#ch: fray | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yourmidnightlover · 4 months

Text

getting it over with - ch 2

pairing: bucky barnes x virgin fem!reader

summary: waking up after accidentally admitting a bit too much to bucky about your lack of action, you reveal that you remember everything.

warnings: kissing, fingering, cunnilingus, nervous!reader, bucky is very tender and a SMOOTH talker in this one, please let me know if i'm missing anything!

w/c: 2k+

a/n: THE LONG AWAITED!! i've been in such a rut lately and am so sorry if this doesn't meet everyone's expectations. i kinda like how it turned out and think it's definitely how classic 40s bucky barnes would treat a lady. anywho, enjoy reading my lovelies!

CHAPTER 1

waking up in your jamie’s arms made you wish you were still asleep. sure, you had cuddled before on movie nights when you had to share a blanket, but this was different. this meant he had chosen to stay, of his own volition. fate didn’t need to step in for him to cuddle you. or maybe you were reading far too much into it.

regardless, you relished in this rare moment of closeness you had with bucky. his arm was securely around your waist as your head remained on his chest. you let your chin rest on his chest in favor of looking at the face that was now free of his perpetual frown lines. you let your hands move the stray pieces of his hair from his face before he began stirring. his arm gently tightened around you before his left came to hold you as well, leaving you softly laughing at his cuddly tendencies.

“mornin’, doll,” his raspy voice scratched all the right parts of your heart. “sleep well?”

“slept like a baby,” you replied as you plopped your head back down on his chest, the rise and fall of his chest nealy lulling you back to sleep.

“so…” he trailed off. “do you…”

“i remember, jamie,” you were squeamish. he obviously kindly rejected your offer in an attempt to let you keep your dignity, but you couldn’t lie to him. “i-i’m sorry for all that. i never wanted to make you uncomfortable, and clearly, i did.”

“you didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he assured you as you quickly got out of your bed. “y/n,” he called after you as you threw a sweater over your tank top from last night. he stood to meet you, tenderly holding your shoulders so you would get still. “you didn’t make me uncomfortable. the only thing that made me uncomfortable was the fact that you were drunk when you asked me, doll,” now it was him who played with the strands of your hair that were still wild from sleeping.

“so, if i were to ask you that now, with a sound and sober mind… what would you say?” you avoided eye contact, opting to play with the frayed ends of your sweater.

“that depends,” he nudged your chin with a curled finger. “i’m gonna need you to ask me first,” he teased.

you rolled your eyes, “there’s a reason they call it ‘liquid courage’, jamie. sadly, i haven’t had any today.”

“you already know what i’ll say,” he shrugged casually, as if it weren’t practically humiliating what you were asking of him. the depth of desperation you had reached to ask your best friend who you’d loved for so long to do you this ‘favor’. “you know i’d do anything for you.”

“i want you to want me,” now you couldn’t stop looking in his eyes, captivated by the pretty blues you’ve always loved.

he chuckled, “don’t you know i always have?”

looking into his eyes, you wanted to believe his sweet, serene words that were dripping from his lips like honey. god, how you wanted a taste of the sickly sweetness that oozed from his presence near you. the attraction that pulled you towards him like he was stronger than any magnet tony had created was somehow amplified any time he looked at you the way he was. you only hoped the attraction wasn’t one sided. sure, he was telling you he’s always wanted you, but that doesn’t mean he wanted you romantically. maybe he just meant he wanted your body. either way, you would have him any way you could.

“say it,” he urged you.

“will you be my first, jamie?” you swallowed and looked away from him, somehow still afraid of his answer.

“only if i can be your only, too,” he grasped your waist, pulling you against his chest.

finally, you broke your eye contact with the floor in favor of his bright blues as he leaned in to press a searing kiss against your lips. in spite of the anticipation of what you had just asked asked him, the kiss was incredibly tender and unrushed.

your tongues danced in sync as if you had done this a million times before. his hands squeezed your waist more as you gently sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

“you’re pretty good at this,” you giggled as you grabbed onto his forearms.

“we haven’t even done anything, yet,” your eyes went wide at the insinutaiton.

“are we-did you want to… now?”

“no, of course not,” his thumbs began rubbing on your waist over your sweatshirt. “i’m gonna make your first time special, like you deserve. if you want, there are other things we can do now. again, only if you want to.”

“well-uh-what were you thinking about?” your arms rose to his neck, thrown over his shoulders as his grip tightened on your waist.

he lifted you by the waist, signalling for your legs to wrap around his own so he could usher you back to the bed. he gently laid you down, hovering over you before pressing a searing kiss to your cheek, just as gentle as when he laid you down.

“i’m gonna eat your pretty little pussy, doll,” he gingerly kissed down your torso, making the long trail to your center.

“you don’t have to if… if y’know, it makes you uncomfortable? i know guys aren’t really into that sometimes,” you rose to your elbows, observing him as he spread your legs further to make room for him. the way his eyes were fixated on you was as if you were the only woman he’d ever seen.

“uncomfortable?” he scoffed at the thought. “the only thing that’s making me uncomfortable right now is how many clothes we still have on.”

“that can easily be fixed,” you swiftly tore your shirt from your body, revealing yourself to him. his eyes were immediately drawn to your bare chest.

“fuck,” he breathed. “‘s like you’re trying to kill me, doll.” keeping his place between your legs, his arms trailed up your torso to massage your tits. “so fucking gorgeous.”

you placed your hands on his wrists, encouraging him to continue. “jamie…” you sighed as your head was thrown back.

“has anyone ever touched you down here, doll?”

you shook your head

“only me?”

“only you,” you swear his eyes darkened by four shades, swallowing his pretty blues into the abyss of his lust.

he moved from his place between your legs to help you remove your shorts and underwear in one swift motion, quickly getting right back to business as soon as he was able to. once he was settled back between your plush thighs, you felt his hands gripping them tightly.

“such a pretty pussy you’ve got here, baby,” his face was so close to your center you could feel his breath against your skin with every word he said. “can’t believe you’ve kept it from me for so long.” he littered your thighs with kiss after kiss, each time getting closer to your center.

“please, jamie?” your hands made their way to his hair, gently grasping his hair and tugging to emphasize your need to him.

“please what, doll?” he mocked coyly.

“you know what,” your hips began to rise from the bed, searching for some relief.

“nuh uh,” he moved his head further from where he was, “i wanna hear you say it for me.”

“i-can you-i want you to eat me out please?” you rushed out and squeezed your eyes shut, not being able to see bucky as he finally connected his lips with your center. “o-oh my GOD!” his tongue traced your clit lightly, barely giving you much stimulation but even that was enough to make your legs begin to quivver.

while his tongue tracing your clit felt absolutely amazing, nothing prepared you for feeling his tongue tracing along your soaking slit before delicately prodding inside of you.

“holy shit, jamie,” his tongue trailed back to your clit before you felt his finger slowly enter your pussy. your grip in his hair tightened, pulling him even closer to your center.

he was so passionate about pleasing you, humming into your skin as he felt you tighten around his finger the deeper he went.

he made sure to wait for you to relax, welcoming the pleasure rather than being surprised by it, before beginning to slowly thrust the single digit in and out of your center.

you tossed your head back against the pillows at the feeling of his long fingers reaching parts of you that you could never reach yourself.

“fuck!” his finger found the perfect spot inside of you, curling to massage it gently and bring you closer to the edge. you could hear the squelching of your pussy in rhythm with his thrusts in and out of you, and somehow you had no idea that you could be so wet and messy.

you felt him moan against you even more as he brought his metal hand up your torso and begin to squeeze your tits, pinching and pulling your nipple before switching to the neglected breast, simultaniously adding a second finger inside of you.

he wanted to thank whatever gods existed for allowing him to be in between the safe haven of your thighs in this very moment. the soft plushness of your thighs that cradled his head as your fingers continued to tighten around his locks with every move his tongue made against your clit proved that heaven was real.

it took everything in him to stop jumping the bed like a horny teenage boy, because he knew he would’ve blown a load with how pretty your moans sounded, in spite of your thighs encasing his ears.

“ja-jamie,” you cried to him. “i’m so-so close, please don’t stop! please don’t stop!” you back began to arch off the bed as his ministrations continued, his fingers pounding into your pussy as his lips continued to suck eagerly at your clit. “oh my FUCK, JAMES, YES!” you cried as your hips continued to grind into his face, riding out your orgasm as he refused to cease his actions on your body until you couldn’t take any more and were pulling him away.

he pressed feather-light kissed up your torso, paying special attention to your neck before he met his lips with yours once more. you sighed into his mouth as your arms were lazily thrown over his shoulders, pulling him even closer to you.

“that was amazing, jamie,” you heaved as he rested his forehead against yours. “i had no idea i could… y’know, that hard! it was intense…”

“i just ate you out and you still don’t want to say the words?” you shook your head rapidly as you tucked your face into his neck. “you came, y/n. you can say it out loud.” you felt his smile against your skin. “now i can officially say that you’re the sweetest thing ever.”

“jamie!” you shoved his shoulder lazily.

“you’re so cute when you get all flustered,” he brushed some of your hair from your face to watch you biting back your smile. “let me take you out? on a real date. i wanna give you what all the other nimrods ‘ve been to dumb to do themselves. wanna show you what you deserve to be treated like. will you let me show ya, doll?”

“you really wanna take me out?” you furrowed your brows. “i don’t mean that in like the killing way… not that you’d do that! i know that you’d never hurt me, i just phrased it weird and then i kinda got- y’know what? i’m gonna shut myself up this time before i get too stupid to even say the word ‘yes’. so, yes, i would love to go out with you, jamie.” you looked past bucky to avoid the further embarrassment from your incessant rambling.

he chuckled at your embarrassment in spite of being the most intimate you had ever been with anyone with him, you still got tongue tied when he asked you on a date. adorable, he thought as he got up, rushing to the bathroom to grab a washcloth, getting it damp before returning and wiping the mess from between your thighs.

"thank you," you closed your thighs as he sat beside you in bed once more. he lifted your arms so he could push his long forgotten shirt over your head to cover you up.

"any time," he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "how does next friday sound for you, doll?"

tags:

@sebas-ass

@nyctophilic0vitnir

@cjand10

@stinkerbelle007

@wilsons-striped-ties

@vicmc624

@ladyfreakingda

@kandis-mom

@charmedbysarge

@raelorns21

@hhiggs

536 notes · View notes

flannel-cladpika · 10 months

Text

Between the Lines of Fear and Blame - Gojo Satoru x GN! Reader

A/N: Inspired loosely by the song “How to Save a Life” by The Fray (hence the title). SLIGHT spoilers for ch.78.

TW: Parental Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Swearing

You hadn't had a good relationship with your father for most of your life.

The man was a well-respected jujutsu sorcerer, having become one of the most powerful special grade sorcerers at a rather young age. He went on to have a highly successful career in saving people and defeating special grade curses.

He'd met your grade 2 sorcerer mother on a group mission, and they got married a few years later, and they had you about 3 years into their marriage.

The first few years of your life were full of joy and laughter. Your mom taking you to the aquarium while your dad was on a mission; Your dad making you breakfast before walking you to your elementary school; Family outings to the park for picnics. It was the best childhood a kid could ask for.

At least, until a special grade killed your mother when you were 8 years old.

Your father had been away on assignment and had no knowledge of the incident until he returned home.

That day, the loving and kind man you'd always known, vanished. In his place, a bitter and hateful being was left.

Your father immediately started training you to become a jujutsu sorcerer, stating that if you stayed as weak as you were, you'd end up dead just like your mother. The man would drink whenever he could, only ever sobering up just enough to go out on a mission to get paid.

He'd yell at you for every little mistake you made, sometimes even slapping you across the face when you'd done an especially poor job in his eyes. He'd deny you dinner if he deemed your day's performance "not good enough".

Your father's coworkers had no idea what the man was like at home. He would act like a perfect single parent whenever you two were out in public, and he'd trained you well in the art of acting. He'd taught you the correct responses to their questions and how to fake a smile convincingly. He would brag about you inheriting both his and your mother's techniques, boasting about how you would surely become a great jujutsu sorcerer one day.

Everyone always bought his "proud father" act. No one ever suspected a thing, or at least, if they did they never said anything out of fear of your father's power and influence.

When you were able to leave your father's house and attend the Jujutsu high school in Tokyo, it was both freeing and horrifying.

What if you weren't strong enough? How many meals would you be denied? Would the instructors be upset with your silence like your other school teachers?

To say it took a while for you to trust anyone would be an understatement. What made things worse was that you'd never been allowed to have friends growing up, so you weren't used to having people that you could talk to.

It was nice. Sure, you still carried the mental scars your father left you with, but you had no intention of ever talking about those. You planned on leaving all that trauma and all those horrible memories behind you.

That was, until you met Gojo Satoru.

He was one of your fellow first-years who had a tonne of potential. He and Suguru Getou were both extremely talented, making even some of the most difficult training look easy.

Outside of classes though, they were like regular teenagers; goofing off, playing pranks, and even sneaking out to see the city.

Some mornings, you'd hear Ieiri groan exasperatedly, to which you would open your dorm door, only to see her throw some poor unsuspecting creature out of her room. They ranged from anywhere from Whip Spiders to Chipmunks. One time, a stray cat was even released into her room (probably Suguru's idea, as Gojo seemed to favour large insects and arachnids), which Ieiri kept around to get rid of anymore random critters that the two boys tried to let loose into her dorm. She named the cat "Hunter". He was a cute little apex predator and protected his domain well.

No one ever tried anything with you though. After you almost had a breakdown from finding a handful of centipedes in your bed, everyone agreed that you were maybe not a fun person to prank.

Instead, when your peers realized how shy and quiet you were, they tried to break you out of your shell. They would try to be friendly to you, greeting you in the morning and inviting you to have lunch with them, though no one pressured you.

Except Gojo.

The guy was fascinated by you. Here you were, the only offspring of one of the most powerful jujutsu sorcerers, yet you never mentioned your family. Everyone in the jujutsu world (at least in Japan) knew what happened to your mom - it was a big deal at the time and everyone knew to never bring it up - so he understood you not wanting to talk about her, but you never spoke of your father either.

He expected you to be some big shot powerful sorcerer with a boisterous personality and hoped you'd be a great sparing partner. He kind of expected you to be like himself, what with your background and having inherited both your family's techniques. Funnily enough, he only knew about your paternal one, "Eye of Ra", since you bore the same intricate birthmark as your father on your right eye, and your mother’s family hadn’t been as much of a big name as your father’s. He knew your technique allowed you to manipulate light, which meant you could do anything from blinding others to even creating visual illusions. If you wanted to, you could absorb the light in a room and turn it into physical weapons, like create swords of light that could deal physical damage.

Gojo expected you to be a confident and powerful ass-kicking badass with a take-no-shit attitude that he could riff off of.

But instead, he met you.

This timid little creature that flinched at the sound of someone raising their voice and who barely ever spoke. You were reluctant to use your powers around others, which baffled the male. Why would you want to hide your powers? Had you not mastered them already? Why would you shy away from others when they got angry? Were you really THAT weak?

Yet, despite appearances, whenever you were sent on a solo mission, you always came back successful and unscathed, even against grade 2 curses. You never boasted about how easy the task was or how great a job you'd done. Instead, you'd just report as was standard protocol, and scurry off to your room without a word to anyone.

Everything about you was just so...unexpected. Gojo had so many questions and no answers, which made him even MORE intrigued.

So, the white-haired male would follow you.

Not in a stalker-y way; he let you know he was there. He'd walk with you around campus, volunteer to be paired with you during one-on-one training, even offer to study with you during breaks. The guy wouldn't leave you alone.

Eventually, Gojo got tired of you turning down his offers to hang-out together and instead would just drag you to wherever he had planned to go. He'd drag you to the library for study sessions, to the city for bubble tea, even out to the movies with snacks hidden in his pockets. He just wanted the chance to observe you and your reactions.

At first, you found his actions to be terrifying. What if he was dragging you away to a place where no one could witness him hurting you? What if he was trying to get you to let your guard down so he could attack you? What if he only wanted to use you to gain your father's favour?

Clearly, your past wasn't behind you.

Gojo was trying to get you to open up so he could learn more about his new favourite fascination, but as he did so, he also slowly began seeing you as a friend. You were a great listener, often sitting through his long rants about everything and nothing. He found it nice to know that you would come to him with questions about curses and normal teenager things.

He thought it was very odd that you knew almost nothing about regular life as a teen. What rock had you been living under? You hadn't seen any of the latest TV shows, had only seen like 4 movies, and had no idea what a "bff" was, among a long list of other such mundane things that Gojo had assumed everyone his age was aware of. This all only piqued his curiosity further.

After the first few months of Gojo's attempts to get closer to you, you slowly started to become more comfortable around him. Eventually, you got to the point where you were no longer scared to speak your mind with him, which gradually started to apply to others. You began talking more in and outside of class, even asking how other people's days had been (which was a big step for you, as it had previously taken everything in you not to run away whenever someone called out to you).

By the time 2nd year rolled around, you'd managed to gain 3 new friends and a significant confidence boost. It certainly helped that you also decided to stay in Tokyo instead of going back home. Everything was turning out great.

Until your father came to visit for a guest teacher lesson. All that time away from the old man had caused your acting skills to get a little rusty, but you still did your best to act like nothing was wrong, even when you were terrified.

Everyone was in awe of him, after all, he was like a celebrity with how well-known and powerful he was. They were all impressed by his strength and charisma which were on full display when he demonstrated difficult tactics for taking down multiple high-ranked curses at once and when he helped out with teaching curse anatomy.

To your peers, the man seemed as though he could do no wrong. He was strong and knowledgeable, with a healthy dose of respect for the school’s staff and principal, whom he chatted with as though they were old friends.

And of course, he played the part of a doting father perfectly, even giving you a big hug when he saw you for the first time, squeezing just a bit tighter than he needed to. Everyone fell for his award-winning act.

Except Gojo.

Gojo Satoru had a deep respect for the strong and powerful man who had saved hundreds, if not thousands of people, and at first noticed nothing out of the ordinary with you and your dad's relationship. It was natural that you'd avoid your parent when they came to your school. Afterall, what kid would want to be embarrassed in front of their friends by their clearly loving and over-praising parent?

However, it wasn't until Gojo actually started to observe how you acted around your dad that he started to grow suspicious.

It was the little things that most people wouldn't have noticed. You'd flinch just the tiniest bit whenever your old man placed his hand on your shoulder or patted your head. Your eyes would widen slightly in what sort of looked like fear whenever the guy would call your name. And whenever the older male asked to see you later, your hands would start to tremble a little.

As Gojo put on his dark purple sweatshirt and a black pair of jogging pants after a long day of training, he realized there were just too many things that didn't add up. Why did it seem like you were afrai-?

That was when the pieces started to fall into place.

The way you refused to go home for school holidays or summer break; The way you flinched at every move when you first transferred; Hell, even the way you stayed quiet and got spooked every time someone called out to you. It was all starting to make sense. It all pointed to a very dark and alarming conclusion.

And it was starting to make Satoru's blood boil.

HOW DID I NOT SEE IT?! The white-haired boy thought to himself as he ran towards your dorm room. He'd heard your dad ask to see you after class today, and after the realization he just came to, he knew he had to go check on you.

You were his friend, 2nd only to Suguru in terms of how close you two were. You listened to all his bullshit and his issues with his own family. You noticed whenever he was hiding something, being almost as observant as he was, and you were always there to hear him out or lift him up when no one was around and Suguru was off doing gods-know-what.

How could he have been so blind to something that now seemed so glaringly obvious?

The six eyes wielder ran faster at that thought. He needed to check on you. He needed to make sure you were ok.

By the time Satoru reached your door, it was dark out. Being his usual brash self, he immediately swung open the door without so much as a knock, worried that you were injured after seeing your old man.

What Gojo saw before him both worried and baffled him beyond anything he could've expected.

There you were, on the floor, hunched over, with the only light sources being your bedside lamp and the faint glow of the full moon. You were clad in a black tank top and loose gray running shorts, one knee brought close to your chest while the other leg was stretched out. Gojo could see the sweat glistening off your skin as your left hand stilled in it's rummaging through your drawer for pain medicine.

There were large red marks the size of fists on your arms that seemed to have already started to bruise. There were scrapes and cuts on your knees that looked pretty bad, and your hair looked like it had just been through a wind-tunnel.

You looked up when you heard the door open, pure terror in your glassy eyes as you feared your father had followed you, although he'd never done so before. The man only ever let you go when he felt your punishment for that particular infraction was finished, and never a second less. If he felt you hadn’t been punished enough, he wouldn’t have let you go in the first place.

Satoru's eyes widened in shock once he took in the sight of your face. The face that usually greeted him with a smile at the start of classes first thing every morning, was now so hard to recognize.

There was a dark mark around your right eye that looked a bit swollen and encompassed your "Eye of Ra" birthmark. Your lips were busted, a cut running down both of them on left side of your mouth. Your left cheek was screaming red with a barely-there outline of a large hand.

And yet, your injuries were only one of the two things that had the Limitless user stunned.

Yes, he was very concerned and worried about your current physical state, but the second thing he'd noticed was what gave him pause.

A warm and inviting indigo glow that Satoru didn't recognize was emanating from your right hand, which was hovering over one of your knees.

That was new... Last he checked, that wasn't what your technique looked like...

Your terrified expression seemed to relax for a moment once you realized who had entered your room. However, you soon panicked as you tried to think of a way to explain your injuries without actually telling the truth. Dammit! You had planned on having fixed yourself up before morning classes.

You decided to just wing it. "O-Oh! Hey, Satoru! I-uh- just got back from a jog! I fell on my way up the stairs to get back to campus, so I was just treating myself with this handy-dandy first-aid ki-"

"Did your old man do this to you?" the male asked seriously, though his tone was careful and non-threatening. He wasn't trying to press you for answers if you really didn't want to give any, but he also really hoped you’d tell him.

Your eyes widened in surprise before a pensive expression crossed your face. You stayed silent for a moment as you looked away from your best friend, and instead focused on your knee as the indigo light coming from your hand grew a bit brighter.

Gojo walked towards you and sat down near you, giving you your space but still letting you know he was there. The snowy-haired male watched in awe as the wounds on your knee began to heal under the soft glowing light that came from your palm.

After you finished healing both your legs (with Gojo watching in fascination the whole time), you finally spoke.

"....Yeah. He did." You say wearily. You sounded tired and defeated.

The teen looked up at the sound of your voice, but you kept your eyes on your work. You scooted backward until your back rested against the side of your mattress.

You then raised your other hand from the floor and it too began producing an indigo light. You started to hover your hands over each of the new injuries, going one at a time, the worse ones taking a bit longer. Satoru spoke up as you continued.

"How long has it been like this?" he asked, concern seeping into his tone.

You let out a shaky sigh as another tear falls from your eye.

"He's been like this ever since mom died. He's always making sure I'm doing everything right. He trained me everyday, and said that friends are just distractions, as are movies and television. He said that if I didn't become stronger, I'll just end up in the stomach of some curse."

You tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself. It didn't help.

"But he's.... he's never punched me before... Usually, it's just face slaps and hair-tugging. He said I deserved it for how bad I did today; For how much of an embarrassment I am to him. Said that my mother would be ashamed of me if she saw how weak I am...." you explained while slowly healing your would-be black eye. Your voice trembled as the tears started to build up again.

“Is he why you don’t really use your technique around others?” Gojo asked. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

You nodded. “I don’t want others to see how bad I am with my powers. I don’t want them to know I’m just...”

You stopped healing yourself and finally looked up at Gojo to meet his gaze through the dark circular shades he always wore. You looked at yourself reflected in the black glass.

All you saw was a weak little child staring back at you; a child with no skills and no use.

"I-I'm r-really weak... a-aren't I?" you smiled bitterly, tears streaming down your cheeks as your gaze moved back to the floor.

"I'm not the smartest or the strongest or the most clever. It takes so much for me to create a domain that I can b-barely sustain for more than 5 minutes. I-I'm only good with my studies b-because you and Shoko help me c-constantly. I'm always a nervous-wreck around others t-too, like some scared little m-mouse. I’m just...I'm just a weakling..." you stated, keeping your eyes trained on the floor boards.

You then heard the sorcerer-in-training step closer to you and take a seat on the bed you were leaning against. There was a long pause that followed the movement, creating an awkward atmosphere.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Gojo spoke up.

“You’ve never been a weakling.” he stated honestly.

You looked back at your white-haired classmate, an incredulous look on your face as tears continued to fall.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Gojo.” you said.

“Do I look like a liar to you?” the boy asked jokingly, softly nudging you with his knee.

You laughed a bit. “Yes. You look like the poster child for liars.” you replied with mirth in your voice.

Gojo let out a few laughs.

“Well, you got me there.” he responded with a chuckle that soon died. “But I’m not lying about this.”

The boy behind you lifted off the bed, removing his shades as he lowered himself into a seated position beside you.

“You are not useless. You never have been. I’ve seen you on the training grounds. I’ve seen how well you handle yourself with and without weapons. You’ve survived solo missions against grade 2 curses and-”

“Gojo, you’ve taken out curses that are grade 1, though. My dispatching a few grade 2′s is nothing compared to yo-”

The aforementioned male put a finger to your mouth, effectively stopping you.

“You shouldn’t interrupt people, (Y/n). Some might consider it rude~.” he said teasingly. You huffed but remained silent.

“As I was saying,” he continued, removing his finger from your face.

“You’ve managed to utterly crush many grade 2 curses, even outdoing me in number of curses exorcised. You’ve managed to make it through your father’s abuse and the trauma that came with that, and still become a powerful sorcerer. Hell, from what I’ve seen, you have another ability that you’ve yet to show anyone! By the way, what ability is that?” Gojo asked, his curiosity having finally caught up with him and causing him to de-rail his own speech.

You sighed as you looked at your hand, activating the indigo aura once again and hovering your hand over a bruise on your left arm. The boy next to you watched your movements with interest.

“It’s the family technique that I got from my mother. I never learned the name of it, but I know that it allows me to heal myself and others, though I don’t use it often. My father never really let me near my mother’s family, saying that he had no intentions of letting their “weakness” rub off on me. So, I never got to learn much about this power. I think he just didn’t want them to see me like this and take me away from him.” you said, a look of melancholy overtaking your features.

“My dad hates whenever he sees me using it, so I don’t do it out in the open if I can help it. I think because it reminds him of my mom, and then he’s reminded of her death.”

Gojo’s eyes remained focused on the glow emanating from your palm.

“Have you ever thought of fighting back?” he asked nonchalantly.

You turned quickly to the male next to you, a look of pure shock and terror plastered on your face.

“What?!”

The blue-eyed boy shrugged. “I’m just saying. If he were my old man, I’d punch his lights out.”

You stared at the boy beside you.

“Are you kidding? He’s a renowned sorcerer who has the respect of the whole jujutsu community, and not to mention decades of experience that I don’t have. You seriously expect me to just go up to the man and say 'I challenge you to a fight you damn bastard'? What are you thinking?!” you exclaimed.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll do it for you.” Gojo replied, expression unreadable

You chuckled. “That’s kind of you, but I can’t ask that of anyone, let alone a frien-” you began.

“I mean it, (Y/N). I don’t care if he’s the damn Messiah himself. He can’t be allowed to get away with what he’s done to you. This ends now.” Gojo stated, about to get up.

Your eyes widened at the realization that Gojo was completely serious. You reached out your hand to grab his sweatshirt sleeve, stopping him.

“Wait! Don’t! Please...” you pleaded, worry and alarm evident in your eyes.

Gojo looked back at you with a look of frustration.

“Are you seriously defending a man that just beat the hell out of you?” he asked. The words came out harsher than he’d meant them. He was about to apologize, but you spoke before he could.

“I don’t care about him, I’m worried about you! Gojo, you can’t face him. He’s got so much more experience and power. You can’t beat him! What do you think he’ll do when he finds out that someone else knows about he’s done? Do you think he’ll leave you alive to tell others?!” you shouted, scared of what would happen if Gojo went to your father. You finally had a friend that you could trust. You didn’t want that to be taken away.

Gojo simply smirked at your words. “Believe me, I won’t let myself be killed by someone like him.” he stated confidently.

You looked to the ground, letting go of the purple sleeve reluctantly.

“...he had surgery on his left knee last year. And he just recovered from his carpal tunnel.” you muttered, just loud enough for the boy to hear.

Gojo looked back at you with wide eyes before his expression softened a bit.

“Thanks for the tips. I’ll keep those in mind.” he said, a small smile gracing his lips as he knelt back down to be face-to-face with you before placing his hands on your shoulders, causing you to bring your eyes up to meet his.

“I’m gonna make sure he’s never going to hurt you again. You hear me?”

You nodded as a small flicker of hope started to grow in your chest. Maybe Gojo could really do this. He was one of the strongest people you knew and if anyone could defeat your father, it was him.

With your silent confirmation, the white-haired male stood and made his way to the door. Before exiting, he looked back one more time.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” he said, waving at you with a confident grin before walking out the door.

You waved back at the empty space, the fatigue from using your technique so much finally taking it’s toll on you. You tried to stay awake, worried for your friend, but your eyelids kept drooping and your blinks kept getting slower.

Eventually, you fell asleep right where you sat.

~Short Timeskip~

When Gojo arrived back at your room an hour and a half later, battered and bruised, he was surprised to find you off in dreamland in the same spot he’d left you in.

Gojo had defeated your father and called an ambulance for him, as he’d kind of beaten the guy bloody and knocked him unconscious. He’d also gone through the guy’s phone and found under the blocked numbers, your mother’s family.

He called the main house and told them everything. Sure it was the middle of the night, but from the sounds of their reactions they didn’t mind. Apparently, they’d suspected something had been going on for a while. They just never had proof of any wrongdoing by your father that would give them custody of you.

With your abusive father and future living situation all taken care of, Gojo decided to head back to your room to deliver the good news.

However, when he was greeted with the sight of you fast asleep with your back against the side of your mattress, he couldn’t help but smile a little. You just looked too precious.

He pulled back the blankets on your bed as quietly as possible. Then, with what strength he had left, Gojo carefully picked you up bridal style and placed you onto you bed.

However, just as he was about to leave, your hand gently reached out and grasped his sleeve.

The blue-eyed boy turned around expecting to see you awake, only to find that you were still letting out tiny snores.

He sighed before trying to pull out of your hold, only to find that your grip on his sweatshirt got tighter.

The boy could only chuckle at your unconscious behavior as he came to your side and sat on the bed. Eventually, he managed to reconfigure your positions so that he was laying next to you with his sleeve still in your grasp and the covers over both of you.

“You’re safe now.” he said as he turned to face you, his unoccupied arm coming up to stroke your hair.

In your sleep, you let out a small hum as your lips curled into a soft smile.

It wasn’t the end of your problems. You still had a long road ahead of you, but it was a good first step. And now, you had someone you could trust who would be there to lend a hand you when you needed it.

-THE END-

A/N: I’ve never written for Gojo before, so I’m super sorry if he’s OOC. I tried my best though. I’m happy that I’ve finally finished this dang thing, though I’m sorry to all my people who wanted more fluffy things, but this song never really felt like a love song to me, and I wanted to stick to the vibes of the song.

#jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojō x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #gender neutral reader #gn reader

425 notes · View notes

infamous-light · 2 months

Text

Captured Part VI

Dark! Wandanat x Villain/Mutant! F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

AO3: Captured

Summary: You and your mutant friends have been in hiding due to the havoc you all wreaked over the past few years. One day, you all decided to make your presence known and rob one of the largest federal reserve banks in the U.S.

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned for you.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: Allusion to non-con (it's not explicit), mind manipulation, kidnapping

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the broken windows of an abandoned rowhouse, you slouched in an old armchair, its once plush fabric now tattered and worn. Your fingers idly traced the frayed edges as you listened to the murmurs of your friends surrounding you.

To your left, Caleb paced back and forth, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands standing on end with static. Wes leaned against the back wall, idly flipping a switchblade open and closed.

Aria sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, her fingers flying across the keys of her laptop, the screen casting a faint glow on her face. Ellie stood by one of the windows, peering out into the darkening neighborhood, her expression unreadable.

“We need a lot of cash, and we need it fast,” Caleb muttered, rubbing his temples in frustration. “We've got debts to some dangerous people, and you know they're not the patient type.”

Wes nodded solemnly. “We could always hit up another drug stash.”

Ellie shook her head. “We've hit up every dealer in Baltimore already. We need something bigger. Something that can last us long term.”

“True. I guess we can't keep relying on small-time gigs.” Wes added, his brow furrowing in contemplation.

The air grew heavy with desperation as everyone racked their brains for a solution. And then, like a beacon of hope in the darkness, Caleb's suggestion cut through the silence.

“What about the Federal Reserve Bank in New York?” He said, his voice tinged with excitement.

Your heart skipped a beat as the weight of his proposal sank in. The Federal Reserve Bank. One of the most heavily guarded institutions in New York City.

Your eyebrows rose as you glanced at Caleb. “The Fed? Seriously?”

“Yeah, think about it,” Ellie chimed in. “All that money just sitting there, waiting for someone to take it.”

“Hold on just a moment,” Aria interjected. “The federal reserve doesn’t actually hold cash.”

A collective sigh rippled through the group, and Caleb threw his hands in the air in frustration.

“Well, there goes my idea.” He grumbled.

Aria held up a hand, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. “But it does hold something far better. Gold bars. Thousands of them.”

That revelation sparked a renewed fervor among everyone.

“We'd just need a solid plan,” you said cautiously, trying to sound practical despite the excitement building inside of you. “If we manage to pull this off, we have to leave the country as soon as possible. We'll need to lay low for a couple of years again. Is that a risk we're all willing to take?”

The weight of your words hung heavy in the stale air of the building. But the lure of the heist, the promise of freedom and wealth, overshadowed any doubts.

“What places are you thinking of?” Wes asked.

“Well, we could stay in Belarus or Slovakia for a start and then go from there.” You replied, giving him a half shrug.

Aria nodded thoughtfully; her expression serious as she considered the logistics. “Yeah, those countries could work. We'd need a safe house, somewhere off the grid.”

You leaned back into the armchair, its worn upholstery creaking beneath you, and gave your friends a grin.

“So, let's hear it then. How do you propose we pull off the heist of the century?”

***

You stirred from your slumber, feeling the gentle sway of someone shaking your shoulder. Slowly, you blinked your eyes open to see Wanda leaning over you with a smile. She was wearing a flowing sundress, the fabric rustling around her as she shifted on her feet.

“Wake up, darling.” Wanda whispered, her voice a soothing melody that pulled you from the depths of sleep.

Groggily, you stretched and yawned. As your senses came back to life, you realized you had dozed off on the couch, the television playing an ad in the background. Wanda leaned in a little closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheek.

“It's almost dinner time,” she said. “Are you hungry? Would you like us to fix you something to eat?”

You nodded mechanically, more out of habit than genuine hunger. Your gaze drifted past Wanda's shoulder to the clock on the wall. Its hands moved steadily, showing the time to be 4:50 PM.

With a small sigh, you realized how much of the day has already slipped by unnoticed.

“I think I'll go take a shower.” You murmured.

The words were heavy on your tongue as you pushed yourself up from the couch. Wanda nodded understandingly, her expression warm and patient as she gave you space to gather yourself.

“Of course, take your time.” Her gaze lingered on you for a moment before she straightened up.

Your eyes shifted across the living room, and you noticed that Natasha sat at a nearby table, engrossed in her laptop. The sight of Natasha on her laptop triggered a sharp pain in your skull, and suddenly, the image of Aria sitting in front of her own laptop in your dream came rushing back to you.

For a moment, you found yourself frozen in place.

You stood there, lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts. Natasha's gaze lifted from her laptop; her expression inscrutable as she met your eyes.

She broke the silence, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of restraint. “Do you need something?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

“Uh-no, I'm just feeling pretty tired.” You replied, your voice slightly hoarse.

“Alright.” Natasha said plainly.

She returned her attention to the screen, seemingly unperturbed by the exchange.

Feeling Wanda's light touch on your left shoulder, you looked up to meet her gaze, only to find her giving you a strange look.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, her voice laced with genuine worry. “You seem... distant.”

You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it felt forced on your lips.

“I'm okay. I think I stood up too quickly.”

Wanda studied you for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, before nodding slowly.

“Alright,” she said, her tone gentle yet firm. “Go take a shower. It might help you feel more awake.”

You offered her a grateful nod before leaving the room, the weight of uncertainty still heavy on your mind.

With each step toward the bedroom, the remnants of the dream clung stubbornly to your mind, like tendrils of fog refusing to dissipate. The hallway stretched out before you and you soon reached the center where it split into two. You found yourself at a crossroads, both figuratively and literally.

You glanced down the hallway to the right, where the dim light revealed a series of closed doors leading to other rooms. You didn't have the chance to wander down it last time. Your mind flickered with the idea of discovering more about your surroundings, searching for potential escape exits or hidden passages.

As you looked back toward the living room door, you caught the sound of Wanda and Natasha talking, their voices mingling as they discussed what you all should have for dinner.

No.

There wouldn’t be enough time to do what you needed to do. With a heavy sigh, you pushed aside the urge to snoop around and instead made your way to the bedroom.

As you entered, your eyes drifted toward the only window in the bedroom. Memories of examining the window in the storage room flickered briefly in your thoughts. You approached the window, your hand hovering over it. You placed your palm flat against the cool surface, feeling the smoothness of the glass beneath your touch. But as you did, a sense of disappointment built up within you.

It was made of the same tempered glass as the storage window. Despite the discouragement, you wouldn’t give up. You turned away from the windowsill and stepped into the bathroom, intent on taking a refreshing shower to help clear your mind.

***

You sat at the dinner table, your fork clinking against the plate as you absentmindedly pushed the food around. Wanda was to your right, her expression content as she delicately picked at her own meal. Natasha sat across from you, her gaze fixed on her plate.

Despite the palpable atmosphere, Wanda remained unfazed, engaging you in conversation as if everything was normal.

“Are you enjoying your meal, honey?” Wanda asked, her voice warm and inviting.

You glanced at Natasha, catching her eye for a moment before turning your attention back to Wanda.

“Yeah, it's great.” You said, attempting to sound cheerful.

Wanda's smile faltered for a brief moment, a hint of doubt flickering in her eyes before she smoothed it away with practiced ease. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, wishing for this tension between you and Natasha to end sooner rather than later.

As dinner came to an end, you started to stand, ready to help with the cleanup, but Wanda stopped you with a gentle touch on your arm. “There’s no need to worry about that. Why don't you pick out something for us to watch while we take care of this?”

You hesitated for a moment, but you nodded, grateful for Wanda's gesture to get you out of this situation.

“Sure.”

You headed to the living room, leaving Wanda and Natasha to clean up the remnants of dinner.

Once you entered the living room, you noticed that the couch lacked its usual array of cozy blankets. It seemed oddly bare without them. With a mental note to grab some from the nearby closet, you reached for the remote and scrolled through the options on one of the streaming services.

You paused, your finger hovering over the OK button as you debated between a classic comedy or a gripping thriller. Eventually, you settled on ALF, hoping its humor would help lighten the mood.

With the TV show playing in the background, you made your way over to the closet and opened the door. The hinges creaked as the door swung open, revealing a bunch of blankets and throws neatly folded on the shelves.

You reached in, your fingers grazing the soft fabric as you searched for just the right one to bring back to the couch. You selected a blanket large enough to cover you all, its warmth already promising to chase away the chill that seemed to permeate the room.

Closing the closet door, you sighed, ready to get the night over with. But just as you were about to turn around, the TV suddenly turned off, casting the room into unexpected darkness. Startled, you froze, the blankets slipping from your grasp.

Heart pounding, you slowly turned the rest of the way, your eyes widening as you caught sight of Natasha standing by the couch. You could see the faint outline of her features, illuminated by the glow of the hallway light filtering through the partially closed door.

“Natasha,” your voice trembled slightly, surprised by her sudden appearance. “Is everything okay?”

Natasha's piercing gaze was fixed on you, her eyes burning with a mixture of anger and wounded pride. A cold chill swept through the room, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that whatever was happening was far from over.

Without a word, she advanced toward you. You took a step back, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“You think you can just deny me?” Natasha's voice cut through the silence like a knife, her tone dripping with venomous contempt.

Before you could respond, Natasha closed the distance between you two in an instant, her hand shooting out to grab your arm in a vice-like grip. The suddenness of it all caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but wince as a jolt of pain shot through your forearm. Her grip was like iron, the force of it leaving bruises to already bloom beneath her fingertips.

“Please, Natasha, stop! You’re hurting me!” You cried out, trying to wrench your arm free from her grasp.

Natasha's grip only tightened, her nails digging into your skin with cruel determination.

With a swift motion, she shoved you backward, sending you stumbling against the couch with a startled gasp. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you braced yourself for another attack. Instead, Natasha loomed over you, her expression twisted into a mask of rage and frustration.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Natasha demanded as she folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes pierced into yours with an intensity that made you squirm internally.

You wanted to resist her control, to break free from this terrible situation. But on the other hand, there was a nagging fear low in your gut, a fear of what she was capable of if you dared to defy her.

“I-I'm just nervous.” You forced out, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. Your palms felt clammy, and you resisted the urge to fidget under her scrutiny.

“I can tell.” Natasha retorted, her tone dry and devoid of sympathy.

“It’s just-I’m not used to doing this kind of thing.” You confessed, the admission leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Well, you'll get used to it.” Natasha said as she stepped closer. Her hand reached out, fingers tracing a path along your jawline. You shivered under her touch.

“You need to relax,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “You'll enjoy it, I promise.”

A surge of nausea churned in your stomach, bile rising in your throat at the implication of her words. The thought of succumbing to Natasha's desires against your will filled you with a deep, primal dread.

Natasha’s movements were deliberate as she moved to straddle your hips, pinning your body against the couch. Every inch of your body screamed at you to fight back, to push her away, but you forced yourself to remain still. Her lips then curled into a predatory smirk, her eyes alight with desire.

Natasha leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. “You can't stay nervous forever.” She whispered.

Her hands roamed your body with possessive urgency, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your skin crawled beneath her fingertips, and you fought the urge to recoil. Tears began to well up in your eyes as Natasha's lips brushed against your pulse point.

A wave of revulsion crashed over you, accompanied by a sickening sense of resignation. The line between desire and coercion blurred, leaving you trapped in a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #marvel #scarlet witch #natasha romanov #dark wanda x reader #dark natasha x reader #wandanat x reader #scarlet witch x reader

101 notes · View notes

doc-pickles · 4 months

Text

sent to save me | sidney crosby (ch. 2)

series masterlist

summary: sid grapples with his emotions and talks with annie before visiting the malkin’s newest addition

warnings: none! :)

author’s note: Hey y’all! I’m so happy you’re enjoying this series already. I’m super excited to write it out and give it some body. Hope you like this chapter!

xoxo

nina

The first time Sidney Crosby met Annie Wright she spilled coffee all over him.

“Shit I’m so sorry I wasn’t watching and my phone rang and-,” Annie had paused and looked up at Sidney with wide eyes. “And now the tabloids are going to rake me through the mud for trying to take out Pittsburgh’s Golden Boy.”

Sid chuckled and looked down at his shirt with a grin, “S’okay. It was an accident. Unless you purposely spill coffee on strangers.”

The wide grin that Annie gave Sidney is one he still pictures to this day. Her hair was in a high ponytail, her face freckled from the summer sun. He compares that image with the version of Annie standing in front of him now. She looks sad, worn down even. This is not his Annie.

They’re both standing speechless across from each other and for a moment it feels like no time has passed. But then Sid blinks and his world comes crashing back down around him.

“Is Vivie mine?” Sid’s not sure where his words come from. It feels like he’s not even the one saying them, like he’s watching the scene unfold before him from outside of his body. “I need you to tell me, I need to hear it from your lips. Is she mine?”

Annie’s eyes search his face for a moment before she nods and answers in a quiet voice, “Yes she’s your daughter Sidney.”

His hands run over his face, through his hair, covers his eyes. Sid sucks in a deep breath and immediately feels his sandwich from earlier coming back up. He quickly turns around and pukes into the bush there, chest heaving as he braces his hands on his knees.

He has a daughter.

A daughter who’s first seven years of life he’s missed.

A daughter with the only woman he’s ever loved.

When he’s sure that he’s not going to throw up again Sid stands up, takes a deep breath, and turns to Annie. Her teeth are digging into her lip, a nervous habit she’s always had, and even though he has a million conflicted emotions about her Sid finds all he wants to do right now is smooth out the skin of Annie’s lips like he used to.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” Annie breathes and runs a hand through her blonde locks. “Which isn’t fair to you I know but I wasn’t exactly expecting to run into you when I woke up today. Damn it, I’m sorry I know you’re expecting answers but I can’t… I can’t think straight. I’m sorry.”

Sid sighs and nods, “I get it. I’m, uh, pretty speechless too.” He runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair, clocking Annie’s eyes following his hand. “I have Niki for a few days but maybe… Maybe we could meet up and talk?”

Annie only hesitates for a moment before nodding, her shoulders loosening just a little bit, “That… Yeah that would be good.”

They stand there awkwardly for a few moments as if they’d never been madly in love and on the verge of spending their lives together. Finally Sidney is the one to break the silence as his fingers twitch at his sides.

“Vivie is all Nikita talks about,” Sid smirks at the small laugh that Annie lets out. “Seriously, he spent 20 minutes this morning telling me about why blue and purple are her favorite colors.”

Annie rolls her eyes playfully before smirking, “Yeah that sounds right. Annie and him have been inseparable since they met in kindergarten. Hold on, I have this one picture…”

As Annie pulls her phone out Sidney drinks in her casual appearance, a pair of frayed jeans with a white tee tucked into it. She’s just as gorgeous as she’s always been and it makes Sid’s chest constrict tightly despite the anger and sadness still lingering there.

“Here! They wanted matching costumes so they decided to be Woody and Jessie,” Annie holds her phone and shows Sid a photo of Nikita and Vivie, arms wrapped around each other. It’s clearly from a few years ago, both of them sporting chubby cheeks and bright eyes. Sid takes in the way Vivie’s eyes look so much like his, the way her chin is a perfect replica of his.

There’s emotion overflowing in his chest and Sid finds he has to look away so he doesn’t start crying in front of a fucking elementary school right after throwing up there. He clears his throat and looks away from Annie’s phone, “She’s beautiful, An. Is, uh, is Vivie short for something?”

“Her full name is Vivienne,” Annie whispers as she watches her phone intently. “Um… Vivienne Taylor.”

Sidney felt his heart clench at Annie’s words, knowing she’d thought of him when naming their daughter. He let out a slow breath, willing back his tears once more before nodding, “That’s… Thank you.”

Annie and Sid exchange numbers before parting ways and as soon as he’s behind the wheel of his SUV Sidney lets out a ragged breath followed by a low sob.

“Mama! Papa!”

Sid’s been on auto pilot since his run in with Annie this morning, but Nikita’s yell breaks him out of his haze momentarily. He follows the boy into the hospital room, watching as Geno lifts his son into his arms and kisses his hair.

That should be you with your daughter.

Shaking the thought off Sid sets the flowers he’d brought on the bedside table before coming over to hug Anya, kissing her forehead.

“You look great for just having pushed a baby out,” Sid teases lightly, but his grin doesn’t reach his eyes.

“She big like her papa, nearly tore me in half,” Anya grins up at Sid before looking to the bundle in her arms. “You wanna hold?”

He agrees instinctively and carefully takes the baby from Anna. Her little face is scrunched up and Sid can already see wisps of dark hair peeking out from her cap. Gently running a finger down her chubby cheek Sid thinks about his own daughter and how he never got this moment with her. Hell he’d never even hugged the girl and she was already seven years old.

“Sid why you crying, it’s just baby,” Geno teases as he sidles up next to him. He looks him over before lowering his voice. “You okay?”

Sidney nods and stares at the baby for another moment before speaking, “I met Vivie today. And her mom.”

Geno grunts, his eyes trained on his daughter, “Mom never around when I am. Anya think she’s avoiding me, don’t know why though.”

“Vivie’s mom is Annie,” Sid pauses and then looks up at Geno, whose face has gone white. “My Annie.”

The two men stand in silence, Nikita chattering to his mom in the background. Sid and Geno keep their eyes locked on the baby in Sid’s arms as they come to terms with the bomb that had been dropped on them. Annie had left before Anya had moved to Pittsburgh, it was reasonable she wouldn’t know who she was. But Geno would have and Annie knew that.

“Sid is…,” Geno looks scared to utter the words as he meets Sid’s eyes. “Vivie?”

Sid simply nods, Geno exhaling and running a hand over his face. The baby fusses a bit and Sidney immediately starts to rock back and forth, bouncing on his heels and soothing her.

“You’re natural Sid,” Anya muses with a grin, missing the wince Geno lets out. “When you have your own babies?”

“Anya,” Geno says lowly and though he can’t understand it, Sid knows that whatever he says in Russian is enough for Anna to get that she shouldn’t ask more questions.

Later that night after he’s tucked Nikita into bed Sid checks his phone, a glass of scotch in one hand as he sinks into the couch. He has a few texts but there’s only one he clicks into.

Unknown: hey it’s annie. let me know when a good time for you to meet up is, i’m flexible.

And then, as if knowing his heart didn’t need to take anymore hits today, Annie sends a photo of Vivie fast asleep in her bed with a stuffed penguin tucked under her chin.

And Sidney finally lets his tears fall.

#Sidney crosby #Sidney crosby fic #Sidney crosby fanfic #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nina writes

101 notes · View notes

eddies-house · 8 months

Text

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Five - Cold Eggs

W/C: 6K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mentions of drinking

Some early morning honesty on the rocks. Eddie is fucked. In every sense other than literal.

A/N: I'm getting giddy over these two please tell me yall feel the same

Masterlist

Prev | Next

The Munson bachelor pad wasn’t as boyish and messy as you initially thought. You were sober enough to make that observation. It was cozy, much like your own home and was around the same size. The kitchen was probably the messiest part of it however you didn’t get a peek at the bedroom which you assumed could also be very disheveled. There were cereal boxes left open on the counter, Cocoa Pebbles being the one that caught your eye along with a neglected box of Rice Krispies that laid on its side.

A few too many pots and pans cluttered the stove top and some empty cans of soup and Spaghettios were left to collect dust near the sink. His refrigerator held a collection of magnets, some being letters from the alphabet, although quite a few were missing, and others were ads from a pizza place and a few fruits and vegetables with cartoony faces. Among the mess on the counters, you also noted a few empty liters of soda and some crushed beer cans. Budweiser to be specific.

Other than that, the living room you’d been sitting in was tidy. There was a clearly used checkered blanket bunched up on the corner of the couch you’d been occupying for the past several minutes and a few car catalogs littering the coffee table along with a copy of Lord of the Rings, bookmarked with a coupon for ground beef clipped from the local ads. Next to that, an ash tray nearly overflowed.

His wallpaper wasn’t as ugly as yours, which you envied. It was maroon with even darker stripes alternating, creating a dark but homey atmosphere. The wall sconces on the other hand, we’re tacky. They looked more medieval than anything, almost like torches. The light wood floors contrasted with the walls and at your feet was a frayed rug that looked like it had seen better days. Not dirty, just tattered.

In the corner sat an acoustic guitar painted with the words ‘this machine slays dragons’ and next to it was an electric guitar, red with cracks of black. You’d never seen one like it before and it seemed to be well loved from what you’d heard every day, the endless guitar solos bleeding into your eardrums daily. At least he was getting his money's worth out of it.

You continued eyeing your surroundings, taking in the habitat that was Eddie Munson’s home when your gaze lands on a particular object that piqued your interest. It sat atop a shelf near the door, a lonely Garfield mug.

Before you could further examine the mug or even think of reasons as to why it was displayed, if it was even displayed, or perhaps it was abandoned in a hurry out the door, Eddie emerges from the bathroom just off the living room. His curls are now wet ringlets toward the bottom, and instead of wearing your puke, he wears a red sweatshirt that reads ‘Indianapolis, Indiana’ on the front along with some baggy black sweats. Despite his comfy clothes, his face is still decorated with that grouchy frown you’d grown used to. Did this man ever relax his face? His eyebrows were still pinched together either in thought or in irritation.

“I-um, I’ll wash the shirt and um the–the boots.” You stutter, rapidly standing from your perch at the edge of his couch.

Though still a little tipsy, more coherent thoughts flooded your mind. Guilt plagued you as you thought about the blanket of barf that coated his shirt and boots about a half hour earlier, abandoned on the front porch. You were smart enough to avert your gaze when he lifted his shirt off of his torso just to let it wrinkle up on the wood planks to be dealt with later. It wasn’t your fault that you’d caught a glimpse of the tattoos that adorned his body, some kind of dragon if you remember correctly, wound from his waist up to his ribs. The others you didn’t have long enough to distinguish their imagery, though there were several along with what appeared to be some scarring of some kind. You couldn’t be sure, the darkness from the night not allowing you a clear picture along with your hazy mental state.

“Don’t worry about it.” He dismisses while you bashfully sit back down on the edge of the couch.

It was hard to grasp whether he was pissed at you or just at life in general. You would take full responsibility for the vomit but everything before that was on him. Yelling at you over a pile of broken plates seemed far more degrading based on his tone, the way he reprimanded you and painted you as this stupid girl, unable to stand your ground. Maybe it was better that he fired you, you wouldn’t be subject to his obnoxious mood swings where he seemed to take everything out on you when shit hit the fan.

You continued watching Eddie move about his surroundings, taking in how he interacted with his day to day environment. What did he look like fully relaxed? Lounging around, playing his guitar without a care in the world. It was difficult to picture; the image of a moody man with a tensed facial expression the only one you could seem to conjure up every time rather than the vision of him with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, enjoying coffee out of that stupid Garfield mug. You wonder if takes his coffee with cream and sugar. Maybe just cream? Or just sugar? Maybe he drinks it black, that would be the most sensible option if you were going by his grouchy nature.

“Gonna find my keys, then we’ll go back to the bar to get yours.” Eddie decides, shuffling through some items on the kitchen counter.

The irony.

Agreeing with a hum, you allow yourself to lean further into the couch while trailing your finger over the faded plaid pattern, lines of beige crossing over white that temporarily held your focus. The clinking of empty beer cans against the linoleum counter can be heard, and then footsteps into the bedroom just off the living room to your left. Two idiots with misplaced keys under the same roof.

It feels as if the couch begins to mold around you, welcoming you into its springy cushions that otherwise wouldn’t be very comfortable but considering the night you had and the state you were in, you felt like you were on a cloud. Your thoughts drift back to curious visions of Eddie. What did his hair look like first thing in the morning? Was it as wild as you imagined? Curls sticking up every which way, frizzy and matted? Or was it somehow still perfectly messy? Boyishly messy.

Did he take those chunky rings off every night, leaving them on his nightstand until the morning? How many more tattoos did he have? What movies did he watch? What did he do for fun? You suppose plucking at his guitars was a main contender with the way it would constantly invade your ears. Obviously he read, your eyes catching that copy of Lord of the Rings on the coffee table again. Maybe he worked on cars too, based on those car part catalogs.

The image of him working under the hood of a car, all sweaty in some kind of tank top occupied your brain, his usually tense face hard at work with grease smeared along his cheek. And his hands. His hands would be coated in oil and he’d pull a rag out from his back pocket to wipe them off. Then he’d smile and reveal those deep dimples framing his face so perfectly. And then you would–

“Uh, Bambi?”

Eddie’s voice doesn’t do much other than cause you to stir in your sleep, snuggling a pillow while curling into yourself. You were nearly drooling, completely content. He couldn’t help but stare a little longer than necessary before realizing what a creep he was being. Was he supposed to wake you? If he was, he felt wrong doing so with how peaceful you looked. He rolled his eyes but truthfully, he didn’t mind having a guest for the night.

Maybe he’d be able to get some sleep for once.

–

Tossing around as the springs beneath you squeak, your mouth feels like it had previously been filled with sand. Not an ounce of saliva coated your tongue, you were severely dehydrated. You flung the knitted blanket that had rested on top of you off–when did that get there? You don’t remember grabbing a blanket before drifting off into a deep slumber.

This wasn’t even your house.

Collecting your thoughts, you recall that you had been sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch before apparently falling asleep. It was still dark outside, signifying that it had to be early in the morning which meant you’d only slept for maybe two or so hours. A lamp set atop a beat up side table in the corner was the only thing illuminating the room now. Sitting up and stretching, your bones ached from the way they were piled on top of each other in the position you had been sleeping in. Your right arm had pins and needles running up and down it from being cut off from circulation for so long.

The groan that threatened to escape you was held in your throat as you scooted forward, only to find a full glass of water right there on the coffee table. This was beyond embarrassing, this was humiliating. If you could scurry out the door and across the yard back to your place you would, but you were in this predicament due to your own negligence.

With no other options available to you, you gulp down the lukewarm water, just grateful that your tongue was no longer dryer than the Sahara desert. But it still wasn’t enough. Your thirst seemed unquenchable, at this rate you’d need approximately five more glasses. So you stood yourself up, legs shaky and stomach a tiny bit queasy, and wobbled over to the kitchen. You’d have to pace yourself to avoid throwing up a bunch of water since your stomach was so sensitive right now. Food was out of the question but water was a necessity.

Twisting the sink handle with a small screech of the metal, you fill the glass with a shaky and weak arm before sipping away.

Slowly. You remind yourself.

It must have taken around eight minutes to finish that second glass of water, coaching yourself through it the entire time. You grew tired of drinking it but persisted anyway. As you reach to fill a third glass, you’re startled by a figure in the doorway to Eddie’s room, unable to make out any features in the dim lighting. With a yelp, you manage to drop the glass in the sink, it clanking around noisily but thankfully, not breaking.

“Shit, why are you awake?” Eddie asks, hands raised in surrender as he emerges from the shadows.

“Why are you awake?” You counter.

He raises a brow, clearly wide awake. He didn’t even have that gravelly, sleepy voice. Maybe he hadn’t even gone to sleep at all. There was no evidence that his hair was any frizzier than before and his face didn’t have that puffiness to it when you wake up. It’s also possible that he just looked perfect when he woke up but if you’re being honest, no one really woke up perfect.

“I, uh, I was reading.” He admits, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh.”

An awkward silence trickles in, causing you to cross your arms as a means to close in on yourself, steadily backing up until you hit the counter behind you. Eddie maintains eye contact with you as he retrieves his own cup from one of the cabinets, filling it up and chugging it down with ease. You suddenly feel so out of place, like you were supposed to leave but there was nowhere else to go.

“I, um, I’m sorry for…for the puke. A-and for falling asleep. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You tell him honestly.

He only nods.

“I can go…sit on my porch until you go into the bar. And I’ll get my keys and be out of your hair.”

A few drops of water roll down his chin as he continues drinking, the back of his hand coming up to swipe the liquid away. He appears to be lost in thought, eyes concentrated on the counter in front of him where a few rogue Rice Krispies live. You let your legs carry you a few feet away, your goal being the front door until he speaks up again.

“I’m not gonna be responsible if you get eaten out there.” He grumbles.

“Eaten?”

Eddie looks you up and down as if to say ‘are you serious?’. To be completely honest, you hadn’t taken into account the wildlife that thrived throughout the area before you moved in. Now you were looking more and more dumb by the minute.

“Bears?” He offers an anxious head tilt. “We have fucking bears here, Bambi. You can’t just wander around in the middle of the night.”

“I wouldn’t be wandering.” Why were you trying to make an argument? Out of all the things you could fight him on, why were you choosing whether or not you’d get eaten by a bear? “I would be sitting on my porch.”

You felt like the dumbest woman on the planet and you knew you should’ve stopped talking but the words just…came out.

“Bears can reach your fucking porch, you know that, right?”

His large eyes bored into you in disbelief, his mouth slightly hung open as he awaited your answer.

“Y-yeah.” You gulp.

“God.” He scoffs, turning away from you, perplexed before muttering something under his breath that you happened to also catch. “Christ, they shoulda turned you away.”

“Who?” You pipe up, feeling a bit daring.

For a moment, he turns to stare at you blankly. It’s almost as if you’re the only two people awake and if either of you happened to raise your voice in the slightest, it would awaken the town.

“The assholes that sold you that house.” He just about whines, his voice an octave higher, frustration obvious in his tone.

The refrigerator light briefly appears over the blue and green tiled floor as Eddie opens it, reaching for something before turning around toward the stove and kicking the door shut.

“What–what do you mean? Turn me away? What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask in offense.

“I mean…” He cracks an egg into a pan, followed by another. “They shouldn’t have sold it to someone so clueless.” Another egg.

The shells are discarded in the sink, further cracking into smaller pieces at the impact he’d thrown them.

“What? Were they just supposed to reject me until someone more ‘qualified’ came along?” You try to catch his gaze, ducking your head as he reaches for the salt and pepper. “And–are you seriously making eggs right now?”

You earn a scowl from him as his pan begins to sizzle, his hand quick to grab a spatula from one of the pots on the stove to flip the eggs. This had to have been some weird dream or manifestation. And there they were again, those three numbers falling from his lips in a whisper as his eyes shut temporarily while his eggs simmered.

“I was already qualified before you came along!” He raises his voice, not quite to a yell but not very quiet either.

Silence.

Your eyes must have bulged out of your head, Eddie’s features softening by the second. Regret settled in his eyes, your face the vision of pure horror and all because of him.

He got impatient.

His therapist would be disappointed in him. And so would Wayne.

“I-I just…I was going to, um…” He starts calmly. “I was gonna buy it. And, and I was—” His breathing is now shallow, his eyes wet and pleading. “It–it was–I don’t–”

“Eddie.” You whisper, trying to break through whatever trance he was in.

He seemed stuck in his own head, eyes darting back and forth while he struggled to find words. The eggs were on the verge of burning which prompted you to reach over him and turn the stove off. The spatula he previously held clung against the tile.

“I-I–um, I was–”

It’s as if he isn’t even in the room, totally removed as the same few syllables fell from his tongue.

“I’m–I-I–”

“Eddie, it’s okay.” You attempt to soothe him. “Do you wanna sit down?” You ask, trying to catch his eyes but failing as he squeezes them shut.

Again with the counting.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

All under his shaky breath.

“I-I’m fine. ‘M fine.” His voice cracks, eyes opening timidly.

When you go to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, he flinches, a gasp leaving his lungs. Forcing yourself a few steps backward in order to provide him the space he needs, you recognize a hint of fear within him. It’s not of you, it’s something else yanking at his thoughts.

“Sit down, let’s sit down, okay?” You instruct, gradually lower yourself, waiting for him to follow your actions.

Nodding, he slowly slides his back down the side of the counter, falling into a position where his knees were to his chest, hands resting against the floor. You join him, still keeping your distance but wanting him to know that despite the previous tension, you were being supportive through his episode. Whatever it may be.

“Breathe.” You tell him, just as he had done with you back at the bar. “In…and out.” You encourage him.

He follows, his breathing still labored but improving. Continuing for a minute or so, his shoulders finally loosen up, his face relaxing. You let him guide the situation from here, if he wanted to talk or remain mute. Either was okay.

Moments pass, the hard kitchen floor causing you discomfort that you willingly take, not daring to shift around too much as to keep the tranquility finally falling over the two of you. Instead, you take interest in the wood grain of the cabinets, eyes wandering around each curve like a maze, sometimes identifying shapes along the way. A dog’s face, a ghost, and occasionally the haunting silhouette of a human.

Sneaking a glance at Eddie, you find that his eyes are shut as he rests his head against the cabinet behind him, his hands fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie, tying little knots and then undoing them just to repeat the process. Your watch indicates that it’s 4:03 AM. You would usually be sleeping however you can’t really offer yourself much sympathy when it seems this is the norm for Eddie. He always had tired eyes though you’d never put much thought into it until now. He must not be sleeping. Which could also be a contribution to his moodiness.

“I’m gonna lose the bar.” Eddie speaks up from beside you, eyes still shut as he continues to fidget.

“Hm?” You turn your full attention to him.

There’s a pause, a moment of thinking. You can tell as he opens his eyes and side-eyes you, not with malice but more so to collect his thoughts. Lips pinched in between his teeth roughly, you could almost wince at the way blood surfaces from the poor abused skin. Not too obvious, but obvious enough as you await clarification, the tiniest bit of crimson seeping out from behind his teeth only to be left to dry out on his perfectly shaped lips. Then he breaks the silence with a heavy exhale.

“I, uh, I’m pretty close to losing it. Can barely pay the bills on the damn place. Been going downhill for a few months now.” He elaborates, spinning a ring around his finger repeatedly . “I was gonna use the rest of my savings that my grandpa left me to buy that house. Rent it out. I talked to a friend who’s really good with all that financial shit and he said I could get a steady income and most likely keep the bar running and profiting again.”

“Oh.” You whisper, a huge sensation of guilt overtaking you.

“Not your fault.” He sighs. “Guess I’ve been kinda taking it out on you.”

Now he avoids your gaze, far more interested in the cracked tile beneath him. A curse can be made out from just under his breath while he buries his head in his hands, running them up and down his face, almost as if to relieve some of his stress but having no such luck. His admission catches you off guard, not at all suspecting that this morning would turn into honesty hour.

“No.” You reply quickly. “I mean…yes. But I-I didn’t know. If I knew–”

“Don’t give yourself a stroke, Bambi.” He cuts you off, turning to look at you. “I’m not proud of how dick-ish I’ve been. It’s nothing personal though.” Eddie confesses, seemingly annoyed with himself.

Sincerity floods his eyes, a cry for help. But how were you supposed to help him? Before you can muster up some kind of response to his almost-apology, he continues.

“I-uh, I just can’t lose this bar. I inherited it from my grandpa and he had been running it for…years.” Behind his persistence, there’s hints of defeat. A bitterness that you’d come to recognize in the last few weeks. “And, uh, I didn’t know ‘im for very long but, I kinda feel like it’s my responsibility.”

“Didn’t know him for very long?” You asked before even calculating the consequences. You had no right to pry into his personal life.

His hands begin to move up and down his shins, a self-soothing gesture from what you can tell. Eddie was very fidgety, and you’d only just started noticing.

“Yeah.” He whispers. “I moved here like four years ago. Some bad shit happened back home and I–” There’s a moment of hesitation, a sudden panic lurking behind his gaze. “I can’t go back.”

You want so badly to ask him where ‘home’ used to be but decide against it. He had already willingly offered you more information than you would have originally been brave enough to ask for.

“Anyway, I never really knew my grandpa until I came here to live with him. He died last year. I’ve been trying to keep things afloat since then.” He explains, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky hand.

“I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know.”

Genuine sympathy drips from your voice, the kind that felt like hot honey running down a sore throat during flu season. During the moment it feels…good. Comforting. In the way that only his mother ever was in the brief time they had together. And then the sting returns.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” The walls are rapidly raised once again and god knows when you would get to peek through the cracks again. “We should, uh, we should get to the bar so you can get your keys. And your car.” He suggests, pulling himself up from the floor with a groan.

“Wait–what about your eggs?” You mention, gripping the edge of the counter for leverage as you stand.

The eggs were long forgotten about, now all sad and cold in the pan. Unappetizing. One of the yolks had somehow broken among the commotion of Eddie’s panic and left a disgusting coating around the gaps, that eggy-wet-dog smell nauseating you. They were trash in all honesty but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, quickly lifting the pan and grabbing a fork to shovel them into his mouth.

You can’t fight the urge to stare, cold eggs and runny yolks being tossed into his mouth without a second thought.

“What?” He glances at you in irritation.

“You could’ve at least heated them up.” You complain, nose crinkled in revolt.

He rolls his eyes but his annoyance quickly melts away, a fraction of a playful smirk pulling at his lips, eyes gleaming with something captivating.

–

The scent of tobacco and motor oil invades your nose, the smells of Eddie’s truck, much different than the little pine tree air freshener in the car he’d driven you in last night. The engine rumbles down the road, startling the birds as he drives by. Some kind of guitar riff blares through the radio, his ringed fingers tapping along against the steering wheel. Instead of his sweatshirt and sweatpants, he now wears a long sleeve covered with his leather jacket along with some ripped up blue jeans. As far as you’re concerned, he’s way underdressed for the brisk morning air, only getting colder and colder by the day. Though, he may run hot and the drop in temperature just doesn’t faze him. Even so, it’d make you feel better if he at least put on a heavier coat.

Regardless, you can’t seem to control the shivers that rattle your body, your teeth nearly chattering, jaw clenched tightly. You were mentally scolding drunk-you for forgetting your jacket at the bar and though you were on your way there now, it didn’t do you any good with the way you were practically an ice cube. It was apparent that the heater of Eddie’s truck wasn’t very efficient as the air coming out was slightly warm but not warm enough to relieve the cold nipping at the exposed skin of your arms. You could see your breath, only further reminding you of how cold you truly were.

Attention was the last thing you wanted as you subtly moved your hands that rested politely in your lap, up your arms to offer the tiniest bit of skin-on-skin warmth. Any kind of relief would do. You only hoped he wouldn’t notice as you began to move your hands back and forth as a means to create some friction, more heat.

Buy a large, fuzzy, soft coat, ASAP. You note to yourself.

As a distraction, you begin to identify objects within the truck, a solo game of ‘I spy’ if you will. At your feet, there’s a small crate of cassette tapes. An impressive collection, mainly metal and rock from what you can see. Maybe a few folksy ones behind those based on the labels, John Denver being the one that stood out to you. Then, another car parts catalog on top of the dash. An empty can of Dr. Pepper in the cup holder. Or what you assume to be empty. A definitely empty cigarette carton abandoned in the other cup holder–

“Shit, here.” Eddie says, reaching behind into the back seat only to magically pull out a denim jacket covered in several patches and pins.

Evidently, you weren’t playing it as cool as you thought, clearly somehow exposing that you were in fact freezing. He showed no emotion as he urged the jacket into your reach, eyes still focused on the road. Your hesitation only had him pushing the denim into your hand, wordlessly cautioning you that he wouldn’t have your modesty or insistence that you were fine. Clutching the rough fabric in your hand, you pause to stare at him, as if he was going to change his mind any second. He doesn’t. Only keeps his eyes forward, brows furrowed in that grumpy manner.

His nose is pink again and you were willing to bet that the tips of his ears matched if they hadn’t been hidden by his wild hair. Even his cheeks were dusted with the lightest rosy shade. Fall looked good on him. You couldn’t even imagine how amazing Summer would look on him.

Quickly, you undo your seatbelt and shrug the jacket on. It’s cold from living in the truck all night but warms you up regardless, much cozier than your bare arms out in the open. And it smells like Eddie, a smell you can’t quite pinpoint to one specific thing. A little bit like cigarettes, maybe a hint of cologne, spicy but not overpowering, and a whiff of rubber. It almost smelled like a garage.

The sun was just rising on the horizon, the lake coming into view perfectly as if to put on a show. Hues of orange painted the sky, birds chirping and squawking as they announced the arrival of a new day. An apricot dream accompanied by peachy tones.

–

The Bourbon was a shell of itself at 5:00 AM. The morning was bright and early though the bar wasn’t ready to awaken just yet, not until the evening when it thrived. Until then, it slept peacefully throughout the day, forgotten about until Happy Hour. Ribbons of light snuck in through the blinds, illuminating the smallest sections of the tables and the floorboards.

The lights quickly took over that magical early morning feel as Eddie emerged next to you, hands tucked into his pockets while you scanned the room. And there they were, your keys. Sat right on top of the bar just as you had remembered. Your jacket, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Bummer.

You could’ve sworn you grabbed it from the back lockers before you declared war on Eddie last night. It wasn’t there either, your locker devoid of your belongings other than a pad of paper and a pen.

“Have you seen my jacket?” You ask Eddie, checking the barstools just to be safe. Nothing.

He had slipped right back into work mode, even at the crack of dawn. You suppose it's fair though, the information he had shared with you in the quietest hours of the morning resonating in your mind. Work never stopped for him.

“Hm? No, I haven’t seen it.” He answers, collecting the dirty rags from their designated bin behind the bar to start them up in the wash.

With a soft pout, you trace your steps in your head but can’t seem to recall where you’d left it, your brain failing you. Maybe it would eventually pop up again, it wasn’t anything special anyway. It just happened to be one of the heaviest jackets you owned so you would have to remember to stop by one of the shops to search for something equivalent. Beginning to pull your arm out of the sleeve of the jacket you currently wore, Eddie’s voice stops you.

“Just–keep it ‘til you find yours.” He says. Like he knew.

Were you that obvious? Girl moves to a random town miles and miles away from home only to be unprepared for the weather conditions in which you would think she would be aware of before committing.

“No, it’s–”

You immediately shut up when you see his expression, something that says ‘for the love of god, just listen’ with glaring eyes and furrowed brows. Instead of fighting him on it, you offer your gratitude in the form of labor.

“Um, I could stick around…and help. If you need.”

Your words float in the air, so delicate it makes him want to vomit; not out of disgust but out of confusion for whatever feeling was swirling around in his head, making him dizzy. Each word was too sweet, cavity inducing sweetness that he wanted to lick up like icing. He wasn’t used to being presented with such regard, a candied offer delivered right from your pretty lips to his ears.

“If I still have a job.” You add. Sugary syllables pouring from your lips unintentionally. He may have a heart attack from the amount of sugar.

Eddie collects himself, clears his throat as if to also clear his conscience, not succeeding. You’re so unlike everything that he knows. He knows of friendly conversation and boyish banter, endless nights followed by endless days without sleep, he knows of his shitty attitude that comes around more often than not, but he’s never been one to know pure kindness, a certain tenderness radiating from you and seeping into him. Sure people are kind to him, especially here. But you’re something else.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course you have a job.” He affirms.

The small smile you grace him with makes him want to jump off of a bridge. Because he is such a cruel being, such a monstrous man awaiting further punishment from the universe for being much less than gentle with such a sweet-tempered, sympathetic human that may even be a gift from god himself if Eddie believed in all that.

And then Chrissy crossed his mind. He could not endure another loss. Chrissy was never even his but he used to mourn what could have been had she lived. Perhaps she was his first love. A miserable little middle schooler pining after Hawkin’s Sweetheart all the way up until highschool. And the moment he got close enough, she was gone, right in front of his poor traumatized eyes. It was enough for him to swear off love for good.

For some reason he was finding himself wanting to dial back on that promise. He had only known you for around two weeks and was going back on his own word. It was freaking him out, making him want to yank his hair out from the roots and collapse onto the floor. He felt like a teenage boy again, going through puberty and trying to work out all of his jumbled feelings and hormones.

You were staring at him expectantly and it was only then that he realized he had been lost in thought. A pool of thoughts actually. Maybe even having a revelation?

“You can uh…” He clears his throat, nearly hacking up a lung. “You haven’t…you haven’t eaten, have you?”

Internally, he’s scolding himself.

You’re gonna get hurt before you can even get close. People are not meant to love you, Munson. It’s been proven time and time again. Quit while you’re ahead.

He was too far ahead anyway. Would he ever learn his lesson?

People are not meant to love you.

“No.” You answer sheepishly. “But I-I’m fine!” You try to say convincingly. The reality was that your stomach was swallowing itself, the fact that your dinner had been four tequila shots was not favoring you.

“Bambi.” Eddie says sternly.

God she’s gorgeous.

He was fucked.

“Okay…fine. I haven’t eaten.” You admit. “But I can help out a little and then–”

“C’mon.” He demands, abandoning the bin of dirty rags to head for the kitchen.

And on the way, he reasons with himself as you follow.

Just be friendly. There’s nothing wrong with being friendly. We can be friends. Stop scaring the shit out of yourself. She wouldn’t even like you beyond that. No one would.

“So, what are you feelin’?” He asks, knocking his knuckles against the metal worktop.

“Oh, I-I don’t know. Whatever is easiest. You know what, I can just go get something from one of the shops, I’m sure that little pancake place is open by now.”

“You don’t trust my cooking?” He jokes, amusement written all over his face.

To be fair, he hadn’t given you much reason to trust him since you arrived. But somehow, layers were starting to peel back and you were getting the tiniest glimpses of his true self. And you’d be stupid not to indulge when he had practically propped the door to his mind right open. At least for the time being.

“Should I?” There’s a huge grin on your face, a stupid grin that you try to conceal but can’t. “I dunno, you kind of have me wondering if you’re gonna spit in my food or something.” You quip.

“Ouch.” Eddie feigns hurt by bringing a hand to his chest. “You think I’m that scummy?” He asks, raising his brow playfully.

“Oh, the scummiest.” You banter back.

“You’re breakin’ my heart Bambi.” He frowns before disappearing into the walk-in freezer, discarding his leather jacket on a hook on his way.

Truth be told he was breaking yours too, with his handsome face and his dumb smile, deep dimples you could think about for hours, and those eyes. They told a story, a tragic story that maybe he would never care to share. And that’s what broke your heart. Suffering in silence. You knew that feeling all too well.

“By the way…” Eddie shouts from the freezer before appearing once again. “I’m Eddie.” He sticks his hand out toward you, two eggs held in his free hand.

You look up at him, bewildered.

“I never asked for your name.” He reminds you with a shit-eating grin.

The Eddie you met weeks ago was gone as far as you were concerned. All within a few hours, he seemed to warm up to you.

The scary dog was rolling over…for you.

~end~

Masterlist

Prev | Next

tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #eddie munson au #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things au #stranger things fic

205 notes · View notes

lavampira · 1 month

Text

I love you more than you’ll ever know. Be well.

#nothing fancy but i’ve been having a totally normal one about fray today so here we are #this is how i imagine living shadow spawning when i slam the button in game btw #dani plays ffxiv #game: ffxiv #oc: d'alia liveq #ch: fray myste #alia and fray #ffxiv gpose #gposers #fray myste #ffxiv drk #ffxiv dark knight

45 notes · View notes

saltyfrenchfrys · 1 year

Text

CITY LIMITS

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 4,7k

Summary: After getting ambushed and injured, Clary and Ash have to search for a refuge where to heal and lie low for a while.

(ao3) (ff.net)

#tscedit #alicantenet #tscnetwork #the shadowhunter chronicles #the dark artifices #clary fairchild #clary fray #ash morgenstern #[ch]: clary fray #[ch]: ash morgenstern #*myfic

20 notes · View notes

28onlythebrave · 2 years

Text

my clarissa adele fairchild now and forever

64 notes · View notes

toms-cherry-trees · 4 months

Text

Don’t Hold My Hand (I’ll Break Your Heart) || Tommy Shelby x Fem OC ~ Ch. 3

Summary: The day Thomas has been awaiting for is finally here and things don't go as planned. The first crack begins to show

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Talks of medical procedures, needles and blood. Tommy suffers a pain episode

Author’s note: I am so sorry this took so long! These past weeks have been terribly busy and I have been having a major writer crisis. Yet here we are and I hope you enjoy!

Requested taglist: @call-sign-shark @zablife

《 Prev part -

Ever since their last encounter, Thomas’ attitude towards her shifted. Charlotte couldn’t say he respected her, for that would take more than a few harsh words and stern looks. But he seemed to have found something in her that piqued his interest. He still refused her help on the daily with the most basic of things, stubborn as a mule, or rather stubborn as a Shelby, but he granted her the ‘honour’ of a few words of conversation every now and then. And Charlotte used every chance she could to try and talk him out of his miracle doctor.

She brought up every argument she could muster, but they were all met with indifferent shrugs of the shoulders, dismissive waves of the hand and, when she pressed too hard, with Thomas turning his back to her and escaping her well intentioned words, seeking refuge in the safety of his veranda. Charlotte remembered time after time when she had to convince soldiers to follow treatment for their own good, to have their medicines and do the exercises and quit the alcohol and the laudanum. She never had to talk a man out of doing something, and definitely never a man like Thomas Shelby.

“Just tell me this, Thomas. Have you ever, at least once, met or even seen any of these veterans this doctor has claimed to cure?”

His silence sufficed as a reply.

The faithful day, Charlotte awoke with a bitter taste in her mouth and a heavy feeling in her stomach. A dull headache throbbed in her temples, since sleep had refused to find her, leaving her to toss and turn as the moon slowly gave way to the sun and the birds chirped in their branches. She did her best to carry on with her duties as usual, but every now and then she nervously glanced up towards the clock, waiting for the strike of 3 in the afternoon. The minutes felt too long and the hours too short. If she stared at the clock, the hands refused to move under her watchful gaze. But then she would turn her back for what felt like five minutes, and when she looked again, nearly an hour had transpired.

The doctor had sent beforehand some medicines that Thomas had to drink prior to the appointment. Charlotte had poured some onto a cup and stared at it intently, hoping that if she looked hard enough she could discern what exactly had been mixed into the ambary liquid, since the bottles had neither a chemist’s name nor any label. But other than identifying a hint of a sweet, herbal scent, she got nothing.

A taxi stopped before the gates just five minutes to three. Mrs. Gray and Charlotte both awaited in the foyer, standing side by side, to welcome the man who promised them the greatest miracle to be ever seen. They heard voices out the door, and Frances opened before he could knock. The second the doctor crossed the threshold, the bad feeling in Charlotte’s gut worsened.

The man before her dressed poorly. And not in the modest but clean way that most working class people did. His brown suit had definitely seen better days, perhaps better years too; frayed at the hems, the seams stretched out and the buttons hanging precariously from thinned out threads. Whoever had sewn in the elbow patches definitely had very little practice in tailoring. The shirt had taken a yellow hue from wear and time, and some bare threads hung from the collar. The shoes desperately needed a visit to the shoemaker, soles detached on the tips, the gap widening with each step.

Two women came with him, one on each side and just a step behind him, both with severe faces and strict postures. They dressed as nurses did, with the light blue dress and the Sister Dora cap upon the hair, but had black rubber aprons tied about the waist instead of the usual soft white linen she herself wore. Their appearance evoked more butchers than healers. Charlotte could certainly picture them wielding cleavers and with red splatters on their faces, not precisely from slicing meat.

Mrs. Gray shared her apprehensions, that much Charlotte could tell by the way the older woman lowered her cigarette slowly, one hand holding onto the ruby pendant hanging from her neck, twirling the gem between her fingers nervously. They both shared a tense and brief side glance, loaded with trepidation, when the doctor took Mrs Gray's hand and kissed it, his head lowered in a bow. She pulled away from his grasp delicately but firmly, the only betrayal in her collected facade being the slight narrowing of her eyes. He then tried to repeat the impish gesture with Charlotte; but the nurse’ hands remained firm behind her, not giving the audacious man even a speck of chance.

The doctor straightened, arms behind his back and puffing out his chest like a proud peacock. He appeared to not be unfazed by the tepid welcoming, although Charlotte easily noticed his barely concealed disappointment. Perhaps in other houses he had been received with tears and cheers like a hero who would save the day. She wondered if he had been sent off with the same enthusiasm after his magical treatments.

“Miss and Madame, I am Doctor Elias Keller '' He put a hand to his chest and bowed again, as if he were being presented to Queen Mary and her daughter in Buckingham Palace. “These are my assistants, Bertha and Henrietta” Both women nodded curtly once, still standing just a step behind Doctor Keller, like petty soldiers flanking a high ranking officer, ready to rush to do his bidding.

The man put out his hand again towards Mrs. Gray, mayhaps hoping for a handshake. But she didn’t give him the satisfaction, instead reaching for her cigarette case and lighting a new one. She took her time to take a long, deliberate drag and allowing the smoke to billow from her dark cherry lips before speaking

“I am Mrs. Gray, Mr. Shelby’s aunt. And this is Charlotte, Mr. Shelby’s private nurse” Charlotte had never heard her refer to Thomas as Mr. Shelby, but she understood the motive; she didn’t want to give Dr. Keller any chance of familiarity. As if she wanted, through subtle actions, to remind him of his position before he got too cocksure. In her line of work she had surely met one too many charlatans, Lottie thought, and she too could smell the rottenness in him.

Doctor Keller smiled, although the gesture looked perfectly practised and not at all sincere. Charlotte did notice that he looked her up and down out of the corner of his eye, and not in a bawdy way; quite the opposite, in fact. He seemed uncomfortable with her presence, a feeling that had appeared upon his face only after Mrs. Gray mentioned her to be a nurse. He fixed his bowtie, giving it a firm tug before addressing her

“A nurse, you say? You certainly don’t look like one, far too young you are. Perhaps a maid turned caretaker?” He raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling with condescending amusement. Charlotte clenched her jaw, teeth nearly grinding in annoyance.

“War nurse, in fact. I served in convalescent homes and then field hospitals in France since 1916. I was awarded for distinguished service” She puffed out her chest at the last part. Even if her recognition strips and medal lay forgotten at the bottom of a drawer in her room she had the right to boast about them. She had earned them through hardship and sweat, and she would not let this mountebank look her down.

Doctor Keller’s lips tightened into a line, but he regained himself with such ease one might even doubt the gesture existed. He straightened up once more, his eyes fixated upon Mrs. Gray, every aspect of his posture and demeanour indicating he wished to keep Charlotte excluded from the conversation

“Well Mrs. Gray, I must not be delayed. Every second that I am not by my patient’s side it is a second lost. I am very devoted to them and wish to give them only the best of everything, including my time” Charlotte had to look aside to disguise a poorly stifled laugh. The man didn’t spare her a glance, but his guarding dogs both looked her down with a mixture of annoyance and indignation. The shorter, much older woman reminded Charlotte of her commanding matron in the ward when she first enlisted; they both bore a particular type of severity in their faces that could put generals to their knees. Charlotte had bowed her head before the matron; out of respect for her status and service, but she would not let herself be intimidated by the walking circus before her.

Mrs. Gray on the other hand, had Doctor Keller’s complete attention on her. The man kept trying to go up the stairs, but she kept trying to delay him just a few more minutes

“You have just arrived, why don’t we have tea in the drawing room? We can sit down and discuss what treatment are you planning to implement on my nephew” Her manicured hand came to rest on the doctor’s bicep, as if attempting to steer him away from the grand staircase. But the man, who mere minutes ago had presented himself as fulsome and flirty towards her, didn’t take her attempts kindly. He stepped away from her touch, straightening out his worn jacket.

“Mrs. Gray, I must go to my patient at once. I am a very busy man and see many soldiers like him a day. My time is of precious value and not to be so easily wasted. If you do not show me to his rooms I will be forced to leave and reconsider his position as my patient” He spoke fast, a shrill tone edging his voice, the perfectly polished facade he had brought with himself showing the first crack. He appeared nervous to not have the family’s support, surely not used to be resisted that way. Charlotte prayed internally that Mrs. Gray would push just a little harder, that she would stand her ground for a bit more, enough to scare this opportunist into running and never looking back.

But alas, Mrs. Gray relented, perhaps to spare herself of a round with her nephew when he found out she had blocked the way for his miracle doctor, or mayhaps because she too bore a miniscule sliver of hope that whatever they did to Thomas may work.

She gave Charlotte a look, a brief one, no more than a second, but loaded with many conflicting feelings. Her lips quivered from the effort it took her to not say word, and she had to remind herself mentally of her position within that house; just a worker, placed there to look after the Master of the house, not to give opinions or interfere with his businesses. Feeling her heart tighten, Charlotte led the way towards Thomas’ chambers. When they reached the double doors she pushed them open, allowing them inside before stepping in. But she found her path blocked by the older assistant, who crossed her arm on the threshold to hold her back

“Doctor Keller works alone. If he needs help he will have us. Please wait outside” The harshness of her voice matched perfectly that of her face, her broad frame firmly forcing Charlotte out of the room. Incensed, and perhaps frightened, Charlotte stood her ground, her shoulder pushing against the human wall that was the other woman.

“I work here. I am his caretaker. You will not touch a hair of his head without me there” She spoke perhaps with more passion and strength than her station required, but she felt an overwhelming need to protect Thomas. She could not let, on her best judgement, allow this swindler to beguile Mr. Shelby and endanger his life on false promises.

Just when she readied to perhaps commit acts unbefitting of her against that woman, Mr. Shelby spoke up, his voice calm but firm.

“Charlotte. It’s okay. Just go downstairs”

The assistant stepped aside briefly, allowing Charlotte a peek inside. Thomas sat in his chair near the windows, an unlit cigarette perched between two fingers. Doctor Keller kneeled at his side, holding his free hand in his own in a reassuring grasp. The sunlights poured abundantly through the panes, golden beams framing them.

“Charlotte. Please” He had never said please to her.

He nodded towards the doctor, and the man stood up, taking control of the wheelchair and leading Thomas away from the windows and from Charlotte’s view.

The last thing she thought she saw was a smile on Mr. Shelby’s face before the assistant slammed the door on her face.

Time moved painstakingly slowly. Hour after hour slipped away, the sun steadily making its way across the skies. Warm orange bathed the rooms towards the back of the house, shadows lengthening as afternoon gave way to sunset. Charlotte sat in the main room, a luxury she rarely granted herself. Before she laid a teapot of black currant tea which had not been touched, and biscuits she refused to eat. She had chewed her thumb in anxiousness, leaving the imprints of her own teeth on the pads.

At least five times during her wait, Charlotte made her way towards Thomas’ bedroom but stopped halfway through, doubting in her feet before slowly making her way back down. She wanted to go up and see for herself what they were doing; every fibre of her being urged her to. But at the same time she feared what she would see or hear there.

A half past six, the double doors closed with a dry thud, and heavy footsteps resonated in the stairwell. Charlotte scrambled from her seat, almost slipping on the fancy rug and knocking her hip against a side table as she rushed into the foyer. Somehow Mrs. Gray beat her to it, already standing at the foot of the stairs even though she hadn’t seen her around since the doctor’s arrival.

Doctor Keller marched down the stairs ceremoniously, his head held high, as if he had just rediscovered America. He had removed his jacket, and his yellowed shirt clung to his body with sweat. His assistants walked behind him, carrying his cases and a bag Charlotte swore they hadn’t brought with them. Their rubber aprons had been wiped clean, and for some reason, that didn’t sit right with Charlotte.

He addressed Mrs. Gray, once more his posture and actions disregarding Charlotte’s presence. The man took Mrs. Gray’s hands, and this time she didn’t push him back. His smile suggested reassurance and triumph.

“The procedure has gone well. Mr. Shelby is now upstairs in his bed, sleeping. He has been left exhausted and I suggest he is not disturbed until morning. I will return in a fortnight to repeat the treatment, and will continue to do so as many times as it is necessary, but I feel confident that progress will be seen before my return”

Mrs. Gray’s eyebrows knit together in worry, and although she didn’t grant the doctor the reward of a smile, she had lost some of the apprehension she bore in the morning.

“Can you tell me what exactly is it that you have done to him? What sort of treatment is this?”

Doctor Keller chuckled heartily, shaking his head while he patted her hand “Now Mrs. Gray, those are gruesome details that delicacies like yourself should not have to endure” Charlotte buffed at the last part. Mrs. Gray could be described as anything but delicate. And the comment obviously didn’t sit well with the older woman either, for she immediately dropped the doctor’s hands and took a step back.

“Allow me to see you out, Doctor Keller” Even in now obvious annoyance, Mrs. Gray displayed an affability that Charlotte envied; a possession and control of the emotions that very few mastered. The small group headed outside while the valet brought the car around. But Charlotte did not follow, instead sprinting up the stairs towards Thomas’ bedroom.

She peered inside quietly, walking on tiptoes. Every window had been opened, the room smelling of damp soil and autumn leaves, but the earthy scent could not entirely mask the acrid smell of rubbing alcohol. The breeze had scattered papers from the desk all over the floor, and she hurried to pick them up, knowing how much disorganisation ticked Thomas off. As she placed them on the desk, she noticed they had left a kidney dish forgotten, alongside with a syringe filled with a milkish substance. The needle, the length of Charlotte’s hand, was coated in red.

Slowly, fearfully even, she turned towards the bed. She didn’t know what she expected to see, perhaps a gory scene with blood splattered on the walls and pooling on the floor, or a massacre akin to those seen in the field hospitals in France. Yet she only saw Thomas, laying on his side and submerged in a deep slumber, dressed only in his sleeping shirt and underwear.

She approached him slowly, her keen eye noticing the layer of sweat covering his skin, hair sticking to his temples and beads rolling down the curve of his neck. She dampened a cloth in the basin and wiped his forehead, feeling his skin feverish to the touch. The corners of his mouth had reddened marks, as if they had been rubbed raw against something coarse. Frowning in confusion, Charlotte leaned back, moving to examine the rest of his body. She found nail marks in his palms, in lines of bloodied crescent moon shapes. Just as she moved to grab the first aid kit to clean them, she picked up a small but significant detail.

The sheets had been changed

That morning, the bed had pure white sheets of plain linen without any embellishment, and these had simple blue embroidery on the edges, intertwined with Thomas’ initials as laundry marks. Charlotte could simply not understand why they would change the sheets amidst such secrecy instead of asking her or one of the maids to handle it, and neither could she find said sheets no matter where she looked. Clearly, whatever had been spilled on those linens, the doctor and his devils in tow wanted to be kept secret.

Worry crept up Charlotte’s spine and clawed at her throat. She didn’t want to disturb Thomas’ slumber, not after seeing him sleeping better than he had ever done before. Yet she could not ignore her instincts, not when they screamed at her so loud they drowned every other thought in her mind.

So she sat by the bed and watched.

Waited and watched, while the sun gave way to the moon. A maid brought her food but she barely ate, feeling as if Thomas would burst into pieces or fade into mist if she took her eyes away from him for one second. Frances came near eleven, urging her to go to bed, but she only asked the older woman to take watch for a moment while she changed into her nightgown and robe. Even during the brief routine of closing the curtains and turning off lights she kept glancing towards him. But despite her best efforts she was only human, and the ever growing tension of the day had worn her out. She huddled in an armchair near the bed, a blanket around her legs and a small pillow supporting her neck. She had a book in her lap, but fatigue clouded her vision and foggied her thoughts. She swore she heard the grandfather clock chime 1 in the morning just before she fell asleep.

Charlotte woke up in a nightmare.

In the space between the land of dreams and the real world, guttural, horrific groans of pain seeped into her mind, making her hair stand on edge. Her heartbeat quickened and her feet chilled. She had to fight the drowsiness and exhaustion off her body and will her eyes to open. The room was illuminated only by moonlight coming from one curtain she had kept drawn back, casting phantasmagoric shadows on the walls. As her vision adjusted to the darkness and her senses sharpened, she sought the source of those sounds. Her first instinct was to go to the window, but she hadn’t moved a step when the grunts of pain returned, coming from very close to her.

Thomas doubled over himself in the bed, fingers digging on the sheets and his jaw locked tightly around a corner of the pillow, poorly attempting to drown his pained cries. Charlotte rushed to turn on a lamp, and when warm light bathed him, she let out a scream of her own.

Crimson blossomed in the back of his nightshirt, the stains growing like flowers along the length of his spine. When she pushed his shirt up, she saw bandages entirely soaked in blood, the coppery scent filling her nostrils. The flesh around them had reddened and swelled. Thomas kept writhing, only worsening things as whatever they had done to his back kept tearing open and bleeding anew.

His fingers dug into his own hair, pulling at the black strands in desperation as he muffled the screams by biting into his forearm. Somehow that grounded Charlotte, setting her back into the same steeliness that got her through the war. She rushed to the medicine cupboard and pulled out bottles, not even bothering to check the labels, for she knew what she looked for. The laudanum she kept at the very bottom, hidden behind all the taller bottles, had not been opened. She went to pour it in a spoon, but thought it better and instead poured it into a glass, estimating what dosage would put two adult men to sleep. With the amount of whiskey and other things Thomas consumed on the daily, she knew a spoonful would barely give him a tickle.

She climbed in bed next to him, trying to sit him up so he could drink. But Thomas seemed to be paralysed with pain, and even the tiniest of movements reignited the agony. Not a word passed his lips, only exclamations of pains mixed with heavy, slowly drawn gasps of air, for even the simple act of breathing had become a struggle.

“Thomas, Thomas, breathe. Breathe with me” She cooed soothingly, running her fingers through his hair in a gentle caress “I have your medicines. But you need to sit up a bit to drink” Her calm words fell on deaf ears, and she couldn’t blame him for not heeding her command. Charlotte wanted desperately to ease his suffering, but for that she had to move him, which would only worsen his pain. She hated she had to do it, but it was for his own sake.

“I am sorry about this” She murmured as she sat by his side, hooking her arms under his heavy body the best she could to pull him up. The scream he emitted was otherworldly, and she could only silence it by putting her hand in his mouth, letting him bite her flesh like a rabid dog. The pain shot up her arm but she ignored it, not moving until his jaw had unclenched. She had managed to prop him upright against her chest, with her own back resting against the headboard. His head laid limp against her bosom, and the still fresh blood stained her robe. But none of that mattered at the moment.

Charlotte tried to get him to drink with the spoon but he refused to open his mouth. Sweat now poured profusely down his face and neck, giving his skin an unhealthy glistening. Even in the faint light she could see his complexion had paled, but at least it appeared the bleeding had stopped. Charlotte forced the spoon past his lips, but he only splattered on it, spilling the laudanum everywhere. When she tried again, he shook his head like a child refusing his porridge. She sighed in frustration, and also because his weight against her made it hard to breathe.

“Thomas, please. It will do you good. I promise it. You will feel better”

Again, nothing. Every muscle in his body was painfully tense, and she could see the vein in his forehead popping and the pulse beating strong and quick in the side of his neck. She placed a tender hand on the side of his face, her thumb running up and down the sharp length of his jaw to ease the tension. After a few minutes she noticed a slight improvement and how his lips parted open. Lottie seized that opportunity and brought up the spoon again. And this time, he sipped the medicine.

“That’s it. Take it slowly. This will make you feel better Tommy”

The pet name escaped her without thinking, and honestly, she didn’t give it a second thought. His aunt called him that so often that it had simply slipped into her vocabulary.

Spoon by spoon, slowly and carefully, Thomas drank the laudanum. The medicine acted quickly, and soon the relaxation became visible in his body. His muscles loosened, his breathing calmed and his pulse returned to normal.

Minutes ticked by in peaceful calmness, a stark contrast to the abrupt awakening she had. A brief glance to the clock showed her a quarter to four. Still a long time to go before sunrise. And a lot to be done. The bed had been left a disaster, as had Thomas himself. She would not bother with the sheets but the bandages and his clothes needed changing. It took her some serious shifting and pulling to get out from under him, but at last Charlotte managed to lay him down, propped comfortably on some pillows. She laid him as comfortable as she could, since she doubted she would be able to move him again.

The shirt was a goner, so she had no qualms in cutting it to shreds to slip it off his body. The bandages soon followed, alongside the thick folds of gauze which were now blood soaked. The sight underneath stole the breath from her lungs

A series of wounds traced the length of Thomas’ spine, from lower to mid back. Perfectly lined puncture wounds, in pairs, going up at regular intervals. Whatever needle had been used surely resembled more an icepick, for the holes seemed to have been drilled in his flesh. Charlotte could not even fathom what sort of procedure Tommy had been put through, but now her other findings made sense. The nail marks on his own hands from where he has fisted them so tight, and the abrasions on his mouth, surely a leather strip or a simile had been put in his mouth as a gag. Tears welled up in her eyes when she thought how he had willingly subjected himself to torture of the worst kind just for a crumb of hope.

She washed him clean as best as she could in that position, rinsing away the blood and sweat. She didn’t have any medicines at hand to apply to the wounds, so she only rebandaged them, making a mental note to ring a real doctor the next day for some real medicines. Since the sheets could not be changed nor could he be dressed again, Charlotte laid some clean towels around him and tucked him tight with the blankets.

As she moved around him, she paid close attention to his face for the first time. Without that perennial scowl on his face he appeared much younger, even under all that messy hair and unkempt beard. His eyelashes were enviably long, casting shadows upon his high cheekbones even under the weak light of the bedside lamp. His nose had a straight slope, and his jaw a particular sharpness, noticeable despite the beard. He was objectively very handsome, a man girls would surely fawn over.

Just as she readied to retake her watching post, Charlotte noticed again the nail marks on his palms, now swelling up and the skin purpling. She took his hand on her lap as she cleaned it gently, wrapping a simple bandage around them. Just as she moved to stand, his hand gripped tightly the fabric of her robe, stalling her moves.

When she turned to face him, she realised Thomas had been awake this whole time. His eyes were open, and the ice had melted from them, giving way to a sharp shade of blue, vibrant even under the obvious exhaustion. His eyes fixed upon her, and they held each other’s gazes for a moment. Charlotte had stared into those eyes many times, and had read many hidden emotions behind the blueness, but that night she saw something new, something she never expected to see in him; vulnerability. Raw, deep, unsuppressed vulnerability. The first glimpse of the man behind the carefully crafted iron mask.

It felt almost wrong to be allowed to see the facade crack, like being made privy to a secret she felt unworthy of. At last, she lowered her eyes first, working on putting aside her medical supplies, just to keep her hands and her concentration busy.

“Sleep, Tommy” The words were hushed, her voice meant to be soothing, although he wouldn’t need much soothing with the dosage of laudanum she gave him “Rest will do you good”

Charlotte moved to stand, but he moved to grip her wrist instead, his hold firm but not hurtful. She looked up to him again, confusion lacing her features.

“Stay”

The words were spoken through great effort, coming out raspy and strained, but perfectly clear.

“I will not leave you. I will sit right by your bed” She reassured him, but he didn’t let go. In a sudden movement he pulled on her arm, throwing her off balance and tossing her rather unceremoniously on the bed, so that their bodies laid close together. She felt her heart rise to her throat, eyes wide and breaths quick at the sudden proximity. She wondered if the pain medicines had loosened Thomas’ inhibitions. Or perhaps he was just in desperate need of some of the human contact he often rejected.

For long minutes Tommy just stared at her wordlessly, not offering an explanation as to why he did that, nor letting go of her arm either. Heat rose to Charlotte’s cheeks, yet she could not look away from him either. The silence lingered until she chose to break the spell.

“Tommy?”

His fingers slid down from her wrist, lacing his hand with hers. His next words held a longing and rawness Charlotte didn’t believe possible in him.

“Don’t leave me alone. Not tonight"

#marsie writes #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x fem oc #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby one shot #charlotte tindall #female oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #don't hold my hand (i'll break your heart)

78 notes · View notes

bimboamyrose · 1 year

Text

Unfamiliar - Ch. 14

First two chapters ☆ Previous (Ch. 13) ☆ AO3

(life update at the end cause it’s been quite the year)

Ch. 14 - The Present

“There’s no time like the present.” Amy thought back to her conversation with the fortune teller- how wise and experienced she seemed. Her words echoed in Amy’s head- “Your time is as valuable as anyone’s.”

Amy kneeled on the floor of her room, her stack of tarot cards fanned out in front of her. It reminded her of when she was a kid; of when she first met Sonic. The excitement and nerves of that time reflected to her from the back of those same cards.

But there was no time for a full spread today, as much as she would have liked the guidance. She would instead draw her daily card and discern what she could from that.

She’d been staring long enough. Closing her eyes, she reached in whatever direction felt right. Her fingertips made contact with a frayed corner. Amy held her breath as she turned it, slowly opening her eyes.

“The fool?” she said out loud. At first glance it was a silly choice, but her face quickly lit up. “The fool!” she repeated with joy. “Perfect!”

The card was illustrated with a carefree man happily standing at the edge of a cliff, as if on the onset of a precarious journey. But he looks confident, even if unaware of the possible risks ahead. For better or worse, The Fool took his chances and looked toward the future with optimism.

It couldn’t be a clearer sign. Madame was right- it was time she understood how Sonic felt about her. She would find an opportunity for that today.

Nervous as it made her, Amy hopped around the room giddily, imagining the scene. It went on for a few minutes until she caught sight of her alarm clock.

“Oh!”

The morning was growing late. She quickly gathered up her deck, placing her special card face-up on her nightstand. She would slip it into her pocket later for good luck.

Amy rushed out of her room, past her house guest. “Morning!”

Metal read, sitting at his usual spot on the couch. The shape of his heavy body grew further indented into its cushions by the day, a reminder of how much time had passed since Amy opened her home to him. She rustled around the kitchen, glancing at her guest and out the back window as she made herself a quick breakfast. In the time Metal had been there, the weather had slowly shifted from frosty to damp, the ground flourishing as spring showers rolled over the landscape. It was warm out.

Amy had overfilled her coffee mug as she pondered it. She frantically reached for the paper towels.

In reality, Metal was doing anything but focusing. A low hum had made its way to Metal’s hearing, tuning in and out since the night before. It echoed the high pitched ring that entered his head after leaving the festival.

Feet away in the kitchen, Amy slammed down a plate on the counter. His head shot up. She was slurping from a coffee mug as she took slices of bread out of the toaster. She placed them on the plate gently enough, but the contact came across as banging to Metal. Then the ringing continued. As if instinctually, Metal scratched at his pointed “ears”- the triangular sound receptors mounted to the top of his head- but the buzzing persisted. Amy was seemingly deaf to the noise. Was it coming from inside him?

“Gotta change,” Amy said quickly, footing it back to her room with her meager breakfast in hand.

Metal followed her with his eyes until she shut the door behind her. He tensed like a guitar string at the noise. He focused on adjusting his receptors until his surroundings were no longer deafening. But why was his hearing so sensitive all of a sudden? He couldn’t even recall using it to that extreme prior to that morning.

Before he could process what caused the error, his receptors picked up again. Metal could hear Amy in her room; involuntarily eavesdropping on her. He heard the distinct sound of cards shuffling. She was surely reading those tarot cards of hers, drawing them with gasps and giggles between pulls. He listened on, wondering silently what she was so excited about.

Then her tablet rang loudly, screeching to Metal’s sensitive hearing. Amy picked up the call as he frantically adjusted his sound receptors again.

“Hi, Tails!” she giggled.

“Hey Amy. You’re sure in a good mood!”

“Well-”

Metal immediately tuned out. It probably wasn’t the right thing to do, invading her privacy- but curiosity had gotten the better of him. And he probably should focus on why his hardware was malfunctioning instead.

But it was no use. Whatever was causing the issue wasn’t letting up, and he could hear their conversation coming in and out. He finally relented when he heard his name some minutes later.

“I’ve been thinking,” he heard Tails remark. “I still find it sorta suspicious that Metal’s here just as Eggman’s supposedly turning over this new leaf.”

Amy sighed. “What is it now?”

“Well, I checked him over yesterday and couldn’t find any evidence of spying like remote control or tracking, but… I’m just not convinced Eggman would abandon him just before going on some business venture. Don’t you think he could be some kind of distraction?”

Amy paused for a moment. Metal sat up on the other side of the wall in anticipation for her response.

“Nah,” she said finally. “I trust him.”

Trust. Metal nodded to himself, relieved at her answer.

“Oh, speaking of spying- what’s the plan for today?” Amy continued.

Tails grumbled. “I’m giving Sonic the listening device. All you have to do is pay Eggman a visit and plant it somewhere we can listen in on him. It’s not like Eggman to be this private so whatever he’s planning has to be big-”

“If he’s planning anything at all.”

“What?” Tails sounded annoyed. “You believe this act?”

“I’d like to,” she groaned. “He is getting kinda old.” And so is chasing after him, she thought.

Another voice interrupted the conversation before either of them could continue. “Hey, buddy!” Sonic called to Tails from another room.

“Be right there!” Tails answered before turning back to his tablet. “Just… be careful, please?” he pleaded with his friend. “I know you’ve been getting along with Metal, but we can’t put anything past Eggman yet.

“Yeah, yeah,” she responded aloofly. “When is Sonic coming?”

Metal turned down his glitching receptors before listening to Tails’ response. He tensed his body, once again reminded of the intrinsic, intense loathing he held for Sonic. He hadn’t had time to process how he would manage that rediscovered fury. Then there was the knowledge that Tails still felt threatened by him. Logically, he understood Tails’ concern- armed with his memories, now more than ever; but it was, nonetheless, hurtful. That seemed like the right way to describe it. Metal slacked back into the cushions.

But, what if Tails was right? Metal still couldn’t remember what led up to the day he lost his memory. He could, very well, be part of a scheme unbeknownst to him. And now that he could recollect the relationship he had with Dr. Eggman, Metal felt strange staying out of either Sonic or Eggman’s involvement. Metal, for his part, felt no desire to fight against his creator. He didn’t feel any loyalty to the man, either. But one way or another Amy would end up in the middle of it again…

Before he could ponder it any further, Amy giddily stepped out from her room. She seemed especially cheerful when she returned, unable to keep the grin off her face. Metal was instantly distracted from whatever was happening with his hearing. His eyes followed her path as Amy twirled into the living room, a gift bag hanging from her wrist as she plopped onto the couch next to him. She looked like she was ready to burst with some kind of good news.

“Hello again!” she beamed.

Metal sat back upright, glancing down at the bag on her lap and immediately setting aside all those complex thoughts for later.

“I’m getting picked up soon, but I wanted to give you this before I head out today…” Amy held the glittery paper bag out to Metal with a bashful smile. “It’s a present! It’s nothing fancy, but…”

Even as he reached out for the gift, Metal couldn’t keep his eyes off her. What was the gift for? She cast her shy gaze off to the side with a rosy flush. Metal would match it if he could.

He took the bag from her carefully, setting it on his lap. Fluffy white tissues stuck out from the top which he pushed aside as carefully as he could manage. The delicate paper wrinkled and tore slightly from his touch, causing him to hesitate. “Don’t worry- presents were made to be ripped open,” she assured with a grin.

Metal looked to her beaming face momentarily and continued opening his gift, tossing the crinkly gift wrap aside. The contents were as much a surprise as receiving a gift at all.

“Do you like it? I thought you might like to write on something nicer than a notepad or a smudgy old whiteboard.”

He pulled out the journal she’d shown him at the equinox festival, its supple leather binding as pleasant in his grip as he remembered. Metal stared at the book, studying its smooth surface. Although it felt durable, he held it gingerly in his palms, still fearing his claws could rip into it unintentionally.

“There’s something else in the bag, too!”

A velvety drawstring sack sat at the bottom of the gift bag. Amy’s expectant eyes watched him. He pulled the top of it apart with care, revealing the contents. He was unsure what he was looking at.

“They’re gloves,” Amy said, as if reading his confusion. “I handmade them for you. I hope you don’t mind…”

Gloves. He examined them carefully. The insides were lined with a hard wearing suede that backed the fine leather exterior, like sturdy working gloves in reverse. Of course; she was probably concerned that he would tear into things from time to time. Her scarf had been unfortunate enough to meet his metallic claws and his whiteboard was scratched beyond reasonable use. Not to mention her arm…

“You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to.” Amy cut in. “But I thought you might find it more comfortable for some things. Maybe you won’t have to be so careful when you’re reading anymore!”

That was true- he had to take his time turning pages when he read, which slowed him down. It was cumbersome to him especially as he could otherwise get through a book at full tilt. Metal looked from Amy’s considerate gift to her uneasy expression.

“Do you like them?” Amy worried that she’d offended her friend somehow. “Maybe if you tried them on…? I could always make adjustments…”

Metal shook his head, carefully slipping one of the gloves over his sharp fingers. It fastened at the wrist with openings on the palms and backs that allowed for greater mobility than full gloves would. He ran the tips of his covered claws over the face of the journal. No scratches. He then flexed each of his fingers with ease before slipping on the other. It wasn’t until then that the thoughtfulness of Amy’s gift registered in his mind. They were perfect.

He took the opportunity to reach for her hand as well, easily sliding his fingers beneath her palm and placing his other palm over top. It was a bit harder to sense her, almost as if slightly numb- but he could do it without worry of harming her. It seemed a fair trade. He chimed enthusiastically as he held her hand in both of his.

Amy’s worry melted away. “You do? I’m so glad! I had Tails help me with the measurements and design. I can still make changes if you need them, though,” she assured.

Armed with a doubtless nod, Metal met her eyes and chimed with more enthusiasm than what was probably necessary. Amy wore a satisfied grin as she chuckled back at his reaction. There was comfort in knowing that he could touch her without harm. Metal gave her hand another soft press before pulling back and watching as she slipped away. He followed her hand back down as it met the other in her lap. She knit her fingers together nervously, but the smile didn’t leave her face.

“Anyway, big day today,” she sighed dreamily. “Sonic’s picking me up for this spy thing real soon. Wish me luck!” Warmth radiated from her cheeks as she thought about her goal for the day.

Metal was intrigued at her excitement. Could she really be that elated just about going on this mission?

Unable to keep her excitement to herself, Amy continued. “It’s been a good day so far. You liked your gift, which is such a relief, and this morning, I drew this!” She pulled a tarot card from her pocket. “This is The Fool! I know the name seems silly, but this card is telling me to take a risk in order to embark on a new adventure. Isn’t that exciting? I think it’s a good omen for today.”

The Fool. Amy was so animated, it must have been important to her. He echoed her excitement with a melodic set of beeps. Still, Metal couldn’t help but think of someone else when he heard the card’s name.

As if he was summoned, the doorbell then rang, followed immediately by a quick knock on the door. Anyone could guess who the impatient visitor was even if they didn’t already know Sonic was on his way over.

“Coming!” Amy lept from her comfortable sitting place, practically sprinting to answer the door. She smoothed down her fluttering dress in anticipation.

Metal didn’t move. The mere thought of his rival sent his engine into overdrive. He brooded as Amy opened the door, determined to remain calm for Amy’s sake, but unable to do much about the intense whirring produced by his body when he heard Sonic’s voice.

“Hey, Ames. You ready?” Sonic leaned against the outer door frame with an arm tucked behind his back.

“Hey! Yeah, I’m ready when you are,” she beamed.

“Could you take care of these first?” He brought a small bouquet of blue and white forget-me-nots out from behind his back. The wildflowers poked up the tops of stems long and short, irregularly arranged together in a little bundle. It wasn’t the neatest bouquet, but they were lively and pretty nonetheless. Amy gasped at the sight of the flowers, catching Metal’s attention.

“Oh, Sonic! They’re so pretty!” She took the modest little arrangement in her hands lovingly, examining the bulbs. “Thank you! Where did you get these?”

“Found a patch of ‘em on the way here. Cute, huh?”

“I love them!” she nodded giddily.

“That’s not all. Brought you a present- Check this out.”

Sonic dangled a small paper in front of her face. It was dated almost 9 years back. Amy’s face lit up.

“Oh! Is that-”

“Yep!”

He turned it over, and Amy was face-to-face with the likeness of her younger self. The photo showed Amy, Sonic, Tails and Knuckles around a cake. It was from her 10th birthday party.

With her free hand, Amy took hold of the little memory and sighed. “How funny! I thought this was lost for good.”

Sonic nodded. “I found it while cleaning out Tail’s lab. Guess it fell off the ol’ pin board behind a bunch of old junk.”

“You were cleaning?” Amy stepped aside so he could come in.

He came in past the doorway. “Well, you know, with his wrist and all…” Sonic trailed off with a shrug. “Anyway, thought you’d want to keep it.”

“I’m gonna stick it on the fridge! Oh- and let me put these in some water.”

Metal listened as she invited Sonic in and took care of the flowers. Amy slipped into the kitchen, immediately pinning the photo under a magnet on her fridge and disappearing under the counter in search of a vase.

Metal did his best to avoid eye contact as Sonic approached nonchalantly.

“Hey, Metal. What’s up?”

Aside from the whirring of Metal’s engine, he didn’t answer.

Sonic took a step back. “Whoa, sounds like you’re about to blast off...”

The smug greeting alone could have sent Metal after him, but he sat still in silence. Or he would have been silent, were it not for his unruly engine and its ever intensifying burring. His fingers creaked together. He could feel his body involuntarily cranking up the heat.

“Uh, you alright?” Sonic repeated.

Amy peeked back at them from over the counter as she stuffed the shaggy stems into a narrow vase. It was difficult to ignore Metal’s demeanor, his engine practically screeching now, body language no more reassuring. “Metal?” His red-hot gaze shot back at her eerily and her own eyes grew wide. “Do you… need some fresh air, maybe?”

The surprise in her expression snapped Metal back to reality. The glow from his eyes dimmed to its usual state and his body relaxed, fans powering down, as if it were his way of exhaling. He lifted his frame from the couch with a nod. There was some concern in her soft smile as he approached her.

“You ok?”

His eyes shifted back at Sonic, who was now looking to the front door and tapping his foot impatiently. Turning back to Amy, Metal crossed his arms as if to ask her the same question.

“Oh, don’t worry about us- we’ll be fine.” Amy laid a gentle hand on his tense shoulder, feeling it give as he seemed to relax.

Then, pointing to the fridge, she practically yanked him into the kitchen by the arm. “Before we go, take a look at this!”

But he was too fixated on her grip to see where she was pointing.

Amy clicked her tongue. “Look~!” she repeated, pulling him further.

Metal’s gaze snapped to the photo stuck on the fridge.

“It’s from when I turned 9! A year after we met. Neat, huh?”

Suddenly captivated, Meta straightened his body. He approached the fridge, vision fixed on the crinkled little photo. He plucked it from under the magnet to take a closer look.

The girl in the photo looked just as she did the day Metal met her; the day he was activated. He could picture her behind those bars, chatting with him. It was strange- he remembered her perfectly without the photo, but it was like seeing a different side of her. She beamed back at him from the picture with a wide smile. short hair and a childish gap between her teeth. There was never an opportunity to see her that way back then. Not for Metal.

“Ah, I forgot I’d just lost one of my baby teeth that day,” Amy blushed giddily. “How embarrassing!” She didn’t actually seem all that embarrassed.

Metal took a moment to scan the rest of the photo. Sonic looked just like he did the day they met, cocky grin and all. It looked like he was the one holding the camera, facing the lens back at the group. Then his eyes wandered to the cake. It was a small whitish cake messily slathered in cream and topped with strawberries and 9 candles. There was some writing in the frosting.

Happy Birthday, ROSIE!

Rosie? He couldn’t recall hearing that name.

Metal turned to Amy, pointing inquisitively at the cake in the photo. She immediately knew what his question was.

“Oh! The boys used to call me Rosie…” There was something between a smile and a grimace on her face, clearly much more embarrassed by the nickname than the photo.

Sonic laughed from the living room. “Rose the Rascal! Man, we were so mean!”

“Pff, yeah.” Amy took the photo from Metal and pinned it back to the fridge, the magnet now stuck right over the cake. “Guess we all grew out of it,” she concluded. “Anyway!”

Amy turned on her heels and walked past Metal and out of the kitchen. His eyes followed her as she addressed Sonic and led him through the front door.

“Just lay low while we’re out, kay?” Amy called to Metal, pulling open the door.

Metal caught Sonic’s quick, perplexed glance from Amy and then to Metal as she waved good-bye and the door closed behind them.

Amy let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Shaking off the embarrassment, and glad to have avoided any conflict between her rivalrous friends, she aimed her attention back at Sonic.

“So, do you have that spy thing?”

Sonic cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

He pulled a tiny gadget out from his glove. “No way Eggman will spot this. Apparently it’s some sorta microphone.” The paper-thin listening device was no larger than a dime. “Since we’re supposed to stick this thing under his desk or something, maybe you oughta handle it.”

“Probably,” Amy said, plucking it from his grasp before he could carelessly toss it to her. She barely had time to tuck it away before she’d been swept off her feet without warning, carried away without another word by her sprinting companion.

Inside Amy’s home meanwhile, the pathetic little bunch of flowers sat in a vase upon the kitchen counter, all crookedly poking out of the vessel. Metal focused on them bitterly.

Distracting himself, Metal gathered up the gift wrap from earlier into the bag for disposal. He watched his fingers as he did, impressed at the craftsmanship of the gloves that allowed him to complete the task neatly, rather than making scrap of the delicate tissue. It felt slightly unnatural, the change in his usual grip. He glanced out the back door at the lush landscape dotted with flowers. It was so much more vibrant, more pleasant to look at since he’d arrived. An improvement.

Somehow, Amy received Sonic’s messy bouquet with all the same enthusiasm as she had Metal’s perfect bunch some weeks back. Still, he supposed, he could do better now.

Metal tossed the gift wrap and set his sights on the lush landscape beyond the back door. Surely Amy could spare another vase when she returned.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

sooo that was another 10 months without updates ackjhasdf oopsss

yeah so since my last update i’ve:

sold my house gone house hunting found the house of my dreams & had my offer accepted... packed up most of my belongings and moved them into storage gone on a very nice trip through greece & italy LOST the dream house due to legal bullshit (i am still devastated tbh) returned home and immediately packed the rest of my things & moved(not into my dream house :I) had to go house hunting... again idk make like 5 offers. none of them were accepted found another place finally, bought it, started renovations (still ongoing) moved into the new place partially got accepted into art school!! (this is my third degree askjdfh) got offered an adjunct teaching role (accepted cause ya girl broke) gone on a little trip to turkey for xmas (it was v nice) started the new job (i have 2 now :I) started art school (bad timing) CONTINUED RENOVATING (i still don’t have a kitchen man) and more renovating i mean it never ends FINALLY moved the rest of my things into the new place (6 months later) and. kept renovating. that’s 3 moves for y’all keeping count

yeah so i’ve had a rough few months lmao BUT it’s summer break, i don’t teach right now, & I’m taking very few classes. my day job is also a lot less busy this time of year. i plan to spend the summer renovating the rest of the place, building a proper kitchen, and hopefully writing & working on my graphic design degree

oh and i get married in august c: AAAAAAAAA

ANYWAY hope you all have had a much less stressful few months & enjoy the chapter. next chapter is actually written & i’m just editing it for next week (knock on wood)

love u guys, thank you, besos, BYE

#it's back again!#metal sonic #amy rose #metamy #sth #unfamiliar #ch 14

215 notes · View notes

tanadrin · 4 months

Text

A Really Obnoxious Standard German Spelling Reform

Rules:

Abolish the umlauts. ä becomes e, ü becomes y. A distinct graph is kept for ö, but we replace it with ø, to conform to the IPA.

ß is abolished entirely; for its replacement, see s.

ie becomes i when it represents a monophthong.

Diphthongs are rewritten to reflect their actual values: ei becomes ai; äu and eu become oi.

H as a long vowel marker is abolished. Vowels are instead doubled when they are long (as they are already in certain words)

Double consonants to indicate a short vowel are abolished.

The trigraph sch becomes š. The tetragraph tsch becomes č. The affricate /ts/ becomes c. The tetragraph dsch becomes ǰ. The digraph ch becomes either ç (in the case of ich-laut) or x.

S remains where it represents the actual sound /s/. Where it represents /z/, it is replaced with z. As an alveolar fricative, it becomes š.

V is entirely replaced with f. W is entirely replaced with v, except in placenames where it acts as a final vowel lengthener--then it is dropped.

Final devoicing is reflected in the spelling of words.

Non-rhotic pronunciations are reflected in spelling.

The obsolete digraph th is abolished.

Capitalization of nouns is abolished.

Sample text (part of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights):

Atikel 1: Alle menšen zint frai und glaiç an vyrde unt reçten gebooren. Zii zint mit feanunft unt gevisen begaabt unt zolen ainanda im gaist der bryyderliçkait begeegnen. Atikel 2: Jeeda hat anšprux auf dii in diiza eakleerung feakyndeten reçte unt fraihaiten oone iagentainen untašiit, etva nax rase, hautfaabe, gešleçt, špraaxe, religion, politiša oda zonstiger ybercoigung, nacionaala oda zociaala heakunft, feamøøgen, geburt oda zonstigem štant. Dez vaiteren darf kain untašiit gemaxt veeaden auf grunt dea politišen, reçtliçen oda intanacionaalen štelung dez lantez oda gebiic, dem aine peazoon angehyrt, glaiçgyltiç op diizez unaphengiç ist, unta troihantšaft šteet, kaine zelbstregiirung bezict oda zonst in zaina zuvereeniteet aingešrenkt ist. Atikel 3: Jeeda hat das reçt auf leeben, fraihait und ziçahait dea peazoon.

#to paraphrase calvin and hobbes #a good spelling reform makes everybody mad #though i would not say this is a *good* spelling reform #conlanging

61 notes · View notes

devilat-thedoor · 7 months

Text

What Is and What Should Never Be Ch. 4

A/N: I know this one took awhile and i’m sorry. life has been life-ing😅 I don’t know if anyone has really noticed or cared, but for each chapter, I’ve linked a song that heavily inspired the story for me, whether it influenced the specific chapter or just influenced the storyline in general. I’m always listening to music while I write and it’s where i draw a good bit of inspo from. idk. But I really recommend listening to the songs or at least reading the lyrics💖

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. No smut this chapter. Toxic Themes(Fighting/Arguing), A lot of angst and a bit of fluff. Nothing else really? just a general sadness…

…Stay a little longer if you convince me and tell me all the things that you have against me // Every time we make up the truth is fading, everybody’s blind when the view’s amazing...

You pulled the visor down, letting the keys drop into your lap. Your chest felt tight and you fought to keep the tears back, blinking them away as they came. As you turned the car on, you realized that you left your bag beneath the counter and it had your wallet with your license and money and cards, but there was no way you could go back into that place. You looked through the windshield as you put the car in drive and saw Josh barreling through the back door, trying to get your attention. Ignoring his waving hands, you drove out of the lot and went straight home.

“Why are you home?” Bellamy was standing in the kitchen when you came through the door and dropped your keys on their hook, “I thought you didn’t get off until 9?”

You slipped out of your shoes as you turned to her, “Umm. I wasn’t feeling good, so J- I got sent home…” You walked past her to open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, “I’m gonna go lay down.”

She caught your arm before you could exit the space, “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. What’s wrong?” She gripped your shoulders, forcing you to face her, “This is the second time you’ve come home upset and I can’t help but think this time also has something to do with Jake. What is it?”

“Bellamy, it’s nothing, I just want to go to bed.” Your voice cracked as you tried to pull out of her hold.

“It’s not nothing. What did he do?” Concern was etched across her face as she stared at you.

You shook your head, trying to hold the tears back again, “He didn’t do anything, Bell, it was me. I fucked up… You told me from the start not to get caught up in them and I didn’t listen. I did this to myself.” You were embarrassed at letting it get to this point. You should’ve just left them both alone and kept it purely professional.

“Hun, I also told you to have fun…” The guilt was creeping over her but it was quickly replaced by her protective nature over you, “Which one of them were you working with? Who’s there now?”

“No. Bell-“

She cut you off, stepping around you to exit the kitchen, “I just want to talk to him. Which one was it?”

Now you were grabbing her arm to yank her back, “Please, Bellamy.” You let out a sigh, “You can’t fight this one for me. I’ll deal with it, I just- Not right now. I wanna forget about it until tomorrow.”

“Okay. Fine.” She released a sigh, nodding her head as she allowed you to exit the room.

You strolled into your bedroom, clicking the door shut, and went straight to your closet. Stripping out of your work clothes, you reached for the one article of clothing that you always sought solace in; Your dad’s old, blue Penn State college hoodie. It was littered with teeny holes and fraying seams, the nittany lion logo peeling away from the fabric, but it still smelled like him. You pulled it over your head, the hem falling to your mid thigh, and held the sleeves over your face to breathe in the familiar and comforting scent.

Grabbing your phone from the dresser, you flicked the light off, crawled into bed and checked your notifications. There was a single message from Josh but nothing from Jake.

Josh 7:21pm: Did i cross a line? What is going on with you and jake?

You 8:02pm: I crossed the line. I’m sorry.

You didn’t wait long enough for a response, just plugged your phone in after turning on Do Not Disturb and laid it facedown. You picked up your laptop from beside the nightstand, opening it up to play some music. After clicking play on a playlist, you put the laptop down beside you and curled deeper into the mattress. The soft organ notes of the first song floated through the room, Cold Heart Killer by Lia Marie Johnson, the lyrics immediately plaguing you with thoughts of Jake.

But my friends keep saying he’s a cold heart killer

Make you crazy, yeah, he’s smooth as liquor

So damn dangerous, I got too close

Oh, I should’ve known better…

You really should have known better but even now, after the constant back and forth, after what he said, the idea of him was still enticing. Pulling the duvet up to your chin, you closed your eyes and willed your brain to conjure up thoughts of anything else, anyone else, but it was no use. Your mind kept wandering back to the night you spent with him, waking up with him, your body longing for the feeling of his draped over it. You gave up on fighting the thoughts and let them run wild until you inevitably fell asleep.

💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿

“Y/N…” Bellamy’s hand was on your back, shaking you awake, “Hey, Jake is here to see you.”

A soft hum vibrated from your chest as you peeked an eye open, not quite registering what she was saying, “M’sleeping, B.” You pulled the blanket up over your head to partially block out the morning light but also to make her go away.

She yanked the comforter away, whisper-yelling, “Jake is in the living room…”

You rolled over, wide-eyed, “No. Get him out.” Sitting up, you pulled yourself from the bed.

“What am I supposed to tell him? He knows you’re here, Y/N!”

Now you were yelling in a hushed tone, “Tell him that I don’t want to see him. Tell him that he’s a fucking dickhead! I don’t give a fuck, Bell, just make him leave.” You pointed at the door to get your point across and watched her slip out and pull it shut behind her. Raking a hand through your hair, you let out a sigh and reached to pull your phone from the charger when your door was flinging open.

“Dude, what the hell is your malfunction?!” You heard Bellamy yell before the door slammed shut and drowned out her shouting.

You whipped around, knowing exactly who you were about to face, “Did you not get the message? Leave.”

He stood just a few feet away from you, those stupid sunglasses covering his big, dumb, brown eyes and his annoying, soft mouth drooped into a frown. He lifted his hand, holding your bag up, “You left this at the shop…” He was looking around your room and you weren’t sure if it was just out of curiosity or because he was trying to avoid your eyes.

“And you couldn’t just leave it with Bellamy? You had to bring it to my room?” Your tone was growing louder and you thought you saw him flinch, “Or better yet, why bring it at all, Jake? Why make the special trip down here for a whore? That’s what I am, right?”

“No. Y/N-”

“No? But that’s what you said, hun…” You were sure you looked crazy with your wild sleep hair and angry eyes, “I’m just a fucking whore who gets on her knees for everyone, according to you.” You released a humorless laugh as you turned away from him, “Yanno, my dad always said all a man’s got in life are his balls and his word and he shouldn’t break ‘em for nobody…So don’t take it back now, Jake. Own the fuck up to it.”

“Can we just have a conversation like adults? Are you capable of that or does everything have to be a goddamn fight with you?” He grabbed your shoulder, spinning you to face him again, “I wanted-”

You were cutting him off again, ripping yourself from his touch, “Fuck you! I don’t care what you wanted and you made it blatantly obvious that you don’t care what I want.” Your voice dropped, cracking a bit as your emotions became overwhelming, tears prickling in your eyes., “Why are you here, Jake?” You brought your hands up to your face, trying to stop the tears from falling. When he didn’t answer, you dropped your hands to see him coming towards you. He was grabbing your waist with one hand, the other curling around the back of your neck, as he collided his lips with yours. You instantly melted into him, moving your mouth against his without a thought as your fingers desperately searched for any sliver of his skin they could find. He was pulling you in tighter, his thumb pressing into your hip, when you finally realized what was happening. You flattened your palms on his torso and forced him away, “Stop it- Just-”

“Y/N, please…” He reached for you again, but you threw your arms up, blocking his hands.

“Don’t touch me… I want you to leave.” You could hear your voice shake with every word, but you tried to remain stern, “I don’t want to see you anymore, Jake, just let me be.” You finally started crying, unable to hold it back anymore, “Can you please just leave me alone? I can’t do this anymore, I can’t- I need you to leave.” You sat on the bed, letting your head hang as you stared at the floor, watching the hardwood collect the salty droplets from your cheeks.

He stayed rooted in place for a minute or so and you could feel his eyes boring into you, begging you to just look at him and tell him to stay. You saw his old, filthy vans turn around, followed by the sound of the bedroom door opening, “I didn’t mean it, peach. I’m sorry…” Your head snapped up at his dejected voice, but he was already gone, leaving the door to hang open as he left you alone. Just like you asked…

“God, he’s a real piece of work.” Bellamy came into the room after a few moments and found you crying, “Oh babe…” She rushed to your side, sitting down on the bed to hold you, “What did he do?”

“Bell, I just want my dad…” You leaned into her, letting your tears soak into her shirt, “I d-don’t kn-know what to do.”

She took one of her arms away from you to pull her phone from her pocket, “I know, Y/N. Hang on…” After a few seconds, you heard the facetime calling tone coming from her cell, “It’s not the same, but it’s the best I can do, babe…”

You raised your head just as Bellamy’s dad picked up, “Hey, hon- Oh, it’s both of my girls! How are you guys?” Mr. Cole’s jovial greeting brought a tiny smile to your face.

“We’re okay. Umm… Y/N could really use some advice, dad.” She angled the phone in your direction.

His eyes focused on you through the blurry pixelation, “Awwe, sweet pea, what are you crying for?”

Your heart warmed at the nickname; Your dad graced you with it when you were three years old and took it upon yourself to pick all of the flowers from your mother’s garden. You held them tight in your grasp, running to find your mom on the back porch and presenting what you thought would be a nice gift, Mommy, look what I got for you! When she saw you, covered in soil with fistfuls of the tiny, pink blooms, she was furious. She yelled and threw a tantrum about her precious flowers, but your dad just smiled as he pulled you to the side of the house and turned the hose on to clean your little fingers off. He looked at your mother with a gentle smile and said, “We can always plant more, honey… But this sweet pea? She’s irreplaceable.” He pinched your chubby cheeks and left a soft kiss on your head and the name stuck. Even after a few years of him being gone, Bell and her family still kept the nickname alive for you.

“I really messed up, papa Cole… Dad would be so disappointed with me.” You put your head in your hands again, shaking with soft cries.

“No, Y/N. There is nothing you could ever do to disappoint him.” He paused, only speaking again once you brought your attention back to the phone, “You were the world to him, his perfect, little sweet pea blossom.” His voice held a solemn tone now, “Talk to me about what’s hurting you, honey.”

After a few more sniffles, your eyes flicked to Bellamy and she gave a gentle, reassuring nod. You know she was dying to know what was going on so she could help. You looked down at your fingers, twisting them together as you started to unload on your best friend and her dad, leaving out the moment in the parking garage, for obvious reasons. “...And Jake saw me kissing Josh and he said some really shitty things…and maybe I deserved it, yanno?” You shrugged, confused by your own feelings, “He made me feel disgusted with myself, but I…can’t stop thinking about him. Part of me still likes him and I hate myself for it…And I like Josh too, of course I like him. He’s so sweet and he’s funny and he doesn’t make me insane, but I just-.” You couldn’t find the right words to describe what you were feeling, but Mr. Cole and Bell both listened to your ramblings with no judgment. “God…I can’t even imagine what dad would say.”

You could tell Bellamy had so much she wanted to say, but her dad spoke up first, “I think he would say that you went with your gut and you shouldn’t punish yourself for that. You may have made a few missteps, but that’s life, Y/N. You can either make decisions with your heart or your head, and though the outcomes may be different, neither choice is wrong… Now given what the boy said, I can confidently say that your father would’ve made him eat his words and his teeth.” He released a soft chuckle. It was times like this when you realized just how close he and your dad were. He could form sentences to sound exactly the same way your father would put them, “Girls, I have to get back to work but you can call me later. I love you both.”

“Love you, dad! I’ll call once you’re home, I wanna see mom too.” She hung up the call after you waved bye and mumbled a ‘love you.’

You flung your arms around your best friend, pulling her backwards to fall into the mattress with you, “Thank you for sharing your dad, B…and thank you for just being you. I wouldn’t be able to get through life without you.” You planted a hard peck on her cheek, making sure to pop your lips when you pulled away.

She forced a grimace as he wiped the wet splotch from her face, “Pea, my dad loves you like you’re his own, hell you practically are. I don’t think of it as sharing. You’re my sister, you know that.” She rolled on top of you, grasping your face to return a sloppy peck to the middle of your forehead, “I’m gonna make some breakfast. You hungry?” She popped up from the bed, heading for the door.

“No. I’m gonna shower and try to get my shit together.” You pushed yourself to stand and snatched your phone from the nightstand. The screen illuminated as you pulled the charging cord, showcasing a few text notifications. You pulled the old hoodie off and folded it, tucking it back into the safety of your closet for the next time you’ll need it, and made the short walk to your bathroom. Allowing the water time to heat up, you finally opened the new messages, three from Josh, one from Jake…

Josh 8:11pm: Y/N i wanted that kiss but if there’s something between you and my brother then tell me. Why did he say that?

Josh 8:32pm: Can you at least answer me to tell me you made it home okay? You were crying when you left

Josh 12:02am: Okay I’m trying to give you space but I’m going a little crazy worrying about you Y/N please

A new kind of pain rippled through your chest at his messages and you knew you owed him an explanation.

You 10:56am: I’m sorry, Josh. I didn’t mean to worry you. I made it home and just went to bed early. There was something with me and Jake or at least I thought there was. I never should’ve kissed you the first time, it wasn’t fair to either of you. I’m just really confused about my feelings.

You hit send and swiped out of the thread to read Jake’s single message, only it wasn’t a text, it was a voice message. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you clicked play to listen, his slurred speech coming through the speaker.

Jake 2:35am: *inaudible grumbling* … Youuuu… ha ha…. You really have me soooo *hiccup-burp* so fucked up… I don’t know hoooow you do it, peach…ha ha ha ha…peeeeeach. *glass clattering* You love it when I call you th-that. My sweet pea- *hiccup* My sweet peach… But you’re not miiiiine, are you? Nooooo. Naaaah. You’re too good for me…drive me fucking craaaazy, baby… *childish giggle* You and that goddamn mouth…just love to… press… my but- *droning snore* Shit…*more grumbling* ha ha. She…loves it…

What the fuck…

You listened to it again. And then again. The bathroom was filled with steam by the time you put your phone down and stepped into the shower. His message continued to replay in your head, the nauseating rush of butterflies growing more powerful each time you thought over it. You had him fucked up??? Did he even know what kind of effect he had on you? You finished washing up and pulled a towel around you to go back to your room. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you let his voice play one more time, catching on one thing that hit you with a head rush; Your nickname. Albeit accidental, caught in a boozy hiccup, but it was there. Spoken through Jake’s lips with that intoxicating rasp that made you weak in the knees. But it didn’t matter… None of it mattered anymore because you sent him away, told him to leave you be and that’s what he did. Would you have acted differently if you’d heard his message before he’d shown up? You shook your head, trying to dispose of the thoughts altogether, and started getting dressed.

When you walked into the kitchen, Bellamy was sitting on the counter, eating a bagel, “Hey, babe…” She mumbled cautiously around her bite of food.

You looked up at her as you pulled the fridge open, “What’s up?”

“Would you be like…upset if maybe…Sam came over later?” She lifted her shoulders, bracing for you to tell her that you would absolutely be upset, but it was the complete opposite.

You chuckled at her, “Bell, of course not.” Grabbing a string cheese, you closed the door and leaned on the counter beside her, “I love that weird little guy.” There was a pause and you turned your head to see her smiling shyly as she typed on her phone, “You like him don’t you?”

She looked up at you, her smiling growing, “I think I do, Y/N. Don’t tell him that, I can’t let it go to his head.” She bumped your shoulder with her own, laughing quietly, “We’ve been hanging out a lot when our schedules line up. Most of his classes are either early morning or early afternoon. He goes to CCA.”

“Oh yeah, you said he’s majoring in photography, right?”

“Yeah! He’s actually really fucking talented too…Hang on.” Bellamy held her phone up, opening instagram to find his account, “Look at these pictures, they’re unreal.”

You took the phone from her and scrolled through the array of photos. A mix of landscapes and portraits, even a few wildlife. You were quickly noticing how much he favored film over digital, but nevertheless, his talent was undeniable. Scrolling for a few more seconds, you were about to give her phone back when one portrait grabbed your attention. You tapped on the tiny square to get a full view. Jake. A black hat, wild hair and an intimidating glare, his eyes staring straight into the lens. He looked exactly like the Jake you knew, yet different…younger maybe? You slid out of the app and handed your friend the cell, “You’re right, he does have talent. Those are all amazing.” You looked away, peeling the wrapper from your string cheese.

She clicked on instagram again, the screen popping right back to the photo of Jake, “Don’t do this to yourself, sweet pea… He doesn’t deserve you, not with the way he treats you and definitely not after what he said.” She jumped down from the counter with a sigh, “You have to understand that, babe. You are worth so much more than what he’s reducing you to.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her that he wasn’t the guy she thinks. He was sweet in his own warped and twisted way. She thought he was sadistic…maybe he is…but not always. Not in the way he held your hand or how he always made sure you had lunch when you worked with him. The way his tongue would beg for permission before slipping against your own…But arguing was no use, she made up her mind about him, “Yeah, Bell. I know…I uhh- I’m gonna go get a coffee and maybe check out a few of the local shops.” You turned away and stalked out of the kitchen, wanting nothing more than to escape everything for a bit, “I’ll be back later. Love you.”

After getting your coffee, you wandered through the streets, slipping in and out of different locally owned stores. You found a cute little thrift store that you wound up spending over an hour in, sifting through vintage t-shirts and knick knacks that could be considered relics. When you finally started your trek back home, it was slipping into early evening. The apartment was too quiet when you entered and you found Bellamy napping on the couch. Deciding to let her be, you went into your room and followed suit, stripping out of your clothes to pull on an oversized tee and some boxer shorts, and fell into bed for a nap of your own. You opened your music app and clicked on your ‘Dad’s Favorites’ playlist, being met with the distortion heavy opening of War Pigs by Black Sabbath. Placing the phone on the opposite side of the bed, you snuggled beneath the warm blanket and allowed yourself to drift.

💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿

*bzzbzzzzzbzzbzz*

You woke up to the feeling of your phone vibrating beside your head. Snatching it up from the pillow, you squinted through tired eyes, focusing enough to swipe the button and lay the device over your ear with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Y/N, hey…You answered…”

You shot up into a sitting position, pulling the phone in front of your face to be sure it was who you thought. Slowly bringing it back to your ear, you squeezed your eyes shut, “Josh… What’s up?” You tried to sound normal but you’re sure he could hear the anxiety in your voice.

“I wanted to apologize for not texting you back earlier, the store was slammed all day. We did really good in sales, but the order is gonna be a bitch to put away next friday.” The casual conversation threw you off a bit, but you were lying if you said it wasn’t comforting.

Your nerves eased at his usual joyous tone, “That’s great about the sales, though. And if you need me to come in to help out with the delivery, I’d be more than happy to, Josh.”

“Y’know, I might hold you to that, especially since I don’t know where to pick up with your organizing in the storage room.” You could hear his smile through the phone, but then there was a shift, “Hey, listen…” You braced yourself for what was coming, staying silent, “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about anything. I like you, Y/N… You’re cool as hell and such a sweetheart. But if there’s business between you and Jake, I’ll step back.”

You released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “I like you too, Josh, really…and not just as my boss, but-” You took a pause, not really sure what to say, “It just that- Jake and me, whatever it is or was…it’s unresolved and I don’t know where we stand right now.” You dropped your voice to a whisper, the bleak shame settling in, “I made a complete mess of everything and I don’t know how to begin to fix any of it…”

“There’s nothing to fix with me, consider the slate clean. As for him… Jake is easy. Just ask him.” He stated it so plainly, like it was the most obvious answer, “I know he wears his bad guy mask pretty well, but it’s just an act. He’s not good when it comes to feelings ever since-.” He stopped like he was about to share something sacred, “He just has a hard time dealing with his emotions. You have to push a bit and he will push back, but he can only fight for so long. I promise, I know exactly how he is.”

“I don’t know…” You fell back against the pillows, talking to Josh like he was your middle school best friend, “He’s so confusing, Josh. Just when I start believing that he likes me, he’s saying mean things or he’s flirting with Olivia. I just can’t help but feel like he only serves to hurt me.” You sat up again, realizing how shitty all of this probably was for him to hear, “Fuck. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

He was quick to shut you down, “Don’t fucking apologize. This is the shit friends talk about. We’re friends, aren’t we?” He let out a breathy laugh and put on a valley girl accent, almost like he was mocking Olivia, “Baaabe, like, you know that, you can tell me, like anyyyything.” When he heard you giggling he broke character, “Okay, seriously, Y/N. Just talk to him and find out where his head is at. If not for yourself, do it for me…If he doesn’t want what you’re selling, I know somebody who’s dying to take it off the market.” He was laughing again, a sweet, melodic sound, “Listen, I gotta get everything cleaned up for closing but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You were smiling wide, feeling the hot blush spread across your face, “See you tomorrow, boss… and thank you, Josh. This- I like being able to talk to you, it’s nice.”

“Feelings mutual, Y/N. Goodnight.” He hung up the phone before you could respond.

Pulling the phone from your ear, you checked the time, feeling a comforting warmth spread through your body. 8:39pm. You slept a lot longer than you wanted to, but you felt great after the conversation with Josh. Flinging the duvet from yourself, you rolled out of bed and heard voices coming from the living room. You stretched your limbs as you remembered that Bellamy invited Sam over and made your way out to say hi. They were both on the couch, Sam leaned back with his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table and Bell, stretched across the cushions, with her legs over his. You stepped closer, making your presence known, “Made yourself right at home, huh, Sam?” You said it with a laugh so he would know you were joking.

“I actually did, yes. The moving truck is downstairs, I was waiting for you to wake up to help carry the big stuff.” He flipped his palms up with a shrug, “I’m surprised you’re not spending the night with Jake since he has tomorrow off.”

Bellamy pulled her legs from his lap to sit up, smacking his arm, “You’re brother is a dickhead, Sammy. She’s done with him.” She said it with finality, like she was making the decision for you.

He dropped his feet to the floor, looking from her to you, “Wait, what did I miss? Weren’t you guys like-.” He poked his fingers together, making kissy noises.

“I thought we were, but shit happens, I guess?” You dragged a hand over your face with a sigh.

Bellamy popped up, “He made her think that he liked her and then practically called her a whore. Not to mention the way he flirts with that other girl.” She shuffled around his legs to walk to the kitchen, “I’m gonna grab another beer, do you want one, babe?” She pointed at him, receiving a nod in return as she disappeared through the doorway.

When you turned back to him, his eyes narrowed, giving you a questioning stare and prompting you to tell him what happened, “Look, Sam, I don’t know, okay? We hangout, have fun, and then he changes in a flash and becomes this malevolent force that just loves to jumble my brain. I can’t do it, the back and forth, it’s- He’s fucking twisted but…I still feel this pull towards him, I hate it.”

Sam sat up straight on the couch, “He’s got some shit to work out, that’s for sure… And I don’t know all sides to the story, but there’s something you have to understand about Jake.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked up at you, “He’s barely even looked at a woman since his last girlfriend. Yeah, he flirts, he’s had hookups, but it’s never serious, not to him.”

“Nothing excuses what he said, Sam.” Bellamy chimed in as she came out of the kitchen, “He’s been treating her like trash since the minute he met her. Brother or not, you can’t sit here and defend him.” She handed him the IPA and sat down beside him.

“Bellamy, just let him talk. I wanna hear this.” You sunk into the chair opposite the couch and turned your attention back to Sam, “What were you saying?” You ignored your best friend’s scoff as you encouraged him to continue.

Twisting the cap from his bottle, he took a long drink before speaking up, “I’m not defending him. I just think there’s a reason that he’s acting like this.” He took another drink and placed the beer on the table, “His last girlfriend, Ivy, she really fucked him up. They were together for four years, really fucking lovey dovey.” Sam shook his head as he recalled, “We all kind of thought they were a forever deal, even mom and dad. Jake was so deep in love, he talked about moving across the country with her because she wanted to live in New York… Two years in and he was gonna drop his entire life to stay close to her.” He paused, scratching his chin, “He’ll kill me for telling you this.”

“Sam, please. Help me understand.” You stood up again, pacing back and forth, “Explain to me what I could’ve done for him to treat me like this, because I can’t keep forgiving his behavior. He’s letting me in, making me feel like he might really want me, just to push me away again. Over and over, and I can’t do it, I won’t.” You were rambling out of pure anxiety and frustration, “It’s not fair… I made it clear that I liked him, that I wanted him. We had fun on his birthday…at least I thought we did. We stayed up all night, completely wrapped up in one another, then the next thing I know, he wakes up a completely different person and kicks me out? I mean, what the hell was that?” You stopped to take a breath and Sam was quick to raise a question.

“Wait, you- He let you stay the night?” His confusion was clear as you nodded your head, “Like, slept in the same bed?”

Now you were confused, “Yeah… He begged me to stay. Not that he really had to.” Your shoulders dropped in defeat, “It was kind of sweet, when I woke up, I mean.” A faint smile appeared as you remember the warmth of his body draped over you, “He was out cold, laying on top of me. Fuck, he was like, clinging to me. But then he woke up and it was like a switch flipped… He pushed away from me, wouldn’t even look at me. I tried to ask him what was wrong, he gave some bullshit excuse and practically told me to get the fuck out.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as you stood in the middle of the room.

Bellamy stood up and came over to you, “He kicked you out after you slept with him? Why didn’t you tell me that when I picked you up, babe?” She was mad, that was clear, “I would have went straight up there and beat his ass. What an asshole!”

“We didn’t have sex…” Your voice was quiet as you stared out to the balcony, “But we still did things… That’s why I didn’t say anything. I felt used and I was embarrassed, Bell…”

“You didn’t sleep with him and he still let you stay? All night?” Sam was standing now too, trying to connect the pieces.

You released a huff of annoyance at having to repeat yourself, “No, I didn’t sleep with him and yes, I stayed all night. We made out, cuddled, wrestled a little bit and listened to music and then we fell asleep in the same bed, wrapped up in each other. Any more questions?” Pulling away from your friend, you stalked towards the sliding door to get a breath of air.

“He likes you, Y/N… Like, really fucking likes you.” Sam let out a chuckle and you turned around to glare at him, “No, I’m serious! It makes sense now!”

“No it doesn’t, Sam! Nothing makes sense!”

He flinched at your loud tone, “It does though…” He held his hands up in defense, waiting for you to lash out, but you stayed quiet, allowing him to explain, “Jake doesn’t let himself get close to anyone anymore. Not since Ivy. He barely hooks up, but when he does, it’s always some girl he meets in a bar that he knows he’ll likely never have to see again and he’s sending them home the minute he’s finished. Then here you come.” He was smiling like he solved an impossible puzzle, “I knew something was up with him. That day that I met you, when you came into the store and he forced me out?” You nodded to let him know that you remembered, “He was off his game. Normally, nothing can bother Jake, he’s always so sure of himself. But he was messing things up, putting shit where it didn’t go, and just overall in a shitty mood. Kept checking his phone and staring at the clock… Then you came in and there was this shift. For someone who doesn’t know him, it wouldn’t have been noticeable, but I noticed.”

You thought back on it for a moment, “You said he was on edge because of me…I wanted to ask what you meant but he was shoving you out the door before I got the chance.”

“I just kind of forgot all about it, but him sleeping with you- or not sleeping with but- well, you know what I mean.” He was waving his hands to get his point across, “Anyways… You said he kicked you out in the morning?” Nodding your head slowly, you told him about the entire interaction you had with his brother that Sunday morning, “He got freaked out. That’s it, I’m telling you!”

“Freaked out about what? He woke up with the same girl he asked to spend the night. What is there to get freaked out about?” Bellamy stared at Sam with her eyebrows raised high, clearly frustrated.

He slapped his palm over his forehead, “How can I simplify this…” He took a deep breath, “Jake hasn’t wanted anything past sex with women for two years. After Ivy, he changed. He-he’s closed off, doesn’t let anyone in, doesn’t let himself get close to people or let people get close to him. Ivy fucked him up, destroyed his trust.” He was talking with his hands, waving them around as he explained, “But he likes you and he refuses to admit it to himself. That’s why he freaked, because when he woke up, all cuddled up with you, it scared him. He’s afraid to get close to you because he thinks you’re gonna hurt him just like she did, Y/N.” Sam tossed himself onto the couch with a grin, proud of himself for cracking the case.

You let it all soak in, but something was still digging at your brain, “What did Ivy do to him, Sam?” You didn’t know what Jake was like before, but the way his little brother described it, she must’ve done a good bit of damage.

“That’s something he’s gonna have to tell you himself, it’s not my place.” He shrugged, leaving it at that, before grabbing Bellamy’s hand to pull her down on his lap, “Sorry, Y/N.”

You were fiddling with your fingers in silence for a few minutes while they both stared at you, completely lost in your own head. Your eyes went back to the balcony door as you gazed out at the city lights and then you were moving, heading for the front door and slipping your vans on. Bell called after you, asking what you were doing, but you just grabbed your keys from the hook and left.

💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿

“Come on…” You had been standing outside for at least 20 minutes, waiting for somebody to come through the front door of the building so that you could slip in. You tried calling Jake multiple times, but he would just send you straight to voicemail every time. Just as you were about to give up completely, by some stroke of luck, a man was coming outside. You rushed to get into the door before it shut and went straight for the stairwell, running up to Jake’s floor. When you made it to his door, you hesitated, wondering if what you were doing was a bad idea. Pushing the nerves aside, you shook out your hands to wrangle your nerves before leaving three knocks against the door. You could hear him shuffling around inside, but he wasn’t answering the door. You knocked again. No Answer. Refusing to leave without talking to him, you reached for the doorknob, chancing it with a slight twist. You were surprised when it turned and the door popped open, “Jake?” You said it quietly, unsure if you should have gone in at all. Closing the door softly, you walked a little further in, calling his name a bit louder, “Jake…”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He came out of the kitchen and walked by you, straight into the living room, making no move to send you back out, “How did you get in?”

You kicked your shoes off by the door and went after him, “You weren’t answering and it was unlocked. You ignored my calls… I need to talk to you.”

Jake was slumped into the couch, a bottle of bourbon in his hand, “Now you wanna talk. Convenient.” He scoffed, lifting the bottle to his mouth for a short chug, “You said you didn’t wanna see me, told me to leave you alone. So I did. Now you can repay that fucking courtesy.” His voice was calm, not the slightest hint of aggression despite his words.

You inched closer until you were standing at the end of the couch, looking down at him, “Tell me about Ivy.” You watched his eyes go wide as he swallowed hard, “What did she do to you, Jake?”

“Who the fuck- I’m gonna kill Josh.” He sat up, slamming the bottle on the coffee table with a bang, “There’s nothing to tell. It’s in the past and it’s nobody’s fucking business.” Now his chest was rising and falling hard, angry huffs pushing through his nose.

You didn’t come here to upset him, you came for clarity and he was the only one who could provide it. You put on the softest tone you could muster, “Baby, look at me…” His eyes flashed to you, a sad vulnerability in them that made your heart ache, “Why do you pull me in just to push me away? Tell me what she did, Jake, please.” He started to shake his head as you took a seat beside him, but you reached down, carefully taking his hand in yours, “How did she hurt you?”

He stared down at your hand wrapped around his, your thumb rubbing over his knuckles, “She left. That’s all people do is fucking lie and then leave.” He picked the bottle back up for another drink.

“Jake, I’m not leaving. I’m-“

“But you still lied, Y/N! You fucking lied right to my face!” His tone made you wince.

You pulled your hand from his, taking his face instead, “You’re right, I did. I’ll own up to that, Jake. I lied and I’m sorry.” You tilted his head, forcing him to look at you, “I can’t take that back, but you have to know it was only twice. I kissed him before I came into work and I don’t know why I did it, but then he came back and it happened again and I just-… You have my mind so messed up.” You watched him roll his eyes, ready to argue, “I’m not blaming you, I made the choice, that was all me. But you’re not entirely innocent either.”

He gripped your wrists gently, removing your hands from his skin, “I don’t know what you want me to say. What do you want to hear, Y/N?” He was lifting the bottle back to his lips when you snatched it from his hands.

“I just want the truth, Jake! You fucking string me along and just when i start to fall a little bit for you, thinking you might catch me, you cut the fucking string and leave me to fall on my face.” You put the bottle on the far end of the table, away from him, “If Sam’s right and you’re just afraid that I’ll hurt you, then tell me that. But if it’s all just some game, then it’s over. You don’t get to question me about what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with, it’s not fair!” Your voice was rising out of pure frustration, but he remained quiet, staring at the floor, “Tell me what you want, Jake… If you want me to leave, I will walk out that door right now and you’ll never have to see me again.” You waited for him to say something, anything, but he was silent, still avoiding your gaze, “Okay… I’ll text Josh my resignation.” Standing from the couch, you looked down at him, giving him one more chance before heading for the door.

Just as you slid your shoes on and grasped the doorknob, his hand was grasping onto your shirt, tugging you backwards, “Please don’t go.” His big brown eyes were pleading with you, holding all the emotions that his words couldn’t carry, “It’s not a game… Not anymore. I-.” He paused, fighting to find what he wanted to say, “I’ll tell you about her, just- Not tonight… Don’t make me talk about it tonight, peach.” He sounded so deflated, the complete opposite of the Jake you’d come to know.

“Okay.” Your hands went to his arms, sliding up over his shoulders to cup his face, “We don’t have to talk about her tonight, baby, it’s okay.” You kept a gentle tone, guiding your arms around his neck to pull him into an embrace. Despite the tension keeping his body stiff, you held him close, “Do you want me to stay, Jake?”

His movements were hesitant, but he slowly brought his arms up, circling them around your waist, “I do.” His face was buried in your neck as he mumbled the two words.

“Are you still gonna want this in the morning?” It came out a whisper.

“I will.” His body finally began to relax against you, “Promise. That night you stayed, my birthday…” His was still murmuring against your throat, “I slept so well. For the first time in so long.” He was tightening his arms around you as the confession spilled from his mouth.

“Then why did you kick me out?” You brought your hands back to his shoulders, trying to push him away so you could look at him, but his grip remained locked.

Jake released a soft sigh, “That shirt you picked to wear- the old store shirt… That’s the one she always reached for.” His lips were tickling over your skin as he spoke in a solemn tone, “When I woke up, I was groggy. I saw the shirt, your body underneath me…felt like the last time I woke up with her and it made me sick.” He finally lifted his head from your neck, meeting your eyes, “When I came out of the bathroom, I wanted to tell you to stay but the look on your face… I knew you’d want an explanation and I couldn’t-.”

“Whatever she did, whatever pain she caused you,” You held his liquor-blushed cheeks, “I’m not here as a reminder, let me help you forget it, Jake… Just let me in.”

“I’ll try” He let his head fall back into the crook of your neck, letting the silence take over as he breathed you in. You held onto him, pulling your fingers through his tangled hair, until he finally spoke up again, “Can we go to bed, peach?”

His arms tightened around your waist again as he lifted you from the floor. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping a grip on his shoulders as you whispered, “Yeah, baby. Let’s go to bed.” Allowing him to carry you into his bedroom and kick the door shut behind him.

🤍Taglist🤍

@jakekiszkasbuttsweat @ieatedasammy @twistedmelodies @dropdeadalyx31 @ageofbajabule @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @ignite-my-fire @becinabubblegvf @literal-dead-leaf @sanguinebats @myleftsock @laneygvf @writingcold @sinarainbows @lipstickitty @giraffehippy @jakesmustache @gracev0609 @gretavansara @profitofthedune @gvfmarge @brookekiszkaa @earthgrlsreasy @welllauragvf @takenbythemadness @swim2shore

110 notes · View notes