Adam.

“Sure,” he shrugs pushing himself up a little on the chair. “Hello, I’m Adam and I’m an alcoholic, but I haven’t had a drink for about a decade now. Some days are easier, some are harder, like the ones when my ex shows up and fucks things up for me,” he scoffs. “But things are going okay, I guess.”

“That’s great to hear, Adam. We all believe in you and hope you’ll continue your positive journey,” Carl nods as some other members hum in agreement. “Does anyone else want to speak up?” he asks looking around, but no one answers, so he takes it as a clue that the round of speeches are over. “In this case—“

“I thought new members supposed to introduce themselves,” Adam cuts him off and he is looking straight at you, causing your throat to close up from the sudden attention he just put on you.

“It is always welcomed, but no one is pressured to talk,” Carl assures smiling warmly at you. “Do you want to introduce yourself?”

Looking back at Adam one more time you decide to accept his silent challenge.

“Sure, why not?” you clear your throat, tugging your hair behind your ears. “Hi, my name is Y/N and I’m an alcoholic, but I’ve been clean for three years and seven months.”

The members in the circle mumble their greeting before you continue talking, arms crossed on your chest.

“I moved to the city just a few months ago and I’ve been struggling to adjust to the new environment so I thought it would be a good idea to visit a meeting, just to ensure myself.”

“You are always welcomed here whenever you feel like you are getting weaker,” Carl encourages you and you nod shortly.

“Thanks. I’m doing fine though, I haven’t really felt tempted to have a drink lately, so I guess I’m good.”

“That’s great to hear, we are all proud of you,” Carl smiles before moving on with the meeting.

When it all ends he invites everyone to stay and have a bite, chat with other members and you decide to head for a cookie from the table.

“So what brought you to New York City?” you hear Adam speak up from behind you and as you turn around there he is, standing tall in front of you. He looks pretty intimidating, but his eyes have this sense of softness in them that balances it out.

“Um, work. I got a great opportunity here so I thought I would take the chance.”

“Sounds serious. Do you always dress like this?”

His question catches you off-guard and you glance down at yourself to see what made him ask it. You’re wearing tight jeans with a white top and a leather jacket, nothing extra in your taste.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that your clothes are pretty tight. They give a nice view of your body though.”

You don’t even know what to say at first, it’s like he doesn’t have a filter on his mouth and it’s so confusing to you, that all you can do is let out an anxious chuckle.

“Um, okay…” you mumble slowly turning back to the table, but he speaks up again.

“So, are you coming next week?”

“Not sure,” you say without looking at him. To be honest is too forward act is making you question if this is the group you should attend on a regular basis or not.

“Would be a shame if I didn’t see you next time,” he simply says before walking away, leaving you totally puzzled.

Adam is for sure the weirdest person you’ve met since moving here and you don’t think anyone can top him.

***

Friday night in the city is pretty busy. People just want to get the steam out after a hard, working week so they seek for fun times at bars and clubs. Adam Sackler is not the type to go to bars that much since it’s always a kind of temptation for him, but when his colleagues from his recent play asked him to come down for a few drinks with them he thought it might be a good time even if he doesn’t drink.

The place is crowded and the six of them are pressed up in a small booth, that was all they could get upon arrival, but they don’t mind it. They talk about the past couple of shows and critics, just having a good time when Adam excuses himself to go to the restroom. As he pushes his way through the people around the bar his eyes almost glide over a familiar face, but then he recognizes you. Without a second thought he makes his way over where you are sitting on a stool, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you stare ahead of you.

“What a pleasant surprise!” he beams arriving to you, making you jump in your seat.

“Adam, hello,” you mumble coming out of your zoned out state you were just in.

“You weren’t at the meeting this week.”

“Yeah, I… Something came up,” you anxiously say. It didn’t happen because of him, you had other things to worry about when this week’s meeting was happening so you decided to skip.

“You alright?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he eyes you with concern.

“Mm, everything is… great,” you nod with a fake smile and you try to push the glass of whisky away without him noticing, but you don’t succeed.

“Y/N, were you thinking about drinking?”

“No, I just—“

“You ordered that drink?” he snaps cutting you off and you don’t answer, just stare ahead of you. “Did you order that drink?” he repeats his question with a raised tone that’s still not too loud for the people around since the music is louder, but chills run down your spine from it.

“I did,” you admit feeling the tears building up in your eyes and you hate yourself for being so weak. Who starts crying in the middle of a bar with a guy who they barely even know? You, apparently.

Clicking his tongue he scoots closer to you, leaning on the counter with one arm as he tries to turn the conversation as private as it can be in a crowded bar.

“You want to talk?”

Adam doesn’t seems like the guy who is into emotional talking, but when it comes to drinking he always feels the importance of the situation. Knowing his own struggle with alcohol he is aware that sometimes you just need to get it off your chest, you don’t even want that drink, but it’s hard to talk to someone who hasn’t been where you have. People who are not alcoholic don’t understand what you go through and it’s nice to finally talk to someone who knows exactly what you feel because they’ve been through it.

“I…” you sigh sadly as you wipe your tears away, trying not to look too pathetic. “It’s a long story.”

Adam bites the inside of his cheeks as he glances back at his colleagues and then at you. He has to choose between a bunch of people who are having a nice time and someone who seems really in need for his help. He might be a weird guy, but his priorities are set right.

“I live a few blocks from here. You’re welcomed to come over and pour it all out.”

“You can’t seriously choose some unknown girl from your AA meeting over your friends,” you roll your eyes feeling like he is just feeling pity for you.

“They are not my friends, most of them are annoying as fuck sometimes,” he bluntly says and he means it. “My offer still stands.”

Looking up at him you contemplate what you should do. Deep down you know it’s not too responsible to go to some random dude’s place alone to cry to him about your miserable life, but it somehow still sounds better than staying here and maybe lose control and drink that damn whisky you’ve been eyeing for about an hour now.

“Alright, but if I end up dead in an alley I’ll come back and haunt you for the rest of your life,” you mumble climbing off the stool and Adam just chuckles at your comment.

After letting his colleagues know that he is leaving the two of you hit the streets, heading to his apartment that’s pretty close to the bar. Stepping inside you are not too surprised at what you see. It’s kind of like how you had imagined his living space to be, not that you thought that much about him since the last meeting.

“You want something to drink?” he asks walking over to the fridge and you freeze. “I mean, something non-alcoholic. I don’t have alcohol here.”

“Oh. Um, a glass of water maybe.”

He nods and while he pours your and his drink you sit at the small dining table, curiously eyeing the smaller details in his home.

“Here,” he hands you the water and sits across you with a glass of milk that makes you frown.

“Are you drinking milk? Alone?”

“Yeah, it’s my thing,” he shrugs and chugs half of it down at once. “So, you wanna talk about what made you want to break your sobriety?”

Taking a deep breath you lean back and let a grimace cross your face as you remember the whole shitshow that went down.

“My ex called me today.”

“Despite how you ended up, was it a good or a bad thing?” he asks wanting to put the picture together about how they ended.

“Bad. He didn’t take it too well when I moved and now he is even more upset that I told him I’m not planning on going back anytime soon.”

“But you said you got a good job here.”

“I did.”

“Shouldn’t he be happy that you are successful?”

“No, because he is a toxic asshole who just can’t let me be happy,” you let out a bitter chuckle shaking your head at the thought how much time you wasted on him. “So he called to remind me that I am nothing without him and I’ll die alone because no one will ever want me with all the baggage I come with.”

“Baggage?” he frowns confused.

“My drinking problem, and the anxiety it’s been causing me. Staying sober is harder than I thought it would be.”

Talking to Adam about your struggle with sobriety feels easier than to anyone ever. You are not afraid of being judged because the two of you are kind of on the same path when it comes to drinking.

“He is a total asshole, if you ask me. Like he is a saint with no baggage. The guy himself is the baggage!” he scoffs drinking up the rest of his milk and you smile seeing that part of his facial hair his painted white from it that he licks down like a little kid even though he definitely does not look like one.

“How long did you two date?”

“About two years. It was getting pretty serious when I got the news that I got the job and then we ended it before I left.”

“You are better off without him, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

As much as the first time talking to Adam turned out to be pretty weird, you find yourself enjoying his company. With time, you get used to his forward style, blurting out everything without filtering his words. It’s a little frustrating at first, but later you find it amusing that he is not afraid to speak his mind, unlike others who just say what they think you want to hear. It’s a pleasant surprise to realize that you can actually talk with him about a lot of things and it doesn’t take too long for you to get comfortable in his company.

“It was just a whole shit show, to be honest,” he scoffs running his fingers through his hair. “I’m kinda praying I will never see Hannah nor Jessa again.”

“You sort of brought this whole drama to yourself,” you chuckle after hearing his story about her history with her ex and her best friend. One hell of a drama, for sure.

“I know!” he growls. “I’m so stupid sometimes, but I just couldn’t stop myself! Jessa was like this fucking sex witch, I just couldn’t keep myself away from her and she knew it. I just pray she doesn’t show up and try to jump on my dick again.” You start laughing at his words, knowing exactly what it’s like to not let go of someone because of the sex.

“It’s fucked, I know. Like, you just want to hate them in peace but then they come back and boom, the next thing you know is that he is balls deep inside me.”

“Well, no one is usually balls deep inside me, I’m the one doing that, but I agree,” he jokes making you laugh even more.

“Everything would be perfectly solved if we just found a way to get that tension out of our system and then we could easily cut these toxic people,” you sigh leaning your head against the wall as you hug your knees to your chest.

“I know a way.”

“And what would that be?”

“We should fuck.” Your eyebrows arch, eyes widen as you look over at him, no sign of joking on his face.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me right, we should fuck. I mean, we both need the same thing and I can tell you find me attractive.”

“Why are you so sure about that?”

“I can tell when a woman wants me naked, but don’t feel ashamed, I think you’re hot too.”

“Wow, that’s nice to know,” you chuckle, still in disbelief of where this conversation just headed suddenly.

“When I saw you at the meeting the first time I imagined you sitting there naked. Not the best thing to think about when there are a bunch of other people in the room,” he admits and you can’t help but smile at what he just said. “I think we both would just benefit from it. Having good ass sex and finally cutting our toxic exes off, I see it as a win-win.”

He is not wrong. Actually, the more you think about the smarter it sounds in your head. You literally have nothing to lose, just have at least one great night and you don’t have to go home and satisfy yourself with the showerhead for once. Instead, this tall, muscular man could give you a good time for a change.

You stare at him for a few more moments before you show every doubt into the back of your mind and decide to give this slice of happiness to yourself.

“Alright, fuck it, let’s do it,” you sigh jumping to your feet and a second later you are sitting on his lap, lips crashing to his as his hands grab you ass with passion.

“You’re not gonna regret it,” he smirks standing up and keeping you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he heads into his bedroom. “Just so you know, I can get a little carried away during sex.”

“What, are you gonna try to kill me or something?” you ask a little out of breath kissing the corner of his mouth before he lays you down to the bed and gets on top of you, one knee between your legs and you bring against his thigh, making him groan in pleasure already.

“No, but I have a pretty dirty mouth,” he scoffs kissing you again. “Don’t get offended by my words.”

“Call me whatever you want as long as I end up screaming your name,” you cockily challenge him, and your words make his cock twitch.

It doesn’t take too long until you both get naked and Adam flips you over, pushing inside you from the back as you hold onto the headboard of his bed.

“Jesus, yes!” you pant from the sensation. He fills you up just right, his strong hands holding onto your hips steadily as he keeps slamming into you in a fast pace, the slapping sound of your bodies colliding filling the room along with your moans and his groans.

“Yes, you feel so fucking good, you fucking bitch,” he growls slapping your ass and you find yourself enjoying his dirty talks and rough ways of fucking you.

He is by far the best sex partner you’ve had and he makes sure you are just as satisfied as he is. He comes with his fingers digging into your ass, pushing almost all of his weight on you as he growls your name and it’s enough for you to throw you off the edge as well.

“Fuck! Adam!” you moan, your arms collapsing, your face buried into the pillow that smells exactly like him.

He pushes into you a few more times before pulling out leaving you with a feeling of emptiness now that he is not filling you up. You lie down on the covers as he goes to grab you a wash cloth. When he returns he kneels up to the bed and rolls you to your back opening up your knees so he can clean you up himself. When he is done he leans down and presses a kiss to your clit.

“This is one hell of a pussy. I can’t wait to eat it,” he says before standing up and you can’t help but laugh. He climbs onto the bed pulling the covers over the two of you as you lie there next to him, still in bliss from the orgasm he just gave you.

“Any regrets?” he asks turning to you.

“None,” you smirk rolling to your side, bringing your fingers up to his chest you start drawing patterns to it.

“Great. Another satisfied customer,” he jokes and you smack his chest before he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his side.

“Can I stay the night? I don’t have the energy to go home right now.”

“Sure, but I get clingy while sleeping so you might end up with me wrapped around you.”

“That’s fine,” you chuckle before closing your eyes and letting yourself fall asleep after this hell of an eventful day.

You and Adam, it quickly becomes regular. It usually just takes a text or a call and either of you would end up in the other’s apartment by the end of the day, gladly fucking the night away. A stressful day, an unpleasant encounter with a friend, fight with parents, these all ended up as reasons to stand on the other person’s doormat that evening and neither of you said no to these occasions, equally needing the diversion from the problems in your life. And it wasn’t always just sex, you often met up just to hang out that ended up in some crazy, breathtaking sex, but it wasn’t unusual to spend the rest of the evening together once both of you were satisfied. You had to admit Adam was a nice person to be around. Not too serious, full of secrets you were dying to find out so that your picture of him would grow with each time you saw him.

One evening when Adam is over at your place, things just aren’t going right even though you try to focus on him. He is sitting on your couch with you on his lap, casually making out, his hands on your breasts under your shirt and even though you feel aroused, you are just not in the right place in your head.

“Okay, this literally feels like I’m making out with an aunt or something,” he sighs breaking off and you sit back to his thigh as his hands slide out of your shirt down to your waist. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie, but you can’t fool him.

“Cut the bullshit, Y/N. I can tell something is fucking your pretty mind up, so why don’t you just tell me?”

“I just had a stressful day at work, is all.”

“What happened?”

“My boss is up in my ass lately, because I’m a little behind with my project. I still have a lot of time to finish so I’m not worried, but he is and it’s stressing me out.”

“What made you fall behind?”

“I just had to face some unforeseen problems, but now it’s all good, I just have to pick up the pace a little bit before we present to the board. But Greg is like a psycho, he thinks I’ll run out of time and he is giving me such a hard time all day. He checks in on me every hour, asking about what progress I’ve made and he gets angry when I don’t say what he wants to hear.”

“He sounds like a total loser to me.”

“He kind of is,” you mumble under your breath, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Just ignore him, you’ll be done in time, I’m sure.” He gently squeezes your hips and leaning up he kisses your lips softly. “Why don’t we order some food and then doze out in bed?”

“But you came for the sex.”

“Yeah, but that requires at least two people and you are obviously not in the mood right now, so I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” you frown bringing your hands up to the base of his neck.

“Positive.”

He doesn’t make a big deal out of it and he honestly seems fine with just simply hanging out without the sex part. You order pizza, he eats most of it, but you are fine with it, then you start watching a movie, but both of you fall asleep pretty early into it. When you wake up it’s already over, Adam is passed out next to you, arms wrapped around your waist. Shutting your laptop down you lie back, turning to face him. He looks like a sweet giant, sleeping peacefully, his dark hair is one big patch on your light colored pillow.

As you stare at him he starts stirring in his sleep and a few moments later his eyes open, looking a little confused.

“Hey, you alright?” he whispers blinking at you.

“Yeah, I just… put the laptop away.”

“Oh, okay,” he nods into the pillow as he pulls you closer to him and kisses the top of your head. “Go back to sleep, kid.”

You smile at the way he called you as you nuzzle against his chest and let yourself drift back to sleep.

Hanging out without having sex happens more and more often after that night. And it’s not always you who initiates it. You often go out to have lunch together whenever Adam is near your workplace in the middle of the day, you two go see movies together, do grocery shopping together and neither of these end up in sex. Though it still happens a lot, not that you mind, because sex with Adam is just perfect. He knows exactly what to do to make you lose your shit and never leaves you unsatisfied.

But as the days go by you realize there’s been a slight change in how things are between you and him. One day you catch yourself wondering about what he must be doing right now and you realize you’ve been doing it a lot. Thinking about Adam whenever you are not with him, looking forward to see him again as soon as possible.

After all, he has become a regular person in your every days and if you think about it it’s hard to stay objective about this odd relationship you two have started.

When your project finally gets finished and presented the first person you call is Adam to tell him how great things went.

“That’s amazing, kid! I knew it would be alright.”

“Wanna celebrate tonight?”

“Sure!”

“Your place at seven?”

“Perfect. See you tonight.”

You feel excited to spend yet another evening with Adam. You finish getting ready a bit earlier than you were supposed to and decide to just arrive before seven. It doesn’t occur to you that maybe you shouldn’t go there before the time you two agreed on, but you only realize this upon arriving.

The door to his apartment is open and you unsurely push it open walking inside.

“Adam?” you call out, peeling your coat off yourself, but there’s no answer. Instead, a few seconds later a blonde woman appears with at first curious eyes, but they soon turn into something clearly unfriendly.

“Who are you?” she asks tilting her head to the side and this is when you notice the cut on her hand and the broken glass on the floor of the kitchen.

“Who are you?” you ask back. “And where’s Adam?”

“He is clearly not here. I’m Jessa, but who the fuck you are?”

Hearing her name your throat tightens. Standing face to face of the ex you’ve heard so much about is entirely different from what you thought it would be. She is pretty, looks like a really badass person who doesn’t give a fuck about the world and lives by her own rules. So different from you on many ways and suddenly, you feel like you’re nothing.

Adam told you about how crazy things used to get when him and Jessa were having sex and seeing the mess in the kitchen and her hand, you figure she came over, they hooked up and things got out of hands, probably.

“I-I’m…” You’re not sure what to say, but there’s one thing you know and that’s the fact that you want to get the hell out of here right now.

As you turn around the door swings open and Adam walks in with a little white plastic bag in his hand.

“Okay I got bandaids, but—Y/N, you’re here early.” He freezes, his hand still holding the handle as he stares at you.

“Yeah, I uh… Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, but I’m already on my way out, so…”

You try to push you way past him, but he grabs your arm and keeps you back.

“No, wait, this is not what you think,” he insists, but you don’t want to hear it.

“Adam, it’s fine. You can do whatever you want. I just… I just wanna go home now. Please,” you whisper the last word, basically begging him.

“Just let her go,” you hear Jessa call out from inside and it’s like a stab into your chest. His hand slowly peels off you and before he could say anything you turn around and leave as fast as possible.

This is wrong, this shouldn’t hurt this bad, because nothing really happened. You and Adam are not a couple, you shouldn’t feel like this because you saw him with his ex. He has the right to do whatever he wants, because you and him has no commitments towards each other.

Arriving back home you head for a hot shower and let your tears roll down your cheeks, mixing with the water as you just stand there, and quietly keep sobbing, feeling like the biggest loser in the city.

You let yourself catch feelings for someone who is obviously not interested in you in a serious way and now you are the one, feeling broken again.

Adam tries to call you that night, but you turn your phone off, feeling like you need some time apart from him to get things straight in your head.

“Are you happy now?” Adam snaps at Jessa after you leave, and he slams the door shut, feeling his anger building up.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she rolls her eyes as she grabs the plastic bag from his hands and turns her attention at the bandaids he just got for her after she successfully slammed a glass at the counter and cut her hand in the heat of the fight they just had right before.

“Jessa, get the fuck out of here!”

“Are you really throwing me out?”

“I am, yes!”

“I had something else in my mind,” she seductively smiles stepping closer to Adam, sliding his hands up his chest, ready to kiss him, but he pushes her away this time.

“Stop it. I want you out of my place, now!” he barks walking past her and she is truly surprised at the way he is resisting her now.

“What the fuck has happened to you?”

“Nothing, I’m just done with you! I don’t want anything to do with you! So stop showing up at my place, because next time I’m gonna call the cops on you.”

“You can’t be serious, Adam,” she laughs shaking her head in disbelief.

“Actually, I have never been this serious, Jessa.”

“But why are you doing this now?”

“Because I don’t love you, anymore!” he snaps, his voice rumbling through the whole apartment. “I don’t love you, because I’m… Because I’m in love with Y/N, alright?!”

“What? With that girl?” she asks with utter disgust showing on her face as she gestures towards the front door.

“Yes! Because she doesn’t treat me like shit, she is actually interested in me and cares for me and I enjoy spending time with her, unlike you! So get the fuck out of here already, so I can make things right that you just screwed up, again!”

Jessa is a clever girl and now he sees that she is truly unwanted here. So grabbing her bag from the couch she heads for the door, but stopping she leaves him one last comment.

“Fuck you, Sackler,” she says flipping him off before finally leaving.

Adam feels vivid, he feels like he is about to break something and he needs everything in him to keep his cool and not ruin something. He needs some time to calm down before he feels like he is able to talk. Reaching for his phone he calls your number, but it goes almost straight to the voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. Leave a message and maybe I’ll call you back!” your pre-recorded voice greets him and he ends the call with a grunt before he could hear the beep.

“Fuck!” he snaps, his hand gripping the phone tightly. He tries to call you a few more times before leaving a short message to you.

“Y/N, please call me back. I can explain everything!”

But you don’t call him back, leaving him sleepless through the whole night.

Adam decides to give you some time, so you can come to him whenever you feel comfortable, but when he hears nothing from you for three days he can’t push his worries aside any longer.

Walking down the street to your apartment he keeps thinking about everything he wants to tell you, practicing it so he knows exactly what to say when he is standing in front of you, but his plans quickly get blown away when he spots you walk out of your building with a bearded guy who he recognizes as your ex, Luke, because you’ve shown pictures of the two of you before.

“Y/N?” he calls out, taken aback of seeing you with him and as you turn your head, your mouth hangs open. You weren’t expecting to see him and the timing is just the worst.

“Adam, what are you doing here?” you anxiously ask, glancing at Luke who is curiously eyeing him. Now that they are standing so close to each other you realize how much bigger Adam is than Luke, taller and definitely stronger.

“You didn’t answer my calls, I really wanted to talk to you.”

“Now is not the best time.”

“Hey, I’m Luke,” he chimes in holding out a hand for Adam, but he completely ignores it and his whole existence.

“You didn’t even let me tell you what really happened, just left and then never picked the phone up. The whole Jessa thing wasn’t what it looked like.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Adam. You can do whatever you want.”

“I’m sorry, would someone fill me in about what’s going on?” Luke asks and you and Adam answers at the same time, in different manners.

“Just a moment, Luke.”

“Shut the fuck up, Assface!”

“Adam!” you give him a look. You really don’t want to make a scene on the street and you know how Adam’s temper works.

“I’m sorry, but who do you think you are? Coming here and rudely call me names in front of my girlfriend who clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I’m not your girlfriend,” you snap at him and he gives you that look you know all too well. It’s the one he used to give you when he wanted you to be a nice little obeying girl and do whatever he wanted you to do. But it doesn’t work on you anymore.

“We’ll talk about it later. Get in the car, Y/N,” he tells opening the door of the black car parked right in front of the building.

“Luke, I’m not going anywhere with you and I’m not your girlfriend. Stop trying to have control over me!”

“I’m not having this discussion here right now. Get in the car!” he sneers and grabbing your arm he pulls you to the car, but you push his hand away and stumble back. You’re just about to tell him off when Adam stands between the two of you.

“Hey, stop touching her! She doesn’t want to go with you!”

“Who the fuck are you? Just get lost and leave us alone!” Luke makes the mistake of pushing Adam’s shoulder and in that moment you already know what is about to happen.

“Fuck you, Assface!” Adam growls and before you could even try to stop him, his fist collides with Luke’s face, making him smack against the side of the car with a painful growl. “You have no respect for her and you don’t deserve her!” he shouts, making people start to stop and stare at what’s happening.

“Adam, that’s enough. Come on.” You grab his arm and start pulling him backwards. At first he resists, but then he turns around and the two of you leave the growling Luke there to deal with his pain alone.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” you shake your head at him once you are up in your apartment, alone.

“Honestly, I thought you’d be angrier at me for the punch,” he admits stopping in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips. You just shake your head smiling.

“He kinda deserved it, so…”

“The asshole deserved more than just a punch! I wish I could rub his face into the asphalt!”

“Okay, stop, I don’t want you to get arrested for assault.”

“It would worth it! The way he talked to you and touched you, had my blood boiling.”

He huffs to himself, needing a minute to calm down and then he remembers the real reason why he came here. His eyes fall back on you and you get lost in how soft they are.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

“Adam, it’s really not—“ “No, you are going to let me talk!” he demands so you close your mouth and listen. “Nothing happened with Jessa. She came over unannounced and we got into a fight, because I said I don’t want to get back together with her. She got crazy and slammed the glass against the counter and it cut her hand. I didn’t have any bandaids at home so I had to run to the store to get some. Then you arrived and completely misunderstood the whole thing, but I threw her out after. She was losing it completely, but I didn’t want anything to do with her.”

Hearing the truth you feel a wave of relief washing over you as you find out things were different from what you thought. He didn’t hook up with her, in fact, he seemingly completely ended everything between them and it felt like victory to you.

“Okay. I believe you,” you softly say and Adam exhales sharply hearing your reply.

“Alright, now tell me what this shithead was doing here.”

“He just showed up, out of nowhere,” you roll your eyes crossing your arms on your chest. “He tried to lure me into moving back to Seattle, but I was having none of it. He said he had a table reserved for us, that’s where we were heading when you arrived and punched him,” you say smiling to yourself.

“So you didn’t get back together with him?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“Is there… Is there a specific reason why you didn’t want to get back together with him?” he questions and you feel your cheeks burning.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’ll tell you why. Because the reason why I didn’t want Jessa back is that I fell for you.”

You gasp at his words, staring at him in awe as he slowly starts walking towards you.

“I know it all started as just a way of coping, but… Y/N, I fell in love with you. This sounds cheesy as fuck, but it really happened. It’s not about just sex anymore, well, that’s fucking amazing as well,” he adds making you laugh. “But I want more. I love sleeping with you in my arms, waking up next to you, have breakfast with you and talk about your nonsense dreams. I want to hear about the stuff that worries you and I want to be the person you come to when things get rough. I didn’t think this is how it would turn out to be, but… It happened! And now I guess I’m stuck with this feeling, hoping you won’t turn me down.”

You’ve never seen Adam Sackler this nervous, standing in front of you, waiting for any kind of response from you after his confession. His words spoke from your heart and knowing he feels the same way is just ecstatic.

Closing the distance between the two of you, your hands slide up to the back of his neck bringing him down, but just when his lips are about to touch yours, you stop.

“I love you too, you loser,” you grin before finally kissing him, earning a relieved growl as his arms wrap around you and lifting you up he spins you around while kissing you.

“I hope you know that I’ll be around you 24/7 now, you’ll get sick of me,” he warns you putting you down, but keeping you in his arms.

“Not if you get sick of me first.”

“That’s not happening. I can never get enough of you,” he says burying his face into your chest while his hands grip your ass, making you laugh at him.

“Alright, we’ll see. But now I want you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow,” you tell him and his head shoots up in excitement.

“That’s something I can definitely do. Anything for my girl!”

Lifting you up into his arms your lips reconnect as he carries you into your bedroom, the two of you falling into the sheets like dominos and soon you become just one big naked mass, limbs tangled, lips glued together, occasional ‘I love you’s breaking the moaning and panting.

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jeffletstalkaboutit · 3 years

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Hi there, this is part one of a series I’m working on featuring Jeff wittek and the female lead Avery. Still working on full story...

Full story will go up on Wattpad when it’s finished.

AVERYS POV

UNKNOWN LOCATION

My eyes violently flashed open, my body following the sudden shock of oxygen invading my lungs. I remained in place by straps, anchoring down each limb of my body to the seat beneath me. A dim light flickered, opposite of me, pushing my attention to the circle of heads surrounding me.

5 men, 5 women including me, all tied down to their seats, unconscious.

where am I?

All I could remember was waking up, here. My own name whipped from my memory.

Just as I started pushing against my restraints I noticed the man beside me start to wake up. One by one their eyes flashed open and the sudden fear of not knowing where we were or who they were was evident in each of them, but no one said anything. The room went dark, with not even a flash of light to be seen, Until a tv just above the red flashing light from before, turns on exhibiting a woman with short black hair in a black suit top. She was in a lab of some sort, behind her was a group of people in lab coats, and a glass wall separating them. A loud static noise pierces through the air before the woman spoke up.

"Hello, My name President Aries, You all are probably wondering where you are, why you're here, and who you are." as the lady spoke I couldn't help but notice the people behind her, they walked around urgently, scared. Yet, Aries was so calm a smile on her face.

"Each of you, hand-picked for certain skills and unique brain patterns you hold, You were picked and put together to form a team that could survive just about any situation."

She paused for a second, displaying deceit covered by pain and discomfort.

Flashes of people dressed in fancy clothing danced across the screen. Tall Buildings with large glass windows, Fields of grass and animals, and lastly a globe covered in mixes of blue, brown, and green.

"300 years ago, the Earth was our home. The technology was thriving and taking the world by storm, but little did we know it would come to destroy us. The earth soon became uninhabitable, after the human instinct of destruction overcame our planet." Pictures of firey red explosions covered the screen, leaving me with one memory.

I was on a plane, when the bombs went off, 300 years ago? My eyes drifted to the people around me as they watched the screens intently, none of their faces bringing back any memories.

"Those who made it onto the exodus ship survived and were put into cryosleep, to be woken up when we reached our destination of the planet Larz. Fast forward 300 years into the future, sadly we never arrived. The exodus was sent back on route to earth. Around 52 hours ago 15 doctors and I, were brought awake for a code white. Emergency evac of the special alliance, That's where you all come in. The 10 of you make up the special alliance. The protocol reads that I set out an order for each of you to be removed from cryosleep and evaluated for the evacuation of the exodus to Earth. To put it simply, The exodus failed and we hope that this beautiful gift of life we have given you, can, in turn, save the human race." I watched in shock as the men and women behind her were shot down by men in black uniforms.

"Underneath each of you are backpacks filled with supplies all of you will need, Once you are released from your seats you are permitted to remain in your pod until the doors open by themselves then you are to make your way to Washington DC where you will be met by the last standing 'home' base, They will lead you from there. your names are on the back of your tags on your jackets, be grateful, for they are the only knowledge of your past life you will have. always stay together, and survive. You are the last of the exodus." President Aries ends her speech walking out where the gunmen were before the screen goes black. In that second all of our restraints are released and a dim light above us flickers on.

I Immediately, stand and rip my jacket off. Just as she said The name 'AVERY' was stitched into the inside of the collar of my jacket.

"Avery," I say lightly looking up at the group around me. Some of them began to slip their jackets off and relay their names out loud.

Xavier, Andy, dillion, lacey, Aubri, jeff, Luca, Abey, and Sam.

"she said we were handpicked for certain skills we each have? what skills do we have that normal people don't?" Xavier says as he slides his jacket over his tall stature. His hair was a dark mop of hair that almost covered his dark brown eyes.

"Dude they erased our memories and put us on a ship to a toxic, explosive planet and you worried about these stupid so-called skills we all possess?" Aubri speaks up next, she was a little taller than me but with raven black hair and bright blue eyes.

As they all went back and forth, I found myself wandering back to my chair. I slid the black backpack out from underneath it before plopping it down onto the seat.

What happened on the exodus? and why was Aries lying?

I unzip each part, searching around for any trace of my identity other than my name. I had to agree, the thought of never knowing who I really am scares me more than what's waiting outside of this ship. My fingers clutch a slip of paper in the front of the bag, I pulled it out quickly. It read,

"AVERY KANE

LEADER/STEALTHY"

I turn slightly so I'm facing the rest of the group before I speak up,

"Hey, There's a card in the bags, with your name on it...and I'm guessing our skill," I say loudly so everyone would listen. I rubbed my forehead, slightly paranoid about my card.

"Dillion harris. Medical?" each of them read of their titles, dillion being our medic, lacey nature guide, andy communication, Luca hand to hand combat, Abey sharpshooter, Xavier building/construction, jeff strength, sam human map, and Aubri being stealthy.

"Avery?" Andy questions, making everyone glance at me, ready for me to read my great strength.

"Leader, stealthy," I say making Aubri laugh.

"so you're in charge? we're screwed." Aubri says, Before rolling her eyes and plopping down on the ground. Everyone stayed quiet, at loss for words at this moment.

the room stayed quiet for what felt like days but was only minutes, we all sat on the floor, rummaging through the things in our bags or just staring off into oblivion, trying to escape the lingering feeling of a complete and utter void of our lives. The feeling of fear, of not knowing what's beyond these thick metal walls, The feeling of distrust and not knowing each other.

The feeling of the unknown. I didn't want to lead? I'm the smallest person here.

That night I didn't sleep, waiting anxiously for the door to open.

Everything president Aries said replayed in my head, dissecting every word.

She said that the earth was destroyed by humans 300 years ago, I was in a plane when the bombs went off, we were put into cryosleep along with the other survivors, something happened, code white was announced, the president was woken up and we were ordered to be sent to earth. She said we were the last of the exodus.

What happened on the ship that caused the code white? And where is president Aries? who were those people, gunning down the scientists?

Why would they erase our memories? what I did know is Aries's emotions weren't true in the video, so why should we believe anything she says?

So many questions bounced around my head, leaving my emotions swirling.

How was I supposed to be a leader? These people wouldn't listen to me even if I tried. Maybe Lacey but the rest of them either seem like a bitch or could be way smarter than me, bigger than me.

And if everyone in the exodus is dead why would it matter if we stuck to what these dumb cards say?

The sudden sound of crackling filled my ears, my breath hitched in my throat as the door of the ship started to fold open.

The light flooding in. Burning my eyes, making me block it with my hand.

Within seconds everyone was awake, staring hopelessly at the door revealing millions of colors of green and blue. We all slowly advanced the exit with caution.

The trees outside were thick and tall almost completely shading the ground, green moss and grass covering every inch of brown from the dirt and the tree bark.

It was beautiful. Breathtaking. The air felt moist and hot, so I'm guessing rainforest?

"well, Avery since you're the 'leader' you go first," Luca says, my eyes drift over to his dark chocolate hair. The newfound light, illuminating his bright green eyes.

"yeah, sure ill die first," I say as I step down off the ship and onto the green grass, just standing there for a second.

"what? you waiting to kill over?" Xavier says with a light laugh.

"if the air was toxic, we would have all died when the door opened," I say as I step further out just to turn around and look at the ship. It was a tall circular junk of metal with a pointy tip.

My eyes drifted back to the others, who were all staring at me with questioning looks.

"well?" just as the word flowed out of my mouth, Jeff jumps down, holding out his hand to Aubri. Which she took with a smile before hopping down.

"So where do we start? we have no idea where we are or how to get where we are going." dillion says, he seemed very nervous. His blonde hair was short and styled back in a way that suited his face beautifully.

"Anyone have a map?" Abey says. She had dark skin and beautiful, strong facial features. Her voice sounded like butter. My eyes drifted to sam, she is Koren, quiet and very pretty, with long brown hair.

"sam, You're the guide, right? Check your bag for a map." I say, making her start making her way back in the ship. a few seconds later she returns with a piece of paper in her hands.

She hands me the paper, making me sigh before I open it and lay it out so everyone can see. It was a map of the united states with a circle on one end and an x on the other. under the circle read 'Washington DC'

"so I'm guessing we are the X?" Andy asks. I nodded slowly before glancing up at the sky, The sun was just on the horizon in the east.

"It's 6 am, so we should probably get going, we need to find water," I say before handing the map back to sam and making my way to the ship before Luca speaks up.

"I say, Fuck 'president Aries' we are alive and on earth, free-range. why should we listen to some dead president anyway?" he says making me roll my eyes, he assumes she's dead, does everything think that? why would they kill her, if she was the president...

Even if she's lying, we have to go. well find out if she's lying when we get there. Staying in the jungle isn't going to find us any answers.

"so stay," I say before making my way into the ship to gather my supplies. I pulled the compass out of my bag along with the pocket knife. After a few seconds Abey, lacey and sam come in.

"We are with you, I don't know about the rest of them but That president lady put you in charge for a reason, and I'm not so happy with the idea of staying here with those idiots," Abey says as she gathers her stuff.

"They won't survive on their own, we were sent here as a group for a reason, the special alliance," Lacey says, looking up to me. "and the rainforest can be very dangerous..."

"They'll come," I say, making my way out with Abey, lacey, and sam behind me. I glanced over at lacey, "what kind of animals live here?"

"Oh, just tigers, monkeys, elephants, gorillas..." Lacey says, getting quieter as she kept talking. we made our way out of the ship,

my eyes followed Luca until I passed him, making my way into the woods.

"You guys are just gonna leave?"Aubri asks dramatically.

I tilted my head slightly with a shrug, before walking through the thick trees.

#lets-talk-about-jeff-baby #jeff wittek #jeff wittek x reader #vlog squad #davids vlogs

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unlikelyempath · 3 years

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Pick-A-Card Reading (11•16•2020)

Hi! I'm Melanie, and I like to give Tarot readings. It's a way for me to reach out and connect with people, and help them on their journey. This is my first pick-a-card, and I'm eager to share it with you all. If you find that your pile resonates, I hope you consider liking and sharing this post. If it doesn't, I encourage you to select a different pile, or wait for the next pick-a-card, as this one may not have had a message for you. Let me know if you enjoy this reading and want to see more. I love doing Tarot readings, and I'm considering doing weekly predictions. Let me know if your interested!

Meditate on these four piles (if you feel called to do so), then select the one you feel the most drawn to. Piles go in order from left to right.

Group One

For some, I get a strong feeling that you are either crushing hard on someone or you are in a "situationship". For others, you are trying to manifest something, but you don't seem to have much clarity on what it is you want. Either way, know that you are blessed with the ability to manifest without much struggle. You need to sit with yourself and allow yourself to FEEL what it is that you want. Shadow work may even be necessary here. You may think you want one thing, when you really NEED something else. Is this person you like right for you? Or do they just make you feel a certain way? How can you make yourself feel that way? Or, is this job really what you want, or are you just looking to change up your daily routine. How can you create that change to appease yourself without leaving? Keep in mind, maybe you do belong with this person, or need to leave your current job to find a better fit. But I'm strongly encouraging you to sit with yourself to be sure that you are making this choice for the right reasons. When you know what it is you really want, the Universe will provide it. Just get clear on your intentions. Remember to be grateful for what you already have. Take control of your emotions, and let everything else fall to fate. You don't have to hold onto this desire so tightly. Step back and be grateful. Release all expectations. Everything is going to be okay, just allow it to happen.

Group Two

I get the feeling that you are in the process of pulling yourself out of a low. Was there a fight between you and your mother/female figure in your life? Where can you hold yourself accountable? You can't change the other person, but you can take ownership of yourself. You are being called to be more self aware. How did you contribute to the problem, and where within yourself can you find the solution? For some of you, I get the impression that maybe you acted out of anger and now you are left with the consequences. You have to be responsible and fix this. For others, I get the impression that you were on the receiving end of someone's anger and lashed out. Now it's up to you to be the bigger person, even if you don't feel at fault for the situation you are in. Choose to make amends so that you can be at peace. Connect to the loving, nurturing side of yourself. Let go of the anxiety that this situation has brought on, and accept the outcome for whatever it may be. Open your heart and expect good things to come from it. Grow from this experience.

Group Three

I feel as though there was a proposal of some sort (love or career) that was made to you, and now you feel stuck. For those in a romantic situation, I get the sense that you are blocking love due to a fear of the unknown. I also can't help but wonder if outside forces are influencing you, making you doubt every decision you make. For those in a career situation, I feel as though, as with the romantic group, you are being heavily influenced by outside forces. Regardless of the situation, you need to ignore those who are trying to make the decision for you, and trust your intuition. Allow yourself to want what YOU want, not what others want. You have to decide soon, though. The offer is not going to stand forever. Seek advice only from those who can remain impartial to the outcome. Maybe find a friend who can help you create a pros and cons list. Remember to trust your gut and honor your needs. Everything is going to work out the way it is meant to.

Group Four

You are a very gifted, creative person. You are being called to share your talents with the world. However, I feel as though you are controlled by limiting self-beliefs. Remember, YOU are your worst critic! It's time to reexamine the way you talk to yourself. You have so many blessing that the Universe wants to give you, but you are blocking them with negative thinking. Shadow work may be needed here to help you release these negative beliefs. Take time to love and nurture yourself. Start a habit of daily affirmations to remind yourself of how wonderful you are. Keep following your passions, and be open to expressing yourself more. Release doubt and fear. You are amazing, now let the world see it!

#tarot #tarot reading #free tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a card #pick a card tarot reading #spirituality #witchblr

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toloveawarlord · 3 years

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Ch. 3

Characters: Colette Marston and Red Army

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @thetwinkims

A/N: It’s been a good while since I wrote Colette but here she is!

A gentle pat against curly blonde locks startled the young girl. Her head swiveled up; clear blue eyes glazed over with water threatening to turn into more tears. The throbbing of her heart caused her chest to ache. Why didn’t he look angry? Edgar was a master of hiding his emotions, but the death of the King of Hearts by her own hand should be called nothing short of treason.

“I can see why you’re distraught. That was quite a vision to have.”

That’s it? He’d seen what she had. Where were the handcuffs? Wouldn’t he escort her to the cells? Her head spun, unable to tear her blurry gaze away from the Jack. “But I…”

“You should be well aware that King Lancelot won’t be foiled so easily, but the protocol of your visions is to have you tip them in our favor. You’ll work on it and report back to me, alright?” He’d inform his two superiors in private. The last thing the child needed was an explosion from Jonah.

Edgar relayed the vision to Zero without one important detail. Everything remained the same. Central quarter in absolute ruin. Destruction beyond comprehension, likely the end of Cradle altogether. And finally, a hooded figure before a wounded Lancelot, about to deal the final blow. Not a mention of Colette at all.

He hadn’t seen her as the villain of their tragic future?

Colette could hardly eat the breakfast that was served and decided to dump it in the trash. She couldn’t imagine what would possess her to harm Lancelot. He’d been incredibly kind to her since she’d arrived, and unlike most adults, he also had innate magical abilities.

“Don’t let Jonah catch you or he’ll give you a lecture.”

The sudden comment startled the girl and the plate slipped from her fingers, shattering into various pieces on the floor. The racket brought out the kitchen staff.

“Ouh-” Kyle pressed his palms against his ears, shaking his head gently. His hungover state did not appreciate the loud noise. Golden eyes darted over her features, concern showing in the crease between his brows. “You look pale. How are you feeling?”

Using magic drained her energy, like all magic users, and yet it wasn’t near as severe as with Lancelot. Perhaps it was her age. Not much information was available about natural magic users since they were a rare breed. Kyle had to compile his own research and continually build it with first hand knowledge. This instance, whether magic or not, something wasn’t right.

He bent down to place the back of his hand against her forehead. “Fever.”

Colette leaned into his touch, reaching out to grab his other hand and place it against her cheek. “Your hands are cold. It feels really good.” She swayed slightly, threatening to fall over at any moment. Her whole body felt heavy.

“Yeah, you’re coming with me. I’m officially committing you to the infirmary until this fever breaks.” The doctor rarely gave any orders, but this one he’d follow through with. Not that he truly needed to. The eight year old would obey any task or request given by an officer because Lancelot had told her to.

Shuffling the child to the infirmary, Kyle carefully observed her climb onto the empty bed near the window. It allowed her to see outside even when she felt ill. She wobbled, looking fainter than before. “This new vision. Did it keep you from sleeping?”

“Yes and—” The hesitation in her voice evident.

Kyle pulled up a stool, pouring a spoonful of medicine to aid in reducing the fever and allowing her to sleep. “You know you can tell me anything and it stays between us.”

Colette’s features soured as she dutifully swallowed the liquid. “Zero had to stop me from almost falling down the stairs to the storage building. I don’t… know how I got there.” If he hadn’t grabbed her, she might have been injured or worse. Those thoughts scared her terribly.

“Hmm. That is worrisome. You’ve never slept walk with a vision before.”

“What if it happens again? What if-” She nearly choked on her own words, visibily working herself up over the endless possibilities of what could go wrong. If the abilities she possessed allowed her to move without her own consent, it would be reasonable to believe that she could also wield attack spells and harm someone.

The doctor took her trembling hands and brushed his thumbs across the back soothingly. Having a meltdown would not aid in her recovery. “Easy, kiddo. Take a deep breath.” Kyle mimicked doing so as she did. “You don’t have to worry about that right now. I’ll be here the whole time you’re asleep, alright?”

He helped her settle beneath sheet, staying by her side until her breathing evened out. Although she silently struggled, the medicine worked her into a deep sleep. Kyle moved to his desk, taking notes of all the effects of her magic. The file thick with his scribbled pages of mostly questions and a few observations. Truly, magic in humans was a vast field of unknowns.

A few soldiers came and went, receiving treatments for minor injuries. The sun had slid completely beyond the horizon, giving the moon it’s time to light the sky in a silver glow surrounded by twinkling stars. The girl still wishing to rest hid beneath the sheet, squeezing her eyes shut at the conversation beyond the cracked door.

“That’s an order, Kyle. I must speak with her straight away.” Jonah’s harsh tone laced with urgency. It came as no surprise. He always reacted in such a way whenever it came to the King of Hearts.

The Seven sighed but continued to block the doorway, his back shielding anymore light from spilling into the darkened infirmary. “You’re only going to scare her. This is why Edgar was left in charge of this particular vision. You overreact.”

“Overreact? How is one to react with the news that there is an imminent attack on King Lancelot?”

“Calmly.”

“I am calm!” Jonah snapped, not willing to back down on this subject.

Without the knowledge of how she managed to show Edgar the vision and not reveal herself in it, Colette shivered. Jonah would surely lock her away for her participation, regardless of the reason behind it. She couldn’t live with the harsh judgement that would reside behind those amber eyes that used to be soft and kind when directed at her.

No, facing Jonah was simply too much.

Silently moving to the end of the bed, the girl unlocked the window and shoved the pane upward to escape. The task much harder than anticipated. Her knee dug into the sill, sending a wave of pain up her leg. Colette tumbled forward, rolling unceremoniously across the shrub beneath before smacking into the freshly watered soil of the flowerbed. “Ouch.”

A shadow fell over her. Matching clear blue eyes met as the young Two of Hearts turned her gaze upwards. Being caught by a patrol guard might have been less embarrassing. Her dress sullied with stains of green and brown, blonde curls stuck with twigs and leaves. Not the least bit presentable to be found by their prestigious leader.

“What is the meaning of this, Colette?”

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #ikerev fanfiction #lancelot kingsley #edgar bright #kyle ash #zero #jonah clemence #colette marston #visions of red #cradle magic

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capricornus-rex · 3 years

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A Shadow of What You Used to Be (9)

Chapter 9: His Ward | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: Hi guys, I’m really sorry for taking so long to post! I’m going through something and it’s taking quite a toll on my emotional health. I can’t brush it off that easily of course, but I’m trying my best to not let it devour me and ruin my routines and habits entirely. I still try to write, but my breakdown episodes are taking too much of my time during the day and I hate for just deciding to sleeping it off—though, it actually helps, plus a good cry. I’m sorry for rambling like this, but I’m not in slump just yet and I hope this situation of mine isn’t gonna drag me into one. I hope you all have been liking the story, if you do, I super duper appreciate it as always! Also, I’ll get back on the tag games you guys have put me in as well! They look super fun!

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Part 7 | Next: Part 10 | Masterlist

10 of ?

You are weak…

Incompetent…

Incapable of taking care of a child, what more if two?

An ominous, heavy voice burdened these words to Owen. The man felt paralyzed in his own bed. His knees and elbows locked in place, his calves and arms frozen stiff, and his lungs tight and narrow. He had hoped Beru would be woken up by his squirming and help him out of whatever is happening to him right now.

But his wife was nowhere to be found.

Owen found himself surrounded in darkness, standing in the middle of nowhere and nothing. He feared if this was purgatory. After he had spun a considerable amount of times just to orient himself on where he is and what is going on, the voice took shape—a towering figure armored in black, with his wife and nephew suspended between them while they’re on their knees. Owen could feel his heart sink to the soles of his feet and his legs were failing to hold his balance.

And for that, you shall pay the price of your negligence!

The sharp, ragged ignition of a lightsaber brandished through Beru’s breast and she fell right then and there. There was almost no death cry. Beru was mute as she jolted from the final sensation through her body and slumped to the dust, without waiting for the woman’s corpse to touch the soil, the beam swung sideways to poor, little Luke.

The boy had a death cry, albeit short it was haunting and gut-wrenching, and his cry faded out as he fell to the floor next to his aunt. Owen, in that dream state, was frozen in place. He wasn’t bound to the floor or anything, he was simply incapable of moving. The only thing he can do is watch—as penance imposed by the tall, monstrous figure brandishing a red sword made of light.

“NO!”

Owen sat up screaming and awake. He’s quite lucky they have no neighbors, but the creatures in the desert might have heard him, maybe even old Ben Kenobi in the off-chance that he’s out in the dunes at night.

“Owen!” Beru gasped, woken up by her husband’s nightmarish episode. “Owen, it was a dream!”

“Oh gods!” her husband gasped, clutching his chest so tight that his shirt crumpled. When he realized that it was indeed a dream, he cupped Beru at the neck so tightly that he almost choked her. “Oh, Beru!”

“Owen, dear…” she sighed, unable to comfort her husband.

It’s been only two nights since Irele disappeared, and the toll has already taken her brother.

–

Irele was brought immediately to the command ship when the transport boarded its hangar. She was thrown into a cell unconscious; hours have passed when she came to. Her body was disturbed by the sudden change in temperature, she was more conditioned for warm, temperate climates. The inorganic, air-conditioned room was an unpleasant surprise for her nerves.

She patted herself in different parts of her body to see where it hurts. Nothing. She was completely unscathed—except, of course, the few light scrapes and bruises she got during her hallucinogenic episode though they were nothing she can’t brush off and heal from.

“Where am I?” she asked to no one in particular.

She looked at the door and saw that it was a solid blast door; the small rectangular window that could only frame the eyes was sealed shut, there was no way of telling if there was someone on the other side of the door.

“Hello?” she knocked on the door, it was worth a shot, she thought.

She said it again, the knocking had gotten louder.

Irritated, the guard outside the cell banged the door with the pommel of his blaster.

“Quiet!” his voice was muffled through the helmet, but the manner of his speaking was sharp and strict. The sudden loud clang startled Irele, forcing her back to the slab that stuck out of the wall that’s meant to be her bed.

She stands up again to walk back to the door, to get some answers from the guard.

“Where am I?” she slapped the door, prompting for answer. “Hey!”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

“Ugh, you know you’re making the noise twice as worse,” a second guard groaned, though more indifferent towards the prisoner, as well as his companion.

“The little brat won’t shut up.”

“She’ll shut up when Lord Vader comes in,”

“Can’t expect him to come any sooner, can I?”

“Maybe you can turn up in his chambers and tell him yourself,” the second guard chuckled, quite amused by his own snark.

“Yeah, whatever,” the first guard said dryly, completely feeling the opposite.

Overhearing their small talk, Irele picked up the name and tried to familiarize herself with it. Lord Vader? She pondered. But she’s never heard of it. Understandably so, even upon the establishment of the Empire, Tatooine remained uninvolved with the affairs of the now Galactic Empire—as it was in the prime days of the Republic.

Even if the name never rung a bell, she found herself shivering—both by the cold and by the imminent confrontation of this unknown entity that she already fears.

A uniformed crew marches to Darth Vader’s personal chambers. From Vader’s end, the door to his room opened and the cadet let himself in after the Sith Lord allowed him.

“My Lord, the prisoner has come to,”

“Very well. Leave her to me, I’ll deal with her myself,”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

“Go.”

The cadet bowed and his lungs loosened. He had puffed up his chest for a minute or two after leaving the chambers. Darth Vader stood up from his shell and strode regally out of his room; it was not an uncommon sight to find the lord of this ship wandering alone without an escort or two.

Vader made way to the prison block, where the teenage captive would be doing nothing except sit and wait. He isn’t expecting her to recognize him, though he almost wished his did—at least the human part of his being. The door shot open; Irele—seated at the very center of the slab—threw her back flat against the wall. She hasn’t even gotten a good view of Vader and she was already terrified. He had to bow his head before presenting the hulk of his height in his cybernetic body.

Irele’s breathing skipped a rhythm. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, she has never seen anything quite like him. The sound of his breathing made her pupils dilate.

I see him in my nightmares… Irele thought.

Her heart dropped to her stomach when she heard him speak.

“I have been looking for you, child.”

Vader could clearly see that Irele was just utterly petrified. She may not realize it, but their gazes lock—even with the two bulbous globes where his eyes should be obstruct his own—he could clearly see his little sister: his truest next-of-kin. He saw the way her hands latched onto whatever surface it could grab on the metal wall, and goodness did they shake! He remained indifferent—he tried to be.

“W-Where am I?” the poor, shaken girl shuddered.

“That is of no importance.”

“But I’m so far away from home…!” she couldn’t bring herself to raise her voice, only to speak up a bit. “What did I do wrong?”

The dark lord answered none of those questions, but perhaps he could answer the next one.

“Who are you?”

“Your new master. You shall be my ward.”

To Irele, that declaration didn’t sound as ominous as she had hoped; yet, her heart sank when she realized that she’s now bound to this dark lord. In whatever word he paints it to be, she is his prisoner, and she will be here for a very long time. Another pill that’s hard to swallow for her is that she must remain tight-lipped about her family’s whereabouts for the rest of the time she’s here—which is probably forever.

Not realizing she didn’t actively react to this, Darth Vader had been suspended in silence for a few moments.

“You seem unsettled.”

“I don’t know this place. I don’t know you really are, either. The only thing I want right now is to go home. My friends might be looking for me.” She bit her tongue after that last one, keeping mum about her family if ever this lord will hunt them down after the slightest shortcoming.

“This is your new home now… Irele.”

Irele could not accept it. She looked around: nothing in this place is nowhere near to be called home! This is a prison that Vader is desperately convincing the girl to see it as one, to accept it as one.

“It would be wise if you do not object, child. My leniency could only go so far.”

Behind him, the door opened to let inside a black orb with silver apparatus, it hovered into the cell while its internals hummed. The floating globe’s most prominent appendage would be the syringe protruding from its left-hand side; Irele spotted a drop of liquid dangling at the edge of the needle’s tip.

Again, she pressed herself harder against the wall as soon as she caught the glint of the needle under the light of her cell. She tried to scream, but even opening her mouth felt like a laborious feat, so all she could do was taking deep yet short breaths as the droid approached her. The arm with the syringe extended to angle itself better. Vader watched from the far corner of the cell—incapable of helping his sister—and imposing a penance of sorts on himself, to torment him over the fact that even if he had all the means to do so, he is constrained from any sort of humane thing to do to at least ease off the pain from Irele.

The prick of the needle was slow, long, and agonizing. Vader could see Irele’s right arm tensing, shaking uncontrollably, and her hand violently jerking sideways. He saw the liquid leave the syringe and enter Irele’s bloodstreams, but the droid made it sure that it was equally tormenting. Irele tried to fight but the substance had temporarily paralyzed her. She threw her head back, slamming against the wall, and with a great effort she lolled her head to Vader…

A tear escaped from the corner of her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes; her mouth trembled opened to release a grunt that should have been a cry of pain. The look in her face was a plead for mercy or of help—even by a miracle. She looked to the one and only person who could stop this, and there he watched within the blackness of the room, her cry was replied with nothing but Vader’s rhythmic breathing as he stood there and watched. Even with a helmet on, if one could see closely, he was in an irredeemable state of regret for remaining a bystander in Irele’s moment of suffering.

She must learn to live with this… Otherwise, she may not live at all. He reinforced himself, albeit quite a twisted mindset.

The interrogation droid had pulled out the injection. The pinprick drew blood and Irele only had the clothes on her back to clog the bleeding. Weakened by the shock and pain, she melted to the slab and fell unconscious.

He turns to leave the cell, the droid followed, and quickly sealed Irele in. The guards straightened their backs at the sight of their master and awaited his orders. With a raised finger, he commanded them to ready a personal bunker filled with all necessities like new clothes for Irele.

“By the time the substance wears off, see to it that she is brought to the medical bay immediately. I want her in optimum shape if she is to be subjected to training in due time.”

Training? The uniformed men thought.

No questions were actually asked, for Vader strode away back to his chambers, and left the guards to do what is asked of them.

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eclecticash22 · 4 years

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🔮 Week Ahead Pick-A-Card 🔮

Take a moment and just take a few deep breaths. Look over each pile, and see which one draws your attention most. Follow your intuition and choose the pile that you're most drawn to.

Pile One - Bright Red | Pile Two - Yellow Green | Pile Three - Orange | Pile Four - Aqua Green

Pile One ❤

This week you're going to be feeling much more positive and much more creative. You're moving on from something you've been struggling with, and are now moving into a new beginning. This beginning will be exciting, fun, energizing, and it will be something you're passionate about. You'll be stepping into your inner strength and your inner power. Trust in yourself and your abilities this week, pile one! You have to make that decision for yourself so you can properly move forward into this wonderfulness headed your way.

Runes: Tap into your creative side. Follow inspiration to places you may not expect it to be, as you may just have a creative vision that leads you to something both unexpected and wonderful!

Shufflemancy Songs: 1- Language by Tori Kelly | 2- I Found by Amber Run | 3- Beautiful, Dirty, Rich by Lady Gaga | 4- Stupid Deep by Jon Bellion

Pile Two 💚

This week you're going to be feeling a bit anxious. For many of you, you're anxious about the unknown. "What's going to happen?" "What will I do?" But fear not. Luck is on your side this week! You're on the right path, make no mistake about that. Take your power back and try your best to not let that anxiety become too much. This anxiety may block something exciting, fun, and unexpected from coming into your life. Know that no matter what happens, you will be okay. Anxiety is a thief and a liar, so try to remain calm this week.

Runes: Take the lead of your own life. Be truthful and honest. Make wise decisions. Taking the lead in your own life may lead to you gaining some wisdom or learning some truth.

Shufflemancy Songs: 1- Where Have You Been by Rihanna | 2- Lost On You by Lewis Capaldi | 3- Hurricane by Bridgit Mendler | 4- Back To You by Selena Gomez

Pile Three 🧡

This week I see some change happening for you. I see you have previously felt stuck or trapped or unsure of how to get to a goal you've had. But this week you're finally coming out of that feeling. I see something in your life is changing. Possibly a relationship change, career change, or some change in perspective. But I do see you committing to this change. For many of you this is about a relationship or job. If this is relationship, I do see for some of you, this could be a breakup. For others, this could be a new relationship or engagement. Whatever this is, allow it to help you in a positive way. A wish is coming true, so make sure you're feeling positively about this change. A new beginning is happening for you, and it will feel as though it's a relief.

Runes: You may be gaining insight into something or recieving communication. This communication could be revealing something to you or giving you some news or an offer

Shufflemancy Songs: 1- Joanne by Lady Gaga | 2- Chariot by Gavin Degraw | 3- Potential Breakup Song by Aly & AJ | 4- Dear Daughter by Halestorm

Pile 4 💙

This week, I see you feeling a bit down. Maybe something has happened that didn't go the way you wanted it to or maybe you're just looking back at a hurtful past. Whatever this is, allow yourself the time to work through these negative feelings. Allow yourself to understand why you're feeling the way you do. Unburden yourself of these negative feelings and negative emotions that have brought you to a stagnant place. Then, once you've worked through this I see you feeling more powerful. More yourself. I see you taking charge and feeling great. You will be feeling more hopeful for the future and you're going to let go of those negative feelings. You have a gift coming your way, and maybe lots of them (if anybody has a birthday this week then HAPPY BIRTHDAY!) Even if it isn't a birthday, I see good things coming your way in an abundance.

Runes: Be open. Be vulnerable. Allow yourself insight into why you feel the way you feel, and gain that knowledge for yourself.

Shufflemancy Songs: 1- Heart Like Yours by Willamette Stone | 2- Where The story Ends by The Fray | 3- Brave by Sara Bareilles | 4- I Miss the Misery by Halestorm

***All Groups***

Thank you so much for your time! I hope this resonates and I hope you have a lovely day and a wonderful week ahead!

This is a collective reading. It may or may not resonate, and if it doesn't resonate, that's okay. Simply take what does resonate and/or pick another pile. This reading is for entertainment purposes. I am not responsible for any decisions made based off of a reading.

#pick-a-card #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick-a-card reading #week ahead reading #week ahead tarot reading #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #runes #shufflemancy

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gyromitra-esculenta · 4 years

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Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday

Stretching fingers from the mermaid au for a moment, worked on the older idea, forgot how past tenses work. It has some sexy *cough* times in it.

Warnings: Eldritch stuff; Eldritch std; Eldritch Pregnancy; TENTACLES (some, not a lot) - Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane category; gore, violence, blood; dark humor; Major Character Death (Myabe, maybe not, quite esoteric in its essence); Underage (contextual allusion, but I'd decided to err on the side of caution); Lots of unsubtle manipulation; SOMEHOW LIKE PRETTY MUCH CANON-COMPLIANT AND I'M LIKE WHAT?

Jack Morrison had been dead for the better part of three decades.

After locking the door behind himself with the personal override that cut off all the outside communication, Gabriel turned to face the thing wearing Jack Morrison's skin sitting behind the Strike Commander's desk. He watched the pretense of any human emotion bleed out of Jack's face, to be replaced with impersonal curiosity.

"If this is about the discourteous United Nations representative, in my defense, I was hungry, and he irritated me."

Great. Time for breathing exercises. And Gabriel wondered, somehow, where his developing drinking problem was coming from. He crossed the distance to the desk and leaned on it with both his hands gripping the edge.

"You can't eat people only because..." Hell, who was he kidding, they had this particular argument rehearsed past the point of déjà vu. "Is there anything left I have to worry about?"

"It's not one of your operations," Jack smiled, teeth showing, and without the usual mimicry, the expression could – and did – look downright terrifying, "or one of your inconvenient detainees. I'm always careful."

"Yeah, about that..." The real Jack Morrison had been dead for the better part of three decades, a victim of a hit and run left to die in a ditch whom something else found and crawled into – if Gabriel were to trust anything this Jack Morrison told him. “You gave me some kind of eldritch std.”

"I did?" Jack craned his head to the side, the reaction almost impossible to gauge. Gabriel let go of the desk, slowly, and pulled up his jacket together with the shirt underneath. The skin on his side still pulsated with immaterial liquid blackness coming apart. "So I did."

"That's all you have to say for yourself?"

"This situation is far from an exact science, Gabe. To this time, you're the only human that has survived in full health." Jack brushed his fingers against the undulating mass trying to cling to his fingertips like water in zero gravity.

"You have no idea, then."

"No. But I think I know who might prove helpful, you will only have to put on your charm after I'm done with her." Jack brought up a profile on the screen. "Just say the word."

Gabriel did not need to read it, he had prepared the dossier himself and advised caution, preferably termination.

"Do it."

Two months later, Moira O'Deorain was inducted into Blackwatch.

Blackwatch's best-kept secret was the fact some occupants of the holding cells sometimes disappeared without a trace, only leaving behind the unusually bloody mess splattered even on the ceilings. Awful stuff no-one wanted to be stuck cleaning up, so everybody kept their mouths rightfully shut.

Gabriel flicked the ash off the cigarette he'd been barely smoking in front of one of such cells.

"Are you done in there? You have a party in an hour, and if I can't get out of it..."

The door opened with a high-pitched whine of one of the hinges – he should have someone look at it later – and Jack, looking pristine compared to the gory mayhem inside, stepped out, slowly licking the tips of his fingers, the tongue flitting in and out of his lips.

"...then neither can I?"

"Then neither can you." The wet sounds of the blood dripping from the ceiling still held their unnerving quality. "Did you learn anything useful?"

"Only a bunch of religious nonsense. Tell me," Jack turned to face him inside the hidden elevator going straight to his quarters. "Why do you all find a merciful god when faced with me?"

Because there has to be something to balance out the existence of whatever you are, Gabriel answered him the first time the question had been asked. A rehash of an old argument, Jack being facetious and playful, always leaving him wondering how many of those interactions were purely for his benefit, and what he was exactly to Jack: a pet, a project, an interesting specimen?

'One that didn't run' was an exponentially poor explanation to Gabriel's liking, and the only one he ever got. After all, running was of no use, and that night he had snuck out to smoke on the roof of their compound, Gabriel decided he might as well finish his cigarette before he got devoured like Mason, or be driven insane by the sight of the thing that wore Jack Morrison's skin.

Funny how spontaneous explosion due to unexplainable internal buildup of unknown gases got on the list of some more baffling SEP side effects.

"My turn?" Gabriel had asked when Jack turned to him, face slack and expressionless like one on a corpse, but put on something living, a travesty against the natural order. He raised his half-burned cigarette up for Jack to see. "Give me a minute or two."

With Jack slowly circling him, far too close for it to be of any comfort, he got to finish his smoke.

"I like you. You might do."

It took him two more cigarettes in the company of the splatter of organs, bone, and blood Mason had become to realize he was alone, and around half an hour before he called the whole mess in, avoiding any mention of what had actually occurred. An elaborate hallucination, Gabriel had assumed. God, was he wrong then, and on the next placement rotation, Jack made sure there were no doubts to be had about the authenticity of the roof incident.

The ding of the elevator arriving was enough to bring Gabriel back to the present.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Mason."

"Always the romantic." Jack moved deeper into the suite, ordering Athena to open the windows but lower the blinds, getting the ‘security’ expert in Gabriel to wince before he eventually remembered he had no idea if Jack could even be killed. He had seen the body pull itself back together more than once, the pulverized muscle and bone popping into its proper place with visceral slurps and cracks, the sinews tying the single strands back into a whole – an atavism, as he came to learn. The perfect image in one's mind's eye to be undressed to.

Not that Gabriel minded, particularly. Not at all.

But seeing Jack feed always brought something out of him – and being satiated always made Jack prone to indulge in more pedestrian matters, like having Gabriel spread painfully over his lap and speared on his cock, tendrils of void keeping him bound and upright, and immobile. Dissecting him with clinical precision and then putting him back together, all while observing Gabriel with the professional disinterest one might wear during a specimen’s autopsy. Honestly, the thought itself made his dick strain against his thigh, nothing at all like bending Jack over Strike Commander's desk for a quick fuck, or having him on his knees with his scary pretty mouth on Gabriel's cock, sometimes even playing along in a fashion making him appear almost human, and so much more horrifying for making Gabriel doubt who – or rather what – was sucking his dick.

He was jostled out of his unconscious train of thought by something pressed hard against his side, sinking into the flesh turned black. With his neck craned, Gabriel observed in morbid fascination the tentacle as it moved deeper in, soon joined by another one following the suit.

"...what?" Gabriel gasped out before slick mass forced itself between his lips and surged down his throat, choking him with its girth, and for a moment took his mind off the sensation of becoming increasingly – inconceivably – bloated, for all the wrong reasons. To his rising panic, the intrusion blocking off his air remained still and rigid, making it impossible to breathe around it until it eventually moved and contracted, slipping slowly further along. The first few breaths Gabriel took produced embarrassingly wet wheezing gurgles becoming frantic again with the growing awareness of something stuck in his gut, poking and prodding where nothing should, the feeling of things inside squirming alien and impossible to ignore.

He strained futilely against the bonds keeping him in place.

This was it, finally, the moment Jack would devour him because he had become bored with him, or Gabriel had lost his usefulness to him – the moment Gabriel would become a pitiful smear of flesh and blood painting the walls and the ceiling – and maybe even Jack himself. The thought should scare him. Instead, Gabriel felt his dick twitch in excitement as his balls tightened and heat pooled between his legs, leaving him trying to fuck the air in the vain hope of creating any friction while still held in the vice of unyielding tentacles.

Pleading with his eyes, not for his life, but to be let to come.

Jack pressed his palm to his chest, lips on his scary pretty face curled up in either amusement or sneer, or something entirely else, and the sensation of something popping inside reverberated behind Gabriel's ribs. Peritoneal rupture, the still-functioning analytical part of his mind supplied. Internal bleeding, infection, immediate medical intervention needed. But Jack was only smiling up at him while something contracted his lungs, leaving his chest fluttering desperately.

"She has outdone herself, his time," Jack mused, breaking away the eye contact as his lips closed around Gabriel's nipple – teeth scraping over it – biting into it – just one of the myriad of sensations breaking through the descending fog of lightheadedness. His body fighting for its life, Gabriel focused on just, or as much as, staying conscious while the animal inside clawed and whined, maddened with the primal fear of death until something was squeezed from the inside – almost an explosion – and, screaming, he tasted the bitter ichor.

Slowly coming to, and laid out on the bed, Gabriel was simply amazed to be alive – still. Sore, hurting, spent, but neither in pain nor dying. His hand, held to his side, rested on solid unbroken skin while his befuddled mind tried to come up with any explanation at all. Fucked within an inch of his life, definitely. Confused as hell why – somehow and inexplicably – he was still breathing and existing? That too.

Something brushed the back of his hand, and the tendril receded back to Jack, folding back into his form with unhurried neatness.

"Being fashionably late is back in fashion, I hear," Jack, in his dress attire, laughed before walking out and leaving Gabriel to his own devices. He glanced at the digital clock on the wall and swore.

He made it to the party an hour late, already hating everybody there.

And with any function like this one, nothing more was expected of him but to be an intimidating wallflower, allowed to be almost as rude and uncouth as he truly wanted to be when telling people to fuck off while he nursed his undiluted vodka, eyes on Jack flitting around the room. All smiles and sparkles, and sweet words of social conventions and contracts he had no care for save for keeping up the appearances. The performance was nauseating by itself.

As for Gabriel, he was more than happy with their silent arrangement, the small talk exhausting and pointless – and what was he supposed to even say?

'Dear ma'am, I murder people, and when I don't, I find people for your precious devil-sent Strike Commander to eat, and by the way, ma'am, you look simply enchanting tonight!'

Gabriel set the empty glass on a windowsill and grabbed another one from a passing waiter.

'Sir, so nice to meet you, I'm Gabriel Reyes, this is my partner who is an unholy abomination straight from some hell – if hell exists, but I’m willing to err on the side of caution in those circumstances – and our kid literally popped out of me on the battlefield, yeah, I'm still trying to figure that one out' also never seemed like it would do well as a conversation starter.

Gabriel knocked back the drink, gin and tonic this time, and left the glass standing next to the previous one. He walked out to the balcony, hand already reaching for the pack in his pocket, fingers itching to feel the weight of a lighted cigarette between them. Turning around, he came face to face with Jack bringing up an already burning lighter for him, his back to the crowd in the room. Gabriel leaned against the balustrade and lighted his cigarette, drew in the smoke slowly into his lungs – savoring it – observing and waiting. Jack pocketed the lighter, and then tampered with Gabriel's tie, his fingers sliding lower after, splayed, with a smile of something that had never learned what a smile was really about.

The ride or die kind of smile, all teeth and malice, the last thing for anyone else but Gabriel to see.

"It's coming along all nice," Jack mused.

"You put another one in me?"

"Maybe." Coy and teasing, the answer sent shivers down Gabriel's spine.

"When."

"Not today. Would you have said no to me?"

The choice he didn't have aside, Gabriel knew he wouldn't have refused.

Curiosity was the first step on the stairs leading all the way straight down to hell, and he had gladly taken a tumble down, his sanity forfeited with the knowledge he had never wanted but couldn't get enough of. They say curiosity killed the cat, but the satisfaction brought it back.

And the satisfaction had tasted of iron in his mouth, smelled of burning circuitry, felt like a projectile ripping through his armor – Jack huddled over him, speaking nonsense words of encouragement not to him but to the thing gnawing at Gabriel from the inside. It finally burst out, and Jack took it into himself before calling in the medvac, hitting all the right notes in his voice on the call: trembling and interrupted, pitched higher than usual.

"When it's coming?"

"When it's ready."

Gabriel blew the smoke in his face, slowly.

Later that night, long into the morning hours, fucking into the body going through its paces below him – back arched and mouth open, fluttering fingers clenched on the sheets – Gabriel asked again about the why.

"Do you really want to know?" Jack whispered into his ear. "That night, on that roof, you held no faith. And I thought, I'll make you believe in me."

The answer horrified Gabriel more than anything else Jack had ever told him, not because it rang false but because it rang true – and the truth of himself was worse than all the lies Jack could spin.

Following months – almost a year – passed in an unfettered deluge of things going wrong and compromised operations. Jack didn't give a fuck, starting with Rialto.

"I want you to kill him."

Gabriel stared at him, waiting for a follow-up that didn't come.

"It runs contrary to..."

"Either way, you will find your hand forced. Isn't it better to act out of one's own volition?"

What had sounded not unlike a veiled threat turned out to be an even more veiled warning. 'You still need her,' was Jack's answer to Gabriel's ire, delivered with a note of amusement. The worst of it, he was right, disgustingly and irredeemably right. Gabriel hated it; Moira remained on retainer.

But today, another name was on Gabriel's mind – swamped with fear, anger, and desperation – as he broke into a run towards the landing bay.

Ana.

Jack had killed Ana.

Gabriel pushed past the agents and the medical personnel, ignoring the surprised sounds of indignation, Jesse behind him taking over the explanations, his voice relaxed and unhurried.

"Better clear out, the commanders are gonna have, ah, whatcha call it, a private word."

Jack, still in the carrier, sitting with his head bowed, pensive, Ziegler standing in front of him, didn't acknowledge his presence, not until Gabriel sneered at the medic to get the fuck out. The perfect image of the caring commander in how he slowly nodded to her.

"Now!" Passing Gabriel, Ziegler flinched with her entire body. He waited for her to clear at least some distance from the carrier before he was looking into amused blue eyes while he had Jack pressed by his neck against the far wall of the craft's inside. "The fuck have you...?"

"What do you think I've done?"

He didn't remember much of it – startled out of his fury by the sound of laughter, of all things – sitting on Jack's chest with knees braced on either side of Jack’s ribs – fist raised, hurting – skin on his knuckles cracked and covered in blood, his and Jack's.

"You killed her. You killed Ana. You..."

But Jack didn't stop laughing – meat and bone fixing itself back into shape, torn lip regaining its arch – a proof of Gabriel's impotence, his momentum cut short when it met with the simple inability to cause harm to the wretched thing under him.

"I’ve never ever touched her."

"You're lying!"

"Why would I? You see," Gabriel started at the touch curling around the nape of his neck, pulling him to lean down with the strength that suffered no objection until their foreheads met, "your dear Ana, she left you."

"She wouldn't..."

"She did. She saw an out, and she took it, so clever."

Arms wrapped around his back and Gabriel slumped against Jack's frame, adrenaline and tension bleeding out of his body – leaving behind surging feelings of betrayal and hopelessness – and still, some doubt that dispersed with fingers combing through his hair, lips brushing against his cheek in a light kiss, and a hissing whisper.

"I could hunt her down for you."

"No."

Gabriel didn't question Jack's ability to find Ana, he feared what Jack would do when he found her.

"Poor Gabriel, left all alone. Alone, with me," Jack chuckled. His fingertips massaged Gabriel’s scalp in a soothing pattern. "She's always understood, and she still abandoned you to me."

Gabriel had no strength left in him to protest that she couldn't know.

"Such keen eyes, to call me ifrit of the jinn. Such a narrow vision to call me that. So much more than I came to expect from your kind," Jack continued, words dripping with twisted amusement, and Gabriel closed his eyes. "A vengeful curse of the dead. I do like the sound of it. Don’t you?"

The noose slipped around his neck and the ground gave way, everything falling apart to rubble and leaving an empty husk behind. Gabriel didn't want to fight anymore. The blue coat rested thrown over the back of the chair Jack sat in with his chin propped up on his palm.

"I don't know what else can be done. This situation is... Are you even going to do anything?"

"No." Jack tapped his fingers against his cheek, slow and idle, a smile stretching on his face at Gabriel's resignation.

"I don't know why I even care anymore."

And he didn't. He could try to bullshit himself with the tired phrases of duty, of having poured his heart and soul into Overwatch, of doing good and fighting the good fight, but ultimately, they would all turn out to be poor excuses.

'I will make you believe in me.'

"You shouldn't care." Jack stood up and walked around the desk, stopping in front of Gabriel. He put his hands on Gabriel's face; some part of Gabriel hated the fact he didn't flinch. He never did. "This system's complexity outgrew the possibility of governance a decade ago."

It had been for nothing. And now, as Jack leaned in with the grimace of a baleful smile stretched across his face – touching his forehead to Gabriel's – with the defeat came relief: in the greater scheme of things, whatever were his actions, they were meaningless after all.

Gabriel looked – truly looked – at Jack for the first time in ages, and he saw the details he had always noticed but never considered as a whole: the receding and thinning hairline, the white at the temples, the crow's feet, the spiderweb-like labyrinth of small purplish veins under the skin. Superficial signs of aging appearing subtly over the years, the question of either performance, or the body pushing its own narrative over the thing inhabiting it, but, according to Jack, death didn't exist, and what existed in its stead was change.

"What do you intend to do now?"

"A real quandary, isn't it, what will I do next? What should I do? What do you think, Gabe?" Jack mused, his eyes leisurely half-closed, Gabriel's hands finding their resting place at his hips. He answered the question by himself, the one Gabriel was on the cusp of asking but too afraid to voice. "We could find Ana, air our grievances with her, we do have some, don't we? Or play around and hunt down some dirty scurrying rats. With nothing holding you back anymore, just imagine it, all the bloodshed, and all the violence you might ever wish for."

"Tempting." And it was. Gabriel sighed, reassured at being included.

"I knew you'd see it my way." Corners of Jack's eyes crinkled in amusement. Of course, Gabriel would, Jack made sure of it: seeped under his skin and into his thoughts, slithered all over his nerves and took root in his mind, bound Gabriel to himself with Gabriel's own permission. In hindsight, he wouldn't change a thing, as long as he was still wanted, for the lack of a better word.

Jack stirred, eyes flicking to the side for a moment, lips pursed and attention focused on something beyond the room.

"I see. This is how it's going to be."

Jack pulled him with his hands in for a kiss – crushing and ravenous – devouring Gabriel as the ground gave way under their feet among the roar of the blood rushing in his ears and the wail of the backdraft before the suffocating darkness overtook everything.

After he had pulled all the parts of himself together among the smoking rubble, deafened by the cacophony of gunfire and screams, Gabriel fled. Jack would survive on his own.

Sombra slipped out of his flesh with little fanfare days later, a small shadow through which alien stars shone like glittering eyes. But he called her that only when she began to fill in her form, soon a young woman consuming knowledge with the voracity of a newborn.

The hearings came and went. Ziegler made a show out of herself. Gabriel had scoffed at her testimony then. In retrospection, he could see how she had reached her conclusion.

Months passed and Gabriel, struggling to keep whole at the seams, had finally understood Jack was not coming back. He handed Sombra to Jesse, who could teach her so much more than Gabriel ever could, and sought help from the only person who could offer it.

Years down the line, looking at the frail – small – mangled body – its fingers twitching in a growing pool of blood, and pinkish bubbles breaking on the lips, eyelids on an uneven level, one eye bloodshot – the thing inhabiting it gone with a soundless pop of ripped reality, Gabriel realized Jack had never specified if the kid was dead when he had found him.

It was a split-second decision that he made.

"O'Deorain, get your ass down to the lab stat, the body is still alive."

With the kid below him – back arched and mouth open, fluttering fingers clenched on the sheets – Gabriel was, once again, found doubting.

#sometimes I write #reaper76 #r76 #eldritch #horror #but more like existential horror #gore #blood #not-work-safe

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valkyrieofsmut · 4 years

Text

Captive Love 12

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Sans feels like an asshole. Papyrus agrees that he's a dumbass.

A/N: Sans is sorry... he's really sorry... he didn't mean to be scary...

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Story

Dinner in bed.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and (Y/n) looked up from her blanket cocoon of comfort.

"s-sweetheart- ...sweetheart, 'm sorry," Sans' soft voice told her with a sigh, muffled by the door. "i want ya ta know i wasn't doin' it ta hurt ya, b- but we can talk about it when y're ready, w-whenever ya want… i- th' important thing is- fuck- ...i'm an' asshole, sweetheart, i know it- but ya can't jus'-" he took a breath, calming himself. "ya can't jus' run off inta danger blindly an' 'xpect me ta- ya- ya coulda…" He choked on whatever emotion was filling him, making it hard to talk. "ya coulda been dusted," he whispered against the wood of the door.

He didn't know if she'd understand, he knew that 'dusted' wasn't the word humans used, and they didn't use 'fall down', either, but it didn't stop them from doing it. And his sweetheart had looked like she was on the edge of falling down when he was in there.

He couldn't let that happen. He needed his sweetheart to stay alive, stay with him…

"a-anyway," he said after clearing his throat, able to continue in a more normal tone. "i brought ya some dinner, ya don't haveta open th' door; i'm gonna leave it right here fer ya, an' then i'm gonna go downstairs an' leave ya be fer a bit. i- if ya need me… that's where i'll be… i-if ya need anythin', i'll be here- jus' gotta ask, sweetheart…"

(Y/n) heard him walk away, slowly moving closer to the door and listening closely, not satisfied that he was gone until she heard him downstairs talking with Papyrus.

She slowly, quietly, opened the door and brought the food in before closing and blocking the chair to it again.

She ate the food, glad that Sans had put mostly salad and bread on her plate, saving her from much of the lasagna.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU PUT SO MUCH OF THAT OTHER FOOD ON HER PLATE, SANS," Papyrus griped. "IT'S LIKE YOU'RE SAYING THAT MY FOOD ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH…"

“‘s nothin’- nothin’ like that, paps- ‘s jus’- s-she’s a human, y’know, they need, like, extra nutrients an’ minerals an' shit like that. gotta keep ‘er healthy…” Sans trailed off, a little nervous sweat beading on his skull.

They dug in to the lasagna, Sans mostly scooting it around on his plate as he tried to push the memory of his sweetheart shaking in terror caused by him from his mind.

“SO… WHY ISN’T SHE EATING WITH US, TONIGHT?” Papyrus asked after a few moments of silence.

“‘cuz imma fuckin’ dumbass,” Sans murmured.

“WELL, YOU WERE A DUMBASS YESTERDAY, AND THAT DIDN’T STOP HER…”

“heh…” A humorless laugh left Sans’ mouth.

It was quiet again, and in the silence, Sans heard the soft sound of a plate being set in the hall and his door closing

He stood and slouched up to the hall, taking the plate and making his way back to the sink.

Papyrus watched his brother, his worry growing in his bones. He’d never seen Sans walk so much, except when he was very low on magic, and before he’d learned how to use his lazy shortcuts. His eyelights followed him as he made his way back to the stairs until he couldn’t see him anymore.

Sans stopped in front of his door, stooping to set the plate in his hand down.

“s-sweetheart,” he called softly. “i- i brought ya some dessert… ‘s from th’ store, papyrus brought it back…” He hesitated, taking a few breaths before leaning his skull against the door, wishing he could just make her feel how sorry he was, and that he hadn’t meant to scare her or harm her through the door.

He took another deep breath and let it out before pulling away and basically dragging himself back to the table.

“WHAT HAPPENED, SANS?” Papyrus asked after a few more silent moments.

“told ya; ‘m a fuckin’ dumbass…” Sans muttered as he scooped another bite onto his fork.

Papyrus didn’t know what to say to that, so there was silence as he tried to find some words to express himself correctly.

There was a soft sound on the stairs, one that they wouldn’t have heard if it wasn’t so quiet, and it made a near silent trail to the kitchen.

Sans ducked his head guiltily as he heard the sound of clothing rustling as his sweetheart made her way to the sink, sure he could feel her wary gaze on him the entire time.

Papyrus’s eyelights stuck to her like glue as she moved, sockets creasing as he squinted a little.

He opened his mouth, about to say something, but Sans shook his head, looking up at him and quietly pleading, “boss…”

Papyrus closed his mouth with a click of his teeth and let out a breath, going back to his lasagna.

(Y/n) walked back out through the doorway, and Papyrus waited until they heard the soft sound of Sans’ door closing again before he spoke, “YOU PUT THE COLLAR ON HER AFTER ALL.”

It wasn’t a question. The strap of leather was plain to see, especially with the way that shirt hung off of her shoulder.

Sans winced again.

“You’ll Be Making Her Safer,” his brother told him quietly, knowing how much he hated the collar, and how serious whatever had happened to make him put it on her had to have been.

Dinner had long since been over, and (Y/n) was still alone in Sans’ room, sitting on the bed, trying to do whatever she could to get the stupid collar off of her. But nothing was working.

She tried everything, and nothing worked.

She tugged at it long into the evening, hearing whatever show the two had been watching on the tv downstairs turn off and after a few moments, Papyrus’ door close.

She felt her body stiffen, hearing another set of footsteps coming toward the door, hesitating in the hall… and then a dull whump as something hit the floor.

Suddenly, she felt like she had to use the bathroom.

Because she suddenly couldn’t leave the room, most likely. It was always the one thing you couldn’t do that ended up being the one thing you somehow needed to do most, like having an itch on your nose after being told you can’t touch anything.

She sighed and violently wiggled her hips, feeling an urgency to use the bathroom, now.

Fiiiiiine, she mentally cursed, getting up and going to the door.

She quietly opened the door and made her way out, seeing Sans sitting hunched over next to the door. She quickly moved away from him, not wanting to be too close, and hurried to the bathroom, but caught the way his skull turned away from her, seemingly in shame.

He hadn’t moved by the time she got back, but she could see the glow of his eyelights reflecting off of the wall.

She faked more courage than she had and walked past him into the room, closing the door and sticking the chair against it again.

She sat on the bed, watching the door for a bit.

He really seemed like he felt guilty… sorry, even… but then, why didn’t he just take the fucking collar off of her?!

Well… not like she’d given him much chance to get close enough to her… For good reason!

She sighed, conflicted.

Finally, she decided what to do.

Sans let his skull rest against the wall uncomfortably.

He deserved this.

He deserved more than this for scaring his sweetheart so badly…

The door next to him cracked open, and he heard quick movement back across the floor to his bed.

After a moment, his skull turned, his sockets opening to see that the door was still cracked.

Was his sweetheart telling him that it was ok to come in? That she’d calmed down enough to see him?

Sans slowly climbed up, going into his room and looking over at where she was laying in a huddled pile on the bed, surrounded by his blanket.

That was fine. He didn’t need a blanket to sleep anyway, and if it made her feel better, he’d give it to her.

Sans kicked off his shoes and quietly climbed onto his bed, laying down so he could stare at his sweetheart, silently apologizing.

After a few minutes, the rising movement of the blanket grew regular, and he thought she was asleep.

His sweet, wonderful, sweetheart.

Sans’ hand reached out and his phalanges touched her, gently stroking over her a few times before he pulled it back to himself, staying on one side of the bed. He wasn’t going to cause her any other worry, and if that meant staying an arm’s length away for the night, he would.

A/N: Welp. We're getting to the part where Sweetheart starts talking a bit next chapter, but starts talking a lot soon. So prepare for such terrible spelling... it gave me shiver just looking at it. and also, do a favor and let me know if you're going to want translations? So I can set those up beforehand... examples so you can make an informed decision: Whahy w...t'r Ikh do Oh, hey, also, I have another Undertale story (a reverse harem with multiple universes of skelles) and posted a chapter of it, too! It’s on Ao3. It’s on chapter 4. See how much I get behind on here from stupid editing problems? Ugh.

@tephi101 @lilypalmer1987 @pingu89 @gifsbysimplysonia @omnomsauruswrites<3U! @keldachick @Randomfandompenguin @mannls @screeching-student-unknown @lizfawn @ya-lyublu-tebya @their-bibliophile @the-fifth-marauder03 (let me know if y’all wanna be taken off, btw, since it’s not marvel lol)

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