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mangoshorthand · 4 months

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Arrow of Time- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Chapter 1 (Hard Feelings Part 5)

SUMMARY: When the mother of all teenage tantrums causes time itself to fracture, Five has to travel back to 1831 to repair the damage. But will he be able to cope with what he finds there? Chapter 2 >> << Back to prologue

You've had a shit day at work, Aoife has a secret and Five has a panic attack.

We're looking at a big ol' time jump friends.

Chapter One: My Bambina

“Now look: p(𝑥) is a polynomial and k is an integer. So we gotta put the 𝑥-2 on the outside and then what do we put on the inside….?” When she stares blankly, he prompts her, “We start with 𝑥 cubed…and what then?”

Aoife sits at the desk, looking up at him with his own eyes. The same expression of panicked frustration is still there, writ large.

“ Cosa non capisci, cara?”

“ Tutto!” she exclaims, throwing her arms in the air and a whine entering her voice, “I still don’t get it, Dad.”

He sighs, running his fingers down his face before turning from the dry erase and placing the lid on his pen.

“This important stuff, tesoro. We have to grasp this to understand limit cycles.”

“Why won’t you let me just try?!”

He lets out an angry sigh, praying to a deity he doesn’t believe in to give him strength. Five is not a patient man by nature, but the last thirteen years of fatherhood had expanded his capacity tenfold…but everyone has their limit.

“You know why,” he grinds out, teeth gritted tightly together, “because you’re averaging a D+ in math and if you try to time travel without even basic understanding-”

From the entrance hall, the grandfather clock chimes, just audible up the attic stairs. Immediately, her head whips to face him, throwing down her pencil.

“You said we’d stop at seven.”

“Aoife- you have to get this.”

“You promised,” s he says, looking for all the world as if he’d been applying thumbscrews rather than teaching her rudimentary polynomial division, “that’s so unfair!”

He stifles a groan. God help him- he loves this girl more than life itself but her overly-developed teenage sense of injustice is infuriating, especially when she puts on that goddamn ‘woe is me’ voice.

Suddenly, he finds himself smiling; it’s pretty cute, now he thinks on it. His little girl, all anger and injured entitlement.

“Okay,” he says, softening, “just humor me for five more minutes and then I promise I’ll let you go. Come with me to the study.”

With a huffed-out sigh expressing that she is the most unfairly treated child in the world, Aoife follows his blink with her own, alighting from her portal sat atop Reginald’s desk.

“Smooth landing,” Five says, approvingly. “One tip though: never blink somewhere so specific unless you can see it or you know damn well that the space is empty: you’re sitting on a fountain pen.”

Aoife hops off the desk immediately, letting out a noise of shocked dismay as she turns to see the ink-spot spreading on the butt cheek of her favorite white jeans.

“Don’t worry, it will come out in the wash,” he murmurs, sitting down casually behind the desk and reaching into the lowest drawer.

Aoife takes her own seat across from him, looking around the study with interest. Dad had never exactly forbidden her from coming in here without him, but he made his disapproval obvious if he ever caught her in here alone. If he thought that would stop her finding the room fascinating, then he’s even more of a dumbass than Aoife was quickly coming to suspect he is…that she's been coming to suspect both her parents are, actually.

“Take a look at this. I call it a temporal ambimeter: I built it around ten years ago.”

Onto the desktop, he carefully places a small instrument: Attached to a three-footed metal plinth is what looks like a full circle protractor marked with incomprehensible measurements. It drifts, turning a sedate three hundred and sixty degrees clockwise. On top of the circle, seeming to float, is a spindly metal needle, held at a perfect horizontal along the protractor’s diameter by invisible forces. Even from this distance, Aoife can feel a tingle in the ends of her fingers.

“This is time,” he says, simply, ghosting his finger along the line of the needle, static crackling there as he does so: “This is an absolute line of polarity. Can you feel it?”

Aoife nods, fascinated in spite of herself.

“Go on,” he said, smiling slightly, “feel it like I did.”

Stretching out her fingers Aoife, imitates her Dad- sparks flying as she runs her fingers along it like a tiny theremin. The sensation is like blood rushing back to fill dead fingers. Mentally, it’s more complex than that.

“There’s something…it feels.”

Five helps, though he’s barely able to put it into words himself, “Like putting the last jigsaw piece in?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, “it feels…right.”

“That’s because it is. Come here.”

She stands on slightly numb legs and walks around the desk to where Five waits for her with an arm outstretched. Though she resists slightly, (ever more often shying away from cripplingly uncool parental affection), he puts his arm around her anyway.

“Watch.”

For this demonstration, he only needs to reverse time five seconds or so, but it’s always an effort, especially when taking somebody else. At least he doesn’t need to physically move their bodies.

Aoife felt time contract around her under her Dad’s power, holding onto his arm for dear life: he’d never done this with her before.

“Watch,” he says, voice cracking with the strain.

She looks down at the instrument: the protractor shudders to a halt and turns anti-clockwise along with the physical sensation of time reversing, speeding up as Five really gets hold and reverses the seconds.

“The…needle stays in place though.” he says, still straining “S-still feels like the last jigsaw piece, right?”

He’s right: though the rest of the instrument wavers in the current of Five’s power, the needle stays perfectly still.

He grunts and relinquishes his hold on the seconds, taking a deep breath and stretching out his neck. The protractor begins to turn slowly clockwise again.

“See,” he says, grinning at Aoife, “that’s a constant. No matter the timeline, no matter the paradox, that’s what stays in place. It’s what I access when I manipulate time, and you will too, one day. But cara, this stuff is fragile. That’s why you need to have a sound theoretical understanding before you try, okay? You know I don’t say this just to be a tight-ass, right?”

He pulls her closer as he says it, planting a kiss just above her ear.

“ Capisco papà. Posso partire adesso?”

“Sì, he sighs, “I need to go for a bike ride anyway. But not before I get a hug, right?”

She hugs him, laying her head on his shoulder momentarily before throwing off the childish impulse.

“You’re still my bambina whether you like it or not,” he says, raising his voice as she leaves, laughing at her little ‘uggh’ of disgust. Had he been like this when he was thirteen?

No: he’d been like this by the time he was nine. When he was thirteen, he was far, far worse.

Dad had cycled for as long as she could remember. It was only recently she’d noticed just how embarrassing his bike shorts and helmet were, but at least she didn’t have to be seen with him when he was out on the bike.

When she’d heard the door close and could be sure her mom was busy in another part of the house, Aoife blinked from her bedroom back into her father’s study, concealing the notebook under her sweatshirt.

This room had once been her grandfather’s but in the years since his death Five had worked his way so naturally into using it regularly that it was now informally acknowledged as his. Until it became firmly her father’s domain, Aoife had never dared step foot in here. Even now, his bedroom, (all but untouched since his death) is the one room in the house Aoife has never dared to go.

The oil-paintings of him still hanging around the house held a curious fascination for her, and this one above the study fireplace was no exception. He stood tall, hand domineeringly over a walking cane. She and her cousin Santi both agreed: Reginald hung like a spectre around the house along with those of the tortured children the Umbrella Academy once were. He was cruel, exacting…and had been her personal bogeyman ever since she could remember. The portrait always started with cold eyes, so unlike those of her young father hanging in the living room. Five’s portrait always made her smile; Reginald’s always made her feel like she was being watched.

The journals are kept in a locked, glass-fronted cabinet and it had only taken her an hour of searching the study to find the key. They’re ordered from 1-6 and each number has several volumes. She started from 01, I and has just finished 05, VII. Reading these journals has been spookier than Aoife had even imagined. Reading about her Uncle Klaus being locked in a mausoleum in 04, XII had given her nightmares for a week.

Quite why Reginald has this hold on her imagination, she doesn’t know, but keeping it a secret is electrifying. Perhaps if she told Mom and Dad about her pre-bedtime reading, the spell would be broken. The journals concerning her Dad have been generally less interesting: he seemed to have been the perfect student and Reginald had only positive things to say about his skills (although was less impressed by his ‘‘impudence’). Nevertheless Aoife placed 05, VII back beside 05, VI and reached to pull the next journal out of line.

Reading roman numbers did not come naturally to Aoife, yet after a quick look at the previous journals, she realized something was wrong: 05, VII was followed immediately by 05 IX … there was one missing from when her father was eight.

For now, she took 05 IX and blinked back into her room…this was a mystery for another day.

Work is…not great right now. You’ve always been ambitious, (something Five regularly teases you for) and you worked hard over your twenty-year career. You’ve been at your new firm for three years now and you’ve got the fancy private office and a team of thirty subordinates. It’s busy and exhausting but it would be fine if the bullshit ended when you got to a certain rung on the ladder…but it actually seems to get worse.

For one thing, it turned out that the VP of sales position you had just lost out on went to an old coworker of yours: a guy called Charlie. He had been a smug chauvinist when you knew him and didn’t seem to have changed. He’d acted surprised when he bumped into you, but something about his shit-eating attitude had made it clear how much he was loving this. It was clear he hadn’t forgotten the time Five broke his nose in the parking lot of your joint workplace. You’d noted with satisfaction that surgery had still been unable to correct the damage: his nose was permanently misshapen.

Also, you’d recently raised eyebrows by turning down a huge FMCG contract; no matter how much they were willing to pay, there was no way you were going to be involved with it after you found out that it was the same people behind JUICED, trying to get back into the market after the poisoning scandal you and Five had uncovered. It was a cockroach of a company: surviving anything, no matter how severe.

So now, mentally drained, you lounge in the main living room, having dumped your stuff unceremoniously on the floor. You were absurdly grateful when Lila, unasked, had poured you both a glass of wine. Now, she lies at the other end of the sofa, trying to take your mind off it with talk about her son: the nephew you’d known since he was seven.

“He seems okay…” her mouth pulls downwards, “but I don’t think things are going well at the lab.”

You sigh, “why?”

“It’s your fault, really,” she says, giving you a slightly stern look, “I knew those researchers wouldn’t have a chance, but it’s you that got it into Santi’s head that he’s under some kind of moral obligation to all mankind or something.”

You look down…she’s not wrong. You were definitely very vocal in encouraging Santi’s attempts to ensure his healing powers could be harnessed by medical science.

“He’s not obligated,” you say, guiltily, “but it is important to at least try.”

“Yeah, and now he’s put his entire life on hold to be some kind of bleeding-heart lab rat.”

There’s no real anger in her voice: Santi was always a sensitive boy and now he’s grown into a principled young man. Though Lila doesn’t share his ideals, she’s proud of him for having them.

A static buzz; a crash from the atrium and the sound of labored male breathing. Five.

You’re off the sofa almost before Lila’s registered something’s wrong. Five half kneels and half lies on the tiles, covered in sweat, gasping for breath and clutching his chest. His bike lies on top of him, his ankle caught in the chain. His eyes are wide, terrified: his breath comes in desperate, vocalized “hahs” low in his chest.

Immediately, you kneel behind him and place your body between his and the floor.You recognise the symptoms immediately.

“H-help,” another of those pained grunts of breath, “my heart.”

“It’s okay. It’s just a panic attack,” you say, holding your arms around his chest as Lila appears in the living room doorway, “you’ll be okay.”

“N-no!” beneath your arms, his heart kicks like a rabbit in a snare.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” you soothe…but it’s worrying. He’s not had a panic attack like this in over ten years.

With another <ffssht>, Aoife appears, she looks from her Dad to you in panic.

“He’s okay; he’s just having a little turn. Can you get the bike off him, honey?”

“I-I-‘m fine,” he wheezes, trying to reassure his daughter without much success.

“Shh. Don’t try to talk. Just breathe. Count the seconds.”

As Aoife manages to remove the bike, you smile gratefully up at her.

“Good girl.”

She sits beside you both and takes Five’s sweat-slippy hand. As he slows his breath and tries to ride out the feeling of doom, he squeezes Aoife’s hand.

“You okay shitface?” says Lila, catching Five’s eye.

He nods, eyes still wide and heart still skittering.

“Shame,” she quips.

“When you’re ready, tell me what happened,” you whisper soothingly into his ear.

“Later,” he breathes.

When his breath is almost steady again and some part of the all-consuming fear recedes, he stands up shakily, holding one of your hands each. His spandex cycling gear whispers as his limbs unfold from one another.

“I’m fine,” he says, sounding more like himself, “I just had a little freakout.”

“Did you take your pills, papà?” Aoife hangs off his arm now, resting her head against his bicep.

“ Si cara, non preoccuparti. Starò bene. Ho bisogno di sdraiarmi.” he kisses the top of her head before translating for you and Lila, “I’ll be fine. I just need to lie down.”

“Do you want me to blink you?”

The bike shorts don’t have pockets, but he puts his hands to his hips as if they did, his body leaning forward in his characteristic swagger. Still breathing a little harder than normal, he gives her his cheeky, almost grimace of a smile and vanishes is a buzz of static.

His voice echos down the stairs from the 2nd flight,

“I’m not that broken down, sweetie!”

She laughs, grins farewell to Lila and blinks away herself. The sound of quiet drumming issuing down the stairs lets you know she’s back in her room.

You turn to Lila, holding up a single hand in farewell.

“I should check on him. I probably won’t be down again tonight- I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?.”

“Night chicken

“Night”

You follow them to the attic. Apparently you’re the only one who uses the stairs these days.

In the last five years, the attic has been completely renovated for your family’s exclusive use. Although you prefer to sit and be sociable downstairs, you have a family living space for when you want some privacy. It’s cosy: the sloping ceilings only add to the feeling of being pleasantly enclosed.

Aoife’s old bedroom has been turned into a space to do her homework and learn the theory of time travel while her new room, (another of the old storage rooms), is devoted to sleep and her drum kit. This had been a gift purchased by Lila. While it had clearly been designed to torture Five (in which you were collateral damage), Aoife had really excelled under Lila’s tutoring. This had delighted you all, (although Five pretended to Lila that he didn’t care), and now the parts of Aoife’s bedroom walls that weren’t covered with a psychedelic jungle, (courtesy of Uncle Klaus) were covered in posters of Cindy Blackman and Meg White with the White Stripes

Before heading to your room, you drop in on Aoife.

“Hey. Sweetie?”

She scowls immediately. It irks you and not even how much she looks like Five when she pulls that face can soften it.

“What?” she says, annoyed, “can’t you knock?”

“Excuse me young lady” you say, hearing yourself use the ‘mom’ voice that makes you feel a million years old, “I’m happy to knock in future and I should have done it this time, but I expect you to ask nicely .”

“I shouldn’t have to ask.” she snaps, “I’m thirteen, Mom. I deserve my privacy!”

She’s always been a daddy’s girl, but recently things have gotten worse between you and her. Five’s a brilliant Dad and he doesn’t shy away from discipline when needed, but you’ve had to play bad-cop with Aoife more often than him. You never exactly disagree on parenting but your moral standards for Aoife are higher than his. Last year, when she punched Whitaker Crane in the face for making fun of her sweatshirt, Five had given only a brief show of disapproval before asking whether she’d used her right or left hook. He’d left it down to you to lecture and ground her.

Partially as a result of his attitude, Aoife is always on the offensive when it comes to you. Arguing with her is not what you came in here for so you take a slow, deep breath.

“Are you okay, after all that?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because that wasn’t nice to see.”

“It’s okay Mom.” she says, rolling her eyes, “I’m not a kid , I can deal with it.”

“It doesn’t matter what age you are, he’s your dad. That could still be scary.”

She rolls her eyes and pouts (something Five says she got from you) as she throws off your hand.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay sweetie,” you sigh, “but stop with the drumming please.”

“Mom,” (she draws out the word so it sounds like: ‘MoOoom’) “it’s like nine PM.”

“Yes, and your dad needs quiet!” you say, feeling the stern look on your face. “Don’t you have a math test you need to study for?”

She huffs out air like an angry horse and throws her drumsticks onto the bed in a slight show of temper.

“ Fine .” she says.

“Thank you.” you reply, eyebrows raised at the little display of temper, “now: goodnight, love you.”

She grunts.

“Aoife?”

“Goodnight.” she says, grudgingly.

Aoife watches you sigh and withdraw before leaving the drumkit and crossing to her bed where Reginald’s notebook lies hidden between the sheets. Before her Dad appeared dramatically in the atrium, she’s been reading Reginald’s notes on him from when he was nine. They were strange: when he was seven, Reginald had still been writing about Five’s budding ‘chronokinetic’ abilities, but this edition of his journal had so far only mentioned his blink-accuracy.

She knew that her Dad (like her) had been forbidden to time travel when he was young and the disastrous results when, at her age, he had travelled decades into the future and couldn’t return. It seemed that something when her father was eight had put Reginald off developing this aspect of his power and made him institute this new rule.

For her part, Aoife has another pre-bedtime secret which developed a couple of months ago: almost as soon as she started reading 05, III.

Grabbing the old Wonder Woman alarm clock still beside her bed, she pulls her covers up over her head and checks the time. It’s 21:09. She closes her eyes and tries to feel for it, reaching for that sensation for which she now has the words to describe: the polarity…the final jigsaw piece, searching for that sense of perfection.

There: the needle. The… polarity . And somewhere underneath (or maybe within?) the drifting dial that reminded her of a protractor. She wills it to reverse.

Is it happening? She opens her eyes a crack.

21:10…so no.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes again and accesses that intuitive sense of perfection. There it is… there . Back inside or back underneath, she visualizes herself grabbing and pulling: molding time like clay…and then it happens. She feels it again, like when Dad took her with him. The air around her becomes thicker: her entire body fills with static, like stepping through a waterfall of cool electricity. Somehow, she knows when to stop.

As the feeling dissipates, she opens her eyes again, heart beating madly.

It’s 21:05.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88 (sorry for clogging up your notifs with my double post, taglist pals!)

Chapter 2 >>

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03. Here is a link to the whole series

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omogod · 1 year

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HOLDING REPORT (12/12/22)

Started holding at 6:30pm on 12/12/22.

Ended holding at 4:08am on 13/12/22.

Had needed a good amount of stress relief from everything going on lately, and wanted a more productive wetting than the most recent one I had done before, when it turned into more of a real accident! (spoiler alert: Aoife never learns her limits and they all turn into real accidents.)

Didn’t feel anything for about the first hour or so, was just casually browsing omo tumblr or reading AO3 omo stories. (6:30pm - 7:30pm)

Around hour two, I felt an ever so slight urge in my bladder, but mostly just reminder that I had one more than I needed to use it. Was still reading omo fics at this point, but also writing some omo stories, and planning some future holds. (7:30pm - 8:30pm)

Hour three, I got bored. I took a long walk around my town. Luckily, I live in a rural Irish village, so no one was going to see me, especially at night. I roamed through some of the empty fields to kill some time, sipping on bottle of water as I perused through.

Walk ended up being about three hours. I could definitely feel it getting much worse now. The cold didn’t help with aiding my need, and I definitely should have wrapped up warmer. Lost two leaks as a wave of desperation hit me when a cold wind flew my direction. (8:30pm - 11:30pm)

Got home and sat in my kitchen and watched whatever random stuff is on TV at nearly midnight.

Decided to scroll multiple NSFW art sites for pictures and comics of omorashi. Went down a dangerous rabbit hole of comics and spent about an hour scrolling through, whilst my need grew exponentially and I jiggled about. (00:30am - 01:30am)

Half 1 hit and I was at about an 8. I had my legs crossed together tightly and my bladder was screaming for some kind of pressure release.

I had to spurt some out onto a towel just to take the edge off otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to continue the hold.

As we all know, taking the ‘edge’ off of a full bladder never works, and by 1am, I felt like I was going to explode. I had drunk about 1500ml at this point.

I managed to hold on for about another 45 minutes by scrolling through omo tumblr again, and grinding a pillow to help temporarily numb my desperation. (1:30am - 2:15am)

By half 2, there was a decently sized wet patch on grey panties, and I was bursting for the loo.

I knew that I had to hold this longer because I had sworn to make the hold ten hours. This was obviously a huge mistake and a very ambitious goal. By 3am, my panties had felt atleast two more hot spurts of piss, and a third leak that I nearly couldn’t stop.

By half three, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had made a large wet patch in the bed and felt like I was holding back an inevitable river. I grabbed a towel and placed it in between my legs incase I leaked.

Begrudgingly, I shoved my legs together and went downstairs again, towel shoved tightly in between my shaking legs. I decided that the best place to wet would be my back garden so I ventured outside, but for some reason (or because I’m fucking stupid) I decided to also take a walk around the fields behind my garden before coming back to wet.

Turns out that navigating fields at nearly 4am, bursting to piss, whilst drunk, in the middle of a pitch black Irish winter might, is not the best idea.

Maybe these ideas spawned because atleast 500ml of what I had taken was alcohol. At least.

I was definitely under the influence by this point.

Rational and sober me would have just used damage control. Squat down where you are, take a piss, now you have enough concentration to try and get home.

Not drunk Aoife, she has one singular brain cell.

I continued on, clutching my crotch with the willpower of Satan himself and tried to march my way back into the general direction of my cottage.

Fair props to drunk me, I did end up at least walking in the right direction back to my garden. However..

I managed to walk about another 5 minutes through the fields before a rush of pain and desperation flooded me (haha pee joke) and I literally was bent over in pain, holding myself like I would die if I peed.

Obviously this didn’t work, and a wave of desperation turned to leaking, then to spurting, then to losing control completely and emptying nearly a 10 hour hold right onto a poor patch in my field.

I checked my watch and it was 4:08am.

I managed to hold it for 9 hours and 38 minutes!

This is the most I’ve held drunk in a while, but if wasn’t 10 hours so I was a bit annoyed. I’m hoping to do a 12 hour hold soon whilst sober though!

Walked back home soaking wet and got into the empty bath, finished up my business, and maybe got wet in more than one way..

Thank you for reading! Hoping to do these kind of stories whenever I hold, most of the time they are pretty entertaining because I have a tendency to overestimate my bladder, and not be able to hold it that long. Sober me can hold longer, be assured.

#wetting accident #control my bladder #need to pee #pee holding challenge #bladder control #bladder holding #pee kink #pee :3 #full bladder #accidents #peed myself #omorashi #female pee desperation #female omorashi

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gipsyavnger · 1 year

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Call of Duty OC: Isobel “Medusa” Williams

When she enlisted in the United States Army at eighteen, the Combat Exclusion Policy had yet to be lifted, so she could not follow in her father’s footsteps. Instead, Isobel followed in her grandfather’s footsteps and became one of the best attack helicopter pilots the Army produced. She was recruited to Task Force 141 by Captain John Price at the request of Kate Laswell.

GENERAL

Name: Isobel Guinevere Williams Call Signs: Medusa; Echo 0-1 Rank: Lieutenant (British Army); Warrant Officer 4 (US Army, former) Gender: Female Birthday: March 25th, 1991 Nationality: American Place of Birth: Fort Benning, Georgia Home: [Redacted], Herefordshire, England Spoken Languages: English (native), Italian (native), Spanish (fluent), Pashto (fluent), Arabic (fluent), and Russian (conversational) Sexuality: Heterosexual Occupation: British SAS operator for Task Force 141; AH-64D/E Pilot (Formerly; separated from the US Army)

AFFILIATIONS/RELATIONSHIPS

Family

Father: First Sergeant Colin Michael Williams AKA Coyote, US Army Ranger (retired) Mother: Maria Gulianna Williams née Giordano, US Army nurse (retired) Siblings: Sergeant Aoife Elisabeth Williams, US Army medic. Relationship with parents: Isobel adores her father. He’s her hero. She wanted to grow up and be tough and fierce just like him when she was a kid. Her relationship with her mother is a little strained at times. She loves her mom very much, but being raised by the hot-headed Italian made things a little interesting, especially when Isobel was trying to prove her independence while Aoife was running around being a little shit. Relationship with sibling: Isobel and Aoife fought like cats and dogs when they were younger. They were three years apart but so close in personality. Poor Colin had to deal with three Italian-tempered women running around his house, causing chaos. Isobel loves Aoife with all her heart, but they still have the typical sister relationship. They get on each other’s nerves but would kill to protect each other.

Extended Family These people are not related to her, but she grew up with them and views them as family:

“Uncle” Robert “Badger” Tully, US Army Ranger (retired)

“Uncle” Jack “Omaha” Wagner, US Army Ranger (retired)

“Uncle” Greg “Elvis” Sumner, US Army Ranger (retired)

Pets: None. She loves all animals. Except small yippy dogs. She especially hates Pomeranians and Chihuahuas. It stems from when she was six and was attacked by a small dog.

Task Force 141

Kate Laswell

Captain John Price (Bravo-6)

Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish

Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley

Los Vaqueros

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

Sergeant Major Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

APPEARANCE

Eye color: Dark brown, in the right light they look black Hair color: Dark brown; if she spends enough time in the sun it lightens to a soft brown Height: 5’4” / 164cm Build: Lean, muscular, and athletic Blood Type: AB+ Scars: Many; one over her right eyebrow, scars littered across her stomach, a long scar down her left shoulder, one down her right thigh (all from her first helicopter crash), and a bullet wound on the right side of her stomach (from the Alone mission) Face Claim: Lyndsy Fonseca

FAVORITES

Color: Black and red Food: Pistachio pesto over homemade tagliatelle pasta Drink: Coffee and/or an energy drink Alcohol: Bourbon Song: If I’m There – Bad Omens Album: Finding God Before God Finds Me – Bad Omens Flowers: Sunflowers and Lilacs Hairstyle: A loose messy bun, loose ponytail, or half up in a bun/half down (Normal/relaxed days); tight French braid or military standard bun (For missions)

PERSONALITY

Myers’s-Briggs Type: ISTJ-T (Turbulent Logictican)

Strong-willed and dutiful - Isobel’s integrity is everything to her, portraying it in her words and actions. She works hard and stays focused with patience and determination, which others admire.

Responsible - Her word is her promise, and promises mean everything to Isobel. She is loyal to a fault.

Jack-of-all-trades - Isobel is a repository for a vast wealth of knowledge. She learns quickly and can utilize what she’s learned at the drop of a hat.

Compassionate - She’s a bleeding heart for those in need, willing to throw herself into the line of fire to protect an innocent person without a second thought.

Intelligent - Isobel is an avid reader, consuming whatever she can get her hands on. Had she pursued college, she would have more than likely gone on to receive a Ph.D. in whatever subject she’d chosen to study. Safe to say, the woman is borderline genius.

When someone first meets her, Isobel can come across as stoic and withdrawn. It takes some prying, but eventually, she will open up to those willing to try to be her friend.

She goes into a certain mindset when in the heat of battle. She looks like she could kill you and probably will kill you.

Permanent case of resting bitch face

SKILLS AND ABILITIES

Fighting style: Sambo, Krav Maga, Judo with a mix of Kali

Weapon(s):

Sniper Rifle: Barrett MRAD .308

Semi-Automatic Rifle: M4A1

Pistol: Sig Sauer M17

Knives: 5–10 thin, easily concealable blades hidden/tucked into her tactical vest; great for throwing or stabbing. Not meant for slashing.

Distinct Weapon: Her concealed knives for close combat

Special Skills: An expert in tracking, survival, and hunting.

TRIVIA

Is obsessed with Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.

She has a ridiculous amount of Star Wars and Lord of the Rings lore memorized and can recall it anytime.

She has a replica of Darth Vader’s lightsaber, Aragorn’s sword Andúril, Legolas’s dual blades, and Arwen’s blade Hadhafang in storage at her parents’ place

Loves to read; her book collection is ridiculous. Isobel isn’t picky about what genre she reads, either.

She was caught reading a few times when she flew helicopters and was stuck on standby.

One of her favorite things to do in her downtime is go to used and new bookstores and browse for hours.

In her senior year of high school, she applied to Yale, Brown, and Columbia to keep her parents happy. She was accepted into all three but declined and enlisted in the military instead.

She married Lucas Greer (US Army Paratrooper, deceased) when she was nineteen. Their marriage was rough, and they legally separated when she was 27. The divorce was finalized in 2019 when she was 28.

She stays in touch with Lucas’s parents every once in a while.

The end of the marriage to their son was rough, but despite that, Isobel loved her in-laws. They were nothing but kind to her through everything that happened.

Covers her prominent scars with tattoos, but she’s also obsessed with tattoos. She currently has five, the biggest of which is her partial back piece.

Has a lovely singing voice, but her party trick is her ability to scream like Courtney LaPlante.

BACKGROUND

Born to a mother who served in the US Army as a nurse and a father who held the record for the most kills under any Army Ranger’s belt until he retired, Isobel grew up in a military household. When she was younger, she wanted to rebel against her parents and become a lawyer, but she always idolized her parents and eventually grew out of her lawyer phase.

Growing up, Isobel spent every second she could with her father when he was home. Colin deployed a lot, so the man treasured each moment he could be with his family. He took Isobel (and her younger sister once she was old enough) on every hunting trip, using the time to teach her how to shoot. He also taught her the Ranger Way. By the time Isobel was in high school, she was an expert in tracking, survival, and evasion. If needed, she could survive off the land for an indefinite amount of time, given the right tools.

Isobel had a somewhat normal high school experience. Her senior year, she was the Track & Field team's captain, bringing her team the gold for the 200 and 400-meter sprint at the State Championship and anchoring the relay team to take home first place. Besides participating in sports, Isobel was the captain of the debate team and a member of the National Honor Society.

Thanks partly to her well-rounded high school career, Isobel had her pick of colleges to choose from…but that was the opposite of what she wanted. On the day of her eighteenth birthday, she marched down to the nearest Army recruiter and enlisted.

She made it through Basic Training with flying colors, earning herself an Expert Marksmanship badge. Sadly, she couldn’t pursue her dream of becoming an Army Ranger like her father, so she became an attack helicopter pilot instead.

Upon graduating from Warrant Officer Candidate School and Warrant Officer Pilot School and flight training, Isobel found herself a fully-fledged AH-64D/E (Apache Longbow/Guardian) pilot with the callsign “Medusa.” Around this time, she also met her future husband Lucas Greer. He was a dashing paratrooper, and their romance was a whirlwind. Within three months, they were married. Things were blissful before the deployments started, but during their second deployment, Lucas began getting abusive.

The marriage continued to grow more and more toxic, and eventually, friends and family began to take notice. One in particular was Hannah “Sparrow” Clayton, Isobel’s best friend. During this time, Sparrow had an accident climbing K2 in Asia. The night Isobel got the call saying Sparrow had disappeared was the straw that broke the camel’s back, immediately filling for legal separation when Sparrow woke up from her coma.

By 2019, twenty-eight-year-old Isobel was legally divorced and happier than she had felt in years. She completed another two tours before being shot down by an enemy RPG after she and her gunner were scrambled to deal with the aftermath of the 2021 Hamid Karzai International Airport bombing, which landed her at Walter Reed Medical Center.

Isobel had served her country for twelve years, facing the prospect of being medically separated from the US Army or stuck behind a desk for the rest of her career. That’s when Laswell sent the uncut footage of the helicopter crash to Captain John Price, informing him that she was recruiting Isobel to Task Force 141.

Price arrived at the hospital and officially recruited Isobel on Laswell’s behalf. Isobel spent six months with TF141 before the Los Almas and Chicago events transpired. After proving her mettle, Price pulled some strings and pushed some paper to have Isobel officially become a member of the British Armed Forces to go through the SAS selection process.

After passing the grueling training, she came out the other side a member of the British SAS and a full-time member of Task Force 141.

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bluedalahorse · 1 day

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Getting to know you tag game

Kiitos and tack to @sflow-er for tagging me! This was fun. Going to answer all my questions below. Maybe people will learn something new about me.

Do you make your bed?

No. It’s a loft bed so it’s sort of difficult to make, and no one sees it so there’s minimal incentive to do much with it. I mostly prefer to sleep in a nest of blankets.

What's your favourite number?

Nine. Odd numbers are fun and it’s three threes.

What is your job?

I don’t like to talk about it on tumblr, but it’s something in the education sector.

If you could go back to school, would you?

I am technically back at school at present, since I’m in a graduate program in writing part time. Honestly, I could just study forever and get paid to do so, without much extra strings attached, I would just go to university forever and major in a thousand different things while studying a thousand more.

Can you parallel park?

I cannot even drive, as it happens.

A job you had that would surprise people?

I used to work catering at my college, where I learned a lot about how to chop and prepare different vegetables and similar. The best thing about working catering was getting to take home leftovers. Also, chopping vegetables is a generally soothing thing for me to do when my anxiety is getting the better of me.

Do you think aliens are real?

Sure! Visiting earth seems unlikely (I mean why would you) but scientifically they have to be out there. I used to tell my mother I was an alien when I was a teenager.

Can you drive a manual car?

See above re: parallel parking. I think I’d be a lot more successful with a question about navigating city bus routes.

What's your guilty pleasure?

Hmm as I get older I am increasingly of the opinion that describing pleasures as “guilty” is something I’m too old and tired to do. Like, it would truly be not good for me to put food in this category. There’s also definitely favorite movies and books I have that I view with a cautious, critical eye (Lawrence of Arabia and Jane Eyre, for instance) but I don’t know if “critical consumption” and “indulging in guilty pleasures” are the same things. And I refuse to feel guilty for being an August and sargust enjoyer.

Like�� I don’t know. Doll collecting? Is that a guilty pleasure? I currently wish my doll collection was making less a mess in my apartment.

Tattoos?

Not for me, but I’m glad for the people who like theirs.

Favourite colour?

Green, generally. For wearing, green again, as well as yellow and blue. (Or as I like to call them together, deconstructed green.)

Favourite type of music?

Gosh, hmm. I was going to say folk and progressive bluegrass, because a lot of stuff I like fits into that category already. (Nickel Creek, Punch Brothers, Sarah Jarosz, Aoife O’Donavan, I’m With Her, Rhiannon Giddens, Jake Blount, etc.) If the songs are murder ballads or songs about shipwrecks or whatever (shout out to “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” on the Punch Brothers album Hell on Church Street) all the better. I also realize I like a lot of music with classical/orchestral influences, but not necessarily like… traditionally classical. Today I’ve been listening to Kishi Bashi’s Omoiyari album on repeat and thinking about how Marigolds would make a great song for an ensemble YR fanvid.

I think my favorites will always be the artists who are absolute nerds for music and who will play with genre about it.

Do you like puzzles?

I don’t think I like puzzles, like they’re not always something I seek out, but I promise you that if you put a jigsaw puzzle or a logic puzzle in front of me I will hyperfixate until I figure it out. So I guess I like them.

Any phobias?

Mice. They like to come into my apartment when it’s cold. I would prefer they don’t.

Favourite childhood sport?

Gym class was the bane of my existence, but I also come from a sporty family, so I could kind of tolerate basketball for my athletic mother’s sake.

Do you talk to yourself?

Absolutely. When I was getting my neuropsych evaluation, the evaluator noticed that I was always talking myself through tasks in order to get them done. This is apparently what you need to do when you score 99th percentile on verbal intelligence but 2nd percentile on things like task initiation and executive function.

What movies do you adore?

I tend to be more of a TV and documentaries person than a movies person right now. That said, Greta Gerwig’s Little Women and the 2005 Pride and Prejudice are good comfort watches, as is Pixar’s Luca. I really like the Georgian movie And Then We Danced.

Coffee or tea?

Tea. Specifically, green tea. Coffee is yummy (I like bitter things sometimes) but doesn’t play well with my health.

What was the first thing you wanted to be growing up?

I wanted to be a writer pretty early. That said, the earliest written record I have of “what do you want to be when you grow up” was a first grade assignment where we had to answer that question. The two jobs I named were teacher and artist, specifically an artist who paints murals. (I misspelled the word “mural” because in the Baltimore accent I grew up with, mural is essentially one slurred syllable. Make me say Aaron earned an iron urn, I dare you.)

No pressure tags to: whoever wants them! I have not been on tumblr much lately so I don’t know who’s done this already.

#tag game

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professor-walten · 19 days

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just a seventeen year old forced to save the world, again, you know how it is.

he/him only, don't let the tits fool you ✨

Lee's my real dad lol. If I ever say "dad" I mean Lee.

Owner of Motostoke's one and only Hop Walten Labs. Ireland's Pokémon researcher, rescuer, rehabilitator, and releaser. Giving every Pokémon a chance is my job and passion. I am a Pokémon rights activist and I believe in league abolition. You would know if you read my book. Nobody in Galar really has. Legally classified as a "shiny hunter," but it's just conservation efforts

Callaghan Psychics know all of the known universe. Not other universes, I guess. That's kind of why I'm here? The multiverse kinda needs us atm

DID system. There are ten of us here if that matters to you. If you want to ask questions about it take this guide. Not being specific on ages because like none of us are normal humans lol

And me of course -(🐏)

The fate rests in the balance of a bunch of mentally unstable children. It always has, huh? My work is important to me, and so is understanding the multiverse, so you can always give asks about either. Cool 👍

[ooc under the cut :3]

pfp is a gift from bunnyhasaknife on instagram

disclaimer banner art is commissioned from littlebumblebe9

account banner is just dubwool from the anime

EDIT FOR CLARITY: The start of PULT takes place 3 and 1/2 years after the events of Pokémon Sword and Shield. Everything about the games is history. Leon isn't the champion, Hop is a professor, etc etc. Keep it in mind

HI, I'M HOP! Yes, my actual name is Hop too. He/him for admin as well. I've been wanting to make one of these for ages but only just now got the balls lolz. A little rotomblr/rotumblr based on my characterization of Hop for my Pokémon AU I've been working really hard to write, Pokémon Unown Legends Tale!! Read about it on my main @irlkisukeurahara I have a tag for it. I don't want to post it officially until the Unova book is done so I can provide weekly updates, so for now I wanted to make a little RP thing for it to kinda get people interested I guess

EDIT 2: this will generally be lighthearted but the lore for hop in PULT is quite serious to certain topics like drugs miiiight end up being brought up. I'll tag each post with (tw __" so you can block it if you need to

This blog 100% will spoil some aspects of it but I mean whaddya gonna do. I won't spoil major plot beats.

This is mostly just shitposting and talking about my character lore because I'm really attached to it. Having roleplays with stakes is fine but for the most part this is just silly behavior

Since the multiverse is canon in PULT I love the idea of other Hops/professor Hops/literally anyone interacting here and whatnot!! Who gives a shit about doubles I'm here to be silly

No explicit NSFW, sexual or self sexualizing jokes r fine but propositions or shit like that are obviously not

Hop has a bunch of ships in this universe (polyamory not a gay harem anime) - two OCs + two canons + one of his alters. Feel free to ask about em lol

The ships: Bede, Arven, Miles, Toby, Gio

Feel free to ask DID questions here in or out of character, I just make Hop like this because I have DID too lol

I might say "fag" once or twice but otherwise no slurs plzplzplz but swearing is obviously fine because I will do it A LOTTT

If this gets any traction I'll make Leon and Arven accounts too

Pokémon teams: (some characters share Pokémon)

✨ = shiny

Hop

Doesn't have a full team because he isn't a trainer but his 3 main Pokémon are

Dubwool ♂️, elderly Pokémon he got from Leon as a birthday gift at 3, can use Electro Ball like a god

Azumarill ♀️, a chipper girl who saved his life

[✨] Saakash/Spoons (Alakazam) ♂️, reincarnated dead 7 year old boy with a major attitude problem, Hop's half brother (yeah.)

Tori

[✨] Kurama (Alolan Ninetales) ♂️

[✨] Toshiro (Glaceon) ♀️

[✨] Ryu (Kommo-o) ♂️

[✨] Ravenmore (Umbreon) ♀️

[✨] Saakash (Spoons) ♂️

[✨] Yukina (Froslass) ♀️

Janus

Cruinne (Cosmalenia) [Fakemon] ♀️

Supernova (Metagross) ♂️

[✨] Saakash (Alakazam) ♂️

[✨] Ravenmore (Umbreon) ♀️

[✨] Cosmo (Espeon) ♀️

Rukia (Clefable) ♀️

Gio

Bucky (Crobat) ♂️

Doomshell (Cloyster) ♂️

Thunderstrike (Electrode) ♂️

Furyblade (Scizor) ♂️

Kickzilla (Hitmonlee) ♂️

Velvet Vogue (Lopunny) ♂️

Murdoch

[✨] Goldbricker (Steelix) ♂️

Crypto (Gholdengo)

Ponzi (Corviknight) ♂️

[nickname incoming] (Alolan Raticate) ♂️

[nickname incoming] (Scrafty) ♂️

[nickname incoming] (Honchcrow) ♂️

Ryan

[✨] Kagome (Clefable) ♀️

Hawkeye (Decidueye) ♂️

Luffy (Infernape) ♂️

Aizen (Malamar) ♂️

[nickname incoming] (Weavile) ♂️

[✨] Kisuke (Mimikyu) ♂️

Rin

Sesshomaru (Houndoom) ♂️

[✨] Shippo (Ninetales) ♂️

Hashira (Blaziken) ♂️

[✨] Val (Delphox) ♀️

[half shiny] Usagi (Cinderace) ♀️

Helios (Volcarona) ♂️

Zabimaru

Hihiou (Vaporeon) ♀️

Nozarashi (Haxorus) ♀️

[✨] Hiei (Hydriegon) ♂️

Kommo-o ♂️

Harley (Garchomp) ♀️

[✨]Shenron (Dragonite) ♂️

Aoife

[✨] Kisuke (Mimikyu) ♂️

[✨] Seanchaí (Spiritomb) ♂️

Fomorian (Golurk)

Shadow (Hisuian Typhlosion) ♂️

Morrigan (Gengar) ♀️

Caelum (Cursola) ♀️

#pinned post #professor hop #rotomblr #rotumblr #pokeblr #pkmn irl #pkmn rp #pokemon irl #pokemon roleplay #pokeblogging #pokeblog rp #Pokemon Unown Legends Tale

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the-iceni-bitch · 2 years

Text

Baby, It’s Our Turn

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Jake Jensen (bear and cubby, NLLYL)

Words: ~2.3k

Summary: Jake is having trouble working up the nerve to contact the sex god.

Warnings: explicit language, fluff, nervous cubby, embarrassed Jake, mentions of a sex dungeon and toys, just so much cuteness, no minors due to the AU.

A/N: My boys 😭 Oh my god, I love them. I have so much planned for them, I missed pride month and Father’s Day with our favorite DILFs so prepare for a lot of cute shit with them.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Jake chewed on his lip as he stared at his phone’s screen, the text he’d received from Ari last night still unanswered and the words practically ingrained in his vision at this point.

It was so wonderful meeting you, Jake. I really hope you’ll let me get to know you better. Just reach out and let me know if you want to get together.

Oh man, Jake wanted it. He wanted it more than he’d wanted anything else in a long time. But he didn’t want to seem desperate, or needy, or clingy, or like too big of a dork; even though he was all of those things. Hence the inner battle he was having with himself over when to text back and what he should say. Normally he would have called you in this situation, but you were still on your honeymoon, and it was the middle of the night in Switzerland. And even if it wasn’t, he would feel the world’s biggest asshole bothering you on your trip just because he was nervous about texting a boy back. A massive, gorgeous, intimidating, sex god of a boy, but still.

“What do you think, is ‘Hey, I’m super busy for the next week but I can maybe squeeze something in Friday’ too obvious of a lie?” Jake stared at your dogs who were lounging on the other end of the couch from him, Aoife just yawning while Fionn snorted and rolled over. “You two are no help, where’s the cat?”

All he wanted was to go on a date with that beautiful bear, it was making his chest ache. How the hell was the man even interested in him? It made no goddamn sense. Jake still couldn’t wrap his head around it, he needed to take a break from obsessing and eat something. He didn’t know how he could stop obsessing, though, the man was swoon worthy.

Food, food was good. Cooking something and not looking at his phone would hopefully keep his mind off how thirsty he was. Pasta pasta pasta.

Jake hummed a little song to himself while he looked over the food in your fridge while he thought about what kind of sauce he wanted to make, settling on bolognese because it really was the best. Chopping vegetables and searing the meat definitely helped keep his mind occupied, not thinking about the large man he wanted to climb like a tree only every so often when he lost his focus. It was going to take the sauce a while to simmer though, and as soon as he had nothing left to occupy his hands he wanted to reach for his phone again, scolding himself internally for how desperate he was.

“Oh my god, pull yourself together, Jensen.” He slapped his cheeks to try to get himself under control, sighing deeply as he looked at the dogs still laying on the couch like a couple of… well, dogs. “Seriously, where is the fucking cat?”

Your house wasn’t so big that the cat should be impossible to find, and that was something else to do to keep himself from thinking about Ari. There was no way she was upstairs, he kept that door shut. He couldn’t think of where she had gotten to, normally she would just hang out on the giant cat tree or lay on top of one of the dogs. Weird.

He breathed a small sigh of relief when he heard a tiny mew from down the hall, following after the sound with a frown on his face. It didn’t seem to be getting any closer even while he checked the guest room and office, or the bathroom. The only other room was the one that was shut and…

Oh shit, that door was not supposed to be open. Hadn’t you locked it before you left on your trip? Of course the cat went into the one room that Jake had not even thought about going into, if you wanted to have a little secret room it was none of his business. But he had to get the cat out of there, it’s not like it could be anything too bad.

“Oh my god… oh… oh my god!” Jake didn’t think he’d ever seen so many sex toys in his entire life, some of them he didn’t even know what they were for. Was that a cage? “Niamh!!! Cat!”

Jake was doing his best to not look at the vibrators and handcuffs and lingerie that were covering the wall, trying to just look for the cat and ignore the fact that apparently you and your husband were unbelievable freaks. He was desperate for a meow or any sign of where the cat was hiding, breathing out a sigh of relief when he heard her scream at him and found her perched in the middle of… of the fucking St. Andrew’s Cross. He was going to empty your bar after this.

“Ok, good kitty, just stay right there.” He could not afford for the cat to play keep away right now, he didn’t want to stay in this room any longer than necessary, he felt like he’d never stop blushing. “That’s it, such a pretty kitty… wait, shit!”

She just meowed once before jumping away from him and onto the fucking cage he didn’t want to think about too much. He desperately looked around for some piece of furniture that definitely wasn’t sex related to climb on so he could coax the cat down when the door to the room was pushed open and the rest of the furry idiots came running in with tails wagging.

“Oh, now you get up?!” Jake really did have the worst luck, this was ridiculous. “Aoife, no!”

Your little tripod apparently thought the toy wall was her own personal gift basket, because she waltzed right up to the dildos and grabbed the biggest looking one with a huge grin on her dopey face while Jake just cursed under his breath and ran to get it away from her. Of course, she thought it was the best game of keep away ever, running away while Jake pleaded with her as Fionn just sat there watching and the cat screamed from on top of the sex cage. Jake could swear he heard yakkity sax playing in the background through the whole thing.

“Alright, gimme that.” Jake finally managed to wrestle the dildo away from Aoife while she just yipped and wagged her tail happily at him, and there were only a few noticeable teeth marks, so, good? “C’mon dogs, I can’t… I can’t wrangle you two and get the cat out of here.”

Jake managed to herd the dogs out of the room, closing the door behind him and rushing to find his phone. Couldn’t bring himself to care that it was the middle of the night in Switzerland anymore, he was having trouble keeping himself from overheating with how utterly embarrassed he was.

“J… Jake?” You sounded like he’d woken you up from a deep sleep, a soft murmur of your name traveling over the line like Ransom was right on top of you, which, admittedly, he probably was. “Honey, is something wrong?”

“The… the cat.” Jake’s whole face was so hot, he couldn’t stand it. “She got into… I thought you locked the door?!”

“Jake, what are you talking about? Ran, lemme up.” Jake heard your husband let out an offended huff over the line. “Babe, what’s going on?”

“The room… the- the one that you joked about.” Oh god, it hadn’t been a joke, it really was a sex dungeon. “It wasn’t locked, the cat got in there and I can’t get her out. And then the dogs got in and apparently Aoife thinks dildos are chew toys and I can’t wrangle the dogs and get the cat and…”

“Ran, you dumbass!” You cut Jake off to curse at your husband, the sound of someone getting beaten with a pillow while your husband gave you a series of confused grunts coming over the line. “You were supposed to lock the white room! Jake, I am so sorry, I promise it’s clean. She’s really not moving?”

“I mean, she’s moving away from me.” He couldn’t believe he active thought you were joking about having a sex dungeon, you were the biggest freak he knew, he couldn’t be more embarrassed.

“Okay, well, call Ari, blondie, the cat loves him and he’s good at wrangling all the idiots.”

“Oh no!! That’s okay!” Scratch that, he could definitely be more embarrassed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll text him now, I’m sure he’ll love to see you.”

Jake couldn’t even manage to stammer out another excuse before you announced you had texted Ari and he was going to be right over. So now he had to sit there for thirty minutes as he obsessed about how he was going to not make an idiot out of himself in front of his dream man. Oh god, the dreamiest of all men, Jake couldn’t handle it.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the knock on the door, straightening himself out as much as he could even when the dogs almost bowled him over when they rushed to go see who the visitor was.

“Hi kiddos!” The dogs jumped all over Ari exuberantly as soon as he walked through the door, and Jake could definitely understand their excitement. The man looked incredible in those sculpted by some kind of god pants and a crisp button up with the sleeves rolled up around his elbows. “And hello to you, handsome.”

Jake let out an embarrassingly high pitched giggle at that, slapping his hand over his mouth and turning bright red while Ari just kept grinning at him. The blonde did his best to calm down, just gazing up at the god of a man until he finally came back to himself and stepped out of the doorway so Ari could come inside.

“Thank you for coming, you really didn’t have to.” Jake started leading Ari back to the room of terror and tried not to turn even more red. “I’m sure she would’ve come out eventually.”

“Probably, but she is awfully stubborn.” Fuck him for that wink, Jake couldn’t handle the flirting, he wasn’t used to it. “I don’t mind helping out, honey, was honestly excited to have an excuse to see you again. You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” Jake had frozen in the doorway to the white room and couldn’t make himself go any further. “I’ll just wait out here. Make sure the dogs don’t run in again.”

“Alright darling. Hey kitten!” Oh god, he was cute, the cat meowed as soon as she saw him and jumped onto his shoulder and Jake was going to die from how goddamn sexy this man was and the embarrassment of being forced to interact with him in his best friends’ sex dungeon. “Were you giving Jake here a hard time, troublemaker? You shouldn’t stress out someone so pretty. See honey? Easy as pie. You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m… yeah… it’s just…” Oh shit, he could tell his mouth was about to run away from him but he couldn’t stop it. “I’m not a prude!”

“Um, alright.” Ari was still giving him that damn indulgent grin and it wasn’t helping. “Any particular reason you felt the need to announce that?”

“It’s… I thought they were kidding! Who has a fucking sex dungeon?! It’s perfectly normal to be embarrassed about finding your friends’ kink room when you weren’t expecting it!” He really couldn’t stop, and Ari just kept nodding his head and smiling at him while he scratched under the cat’s chin. “But I’m not a prude, and I definitely don’t want you to think I’m a prude, I love sex, I’m even kind of good at it…”

“Jake?” Ari’s grin just grew wider when Jake snapped his mouth shut and swallowed thickly, a tiny squeak escaping from his lips while he stared at Ari with giant eyes. The man was adorable, Ari had never found anyone so charming. “Do you want to go to dinner with me tomorrow?”

“Oh, yes.” Jake felt like a giant weight had been lifted from his chest, blowing out a deep breath and finally letting himself smile at the man. “I’d like that very much.”

“Me too, honey. Let’s just lock this.” Ari flipped the lock on the door after gently moving Jake out of the way with a light touch to his shoulder. “And you behave yourself, little lady. I’m so sorry, I hate to just run out but I was on my way to a meeting when gorgeous texted me.” And he still drove forty minutes out of his way, he really was already lost for this man.

“Oh, that’s fine.” Jake couldn’t stop grinning now, he could not believe he was going on a date with the sex god, he wanted to pinch himself while he followed Ari to the front door and took the cat out of his arms. “Um, what time should I be ready?”

“7:00, Italian okay?” Ari beamed at Jake when he nodded enthusiastically, fighting the urge to lean forward and kiss him right on his adorable little nose. “Perfect, I can’t wait, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mmhm.” Jake kept grinning at the door for a few seconds after Ari closed it behind him, letting out a whoop once he came back to himself and kissing the cat right on top of her head when she let out an annoyed yowl. “You perfect little wingwoman, holy shit! Oh my god, I have to call your mother. What the fuck am I gonna wear?”

#natalie writes #bear and cubby #no love like your love au #ari levinson #jake jensen #ari levinson x jake jensen #jake jensen x ari levinson #ari x jake #m/m fanfic #ari levinson fluff #jake jensen fluff #m/m fluff #chris evans #chris evans characters

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crystalninjaphoenix · 6 months

Text

Eye of the Storm

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

Almost forgot to queue this because I was having so much fun with my friends haha. Anyway I'm very tired as I write this author's note so I'll be brief. This is mostly setup for the next chapter, and some exposition. JJ and Marvin look into some magic stuff, once again investigating that strange crystal ball. Meanwhile, Schneep thinks he's found where Jackie is. And yeah. A buncha stuff happens. Enjoy haha.

More of This AU | | First Chapter | Previous Chapter

Hey JJ. Those sound like some pretty serious issues. Do you want to meet up to talk about it in person?

JJ read the text from Persephone again, then looked up and scanned the restaurant. He was in the Waffle Cone, the same place where Aoife first introduced him to Persephone, the head of the Magic Circle. He was even sitting at the same table against the left wall. The waiter had been over a couple times to ask for his order, but he explained through writing that he wanted to wait for someone.

After what felt like forever, Persephone finally walked in. She noticed JJ right away and hurried over. “I am so sorry, I got caught up at work,” she said, sitting down.

Magic Circle things?

“No, I mean my actual job. What, d’you think running a magician coven pays the bills?” She laughed, then became serious once more. “Okay. But let’s get to this right away. This sounds like a complicated mess you’re in. Where do you want to start?”

JJ thought about it. Do you remember what I told you about Anti?

“The mind-control, right?” Persephone nodded. “That’s... pretty bad. Any magician who put someone under a spell like that would be immediately locked up for using strong black magic. This Distorter thing was able to just... do that?”

Well, Anti had been isolated for a couple days, JJ said. By that group I was looking for. IRIS. I think Distorter took advantage of that to... break him down.

“Hmm.” Persephone pursed her lips. “It’s... hard to know where to stand on Distorter. Aoife and I have done some research. He might be a Void, but I’ve never heard of a Void being so proficient in mental powers.”

What is a Void?

“Someone who has been consumed by a dark power.”

JJ sighed. That would make sense.

“But if Distorter is a Void, he’s not a normal one,” Persephone emphasized. “And honestly, a Void status would not help us to figure out Anti’s situation.” She paused. “Do you guys have any ideas at all?”

Our friend Stacy seemed to distract Distorter before, JJ recalled. Anti came out of the trance for a time while he was concerned with her.

“So you can distract him for a minute. That’s good. I did bring a list of counterspells.” Persephone reached into her purse and pulled out a few pieces of paper stapled together. “Maybe you could cast one while Distorter is distracted and it’ll dispel the power keeping Anti under his control.”

JJ raised an eyebrow at the list. Each page was covered in handwriting, on both sides. That’s a lot.

“There’s a lot of counterspells. And they’re always very long, which, by the way, have I ever mentioned how impressive it is that you can cast magic without spell words or some sort of implement like a wand?”

Practice, JJ said. My stage mask IS an implement, though, so if you see me wearing it casually, it’s because it makes things easier. But back to the topic at hand. What if the Circle helped with these counterspells? We both know multiple magicians makes magic stronger. Everyone couldn’t fit in the hospital, but surely we could bring Anti to the meeting house.

“Counterspells don’t work like that,” Persephone muttered sadly. “They’re sort of... they run opposite to all the usual rules. It’s why most magicians don’t even try to learn them. And I don’t think there’s a spell spell that could help your friend Anti.”

JJ sighed. He expected that, honestly. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed. What about IRIS? he asked.

“Oh yeah, we can totally help you find another one of their facilities if you need to,” Persephone said. “But remember. It was very tiring for us.”

Of course I remember that. He could vividly feel the lurch as their spells slammed into IRIS’s strange artificial power over and over again.

“So you have to be sure where this facility is,” she said. “And be sure that your friend is there. We probably won’t be able to do that two nights in a row. Hell, maybe not even two weeks in a row.”

That complicated things. It meant that JJ would have to rely on Schneep to find where Jackie was. But he nodded understandingly anyway. We’ll be sure. Now. Is there anything you want to tell me?

“Found anything else out about that crystal ball with the time magic in it?”

JJ shook his head. Not at all. I haven’t seen any more strange images in it. He’d tried a couple times, late at night mostly, staring into his own reflection in the hope that he could somehow divine a solution to this... this calamity they were in. Can you help with that?

“I can’t, but Aoife can. She’s the diviner, remember?” Persephone gave a little chuckle. “Call her sometime. Or... text her. Or you could FaceTime her, then she could see your signs.”

JJ groaned a little. How have I never thought about video calls for sign communication?

Persephone laughed. “Everyone has a blind spot. Don’t worry about it. Call her sometime, okay?”

I certainly will after realizing that.

“Great. Did you order food?”

JJ was a bit surprised at the sudden change in subject, but he rolled with it. No, I figured I should wait for you. I’m not too hungry anyway.

“Well I am. So let’s get something. We can talk about more magic while we do. I’m sure you have more questions about the Circle.”

And so they ordered.

———————

True to his word, Jameson called Aoife almost as soon as he got home, pausing only to tell Marvin everything Persephone had told him. Marvin was just as disappointed as he was to hear the Circle couldn’t help with Anti. “It woul’ve been awkward, anyway,” he said, covering up said disappointment. “We woul’ be jus’ standin’ around as you and all your magician friends did t’at.” And when JJ mentioned he was going to go up to the workroom and call Aoife about the crystal ball, Marvin said he would come, too. “I’m jus’ as curious about the t’ing as you are, y’know.” JJ pointed out that the wheelchair couldn’t go upstairs. But Marvin insisted. So JJ gave in and helped him up.

So now the two of them were there. Marvin sat in the room’s one chair—a swivel chair paired with the desk—while JJ propped his phone up using the pop socket and a scarf, and called Aoife through FaceTime.

It took a while before she picked up. When she did, it looked like she was somewhere... old? An old library? The reference section of an old library? JJ could see bookshelves of binders behind her. “Jameson? What’s up?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Is this a bad time? JJ asked.

“No, it’s fine, I was just doing paperwork for an old case. It can wait. What is it?”

I wanted to ask more about this. JJ held up the black crystal ball, careful not to touch it with his hands and instead using another scarf as a barrier.

“Have you seen anything else in there?”

JJ shook his head, put the crystal ball down again, and signed, The opposite, actually. I’ve been trying but nothing happens.

“What have you been doing to try?”

JJ paused. Last time it activated when I just touched it, so... that? And pouring magic into it.

Aoife shook her head. “I don’t think that would do anything.”

Why not? It did last time.

“How do I put this... sometimes old magic items will randomly become super sensitive. I’m not sure how old the crystal ball is, but I know I had it for years, and the Circle had it for years before me.”

JJ frowned. Somehow, that explanation sounded... wrong. Like it wasn’t what was happening. What about me pouring magic into it?

“Raw power?” Aoife asked. When JJ nodded, she continued. “Yeah no, that wouldn’t work. Divination is very specific magic, very tricky to wield. Most people can’t do it on their own, they need special tools. And before you say the crystal ball could be a tool, I’ll remind you it isn’t even supposed to have time magic in the first place. It’s not the right kind of crystal.”

“T’is is all very fascinatin’, and I do mean t’at,” Marvin said. “But can we get it t’work at all, t’en?”

“Oh! God, Marvin, you scared the bejeezus out of me.”

“Sorry! Forgot I was out of frame.” Marvin wheeled the desk chair into view of the phone with his good leg and cane. “Hello, Aoife. Nice t’see ye.”

“Nice t’see ye too,” Aoife repeated, her Irish accent briefly becoming stronger. “Anyway. You want it to work again?”

JJ nodded.

“Well, check first that it still has magic in it. Do you know how to do a Revelation?”

Another nod. JJ learned it after seeing Persephone do it one time.

“Do it, then.”

JJ held a hand over the crystal ball. He pulled his stage mask down over his face and concentrated. A light blue mist curled around his fingers and fell onto the crystal.

The black crystal surface changed immediately, the reflections on it disappearing. Instead, a tunnel appeared. It seemed to disappear into the crystal, a vortex of blue and orange swirling into infinity. It only appeared for a second, and then it was gone, and the ordinary reflections were back.

Aoife started to say something, but was interrupted when Marvin shouted. He wheeled closer to the table where the crystal was. “T’at—! T’at was—! T’at—!”

Marvin? JJ signed, confused. Calm down.

“Spiral!” Marvin shouted. “The spiral tunnel!”

What’s the spiral tunnel? JJ asked, confused.

“I... I-I don’ remember!” Marvin clutched his head. “I don’ remember, but t’at’s it!”

“Have you seen that before?” Aoife asked from the phone screen.

“Yes!” Marvin’s head shot up again and he pointed at her insistently. “Yes, I’ve seen it before!”

When? JJ asked, curious.

“I... I don’ remember!” Marvin slumped in his seat. “But I know I have. I know I have.”

“Well, that spiral tunnel also appeared when Persephone Revealed the crystal’s magic to us a couple weeks ago, so it must be a sign of that time magic,” Aoife said. “You’re JJ’s man-out-of-time friend. Maybe... you saw it when you arrived here. Or, now.”

We never figured out where that time magic came from, either, JJ recalled.

“Do you t’ink...” Marvin paused, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Is t’ere any way I caused it?”

“Did you ever come into contact with the crystal?” Aoife asked.

“Yes... one day, the day Distorter... used Anti to take me to...” Marvin’s voice got steadily quieter, until eventually it faded away entirely.

JJ’s eyes widened. Marvin, didn’t you see Anti in the reflection of the crystal? And then he attacked you?

“From behind...” Marvin whispered, revelation dawning on his face. “The way he got me t’at day. From behind. A-and I saw him behind me in the crystal.”

“Alright, forget what I said about old magic items being sensitive,” Aoife dismissed. “The reason Jameson saw visions while simply touching it is probably because the crystal was recently imbued with the magic at that point. By now it’s settled so it will be harder to activate.”

“You agree, t’en?” Marvin pressed. “T’at magic came from me?”

“Most likely. From what I know, the timeline seems to add up. Marvin, you’re a witch, aren’t you?”

“I’m—e-excuse me?”

“Someone who uses magickal items and rituals on a regular basis,” Aoife explained.

“I... do have my magickal cards,” Marvin said slowly. “But how do you know t’at?”

Aoife blinked. “I’m... not sure. It must have been one of my feelings.”

We always trust Aoife’s feelings, JJ said to Marvin. She did think something was wrong about those IRIS cameras, remember?

“Alrigh’, alrigh’.” Marvin decided to move on. “But what does me bein’ a... witch... have t’do with t’is whole mess?”

“That’s the question,” Aoife mused. “As a witch you don’t have magic of your own, you shouldn’t be able to imbue objects with power by yourself. Did you have your cards at that point?”

“...no.” Marvin slowly shook his head.

This is all very confusing, JJ said. But, I called you for a purpose, Aoife. How do I use the crystal ball’s magic again? To see the visions?

“Hmm.” Aoife thought about it. “Marvin. Can you touch it first? Maybe it needs... a refresh?”

“I s’pose it’s worth a try,” Marvin said, shrugging. He pushed his chair right up to the table and reached out. “Do I... pick it up?” JJ nodded, so Marvin took a deep breath and grabbed the crystal ball in both hands. He stared at his reflection on its surface.

“Do you see anything unusual?” Aoife asked quietly.

“I t’ink...” Marvin paused. “I t’ink the room behind me is diff’rent? T’ere are no bookshelves, and the walls are lighter in color.” He laughed. “T’at’s not as big a clue for the future as Anti bein’ behind me. All t’is means is I’ll be in a different room eventually.”

That’s still proof that there’s some time magic still in there, Jameson said. Aoife? Do you think I can activate it now?

“Touch it and see if you see anything,” Aoife suggested.

JJ nodded slowly. He reached out to take the crystal ball from Marvin—

An image flashed before his eyes. A single vision, one of the many he’d seen that day. Jackie, sitting at a computer screen in a dark room. Only now... now the image was clearer. Crisper. He could see more of the room, though its plain office-like appearance told him nothing. What mattered more... was the image he could see on the sleeve of the white coat Jackie was wearing. It resembled an eye, with three circles for irises.

And then it was gone.

“You saw somet’ing, didn’ you?” Marvin asked. “Your expression... went all shocked... all of a sudden.”

JJ took a deep breath, and raised his hands to sign shakily. I saw Jackie sitting in an office, at a computer. He was wearing a white coat... with IRIS’s logo on it.

“...oh,” Marvin whispered.

Well, that’s not very helpful, JJ said, trying to dismiss the shock of what he’d seen. We know Jackie is working for IRIS now.

“Sometimes it helps to think of visions as guidance, or as confirmation,” Aoife said.

“So... it’s tellin’ us t’at we shoul’ definitely find Jackie before we deal with Anti’s situation?” Marvin guessed.

Or it’s confirming that Jackie really is working for them like we thought, JJ said. Then he paused. I saw that same vision before... just less clear. Was it... always trying to tell us this...?

“It must have,” Aoife confirmed.

“If it was tellin’ us the same t’ing weeks ago... does t’at mean our future is locked...?” The expression on Marvin’s face could only be described as ‘overwhelmed by gloom.’

“Now boys,” Aoife said firmly. “That’s not true. The whole reason divination is hard for those who don’t have the natural talent is because the future is so uncertain. Having the same vision twice in a row just means it hasn’t changed yet. Or, it has, but that particular event isn’t what changed. Or it has but the meaning of the event is different now. It’s all very complicated. Don’t worry too much about the future.”

JJ blinked, as if that concept was completely foreign to him.

“We’ll work on t’at,” Marvin said hurriedly.

“In any case, it’s possible that the crystal ball won’t be able to show you visions frequently,” Aoife said. “Okay? So don’t put all your hopes on that, either.”

We’ll try, JJ said. But if we do want to see a vision, Marvin has to do it first?

“Seems like it. But really.” Aoife brought her phone close to her face and narrowed her eyes. “Try not to worry. It’s not good for you, JJ.”

JJ laughed. I’ll try. I’ll talk to you again some other time, okay?

“Okay.” Aoife leaned back again. “Goodbye, then.”

Goodbye. And with that, JJ ended the call.

———————

Schneep’s eyes were really starting to hurt. He’d been doing nothing but stare at a computer screen ever since they decided to focus their efforts on finding Jackie. Had he... gone to sleep last night? He couldn’t remember. And honestly, he didn��t feel too worse for wear if he didn’t. That scared him a little. Sure, it was helpful, but he didn’t ask for that.

He would have taken the chance to be immune to Distorter’s tricks if it was offered. But it was not offered.

“Hör auf darüber nachzudenken,” he muttered to himself. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it. But he couldn’t help it. How could he not think about it?

By continuing to look through IRIS’s files. That’s how.

He lied to himself earlier when he said he’d done nothing but stare at the computer screen. In truth, he snuck up north yesterday to try and download more of IRIS’s database. He got some. Would it be enough? Would it be...

...

Yes. It was enough.

Schneep reread what he’d found over and over again. This was up to date, right? It was accurate, right?

Yes. Yes!

He had to call the others. He had to talk to them. Who first? Hah. He wondered that, but there was only really one option. And so he picked up his phone and dialed Rama’s number.

It rang for a long time before the other end picked up. “Who is this?” Rama asked.

Right. He’d gotten another new phone. “Rama? It is me, Henrik,” he said. “I found him.”

Rama’s attitude instantly shifted. “You did?! Where? Where is Jackie?!”

“He is stationed at an IRIS facility east of Mirygale,” Schneep said quietly. “It was converted from an old prison, like the one to the north. Recently, yes, too. I have the coordinates. For, ah, ah... for the GPS. I mean.”

“Can you text them to me?”

“Now? Yes, hold onto your... hat.” Schneep pulled the phone away from his ear and sent a text to Rama, making sure to carefully copy down the coordinates on his computer screen. “There. Did you get that?”

A moment of silence. “Yes, I did.”

“Good. We must act as soon as possible. We must act to find him and, ahhh... get him out of there. Or, stop him? He’s doing nothing, I’m sure, but IRIS has goals, and they might be... something he is helping with... not knowingly.”

“Henrik? Are you... okay?” Rama asked, sounding concerned.

“What are you meaning? Of course I am.”

“You sound, uh... really fucking weird.”

“Am I? I mean, do I?” Schneep leaned back in his chair and stared at the motel ceiling. “I do not feel weird.”

“Well, maybe you do but you don’t realize it. How much sleep did you get last night?”

He didn’t remember. “I’m sure it was enough, I feel full of energy.”

“Yeah, ‘I’m sure it was enough’ is not how well-rested people respond to that question. Take a moment to actually look at yourself.”

“In the mirror?” Schneep asked, and giggled.

“I meant metaphorically,” Rama said seriously. “Look inward. Think about how you feel. You may think you’re full of energy, but that could just be your body running on adrenaline.”

“I don’t want to look inward, there are things there now,” Schneep whispered. “The Distorter was here. I saw him when he did not want me to. It’s because there are things there now. I have a scar on... I have them all over.”

“Henrik,” Rama said softly.

“This is not the time. We have to go get Jackie.” Schneep stood up, stumbling for a moment before something in his legs naturally corrected him. No, wait. That was just him. He did that. By himself. “I will be right where you want to meet me, and I will be there right away.”

“We can’t go get Jackie right away,” Rama said, pain in their voice. “I fucking want to, but... but apparently the IRIS facilities have themselves some strange shield around them that makes it impossible for you to see anything even when you know it’s there. Last time, when they went looking for Anti, JJ had to get a lot of other magicians to help him break that shield. So even if we go there, we can’t do anything.”

“I don’t want to do nothing.” Why did his eyes feel wet? Why did they feel... weak? He’d thought about this recently, he wondered if they were a different shade of blue. Or maybe only one? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to look into the mirror to check for sure. “I-I don’t want to do nothing,” he said again, voice breaking.

“You won’t be doing nothing. Waiting isn’t nothing.” Rama was clearly trying to reassure him, but he didn’t think it was working.

“I wait for everything,” Schneep muttered. He stood in the center of the room, one arm dangling loosely as the other pressed the phone close to his face. “I waited for so much. I wait, I wait, I wait, the only thing there was the worry, the... more than worry, the... Furcht. I cannot remember what the word is. But it was just me and it, and the wait, the wait, the wait for them to come... And then when the wait is over they take you back and it starts again, and you look at yourself, and you think... you think there is something in there that was not before... I was asleep. I was asleep. Except for the mistake. I was asleep. But I knew even before the mistake...”

“Henrik!” Rama’s shout snapped Schneep out of whatever trance he’d just slipped into. “You need to rest.”

“I don’t want to fall asleep.” Schneep’s own voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure Rama could hear him. “Even if it was better than the mistake where I was not. I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“You have to try. You cannot function without it. As I can tell just over the phone.” Rama paused. “Nothing... nothing will happen to you, okay? There won’t be anything new when you wake up.”

“...do you promise?” Schneep hated that he just asked that. Like a child looking to their parents for reassurance that there was nothing in the closet. But he... he had to. He had to have that reassurance, real or imagined.

“I promise,” Rama said. “And when we break through IRIS’s shield, I will call you to tell you. And then we can go get Jackie. Okay?”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you, Rama. I am sorry I’m being so... foolish.”

“You’re the least foolish person I know, Henrik.”

“...Thank you,” Schneep said again, and hung up.

So maybe he did still need sleep. And as he laid down on the bed and drifted off, that fact brought him a strange comfort.

———————

Do you think we could try tonight?

Tonight? I guess we could call an urgent meeting like we did last time. Are you sure tho? Thats really soon.

Yes. I’m sure.

“So you’ll be tryin’ t’at same spell with the Circle now, t’en?” Marvin asked, looking over at JJ in the entrance hall from his spot in the living room.

JJ nodded. I really don’t think we should waste any time.

“Because of the crystal ball visions?”

No, but they certainly didn’t help, JJ said. Will you be okay with me gone? If I recall, last time you were home alone while I was out at this, you left the house late at night on sketchy instructions from Schneep.

“I did, but t’at’s how I got my cards bask, isn’ it?” Marvin shuffled said cards on his lap. Mr. Flufflington, lying on the sofa nearby, suddenly raised his head in surprise at the shuffle sound. “Oh, sorry, Mister. Didn’ mean to wake you up. Anyway, don’ worry about me, Jems, I’m not plannin’ on goin’ anywhere.”

You weren’t planning on going anywhere last time, either, JJ pointed out.

“Well, I’m even less so now.”

JJ stared at him for a moment, then nodded. I’ll be back late again. Don’t wait for me.

“Good night, t’en. And good luck.”

Good night. JJ said that, then left, the front door locking behind him.

Well, with Marvin alone he had to figure out how to spend the rest of the night. Normally he’d read a book and then head to bed... but after earlier, he wanted to look at his cards some more. He was trying to form new patterns with them, balancing a tray across his wheelchair arms for a flat surface.

The two unknowns were bothering him. The jokers. He didn’t know why he had this nagging feeling that they were important. Was it simply because they didn’t know what their symbols meant?

Curious, he separated the two of them from the rest, lying them face-down on the tray so he could examine the runes on the back. An angled spiral with an X over it. That was a much more complicated symbol than any of the others. Did that mean it was powerful? The higher-value cards did seem to have broader concepts—and maybe more powerful runes. Jokers were wild. They could be anything. That was a sort of power.

What would happen if he tried to make a pattern with them?

Marvin debated that for a second, and then decided that nothing ventured, nothing gained. All of the successful patterns he’d found so far had needed at least one of the aces, so he grabbed the Ace of Hearts, with its rune meaning “mark” or “creation.” He placed it in between the two jokers, trying to find an arrangement where the lines on the back designs of the cards matched up. But nothing worked. Maybe he needed more cards?

He searched through the deck and found the King of Hearts. The rune on its back meant, funny enough, “heart” or “life.” Then he grabbed the Five of Hearts (“leaf” or “growth”) as well, because why not make this a heart suit party? Idly, he started messing with the five cards, shifting their positions relative to the others, bending close over—

Marvin screamed. His leg—his broken leg, it—it hurt again! “Fuck!” It was piercing, burning, sharp pain—

Instinctively, he swept a hand over the five cards, dislodging the formation they’d been in. And the pain instantly stopped. He sat there, breathing, for a moment, getting over the sudden agony and its even more sudden disappearance. Then, tentatively, he reached down and gently prodded the injury. It didn’t feel like it had rebroken. Good. Good.

“What the fucking hell was that about?” Marvin asked himself. He looked down at the cards. What pattern had they been in...? Right. The two jokers vertical on either side, with the other three horizontal and stacked on top of each other. Though he was morbidly curious to try it again, he resisted; he didn’t really feel like experiencing his leg breaking all over again. That wasn’t what happened, of course... but it certainly felt like it.

And though that probably should have warned him off from experimenting with his cards for the night, it didn’t. He merely put the jokers to the side once more and resumed. Their angled spirals seemed to shift in the corner of his eyes. Getting smaller and bigger, closing and opening.

———————

Schneep was awoken by a ringing sound. He started up, panic rushing into his heart—then realized it was his phone. Quickly he reached over to the nightstand and picked it up to check the caller ID. It was Rama again. So soon?

Wait... it wasn’t soon at all. The clock on the nightstand read 7:01... am, not pm. And there was early gray sunlight coming through the curtains. And his stomach was rumbling. When was the last time he’d eaten something?

The phone was still ringing. Sitting up, Schneep answered the call. “Hello?”

“Henrik? It’s Rama. Good morning.”

“It is morning, isn’t it?” he muttered, then laughed. “I have been asleep since you last called me.”

“Good,” they said firmly, sincerely. “It sounded like you needed it.”

“I did, I did.” Schneep nodded. “But to serious business. I can only guess you’re calling me because of Jackie.”

“Yes. Jameson and his magicians did that same spell, they found a second IRIS facility right where you said it would be. Well, it was a bit complicated, we had to actually drive out to the location first and that took a while—but after all that, it was there. We are planning on going there today. In only a couple hours if possible.”

“Good.” Schneep nodded. “Give me time to get ready and eat something.”

“You’re coming?!” Rama didn’t bother to hide their surprise. “But... your history...”

“I know,” Schneep said quietly. “But that is why I must go with you. Together we can provide Jackie with enough reasons to see sense. You can tell him why it was such a bad idea to leave... and I can tell him what IRIS is truly doing.”

Rama was silent for a moment. Then they sighed. “It’s up to you. What time would be okay with you? Nine o’clock?”

“That sounds good. Let’s meet at the park again. Will it be just the two of us?”

“No, Jameson is coming too.”

“Not Marvin, though?” Strange, Schneep would’ve thought Marvin would insist on coming even with a broken leg.

“No, he said he wanted to work on things with those magick cards of his. As for Jack and Stacy, well, Jack says someone should stay behind with Anti in case there are any developments. And Stacy has work again. She really wants to help, though. But I do not think this moment is her calling, you know?”

“I understand.” Schneep took a deep breath and stood up. “Nine o’clock at the park. I will see you there. We will finish this.”

“We will finish this,” Rama agreed. “See you then.” And they hung up.

Schneep lowered the phone. His hands were shaking. But he would do this. He would go get Jackie back.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #jameson jackson #marvin the magnificent #dr schneeplestein #brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

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katuer · 4 months

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Smoke fills the room. Shaemon lounges against a pile of pillows in the corner, and Aoife sits, leaning forward, on a bench in the middle of the room.

“Aoife,” the halfling mumbles, “’s it working?”

The two had decided to try a hookah lounge. Shaemon paid, mugged some rich prick with gold on him. It hoped Aoife could get some relief, and she had never tried this method of recreational stimulation before.

A deep sigh comes from the girl before him.

“Someone died in this room. Fell over, smacked his head on this bench, and bled out. No one found his body for hours.”

A long silence.

“So no, it’s not fuckin’ working. I need a distraction.” She stands suddenly, striding to her relaxed subordinate, who starts at her approach. She crouches in front of him, and places her hand on his knee.

“D’ya think goat-man would let me curse you?”

“W-what does that mean?” Shaemon’s heart beats faster, louder; it’s on full alert.

“I could make you see what I see. Dead people. Or I think I could if I tried. Huh? How’s that sound? Jus’ a lil’ curse, Shae.” She leans closer, hands on its thighs.

‘Shae’ sucks in a sharp breath.

“Anything for you.”

#original character #writeblr #dungeons and dragons #original writing #yeah there’s a Disco Elysium reference lmao #dnd ocs #shaemon goldbeech #aoife mcphearson

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look-at-the-soul · 1 year

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Lockdown sessions- All of this unreal time (The Photoshoot)

In honor of @cillmequick 100 followers celebration, I wrote this as a parallel for my “The Photoshoot” series 🥰📸 don’t worry, if you don’t read the series, all you need to know is the female character is based in OC Yael, Cillian’s wife, she’s a photographer and they are married and that’s all I will reveal in this one shot so the rest of the series won’t be spoiled. Congratulations Alex 💕 I’m so happy you started sharing your incredible ideas and I hope I honor your lockdown idea ♥️

You can find the “All of this unreal time” video here courtesy of Mrs Murphy on IG 💕 which for the purpose of this story, is why they go back to Manchester to film.

Also! For inspiration I used a song that @lyarr24 suggested me a loooong time ago 🥰 better late than ever right? Song: Love me two times by The doors

⚠️ Smut Minors DNI! (I’ve been released from jail so, who cares?)+ pandemic theme, please be cautions, I don’t mean to trigger any hard topics, this is just fiction with a bit of reality, my heart is with those who went through a difficult time during the lockdown ♥️

After getting the negative results they had green light to start filming. It was hard to resist the natural impulse to hug Max Porter, a long time friend. And of course, Aoife and Mary, they were not only collaborators, but close friends as well.

“Sorry I cheated in the geography test and looked the teacher in the eye and swore I hadn’t”

Yael’s hands moved down as she was lost in her thoughts, listening to Cillian’s captivating and deep voice.

The C0vid restrictions only had one effect on him; do his part exposing his heart and soul out. After all these years, it still had the same effect on her; shivers down her spine, mind in blank, her eyes focused on him.

Sitting in an empty restaurant at midnight. The owners kept it open until very late in an attempt to get one more client, one more bill to help them survive and pay their own bills. Not everyone out there was able to stay at home and work from there. These were real heroes, the brave ones. The ones in the background, the ones we don’t notice when we sit on a restaurant comfortably and wait to be served. And don’t get me wrong, of course the doctors, nurses, paramedics, cleaning staff, etc deserve the whole praise, a medal and all the recognition of the world. But also those who helped us to make our lives a little more comfortable, the ones wearing an invisible cape, the delivery guy, the chef, the waitress, the truck driver that didn’t have another choice but being out there.

We all actually are, from our own trenches, doing our best, hoping for better days.

“If we don’t open, we don’t eat.” The woman said with sadness in her eyes. Her face covered by he mask and a massive face shield. She was more than touched when she was asked if they could be able to get the film done there, with the promise of ordering food as soon as they were done for the whole crew.

She immediately rushed to clean the table next to the wall, explaining how this place was her whole life.

Cillian was touched by her words, quietly behind everyone, hands inside the pockets of his coat, the hoodie cap covering his head and his usual mystic aura full on display. Yael saw him closing his eyes for a brief moment, his lips barely moving, whispering the lines of Max’s beautiful poem.

The clear background was a nice contrast to his completely black outfit. The camera guy started filming, following the director’s instructions. Yael was about to take a seat a couple of tables away from Cillian, but she wasn’t there just to support him, she was in charge of the photography of this ambitious project.

“Sorry I was an unkind boy, sorry I borrowed, sorry I pretended to be sorry so often I actually forgot the non-performative and sincere act of apologizing, behind years of faux-sorry showiness.”

And of course, she would add it to her own personal collection of his remarkable work that she had been accumulating over the years.

There was an incredible energy around the whole team, everyone leaving their hearts in every take. It was late, but nobody seemed to care, they were all too engrossed to stop recording, so instead of cutting the inspiration, Aoife suggested a couple of shots in the street, the lights in each business added an incredible atmosphere.

The night was cold, it was past midnight and the sky poured down earlier, making the team delay the filming time, they said they would postpone it but Cillian walked to the middle of the empty street and started saying the script out loud while laying on the wet floor. The team shared a silent look and started filming quietly, no one complained that it was so late, or about the weather, they all knew Cillian’s drive, he wasn’t just a professional, he was extremely excited and desperate to do this work.

“I’m sorry I took, and took, and took, and took, and took, and enriched myself without pause, and left deep scars on the skin of the earth”

She still couldn’t believe this man only needed and hoodie, one look to nothing in specific and he would make her feel a tightness in her heart she couldn’t even name.

I just came out here to say

Every day is the last day

As everyday will always be

And it is more than enough.

His performance was blowing her mind!

Maybe it was the passion he put into everything, or the fact that somehow thanks to the uncertainty moments the world was going through, they both learned they had everything they needed. They re-learned to focus on what really mattered; they were healthy, they were together, their loved ones were doing fine, fighting this battle in their own way.

They felt beyond blessed and grateful for each day, for sharing one more meal, they started to look at the small things.

They were grateful for this moment, for the opportunity of making this project together.

Masks, antibacterial sprays and safe distance was part of their lives now. Some people would agree, some others think this was something made up. It is a personal decision no one in the crew would discuss, but everyone wanted to protect the other.

Cillian got up and kept going, not stopping once to check if the camera man was filming him, he was deeply concentrated in his performance.

He wasn’t just reading lines, he felt every single word, every single paragraph.

It was both scary and exciting, there was a thin line dividing the power of his words and your heart breaking into a million pieces.

Something that would keep anyone on he edge of their seats.

Looking around, Yael realized she had been holding her breath, just like the rest of the crew, Cillian had a way to make everyone gasp, it was hard to look any other way.

As he finished the last line of the poem, she saw her husband keep walking, the camera men following, no one dared to interrupt the beautiful silence around until Cillian was ready to stop.

Suddenly he started walking back and forward, taking out his cellphone, Yael saw him dialing something, rubbing his face with his free hand.

“I love you, with all I’ve got.” She was close enough to hear.

“Cut.” Aoife called over the radio as she saw on screen that Cillian was crying.

This became something personal, his emotions were all over the place. He was a sensible man, with a heart of gold. And she loved him more than words could ever express.

His face was cold as she touched him,in silence.

Not a single word she could say, would be more beautiful than that moment of silence.

“Let’s get you home, my love.”

Yael gave Max a smile he was only able to see in her eyes, since she had half her face covered by the mask. Placing one of her hands over her heart, she tried to say goodbye to everyone, in return she got kind looks.

Walking past Max, Cillian stopped and breaking with the protocols, he gave his friend a hug. He had teared eyes, just like everyone else.

“Thank you everybody!” He shouted taking Yael’s hand, his rock and strength.

On their way back to the apartment, they found the Manchester streets almost empty, it was conveniently close to the location they chose to film.

“Never hold back your emotions.” Yael pulled her husband's hand giving it a slightly but gentle squeeze, she wanted to encourage him to open up freely to her. “You’ve been so resilient and strong during this time, my center, grounding me.” Cillian looked down, had he? “Making my days easier and better.”

“Going through this nightmare with you made a difference, I’d go crazy without you.” His right hand came to rest to the back of her head, eyes locked on the other one, two hearts beating at the same rhythm, lips dancing in sync.

When was the last time they savored each other’s bodies without a rush?

Coming up for air, Cillian started the way down her neck.

“I’m sorry for every single time I wasn't there. Birthday, anniversary, Sunday brunch...”

Yael opened her eyes surprised.

“Cill, don’t.” She knew how sorry he felt for missing something important.

But he needed to get it off his chest.

“I need you to forgive me for every time I failed you, for saying things I shouldn’t say and not saying what you needed to hear from me.” Once he took off the scarf around her neck, his thumb was brushing under her breast, even through the fabric of her sweater, her skin was burning up.

“I need you to forgive me too, for my fails.” Yael helped him take off his hoodie, running her finger through his hair then. “For not making you my priority all the time.”

“It’s okay, you’ve been working a lot.” Cillian finally managed to get her out of those jeans.

A lot of things had been in the middle lately, plus all the stress and worry that came with the current situation.

But tonight, it was all about them.

“I’m super proud of what you did earlier, the way you poured your heart out, it’s the most beautiful thing to see.”

He knew his voice would break, all of his emotions where right there in the surface.

So Cillian kissed her lips, slowly, savoring the moment, the silence, enjoying the way her body trembled in his arms. That night he had all of the time of the world to travel her body up and down as he pleased.

And he did just that until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Until her breath caught up in her throat and her heart was beating to its maximum capacity.

Feeling her under his body was nothing compared to feel her body opening and welcoming his.

“Oh Cill.” Her back arched from the mattress as he entered her one more time. Setting a slow, yet sensual pace, he bumped his nose against hers. Not even wanting to blink so he wouldn’t miss Yael’s pleasure.

‘Moan for me baby, let me hear you.” Leaning down, he kissed her neck, feeling her pulse.

Chests brushing, skin on skin, he loved the feeling of her nails running down his arms and back.

Yael was holding onto him like a castaway clings to the shore.

The soft lovemaking was enough to send her over the edge and make her see the stars and fireworks.

She couldn’t keep her voice down as she came hard, the ecstasy of her pleasure taking her to a place she didn’t want to leave. His own release matching hers, whispering her name like a prayer.

He looked so beautiful on top of her, buried deep inside her body.

After a few moments, Cillian pulled out, moving his arm to get her close to his body.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Then stay.”

But they both knew that wasn’t possible.

“The tunnel scene was one of my favorite.” Yael whispered against his neck, as they cuddled together. The lights were amazing, and him simply walking in his signature elegant stride. Did he really need anything else? She remembered the shot she got, breathtaking like the rest.

Cillian smiled against her hair. “You said that before.”

“That’s because I love this project and I love your work.”

Feeling him sighting, she fell asleep, right there, in her favorite spot; his arms.

A few hours later, the daylight woke him up, since they forgot to close the curtains. Cillian knew she would be gone in a few hours, and he wanted to make the most out of the time they still got together.

“Hey sleeping beauty.” He smiled at the sight of her opening her eyes.

Yael found her husband leaning against the headboard, smiling down at her.

“Hi handsome.” Stretching her arms above her head, she let out a little groan. “What time is it?”

“Nine o’clock.”

“Wow, that’s so late... haven’t sleep in like this in a while.”

“What time do you need to be at the airport?”

Love me two times baby Love me twice today Love me two times girl

His hand sneaked under the covers, between her legs, while his fingers set her entire body into fire. Oh those fingers! Moving at their own accord in and out of her, brushing against the little button that drove her crazy.

Finally pulling herself up, Yael straddled his legs. “Twelve.”

Her lips connected with his neck, his hands on her hips, pulling her down.

One for tomorrow, one just for today Love me two times I'm goin' away

“So wet already.”

“Been all night wet.” She teased his tip at her entrance, moving forwards and backwards, his tip just brushing her slit, torturing him.

“Sorry for the wait.”

“Why do you make it rhyme?” Pumping him in her hand, she saw the way he let his head back, taking the opportunity to nibble his shoulder.

Love me one time Could not speak Love me one time

“Old man joke you wouldn’t understand.”

And that was the last thing he said when she took his cock and guided it to where he belonged. Inside her. Yael rested one of her hands on the headboard for leverage as as his hands were on her hips to set the familiar tune they both loved. Carefree, loud, hard and deep, without restrictions.

Groaning at the feeling of her walls clenching around him, Cillian moved one hand to her back, to press her further close to him.

Looking down, between their bodies, he found his hard member disappearing inside of her.

“I want you to cum hard for me.”

Last me All through the week Love me two times

But that wasn’t enough, in a swift motion he flipped her on her back and stared thrusting hard and fast into her, bending one of her legs, he hooked it under his arm, making Yael moan loudly at the new rhythm and angle.

“Oh!” It was almost as if an animal was unleashed.

“After you.” He offered after moving his hand around, to find the exact point of the union of their bodies, just pressing his fingertips a little, and Yael arched her back and it was enough to make her reach her second orgasm.

Last me All through the week Love me two times

“Ah, fuck.” He groaned following her immediately, his breathing elaborated.

It took her some time to recover by the intensity with which it hit her while he was slamming her body. But she didn’t mind, she loved to see this side of him, she loved having Cillian on top of her.

He was still trying to catch his breath when Yael rolled to her side and put one of her legs between his. “You need to make more projects like this.” She confessed kissing the scar on his chin.

Cillian saw her walking to the bathroom naked.

“Are you going to love me two times before I go?”

Apparently, his wife didn’t know how to count, because it would be round three, but before he could correct her math, she spoke from the shower.

“I know what you’re thinking, the first one was last night.”

He laughed loudly from the bed, covering his eyes with his palms.

Who was he to deny his wife an orgasm?

“Coming!” He announced rolling from the bed, in a matter of seconds, he was ready to go again.

She wished she could photograph tonight’s sequence, but she needed to head back to Ireland to her other responsibilities.

As the water was running down her body, Yael wished Cillian could understand the power of his voice, the pauses, the looks he gave to he camera and the whole impact he had in this project, it would make it stand out, but he was too stubborn to understand the magic he brought to the table, the difference he made, the souls he would touch with this.

And by the portraits she made during the shooting she was sure that this had to be one of her favorites works of him.

****

Bonus photo:

A/N: This film has to be one my favorite projects of him ♥️ I think he did an amazing performance that gives me goosebumps every time I watch it.

My main account is back!!! 🥰💕 so I’m also celebrating that, remember your thoughts and comments make a huge difference! ✨

Tag list:

@runnning-outof-time @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @lespendy @onlydeadcells @peaky-cillian @shelbydelrey @cutecurly-hair @kittycatcait219 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @alessioayla @esposadomd @queenshelby @heidimoreton @winchestergirl22 @ange-thoughts @the-forest-witchh @sloanexx @babaohhhriley @peakypoet @hyperfixationsonshuffle @yrli8 @shaddixlife @gypsy-girl-08 @itsilvermorny @moral-terpitude @stevie75 @paprikabadger @elenavampire21 @mrkdvidal1989

#alex breaks 100 #That’s what Cill said #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian Murphy fanfic #cillian Murphy smut

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mangoshorthand · 10 months

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Thing of the Past- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch1 (Hard Feelings Part 4)

SUMMARY: You can't avoid it any longer: Five has to meet your parents. It goes more wrong than you could possibly imagine, spiralling to bring up secrets he'd rather stay buried.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven/Epilogue

You're getting married. You have a baby. No avoiding it.

Reader is unavoidably an OC at this point. When I tag this as #Number Five Imagine, I never said it wasn't going to be tough. 😜

⚠️Please heed content warning⚠️

Chapter One: Bone Structure

You couldn’t put it off forever. You had a fifteen-month-old daughter and you were about to get married. They’d known you were seeing a ‘famous guy’ since the JUICED scandal. Your mother scolded you for only telling her you’d been pregnant once Aoife was born, but had then quickly forgotten it in talking about how nobody appreciated her at work. You've always thought that your mother seems to struggle with object permanence- she behaves like the stereotype of a beleaguered mother when directly confronted with you, but your existence doesn't seem to occur to her otherwise. She always seems to forget that the phone goes two ways.

Aoife’s asleep in the car seat. In the passenger seat beside you, Five reaches over and removes the pacifier drooping from her mouth. He can’t resist running his thumb down her chubby cheek as he does so.

Your knuckles go white on the wheel.

“Are you ok?”

The familiar feeling of foreboding is rising. You’re a block away and the familiar sights assault you. Home, yes, but not like the Academy, or even like your apartment. The old feeling of resignation comes on you again. It’s not dread, it’s more an obligation weighing in the pit of your stomach.

He senses you’re not okay.

“…You don’t talk about them often.”

“And there’s a good reason for that.”

To Five, you don’t sound like yourself. You're…detached; something hidden behind an ironic cynicism that would have looked better on him.

“Pull over,” he murmurs.

You do, a little way down the street. Though the engine stilling has been known to wake her before, Aoife stays mercifully asleep on this occasion.

“Tell me.”

You breathe in.

“Can you…play nice? For me?”

His brow contracts, “I’ll try. But why would I have to?”

“They’re…weird.”

He tilts his head, “You know I can cope with weird.”

You stare directly out of the windshield. There it is, the modest colonial in which you’d spent the first eighteen years of your life. White picket fence and all. The one you’d left and never looked back. He won’t get it unless he sees it- how to even begin to explain?

“It is what it is.” you sigh and give him a rueful smile, “Just…don’t be as honest as usual.”

He gets it; he has to up his bullshit-taking capacity. He places a hand on your knee, “Babies are excellent meat-shields.”

You nod and prepare yourself.

“Let’s get it over with.”

You get out of the car and unstrap Aoife from her car-seat. She stirs and fusses, so you replace the pacifier. She rubs at her eyes with one clumsy arm and then sneezes suddenly: as always, a blue flash accompanies it and she judders in your arms: a quasi-spatial jump she can't control. Though she has Five's power, she can't use it volitionally yet and the effects she does experience are weak and fleeting.

According to Five, he had been similar, only managing to control the ‘sneeze-blinks’ when he was four.

"Apparently every time I was sick, I used to blink to random places in the house and throw a tantrum,” he’d explained

“That’s still how you act when you’re sick,” you’d laughed.

Now, with Aoife’s diaper bag over one shoulder, Five takes your free hand and you lead him down the sidewalk, through the front yard and to the door.

You ring the bell. The ding-dong inside tolls with gloomy portents. The door creaks on its hinges just the way you remember.

“Oh BABY!” Your mother pulls you into an abrupt, rib-crushing hug. “Oh it’s SO good to see you!”

She holds you on the doorstep, eyes closed. Five pastes on his customer service smile, hands clasped behind his back and waits patiently. He looks down at Aoife, struggling under her grandmother's arm pinned to her head.

She is probably in her mid-sixties. She’s angular, hair tied tight in a scrunchie and glasses at the end of her nose.

To Five’s eye, she hugs her daughter for a little longer than is necessary or, indeed, comfortable for an onlooker. He notes your poker-stiff body language.

“Hi Mom. Hi…” you try to extricate yourself, “I’ve brought them to meet you.”

Finally, your mother lets you go and her eyes fall on the baby.

“Oh she’s BEAUTIFUL. Oh, just look at her little hands. Oh, she gets those fingers from me.”

She looks up at Five, shoves past you and pulls him into another of the too-hard-too-long hugs. He recoils a little...but he has to play nice…

“And oh, aren’t you a smart young man? It’s SO good to meet you Five.”

Great. ‘Young man’ again.

“Er- thank you, Samantha, likewise.”

“Oh no,” she says, arms holding him shaking with the hand-gestures she would otherwise be making, “Not Samantha. I go by Geri now. It’s my middle name. Suits me better.”

“Okay. Geri.”

You feel your eyebrow raise. This is new. Her voice as she says it is affected. It reminds you of the time she signed up to an Ancestry site and didn't shut up about how she could trace her lineage back to the Stuart era for roughly five years. She releases a highly uncomfortable Five and holds him at arms’ length.

“OH, and so handsome!”

He laughs politely as she ushers them over the threshold, cooing over the baby and asking inane questions about the journey.

“Oh, your father won’t even drive on the interstate anymore. I’ve said to him so many times- if you can’t drive the interstate, you can’t drive, (OH look, she knows her grandma! Look at that little face!) But will he give up his license? No siree. You know what he’s like, never listens to a word I say. I may as well talk to that wall.”

The house is like something out of one of the Commission’s training videos; a time warp to approximately 1978. The furniture is good quality mid-century. In the right setting, he’d definitely approve, but not so much here. Assorted VHS tapes and saccharine china figures of women in period clothing line the dresser. All along one wall are pictures of you as a little girl. Yearly school photos, horribly staged first-communion photos and many others. He notices there’s much fewer pictures post-puberty.

Your dad sits in an easy chair in front of the TV. He’s older than Geri- has to be pushing eighty. He’s thin, reedy and unhealthy looking. He turns his head with difficulty as they walk in.

“Hello sweetheart. Long time no see,” then he turns to Five, “And hello to you. You’ll have to excuse my not getting up to greet you, I’m a little stiff today.”

Five shakes his hand and sits on a couch nearest to him.

“Nice to meet you sir. Old age. Quite the bastard, ain’t she?”

Your dad laughs.

“Bert,” he introduces himself, “Five, right?”

“Mhm.” Five gives a little nod.

“Yeah. Part of that…Umbrella thing?”

“That’s the one.”

"She had the action figures I think."

Five looks over at you, amused.

"You never told me that!"

"I'd forgotten. Was it Klaus and Allison, Dad?"

"No idea." he mumbles, his attention span already waning.

"Not me?" asks Five

"Nah. I was never particularly interested in you."

Five grins, "What changed?"

Geri cuts in.

“Oh FIVE, you have to show us your powers. Are you the one with all the tentacles?”

He sighs, “I’m the space and time-travel one. The tentacles were Ben. He's dead.”

Geri’s delighted expression doesn’t falter as Five mentions this loss:

“You have to show us.”

Five demurs but she keeps trying to persuade him. After his second refusal, you feel obligated to intervene on his behalf:

“He’s not a performing seal, Mom.”

“Leave the boy alone, Sam- I mean, Geri.” Bert’s voice is stern but low.

Geri ignores her husband.

“But you can time travel?”

“Only a little.” he smiles politely.

“Not enough to avoid knocking up my daughter, am I right?”

This is clearly Bert’s idea of a joke so Five graces him with a strained smile.

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Oh! Let me hold her!!”

Geri springs for Aoife with speed that makes her jump and cry.

“Slow down Mom- it’s upsetting her.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. She just wants a Gam-gam hug.”

Aoife begins to fuss and wriggle in the grasp of the unfamiliar and loud person.

"Ma Dada ma!" she protests, as Geri bounces her ineffectively on her knee.

Five looks at her with sympathy. Tell me about it, Bambino.

“So- how do we actually pronounce her name?” asks Bert.

“Ee-fa.”

Five notices the twitch of annoyance on your face.

“It’s spelled funny,” says Bert, eyes still predominantly on an old episode of Cheers, “You young folk like your kids to be different.”

“It’s an old name actually,” says Five, struggling now to keep the annoyance out of his own voice. His smile has become rather fixed. “It’s Gaelic. I was born in Dublin.”

“Coffee?” asks Geri, dumping her grizzling granddaughter unceremoniously onto her mother’s lap. There’s a noise of general assent, “can you help me, Five? I don’t know how you take your coffee.”

“Just black, thank you.”

He smiles and gives her the sort of nod that usually quells people…but it’s ineffective on Geri. Apparently, nothing can stop her when she gets an idea in her head. A little like her daughter, he supposes.

“Still, there’s a lot for little old me to carry.” She smiles at him expectantly.

Pasting back on his customer-service smile, he claps his hands to his knees and rises; always in anticipation of old-man back pain that never comes. He follows Geri towards the kitchen.

As you try to soothe the fussy baby, Five exchanges a glance with you. You try to convey apology.

“I’ll get her some food,” he says, shouldering the diaper bag.

The kitchen is more of the same. Formica surfaces, patterned linoleum and miles of wood panelling. As Geri fusses with the coffee pot, Five places his hands in his pockets and leans against the kitchen surface as the puree warms in the ancient microwave. He crosses one ankle over the other. He’s in control here.

“So,” she turns around. “You’re an Irish boy? Top o’ the mornin’ to ye'.”

Five supresses a cringe. Play nice…play nice.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Sure, I was born there but I stayed for less than a week before getting adopted. I'm a New Yorker, really.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. I’m Irish, you know. My paternal great-grandmother was born there."

She steps in front of him. She's uncomfortably close, her feet are either side of his protruding ankles.

"You can always tell an Irish lad…it’s in the bone structure.”

She places two fingers either side of his jaw bone in a way that reminds him forcibly of The Handler. As with her, he maintains his unfazed demeanor; the only way to win this game is not to play. She runs each finger down to meet at his chin, leaving the skin in their wake to tingle unpleasantly.

The microwave beeps and he’s pleased to have an excuse to step out from in between her and the kitchen surface. As he stirs and tests the temperature against his inner wrist, she lowers her voice to a stage whisper.

“I am so sorry about Bert. So rude. I think it would be nice one day for me to come visit the city and spend some time just us four. Bert doesn’t get out much these days and it would be nice to have a little time away from him. Maybe you can show me the city.”

Something about her tone lets him know that 'you' isn't plural in her last sentence. He searches for a response, but she doesn’t really require one.

“We’ve not really seen eye to eye in over fifteen years now, Five. You know how it is? I stay because of the house but we’re not husband and wife anymore. Not really. He's never known how to treat a woman.”

“Okay.” says Five, his veneer of politeness starting to crack as annoyance at this woman begins to build. What is happening here?

She carries on as if he hasn't spoken:

“I spend most of my time in my room. It’s easier than dealing with his sniping. I got plenty of friends,” she lowers her voice even further, “I even have a guy, Jude. That makes it easier. Of course, you can’t tell her this. She’s tied to her father’s apron strings. She just doesn’t want to understand.” she sighs, looking put-upon.

Are you crazy, lady?

He bites back the instinctive response.

“Coffee’s done,” he says, smartly stepping to the pot and grabbing a tray from behind the microwave.

“You understand how things are, right Five?”

“Oh I think I got that pretty much straightened out,” he says, “Milk?”

She places the carton on the tray while he opens various cabinets in search of mugs. Gotta keep busy.

“So, Five, when’s the wedding?”

"A month, today, actually." he surprises himself with this reflection, "Invitations will be sent later this week. We're a little tardy but it's a small wedding."

“Which church?”

He snorts a little, his resolve cracking, “Yeah, not gonna be a church.”

“But why?”

“I’d guess two more-or-less atheists and their bastard child might be out of place.”

Okay…he has to roll back the sarcasm.

She doesn't react, changing tactic unconsciously- he doesn't think she's aware that she's employing tactics. Finally, he finds the mugs and grabs four. He turns back to place them on the tray to find her nearer to him.

"I take it the dress code is black tie?"

"Not strictly. We'll both be dressed formally though."

"It was nice of you to dress up to see us today, Number Five. You cut an impressive figure."

It's not her words that get to him, it's the conspiratorial smile she gives as she moves even closer to him, the little flick of her eyes as she looks him up and down. Suppressing a shudder, he steps out smartly from her path. He places the mugs haphazardly onto the tray along with Aoife's finished food. Before she can respond, he blinks out of the door.

He catches your eye as he re-emerges from his spatial portal. His eyes widen, communicating disbelief. You pass a brief, unspoken conversation behind Bert’s back.

What the fuck was that?!

Oh God, what has she said?

He places the tray on the coffee table, tests the food's temperature again and sits down next to you. He holds out his arms for Aoife and begins to feed her. He’s deliberately placed himself in between you and the arm of the couch.

"Hai fame, piccolo? Ti piacciono gli ignami?"

As Geri comes into the room, his efforts to avoid her seem in vain. Unable to sit beside him on the couch, she sits on the arm instead, right next to him, effectively thwarting his attempts to block her.

“And he speaks Italian- what a man!” she simpers and he avoids her eye. Then, turning to you, “You’d better believe I didn’t have any help when you were this little.”

Bert grunts.

“No, I had to do everything myself. ‘I don’t know what to do with babies’, that’s what he said-”

“Well, I didn’t.” he mumbles, still watching Cheers.

“-But Five knows it’s all about practice, don’t you?”

He ignores her, spooning a little pureed yam off Aoife's lip. She turns back to you.

“You girls have it so easy these days. There were no modern men when you were born.”

Five doubts this. The 90s weren’t exactly the dark ages.

“Ooh! Show me the ring!”

Your mother leans over Five and Aoife and grabs your left hand. Sensing this, your father turns over to baseball: you’re thankful- this was one of your past rituals when Mom became too full-on. If you put on sport and comment on the game, you can kinda talk together while having an excuse to not talk to her.

She twists your wrist, looking at the ring in different lights.

“Darling, an engagement ring is supposed to have a diamond.” she says, as if you’ve never heard of the concept.

“I don’t like diamonds, Mom."

“But how will people know it's an engagement ring?"

"I know it's an engagement ring. That's all that matters."

She scoffs, "I just wish you'd consulted me before you chose it.”

“The cubs are doing well this season,” no more than a mumble from Bert.

Five breathes out through his nose, “I chose it, actually. Considering it’s an engagement ring, that would make sense, don’t you think?”

“Oh, well it is lovely, but a diamond symbolizes eternal love-”

“Oh really?” says Five, the dangerous sarcasm you recognize creeping into his voice, “Does your engagement ring have a diamond, Geri?”

“Of course!” she shows him. Clearly, she has not understood the sting in his question’s tail.

“Very pretty." he says, testily.

You draw Five's eye and give him a slightly pleading smile. He nods minutely.

"Well, Five chose perfectly. He knew I wouldn't want a diamond."

“Convenient for your bank balance, eh Five?” grunts Bert.

Geri shoots him a filthy look. “Don't be stupid. Money is no object for Reginald Hargreeves’ son.”

You feel like your brain is about to turn inside out from embarrassment, looking down at the phone in your hand, you send Lila a quick message.

YOU: 🚨🚨🚨INITIATE EMERGENCY PARENTAL PROTOCOL. EXTRACTION NEEDED. GO GO GO.

And, thank fuck, she replies immediately.

LILA: 10-4 good buddy.

In under a minute, she calls you. You owe her flowers. Five looks at your phone ringing and then back at you.

‘Don’t you dare leave me’, his eyes say.

Still on the couch, you answer the phone and turn the volume way down.

“Hello?”

“Hey sweet. Let’s get you outta there.”

“Yes.”

“So has Five murdered anyone yet? Is that what’s happening here?”

You decide the best way to take advantage of this opportunity.

“Oh no!”

“Huh?”

“Wow that sounds serious.”

She begins to chortle and you answer her pretended utterances,

“You need the whole Academy? Now?”

“Yeah, there’s a shitload of scotch flooding a subway station and we need Five’s particular skills.”

“Okay, I’ll tell Number Five immediately. We’ll come as soon as we can!”

“Tell me everything.”

“Of course, goodbye Police Commissioner.”

You hang up to her laughter.

Five looks questioningly at you.

“It’s terrible news. There’s a…quantum suspension…node back in the city. Spatial anomalies everywhere.”

Five cottons on, you see his mouth spasm.

“Heavens, not a quantum suspension node!”

You give him a look: ‘don’t ruin it asshole!’

He stands up, drawing himself up to his full height and squaring his shoulders in a way clearly designed to make you laugh.

“There’s no time to lose. Geri, Bert, we’re sorry to leave so soon...but the world needs me.”

You supress a laugh with difficulty. Your mother, gullible as always, looks impressed. Though you can’t see your father’s face, you’re fairly sure this won’t have fooled him. You’ll call him later.

“What the fuck was that?”

Five drives down the street, determinedly avoiding the eyes of your waving mother from the bottom of the yard.

“I told you.” you say, palms of your hands pressed against your eyes, "I need a fucking drink."

Once you’re back onto the main highway, he says,

“Seriously: what the hell?”

“What happened in the kitchen?”

He sighs. He can’t not tell you. He is not equipped for this.

“She…your parents’ marriage. I’m getting the impression it’s a little…unsteady?”

“Oh god.” You put your head in your hands.

“This might be hard to hear. She told me not to tell you but fuck that. She told me she’s been having an affair.”

He braces himself for the hurt, for the shock, but instead you just snort darkly.

“Yeah? Sure she has. What's this one called?”

"Jude." he says, confused.

You laugh fully this time, “Probably just some guy she met over online poker and never in person. She was 'with' this guy from Ontario for years and it never went beyond spicy messages.”

“What?”

“It’s a fantasy Five. Everything is with her. She tells herself whatever story she can to get through the dull-ass life she refuses to actually do anything about. I’ve known about this shit for years.”

He takes a deep breath.

"She also...kind of came onto me a bit."

"Oh no."

Again, your face doesn't register the shock he'd expected, you just crumple into a deep cringe.

"I'm sorrrry."

"It wasn't so bad. She was just a little creepy. Touched my face and backed me into the kitchen counter a bit. Called me Number Five."

You make a disgruntled little noise that conveys disgust and sympathy in equal measure.

"Are you ok?"

"Sure I am. I've dealt with worse than her. Are you ok?"

You sigh deeply, "I don't know why I didn't expect it. I'm sorry. I don't know why I let her get you alone. She did the same thing to my boyfriend in high school. She'll go for any man she can corner. First she'll bitch about my Dad and then she'll go all 'oooh I need a big strong man to save me from my meaaan husband.' "

Five keeps his eyes on the road. How did you come from her?

“Up until I was thirteen it felt like she was the best Mom I could have asked for. Affectionate, loving, supportive…but then she just…withdrew. Pretty much as soon as I stopped being a kid she could dress and project her personality onto. She just disappeared one day- moved into the spare room and sat on the computer for the next five years. Dad was a shit parent but at least he stepped up then; actually spoke to me on my own terms, cared a little about what interested me. With Mom it's a single question about me and then right on back to her bullshit.”

You fall into exasperated silence. He doesn’t know what to say. As trauma goes it’s fairly tame, but it still sucks

“Families, eh?”

“I much prefer yours to mine,” you mumble.

He laughs a little to himself.

“You’re telling me the Von Trapp Family Killers are the normal ones here?"

"Don't kid yourself Five." a smile breaks through your dour expression, "you could never pull off lederhosen."

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03. Here is a link to the whole series

Comments would be appreciated here or on ao3 because I'm a needy ho.

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holocene-sims · 6 months

Note

🥧👻🦃

thank you so much for the ask!! ❤️

🥧 Pie: Which of your characters takes care of the others around them? How do they take care of themselves?

tbh the very nice thing, i think, about my cast of characters is that most of them are very kind and caring towards others; it's rarer to find cold/uncaring characters.

however (and i know this is the obvious answer), grant is one of the most caring and generous of them all. by default, his primary method of caring is acts of service, aka making himself of use to someone. do you need someone to make you soup when you're sick, be your shoulder to cry on when you're having a shit day, or come pick you up when your car breaks down? he's your guy!

he's not super good at taking care of himself, though. lmao. but he's trying! his current method of taking care of himself is to actually heal his trauma. also, on a smaller note, he is a huge fan of a nice skincare routine and cooking a good meal, so that's one of his practical methods of cheering himself up.

btw aoife is exactly the same as him, let's be real

👻 Ghost: Do you have a character or a scene that continues to haunt you? Something or someone you wish you had done differently or just can’t stop thinking about?

automatically, there are two scenes that come to mind, and they were both some of the biggest scenes in the story thus far, so i think my unhappiness with them comes from the fact that this is a sims story and i have to take the fully developed movie from my brain and convert it into pictures and text, and it doesn't match up. no matter how aesthetic i make it or how many song links i add to make it more like the movie in my head, it never feels just right.

ANYWAY

that said, the first scene is the end of the bachelor party scenes where grant is like blackout drunk and hallucinating/dreaming in 2x speed about his history with addiction, and even though he is engaging with addiction in that moment, he's traumatized by it. i think it all played out well as a whole BUT the flashback scenes did not feel dynamic to me, and that's what they should have been. i wanted it to feel like you're dragged along through that hell and chaos with him, and like you're experiencing the same oppression from substances and the people who encouraged it, and it just didn't because it was made out of stationary pictures. also, i hate using poses for more than two sims, so the party pics were bland.

the other scene is really just the end of the ireland trip where you learn a lot more about aoife's backstory. i didn't get to spend as much time with those parts because i was quite literally in the middle of working on them when i got the call my grandma died, so i abandoned them for a hot minute, and when i came back, i wanted so badly to be DONE with all that content because it took on some bad associations for me and i couldn't think much about it.

i do think it came out okay but i would have added a couple other scenes expanding on things there instead of pushing it off to another set of scenes. like i would have had a conversation there where someone tangibly discusses what aoife's parents were really like, and i would have expanded on that contrast of aoife the real person and aoife the embodiment of everyone else's desires because she's supposed to be a representation of a specific female archetype in art (medea/cathleen ni houlihan/aoife nic mhurchada - a category of women who've lost agency and/or everything they've ever known, and have endured things like forced marriage/love or symbolize stuff like someone else's freedom, etc.)

i did just kind of spoil aoife's design lmao but it doesn't matter anymore because the literature aspect is more of a fun fact and only relevant in one specific case (if you remember grant reading cathleen ni houlihan...) and i'll come back to it later, but if you read between the lines enough, you at least see there are two aoifes (so to speak.)

🦃 Turkey: What’s the most abundant burst of inspiration you’ve ever had? Were you able to translate that into writing?

hmm this is an interesting question! i'd say one of the most abundant inspo moments i've had was when @crazykissim and i decided on grant's future love interest 👀 i obviously can't share too much because it's a huge spoiler rn but i've had so much fun constructing the romance aspect into the story, putting twists on classic romance tropes, and developing an interesting personality and history for [REDACTED]. i've even built MULTIPLE lots for the romance arc. you know i'm serious when i build lmaooooo

it is translated into writing, though! the final versions of everything aren't quite done but i do have drafts ready and a full timeline set in stone :)

#asks #hlcn: story extras #not the longest section here being criticisms for myself LMAO #that checks out like i am never satisfied with anything i do #but it's okay

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creativepawsworld · 1 year

Text

Everything But You - Part 7

Pairing = Cillian Murphy x OC

Summary = It time for Brie to defend her All Ireland Championship. Aoife takes matters into her own hands when it comes to Cillian.

Warnings = Language, Grammar, 90s Cillian, Insults...

Word Count = 2747

Note = I cannot apologise enough for the lateness of this chapter! I have made it slightly longer than the past chapter to apologise. Hope you all enjoy and it helps with the Monday Blues I know I have.

I felt myself overcome with nerves as I stood with my back to the main dance floor. I was resting my back against one of the walls by the long corridor, reserved solely for the dancers.

I was currently listening to a mixed tape Billy had made me for my 18th birthday, filled with kick-ass, female, empowering women. Pat Benatar's – Love is a Battlefield -flooded through the soft headphones as I tried to control my nerves.

I was asked to return to the All-Ireland Irish Dancing Championships as the current Champion. But despite the amount I had practised throughout the weeks, I didn't feel up to the standard I should have been.

Muttering along to the words, I glanced down at the black, tightly wound pin curled wig with a long, drawn-out sigh.

Things had become a lot more difficult in my life since joining college. Everything I had known about others and myself had drastically changed in a space of a few months. I had found myself chasing after a guy I had no chance with.

On days like today, I found myself missing the communication I would receive from Andrew. He was a shitty boyfriend, but he was someone I could message and he would respond instantly - distracting me from my thoughts while I waited to compete.

Although thinking back, it would have been nice for him to show up to these competitions at least once.

Biting the sides of my lips I considered going out into the stands where I did have support. My father was here, but he was constantly taking phone calls – appearing and then disappearing to hear whoever was on the other end.

He had a huge court case defending a well-known businessman tomorrow but it was to be kept quiet. The hearing had already been brought forward to try and avoid the media circus that ensued as soon as the story of his arrest leaked.

Something about the world loved a good embezzlement case, especially against the rich.

Then there was my best friend Aoife, she managed to make the journey but not with my father and me. No, she travelled with her boyfriend Calvin, who as nice as he appeared to be – I didn't trust.

I didn't buy into his story that Andrew had been following the band to see me act. Andrew barely had time for me when we were together. There was no way he would travel up and down Ireland to watch a band I knew he didn't like just to see me. He didn't care that much, no matter how wounded his pride might be.

As for Billy, he developed the stomach flu from Marion. The pair were vomiting all week and the last thing I needed was for them to give it to me, so I warned them to stay as far as possible.

"Why are you hiding out here?" Aoife chuckled, rounding the corner. Her bright eyes stared into mine, a supportive smile on her face as I pushed the headphones around my neck. "You are going to sweat off your fake tan and makeup if you don't relax." She scolded, blotting my face gently with a clean tissue.

"Yeah well… I don't…" I struggled over my words before finally admitting my true feelings. "I don't think I am ready, I haven't been putting in the work I used to."

"Because you are studying for a law degree Brie, it's not easy keeping the two things going. You might have to look at choosing which is more important if this is how it's going to impact you."

"You don't think I can do both?"

"I'm sure you can but what about your other extra curriculum activities?" She trailed off, biting at her bottom lip. "Like a certain blue-eyed lead guitarist."

"Cillian and I are just friends." I rolled my eyes, turning away from her to check the time on my watch. I still had thirty minutes before I had to perform.

"I've seen the looks you give him, I'm not stupid."

After the night at the bar, our relationship had well and truly been fractured. I felt so stupid sleeping with him again. Yes we had both agreed it was 'just sex' but I had feelings, I was human and I felt something he didn't. At least not for me.

During the last few weeks in class, I moved seats to get my head together. I had to move to the other side of the classroom, just to get away for him. It was hard to do, seeing the hurt in his eyes when he noticed almost killed me. But he wasn't lonely for long, Emer was more than quick to jump in and take my spot.

Anytime he tried to talk to me, I had an excuse ready. I was due to meet someone in the library to go over our case study or Billy needed my help with his latest fashion project.

I simply felt like I couldn't be around him.

"It was a stress reliever"

It soon became obvious to my friends what was going on. Although they got the clip notes version from Billy, after our night in the bar they didn't buy for one second that I was okay.

They knew sex wasn't just sex for me.

"Right. A stress reliever that has you in your feels Brie what were you thinking?" Aoife asked with a sad smile, her hand coming up to gently squeeze my shoulder. "You have to talk to him, this isn't healthy for either of you."

"He doesn't care for me. He is only after getting his next…fuck. He wants a carefree life, with no responsibilities. He has told me several times."

"It might have been what he wanted but he surely didn't get that." Aoife laughed, folding her arms over her chest. "He feels…"

"I can't deal with this right now Eefs. Can we drop it?" I asked pulling the headphones from around my neck, wrapping them around my Walkman and stuffing it into my bag.

"I don't think we can."

"Why not?" I huffed out. Not giving the woman in front of me my full attention, I took the black wig into my hands, fondling the edges before pulling it over my naturally brown hair which was already pinned into place.

"Because I may have told him what today was and how important it was for you and he kind of showed up." She spoke so fast that it took me a few seconds to catch up on her words.

"Why would you do that?" I spat turning to face her, the wig almost falling from my head since I didn't have any clips to hold it in place.

"Well, he is our friend as well as yours. You can't expect us to go to all these concerts and not make connections Brie. The guys in the band are top fellas." Aoife scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Besides he wants to support you. Which is more than Andrew ever did."

"Why do you keep doing this? Bringing him around when I don't want to be anywhere near him." I growled, reaching up to place the black wig on my head properly once more.

"You have been different since you stopped spending time with him. You've been uptight, tense and honestly so fucking difficult to be around. You both need to sort out your shit and get it together." She scolded bending down and taking my purse of clips into her hands.

"I, I haven't been that bad."

"You've been unbearable" She chuckled, taking a handful of clips and placing some in her mouth before starting to pin the wig into place. "We still love you but please talk to him." She nodded, adding a few more clips. Her eyes cast off to the side with a slight nod.

Looking over my shoulder, Cillian stood awkwardly by the bleachers, a sad smile on his face as he looked in our direction. Feeling a hand on my shoulder, Aoife gently brushed her hand off, handing me the remaining clips before walking past Cillian, brushing a hand against his shoulder as she turned the corner.

"I can leave if you want?" Cillian breathed out the minute he reached me. The dark circles under his eyes are prominent as he stands before me. It was obvious, he wasn't sleeping well.

"No, I don't want that." I sighed, bouncing back and forth between the balls of my feet and my heels. "Thank you for coming, I know I've been a bitch the last few weeks, but I…"

"I deserved it." Cillian stopped me mid-sentence, one of his hands coming up to brush the longer pieces of his hair back away from his eyes. "I should have never invited Emer to that gig, I knew it was a bad idea but I went and did it anyway."

"No, no you should have invited her. You like her. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. It is just sex between us after all." I shrugged, the words felt like they were burning my tongue as they left my mouth. "How are things for you both? I hope I didn't ruin anything."

"Nothing to ruin." Cillian quickly corrected a soft pout on his lips. "Emer's a lovely girl but she isn't who I want. She isn't for me."

"Oh, oh okay. I didn't know, sorry. But she is out there somewhere Cill, you'll meet her one day." I encouraged, unsure of where the words came from. The thought of Cillian with someone else felt like a hard punch in the gut.

"I've already met her, I just keep fucking things up with her." He responded, a cheeky twinkle returning to his blue eyes, drawing me to him. There was something magical about those eyes.

"Why do you do that?" I whispered, taking a baby step forward towards him. Cillian followed in my lead, stepping forward until he was a few centimetres away from me. I could feel the body heat radiating from him.

"I'm a twat."

Nodding my head, my eyes travelled from his, down towards his lips before they returned to his eyes which now held a knowing look, the infamous cocky smirk growing on his face.

"Nice wig," Cillian smirked, his left hand coming up from his side to caress my cheek.

Leaning into his touch, I felt a calmness washing over my once anxious-ridden body, my heartbeat quickened when I noticed his tongue dart out from his lips to moisten them before his head began its descent towards my lips.

"Wait, are you sure about this?" I asked stopping the kiss from happening. He was mere inches from my lips, I could feel his breath brushing against my face. "What happened to living without responsibility? Letting go and being carefree?"

"I want to let go of Everything but You." He whispered, lips ghosting over my lips.

Pushing myself forward, I pushed my lips against his, allowing him to take the lead. Within seconds our tongues began to fight for dominance, I felt Cillian's fingers try and run through my wig but it was too tightly bound.

Pulling away with a laugh, he shook his head – hands still trying to penetrate the synthetic material. Reaching up, I brushed my thumb across his lips trying my hardest to remove the red lipstick that had transferred.

Smiling down at me, he leaned back down capturing my lips in one of the sweetest kisses I had ever experienced in my life. It was soft, and delicate like if he pushed too hard I would break but it had an overwhelming feeling of want rushing through my veins.

"For fuck sake couldn't you wait until after you performed to suck face?" Aoife's voice suddenly appeared next to me with a growl.

Pulling away from Cillian, my cheeks flushed red as she took my chin into her hand, pulling it in her direction to assess the damage.

"Can you fix it?" I asked as she moved my head in all directions under the awful corridor lighting, getting a good view of all angles.

"It's not that bad actually." Aoife nodded with a smile, tossing me a wink before looking over at Cillian. "Red lipstick is certainly not your colour." She laughed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a clean tissue, handing it over.

*****

Throughout my performance, my eyes would fall on Cillian. He stood next to Aoife who stood next to my father, the three of them watched on with proud looks on their faces before erupting into the loudest cheers in the place when I had finished.

Taking the bottle of water Aoife had outstretched in her hands, I scurried over to them – grateful the whole thing was over. Inhaling through my nose, I allowed her to pull me into a hug, whispering in my ear how good I was before passing me off to my father.

"Your mother would be so proud of you Brie." He grinned, pulling me tightly against his chest. Upon pulling away his hands gripped onto my shoulders holding me in place as he cast an eye over towards Cillian who was engrossed in a conversation with Aoife and Calvin. "Does he treat you right?"

"Excuse me?... What?... Cillian and I are just friends." I laughed awkwardly with a shake of my head, my vision dropping to my feet.

"Ahhhh right, friends." My father trailed off with a playful eyeroll. "Your mother and I were just friends when I came to her first show as well." He laughed, gently pushing against my shoulder.

"Stop" I whined, drawing Cillian's attention towards me and my father. I instantly panicked when I noticed him make his way over towards us. My father had no filter, he would say it how it was – embarrassing not only me but also Cillian.

"You were brilliant" Cillian announced, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder as soon as he reached me. "Hello, Sir."

"Mr Murphy." My father nodded in response, looking between the two of us before excusing himself. Cillian and I stood next to each other, in an awkward yet comforting silence.

"Do you…" "How is…" Cillian and I started at the same time, both stopping after the second word with a laugh. "You go first." I allowed, gesturing towards him with my hand.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to grab something to eat after you win?" He asked, the cocky smile growing on his face, reaching his eyes. "But you have to wear the wig."

"Such an ass." I chuckled playfully slapping my hand against his chest. "I would love to but my dad's my lift home, if I left with you I would have no way home."

"A date?" I processed, eyes widening at the words. We never had a date before. Cillian never even mention the possibility of it happening, then again our entire relationship was based on friendship and sex.

My words confused him. Shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, he glanced over to the side thinking over what I had just said.

"So you don't want to go on a date with me?" He asked turning back around for clarification. "Have I fucked this up again?"

"Yeah?" Cillian squinted, eyebrows falling causing frown lines to form on his forehead. "Look if that's not…"

"No, I would love to." I almost screamed out, forgetting where I was. "I mean, yeah we can go on a date. That would be nice."

"Nice recovery." Cillian joked, a deep shade of red filling my already pink-blushed cheeks.

"But wait what about getting home?"

"I'm sure we can miss one day of college Brie…" Cillian rolled his eyes, taking one hand from his pocket to take my hand into his, his thumb gently gliding over my knuckles. "But if it's such a big deal I have my father's car parked out front."

"You drive?" I asked with a louder gasp than I would have liked.

"No, I fly." He chuckled, his face pulled straight as he shook his head in my direction. "Of course, I drive, I just don't have a car."

"How did I not know that?" I questioned tilting my head to the side, a soft smile gracing my face.

Taglist

"You were more interested in getting into my pants than finding anything out about me."

Part 8

@stars-of-scorpio @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyscillian @cillmequick @forgottenpeakywriter @lyarr24 @brummiereader

#cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian fluff #cillianmurphyxoc #cillian murphy x oc #90 #90s Cillian #90's Cillian Murphy #irishdancing #competition

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