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nowoyas · 1 month

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Koi no Yokan 4: say yes if you don't have a reason to say no (Nishinoya Yuu x Reader)

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Summary: You head over to Nishinoya's place for tutoring and general headachery and make a decision.

Warnings: language use, depiction of an anxiety attack

Word count: ~4000

One thing you appreciate about trialing a managership for the volleyball club is the fact that you don't have much time left in the day to think. Yachi is perfectly happy and perfectly suited to tutoring Hinata and Kageyama, which means you get to spend lunches planning out ways to keep the house livable and eat regularly around the amount of time you have left in your day. The volleyball club practices every single day, which would be impressive if it didn't mean that agreeing to this would eat up a lot of time.

That isn't a real objection, though. There's solutions, so you figure those solutions out. By the time you're sitting at a table in Nishinoya's living room with two overly active teenage boys hanging off your every word, you only have one real objection left:

Wouldn't it be kind of shitty to take advantage of them like this?

Maybe that's the real reason you're sitting down with them. Nishinoya's house is cleaner than you expected, but then again, you have confirmation of at least one more responsible sibling. You like the mental image of him frantically cleaning before your arrival, though, and, being a house in the same neighborhood that also hasn't been heavily renovated, it's kind of cozy. The tatami mats are soft under your fingertips as you absently drag your hand across them. It's a good fidget as you go over study tips with the guys.

Tanaka and Nishinoya take careful notes on what you're saying—all things you'd think would be obvious, but maybe that's only in hindsight. Things like "make flashcards and actually test yourself on the information instead of just passively reading them" and "don't sit down the whole time if it sucks and you can't focus". You should have guessed this from seeing them practice, but the terms "regular breaks" and "disciplined breaks" do not appear to have previously been in their vocabulary.

"Don't you also need to do that for sports?" you ask at this latest revelation, resting your chin in your hand. "I mean, if you go nonstop all practice without like… drinking water and sitting down for two minutes, you'll collapse."

"It's not like we're exercising, though," Tanaka says. "We're just sitting here, so…"

You level a bewildered look his way. "Your brain uses up more energy than the rest of your muscles combined. Thinking is incredibly difficult work. That's why humans are basically the only known species who do it at our level. We had to fundamentally change the sizes of our brains and do all this complicated stuff with food to even make it possible."

Nishinoya lets out a dramatic sigh. "That's so stupid, though! I don't even get tired after studying!"

"Uh, yeah, you do. Your exact words to me were, 'my brain's been melting' and 'it just rolls right off'. That's because you're working too hard, not studying effectively, and not taking enough breaks. Brain fatigue doesn't feel the same as other muscles because it's coming from stuff happening inside of your head instead of from repetitive motions."

Somehow, this doesn't reassure him. His head is fully on the table. "I hear everything you're saying, and it all makes sense, but all I'm getting is that I'm not making it to Tokyo because I should have been doing everything differently for longer than I've been doing it."

"Noya-san, you can't give up! If even you're giving up…"

You reach out and bap him gently with your pencil before you even think about it. "Pick your head up. You're not gonna fail."

He picks his head up and—holy shit, there's actual tears in his eyes. "[name]-san?"

"I'm not wasting your time, you're not wasting mine. You—both of you—are making it through finals and you're going to Tokyo." You lean back, flip both their notebooks closed. "And feelings like that are a really good sign that you're working too hard. Break time. We're all three gonna get something unhealthy with too much sugar to snack on and not think about exams for at least twenty minutes. Any questions?"

"Will you marry me?"

"Aren't you supposed to, like, eat almonds or whatever for brain stuff? I think I remember hearing a girl in my class talk about that," Tanaka says, brushing right past proposal number ten.

You shake your head. "That's walnuts, I think.⁸ Technically, loading up on sugar right now isn't the number one best idea, diet-wise, but like, stress coping mechanisms, right? And it's not horrible. Your brain needs glucose for fuel, anyhow."

"Damn. You really know a lot."

You shrug. "Not really. I've just been reading a bunch of cookbooks and meal planning stuff recently. If I'm gonna do the whole manager thing, I'll need to get better at meal prepping in bulk. I have to handle the cooking in the house, so…"

Oh. That was the wrong thing to say.

Two sets of sparkling eyes lock onto you. "So you're gonna do it?"

"Oi, I didn't say—I'm thinking about it. Part of thinking about it includes figuring out how I would even make it work if I said yes."

"But you haven't come to a no, yet."

"No, I have not. I wouldn't bother showing up if I had settled on a no." The words have to be pulled out, a little bit. Even if they didn't catch it, the thought loops in your head—the wrong thing to say, they're gonna know and the way they look at you is going to change and—

Nishinoya hops to his feet. "We'll have to work even harder to convince you, then!"

Alright. Act normal. You snort. "You're certainly welcome to try. For now—you two, break. Is it alright if I use your bathroom?"

He offers a hand to help you up. You take it, let him pull you to your feet. "Yeah, of course. Down the hall, third door on your right."

You slip down the hall, escape into the restroom. Take a moment to breathe.

What are you doing here? No, really, what are you doing here? Sure, you're helping them out, fine, whatever, but…

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror for a moment. Grip the counter to steady yourself. There is no reason for you to be acting like this. No reason at all, and yet your heart is racing in a way that's sickening, breaths coming shallower than you'd like.

You should go home. Escape before this feeling escalates.

You should. You should do that.

Doubtless, you're gonna come out of the bathroom and they'll have piled up snacks for you, too, insisted you take some even though you didn't ask for any. You'll accept after some back-and-forth because it's only polite, even though you'd really rather them not waste food on you, and this… this will escalate. They'll notice something's wrong over the rest of the session, bring it up outright because they're refreshingly tactless, and then you'll end up metaphorically shoving them away because how and why would you even explain that you're suddenly wired for no fucking reason to two guys who are acquaintances at best? Chances are they'll blame themselves for fucking something up even though they've done nothing wrong, and—

Fucking hell, okay.

Inhale. Exhale. Again.

There you go, doing great.

Splash some water on your face, straighten out your clothes. Check your hair in the mirror. Adjust. Inhale again. Exhale again. Adjust again. Splash some more water on your face—

Fucking hell, [name]. Just get back out there. You only gave them twenty minutes for a break, and this isn't your house to have a breakdown in for some stupid reason. Pack it up for later.

Okay.

You open the door, slip back out into the hall, and conveniently run directly into a complete stranger, because that's how the last few minutes have been going for you I guess.

The stranger in question is a much older guy. Short. Has a sort of familiar-looking face and is inexplicably wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Old enough to have kids your dad's age. Synthesis: probably Nishinoya's grandfather.

"Oh! Um, s-sorry," you stammer, cringing at the way your voice pitches unnaturally. "I should have been looking where I was going, sir. Please pardon my intrusion!"⁹

The man laughs it off with a shake of his head. Yeah, he's some flavor of Nishinoya, for sure. "No need to get so worked up. You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"Oh, sorry, I'm fine—no ghosts here, I don't think."

"Good to hear! 'Sfar as I know, the only ghosts in this house stick to the second floor!"

You laugh, because you're pretty sure you're supposed to in response to that, and mentally scramble for some response to have here. "Um, I'm a friend of Nishinoya-senpai's. I should probably get back to—"

A firm pat on the shoulder. "Oh, you're Yuu's little friend? It's not often he brings a girl home!"

You will bet your father's life savings that Nishinoya has never brought a girl home, but you'll bite your tongue on that one. Instead, another laugh, this one more nervous than the last, bubbles out of you. "Oh, I'm just helping him and Tanaka-senpai study, that's all."

"Good, good. And he's being nice?"

"Of course! He's very nice. Excitable, maybe, but nothing I can't handle."

God, you really do sound nervous. Whatever's messed you up in the past ten minutes is something you need to shake ASAP. If anything has, anyway. Maybe you just need a new brain entirely to fix this one.

He's still laughing. It's strange. "That's the spirit. He ask you out yet?"

…he is actively trying to set you up with Nishinoya right now. Horrifying.

"Oh, no, sir, we're just friends." Well, 'friends' is a strong word, but you are in his house right now, so…

"Hey, don't discount the possibility! Yuu needs a girl around who can handle him."

You resist the urge to drop your head into your hands. He pats your shoulder one last time before moving past you, down the hall. "And no 'sir' around here! You stay friends with Yuu, you call me Jii-chan, yeah?"

"Yes, sir!"

He opens a door down the hall, allowing what appears to have been a giant sentient fluffball to race past your feet, a sound like a mrrp almost lost beneath your yelp. The fluff disappears as fast as it appeared, already lost to your vision.

You escape while you can, slump into your seat at the table. Definitely a Nishinoya.

And speaking of Nishinoyas, your Nishinoya laughs, sliding a bag of chips across the table at you. Tanaka is nowhere in sight—perhaps having run to some other bathroom while you were busy staving off a breakdown in the closest one. "Sorry. That sounded like Jii-chan caught you."

You shake your head, take a moment to catch your breath. That did not help, not in the slightest, and neither are the chips or the bottle of soda you've just been given. "No, don't worry about it. The snacks or any of it. I'm fine."

Silence. You peek at him to find that he's just staring at you, this unimpressed look in his eye like he's completely seen through you in an instant. Probably because he has.

"Are you okay?" he tries, voice dropping into this weird gentle tone like he's coaxing a frightened animal. You sort of feel like that fits, honestly.

"Fine."

"Really? You look like you're having an anxiety attack."

"You know," you say, gripping the bottle of soda he's given you in hopes that the cold will do something to you, "every now and then you say things that are like, weirdly aware and it doesn't really gel with your whole, rush in headfirst, don't think about it, cool-guy image. Why do you even know what an anxiety attack looks like?"

His posture straightens a bit, offense flashing across his features. Shit. The offense ebbs away fast enough, before he even speaks, but you saw it and the damage is done and— "Nee-san gets them a lot. I'm usually not the one to help her through them, but I at least know what one looks like. Did something happen?"

"Your sister? The one who told me to get you arrested?"

"Nah, different sister. I've got three. You're avoiding the question."

"There's—not really any point in pressing it, honestly. Nothing happened, I don't know why I suddenly feel like I'm about to die, I just do. It just happens sometimes, and it'll probably fade once I lock myself in a dark room for an hour or something."

He nods firmly, stands back up. "Wait here a second."

You wait, namely because you have nothing better to do, and fidget with the soda bottle you've been given. He returns quickly—you think he might've ran, based on how quickly his footsteps are coming, and then a wrapped popsicle is being thrust in your face. "Here!"

"Um…?"

"It helps Nee-san to eat something really cold. She usually just gets an ice cube, but this way it's more like you're just snacking, right?"

You look between him and the popsicle a moment. Accept it tentatively. "…you know, every time you feed me I feel worse about it. I'm not nearly as good of a person as you think I am."

"I'm not feeding you because you're a good person. I'm feeding you because you're helping us, I like you, and you're having an anxiety attack."

"Do you revoke the food if I calm down?" you ask as you unwrap it with shaking hands.

"Yeah, sorry. Better eat quick before you chill out."

You huff. "What, am I supposed to bite it to get the effect of eating ice or something?"

"How else do you eat popsicles?"

You level a half-horrified look at him. "What do you mean, how else do you—do you bite your popsicles?"

Tanaka appears in the hallway, nodding solemnly as he rejoins you. "He does. You didn't notice the other day?"

"No! Why the hell are you biting popsicles?"

"It helps with anxiety!" Nishinoya proclaims.

You bite off a chunk, wincing at the cold on your teeth. Honestly, you were already feeling better from the sheer fuckery of Nishinoya apparently chewing his popsicles for sport, but it does help. "First of all, I have no indication that you've ever felt anxious in your life, second of all, that is unhinged behavior."

"Will you still marry me if I eat popsicles with all my teeth?"

"No!!!"

Tanaka bursts into laughter. Nishinoya flops dramatically. "But [name]-saaaaaaan—"

"Eat your popsicles like a normal human being, you freak!"

"I do!"

"I once watched him eat one of those in two bites," Tanaka supplies helpfully. "It's sort of amazing to watch, like a snake on the nature channel swallowing a rat whole or something."

"Two bites? Nishinoya!"

"What can I do to make it up to you?" he pouts up at you from where he's dramatically flopped onto the floor. "What can I do to make up for this transgression?"

"Tell me that popsicles are the only food you eat like that." You lick the popsicle properly. You can't keep up with it the way he seems to think is normal.

Silence. Tanaka quietly raises a hand.

"The other day he unhinged his jaw and swallowed a nikuman whole. Also like watching a snake eat a rat."

"Ryu, you are not helping!"

"I feel like the more I learn about you, the less I understand."

He waggles his eyebrows up at you suggestively. It'd probably be a lot more effective if he weren't laying on the floor with a bag of chips in hand. "But you're curious?"

"Morbidly, maybe." Your popsicle is melting already, and honestly, you're not sure you can manage this whole thing. "…can you really eat one of these in two bites?"

"I do! Frequently!"

"You know it probably tastes better if you actually let yourself enjoy it, right?"

"Mm, that sounds fake."

"Well, here. Either way, finish this before I get soda-flavored water all over your tatami." You thrust out the popsicle to him. He pops up on his elbows, eats it right off the stick without even taking it from your hand.

Fucking hell. He actually ate it in two bites.

"…and thanks, by the way. I do feel better. Mostly."

He sits up. Tosses a chip at Tanaka, who effortlessly catches it in his mouth. "Mostly? Wanna talk about it?"

You don't particularly want to, but you don't not want to, so you might as well.

And that's just it, isn't it? How many times are you going to go down the road of "no reason to say no"? When do you just get to say yes because you want to? When do you ever want to?

Your sigh comes out more aggravated than you'd like it to. "I say yes when I don't have any logic strong enough to justify saying no. It's stupid and frustrating and I'm starting to really hate myself for it. Right now, my 'no' for 'join the volleyball club' is that it feels like I'm taking advantage of you guys if I just join because I have nothing better to do and don't really wanna go home if I don't have to. I'm sure you two will probably say something like, 'oh, no, you're not taking advantage of us, we want you here!' which is all sweet and all, but I've said some variation of sure, why not like five hundred times this week and it's actually stressing me out so getting rid of a lukewarm no doesn't really help me at all."

Nishinoya blinks. Glances to Tanaka. Tilts his head. "So right now you don't want to join because you don't have a good enough reason to?"

"Kind of?" You rest your chin in your hand, absently reach for a chip. "More like I don't want to join just because I don't have a reason not to. I'm not making sense."

Tanaka crosses his arm, racking his brain for… something. "So… you're just looking for a good reason to join, then?"

"I guess?"

Nishinoya hums thoughtfully. "How has it been coming to the practices? You liked watching the practice match and stuff, right?"

"I… guess? I didn't mind it."

"You don't get super excited over anything, do you?"

A shrug. "Not really. I probably used to, but it's been a minute."

"But you've definitely seemed a little happier since you started coming to practices."

You raise an eyebrow. "Not beating the stalker allegations, Senpai."

He reaches across the table to bat at your arm playfully. "I'm being serious! Even before you got around to introducing yourself, I thought you looked kinda sad."

You've half a mind to be offended, and Tanaka seems to agree that you should be based on the way his jaw drops at his words. "Noya-san, you can't just—"

"It's fine. Really, I was going for more of a 'detached and cool' vibe, so it's good to know that I'm missing the mark."

"Detached and lonely, maybe."

You push a chip around the opening of your bag with a fingertip. Anything to not have to keep looking at these guys. "Yachi-san said the same thing. So that's why you keep talking to me and stuff?"

"I'm talking to you because I like you. That's not the point. The point is, you're not like that at practice. Kiyoko-san smiles when she talks to you and Yachi-san, and you keep smiling and laughing at practice. You smile a lot when I ask you to marry me, too. I sort of get the impression that you don't do a lot of that the rest of the time."

Your eyes flick to Tanaka. He nods in reluctant agreement. "…I don't, no. So? I'm just not that smiley."

"But you smile when you're happy. So, if you're smiling and laughing and stuff when you're being our manager and hanging around us, and you're not the rest of the time, then you're happier around us. That's a good reason to go for it."

"…but I'm just there to waste time. Isn't that, like, rude? You guys are all so passionate. You're working super hard for this, literally pushing yourselves to burnout preparing for exams just so you don't have to miss one weekend of games that don't even count—they don't count, right?"

"They don't," Nishinoya confirms.

"I mean, you don't have to be a screaming lunatic to manage for us," Tanaka says from the hall, causing you to startle. "Kiyoko-san's plenty chill, and we've even got regulars on the team who aren't exactly fired up. I don't think anyone's asking you to act like Noya-san or Hinata."

Nishinoya nods. "Yeah, exactly! Having fun's a good reason. We're all fired up because volleyball's fun. No one else had to, like, convince us they had a good motive before joining. You definitely don't have to."

You take a long sip of your soda. This is… putting a new perspective on things that you're not sure how to make sense of. Do it because it's fun. Let yourself enjoy things now and then. And then the stupid marriage proposals. A running joke to make the lonely girl laugh. One that works. No ulterior motives you can sense.

"…do I really smile and stuff at practice?"

He nods again, more enthusiastically. "You do! It's a really nice smile, too."

Despite yourself, a smile flicks to your lips.

"Yeah, like that!"

And that draws a laugh from you. "You're ridiculous."

"Will you marry me anyway?"

"Tanaka-senpai, I am so sorry. He's insufferable."

Tanaka laughs. "Don't be!"

Inhale. Exhale. Another long sip of your drink to think. You check the time on your phone. Break should be over soon…

"Alright. Notes out. Let's see what I can help you with. It'll be a pain to go all the way to Tokyo without you boys there."

"You're going!?"

"One good reason to say yes, that's all. Nine hundred and eighty-nine, by the way, don't think I haven't been keeping count."

They high-five each other, cheering. It takes another five minutes to get them back on track. It takes you twenty to lose the stupid smile on your face.

Footnotes

8. It is both.

9. This is one of those cool weird moments where dialogue feels just slightly stilted on account of how I'm approaching this fic. I focus hard on trying to make dialogue sound natural, but that can only go so far in cases like these, where my aim is to approach dialogue and character choices assuming that everything is "translated" from an original Japanese version which doesn't actually exist.¹⁰ In this case, Reader's gonna say shit like "pardon the intrusion!" to a stranger whose house she's in even though she's like 15 and I'm half-convinced that I was the only 15 year old in existence to have spoken the word "pardon" completely seriously. I was a weird kid.

10. Do you ever feel like you're taking something too seriously? Me neither. My answer to trying to keep everything feeling authentic and in character is to maintain what I like to call "subs" English, where we're approximating decent translations of an original Japanese while also trying to make these characters feel like 15-18 year olds at this point in the story. It's a delicate balance. I could probably write at least a C essay about the kind of English used in subtitles for media originally in Japanese.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

#my fics #nishinoya yuu x reader #nishinoya yuu/reader #yuu nishinoya x reader #yuu nishinoya/reader #haikyuu reader insert

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flydotnet · 11 months

Text

Smokescreen

WHUMPTOBER 2023, DAY 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.” Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

It took me 23 days to write an actual sequence of delirum seen from the inside. I'm impressed by my self-control, considering how easy it'd have been for me to write some for most lyric prompts for this challenge. "Shadows" was too good of an opportunity to pass up, honestly.

I'd estimate this story happens during the infamous J. League years of the manga whom I think everyone (including me) overestimates the importance of in said manga. They're here for like 5 barely comprehensible chapters in the second worst arc of the manga but damn if we, as a community, don't love our little guys being in all sorts of Japanese teams. TL;DR watch Cordialement's J. League.

I'm not sure why I'm going on this tangent, since this story isn't even about Nitta's Kashiwa Reysol tenure, it's just why he lives alone in some flat. Now you know he's located in Kashiwa, at least, I guess.

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Smokescreen

Summary: Shun wakes up to noise in his appartment and it doesn't take long for him to know someone's coming from him.

Fandom: Captain Tsubasa

Word Count: 1.1K words

AO3 version available here.

CW for a depiction of a house fire, even if hallucinatory.

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Noise, clattering noise, slowly drags him out of a restless sleep. It sounds like someone is rummaging his place and it immediately gets him on an alerted state.

With aching limbs, he gets up from bed and opens the door to his bedroom. The noise is only louder now that he’s not protected by the wall, clattering, or like footsteps, or maybe those are his. He has trouble walking in a straight line with how heavy his legs feel and how unresponsive his feet are, but he manages, adrenaline vaguely flowing in the background of his mind while everything else turns and twitches.

In the corner of his eyes, he spots figures who could be the culprit of the noise. When he turns around, which takes an abnormal amount of effort (shit, has he been drugged in his sleep? Is that even possible?), the shadows rush back into the darkness of his barely lit apartment. Where’s the light? God, his eyes hurt, maybe that’d make it worse…

The noise keeps growing as he walks towards it, step after step, vertigo overcoming him every passing moment. Everything tilts and turns as soon as he moves even slightly, his head stuffed and heavy on his neck.

“Who’s there?” He tries screaming in a loud voice, but all he ends up doing is coughing.

It burns his throat – it scorches his entire lungs in fact – but he walks on. He has to, shadows are following his steps and staring from the darkness. They shine in the dark, white lines drawing faces and glaring. They still vanish into thin air when he tries to stare at them, know what they’re actually meant to be. Who’s in his flat.

“Who’s there?!” He asks again, voice breaking.

He stops in his steps when his eyes get filled with smoke – is something burning? Is it inside here? He needs to evacuate. Wait, no. First he needs air. The door. He needs to get to the door and exit out of here. Then he can get to the nearest shelter and call someone to help. His keys should be on the table next to the door. He can drive himself out of here if needs be.

But then there are bright flames in front of him. They’re tall and flash all sorts of colours, blinding him and burning his eyes, drying them to a crisp.

It terrifies him.

The nearest extinguisher is outside his flat. It’s bolted next to his entrance door. He needs to walk through the flames and smoke to extinguish the fire.

Someone walks through the flames. Their silhouette has bright, red eyes that glow blue in the smoke, halos like a candle’s flame. It has tentacles coming out of its “head”, floating with the static wind, and all of its other features are shrouded in darkness. It’s menacing, but in a way, he’s sure it’s just some weird house invader.

Right, fuck. He’s getting home invaded. Oh and also they put shit on fire and he’s gonna burn alive.

It walks to him and try grabbing him. He ducks out of the way, stumbles as he does, fall to the ground. It tries getting to him again. He can’t get up in time but manages to get out again by agitating himself backwards. Unfortunately, it gets to him the third time, like a charm.

He tries to fight his way out of his predicament, to no effect. The silhouette is too strong, it has no trouble tanking all of his hits. No punch, no kick works on it. His breathing quickens, hurts, makes him cough. The flames surround them. The smoke doesn’t let up. He suffocates, skin boiling and blood shivering.

His sight gives out.

Their hands feel soft on his neck.

Shun wakes up to the muffled scent of flowers and a pleasant sensation in his hair. Everything feels impossible to lift, heavier than metal itself, including his eyelids; so for a while, he just listens in to the ambient noise.

The wind is gently blowing outside, just out of reach. The birds are chirping outside. Someone’s rhythmically breathing right next to him.

Wait, what?

Why is there someone in his house that’s clearly not him?

Shun finally bothers opening his eyes. It’s blurry at first, so catching anything is beyond difficult, but once it clears up, he finally understands a part of what’s going on: he’s greeted by Kumi and her bright smile. All of the stress and fear he’s piled up in seconds disappears just as fast, relief taking its place at a breakneck speed.

They’re actually in his bedroom, so most likely on his bed. She’s sitting against the bedpost with his head on her lap, his hand brushing through his hair. It feels sticky, from where she is, but she seems negative amounts of bothered about it. If he isn’t mistaken, there’s also a cold compress on his forehead, right under his untamed bangs.

What happened?

He has blurry memories coming back to him, all worrisome and completely contradictory to where he’s finding himself right now. The flames, the home invader, all of that shit… where are they? What happened? This is place, not hers, he knows that without a doubt. Even his chest hurts less, despite the ache in his throat and airpipes.

So how did he end up here, in as close as heaven as you can get without dying?

“How are you feeling?” She asks him, voice sweet as honey.

“Uh… Weird.” He has trouble talking. “What happened?”

Her smile disappears as she frowns.

“I suppose you wouldn’t remember it,” she replies. “I was paying you a visit because I knew you were ill, but when I came in, you were spiking a fever. I think you started hallucinating, because when I tried to get to you, you just hit me back.”

Oh. There was no home invader and there was no fire. It was literally just him.

“Fuck.”

“It’s fine,” she says with just a bit too much of heartbreak in her voice. “You weren’t yourself, Shun. You didn’t intend on attacking me.”

“That’s still terrible shit to do to you.”

“It is, of course,” her smile comes back, even if it’s shy, “but I have more reasons to forgive than to hold a grudge against you. I still think you weren’t yourself and shouldn’t be held accountable.” She sighs. “I’m just relieved your fever broke and you’re lucid again. That’s all that matters to me.”

He shoots her a smile.

“Ha, thanks.”

“Can I crash here for the night? I’d like to monitor you tonight, it seems like you’ve been ill for a while and it’s not gotten better.”

“That’s not wrong.” He harshly coughs. “Yeah, you can crash here. You’re welcome to, actually.”

“Good.” Her smile dims down a little. “Have you gone to a doctor?”

“Nah… Didn’t get to before I got knocked out hard.”

“Then let’s do that. Can you get up?”

“Should be able to. Just… gimme about fifteen minutes. I think.”

She chuckles.

“Works for me.”

He finally gets up – for real, this time.

#whumptober 2023 #no.23 #shadows #“who's there?”#captain tsubasa #fic

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ginnsbaker · 1 year

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/ginnsbaker/720718835737575424/hello-im-the-anon-who-said-is-gonna-be-starting?source=share

Dazz me, uhuh. I never actually expected that it'll have a cheating shit going on and I never searched the film that was inspired by it? And I read it in Ao3 so I had no idea what it'll be plus I don't read comments and everything. And I was shocked and with all honesty I was kinda triggered by it as someone who was once cheated (emotionally) I know some people would argue that emotional cheating isn't a thing and everything but yeah why am I sharing this? HAHAHAHAHA well how do I explain about the naive part...welp I was just flabbergasted I guess by the plot really like wOah trAuma right there HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Naive gurl no more. And actually I thought I read the fic very slowly, like my pace y'know? Reading the first part like I had to pause for 3 days to go on with the sequel.

But writer it was good, I am expecting and looking forward for the next chapter.

Oh my god, you must have been traumatized. For that I am so, so sorry. As early as now, I'd like to reiterate that my works are mostly angst (with a happy ending).

Emotional cheating is the worst kind of cheating. I'm sorry that happened to you... I mean, that would kill me. I can't imagine the pain. So I understand why you probably hate Wanda so much. Oh, and takes for sharing. It must be really personal, but that I hope you're better and have moved on.

Again, thank you so much for reading :) *hugs*

#igloss asks #anon

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ghoste-catte · 3 years

Note

I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

#answered #anonymous #writing advice #i guess?#am i qualified to give this?#no #but im doing it anyway

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fanficmemes · 3 years

Note

Ah damn we low on fics for cas this week? *chugs vodka* alright ao3 tab I will regret opening here I come

So I was torn between submitting this fic or the omegaverse mind break robot fucking fic, but this one had better paragraph spacing and I guess slightly more cursed content? Also surprisingly enough I did not find this in the dd:dne tag, although really, that would apply. Also it's a sonic fic, probably not super cursed and definitely not the WORST sonic fic out there but I don't have the patience to scour ffn for the really fucked up stuff, so this will have to do. (And yes, I did willingly look at the dd:dne sonic fics, no I'm not okay and yes I'm surprised too that there was nothing there I thought worth submitting).

Anyways. So this fic is about sonic getting captured by the black arms (some alien hivemind race for those who don't know) and being used as their breeding bitch. He wakes up captive in some room where Doom (the leader of the alien race) explains that he is only alive because Shadow (who has Doom's DNA and is therefore his son) wants him to "be part of creation" and since he's the prince and heir to the whole hivemind, Doom let's him keep sonic. He also explains that they cannot experience sexual pleasure like sonic and Shadow can, so they're gonna experience that through the two of them via hivemind shit, and in return for letting Doom experience an orgasm, sonic will get to bear and give birth to the next generation of black arms. Truly the deal of the century

So shadow gets real close and is practically on top of sonic, with Doom in the room and restraining sonic with tentacles. Naturally sonic is protesting the whole time, saying he'd rather die than be involved in this "deranged alien incest" and begging shadow to come to his senses and let sonic go and help him fight back. Shadow refuses and calls Doom daddy, which is certainly a Thing to add on top of the rest of all the shit going on, and he presses their dicks together and starts to jerk them off because Doom isn't going to breed sonic until after he's experienced an orgasm

Eventually the tentacles realise they are here for more than just restrains and are, in fact, a kink in and of themselves, because they start to wrap around their combined hedgehog dicks and one of them splits in half and goes straight into sonic and Shadow's dicks, fucking them. Another tentacle removes Shadow's hand and encases both of their dicks within itself like a "gelatinous cage" and as they both fuck into this gelatinous cage I'm trying to decide if I'm more horrified by the content, the fact that it's hedgehog and alien porn, or by the way the author keeps saying rod and manhood instead of cock and dick (also I'm realising this all sounds like it's escalating incredibly quickly but the fic itself is actually quite well paced but it's 2am and there's a lot of talking that I cba to repeat so y'all get the speedrun edition)

This continues as Doom continues to take pleasure from the hivemind shenanigans, and he says that sonic will not be allowed to cum unless he asks for it. Out of his mind with pleasure bc by now he has gone through quite a lot of teasing, sonic asks Doom to let them cum, also calling him daddy, which I can't decide if that's better or worse than Shadow calling him daddy.

So at LAST Doom lets them cum, taking a moment to admire the sensation that he's never felt until now. He praises sonic for doing so well, says shadow made a good choice for their new host, an announces that they will now begin "fornicating"

Exhausted from being teased and fucked, sonic is lifted against Doom's chest and doesn't quite realize what's happening until a new tentacle, this one the size of a fist, starts to shove its way up his ass and into his intestines. Sonic begins to panic again and starts to struggle to get free, but since he's exhausted it does not work, and he just has to lie back against Doom and take it as an egg sack is shoved into his ass. The first one exhausts him so much from the pain that he can't even fight against the second one, which, in contrast to the first, starts to feel pleasurable.

While this is going on, Shadow is jerking himself off, beating his meat, if you will (hi, star wars poop anon!) and eventually cums to watching sonic get eggs shoved up his ass. Not that sonic notices since he's so out of it. Shadow then crawls into Sonic's lap and cuddles with him to try and soothe him. Exhausted, in pain, and with some amount of pleasure, sonic submits to Shadow's affectionate petting and relaxes into an uneasy rest as his body finally starts to accept the eggs. When he wakes up he lets shadow fuss over him until the birth. The fic ends on sonic saying he blames the effect of the hivemind and the eggs in him for willingly being their surrogate again and again because it's the only thing that keeps him sane. And then it's over, all 4k words of fucked up hedgehog alien incest smut

So, yeah. There's like two or three fics like this (sonic getting captured and bred by the black arms) but this was the first one I found and was the most memorable. Like I said, there's probably way worse sonic fics out there, so this isn't THAT cursed by comparison, but I'm too lazy to go look for them, cause god knows finding fucked up fics on ffn is only easy if you're NOT looking for them

Please appreciate my sacrifice, because hedgehog porn is something I never wanted to read, but hey, anything to keep the fanfic memes community entertained. Happy cas!

I can’t believe I made it through this whole ask without dying of radiation poisoning anyways 7.5/10

#asks #cursed asks

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carouselofrats · 3 years

Text

All for the Best (No It Isn’t)

“Oh, how I pity you, Roman.” He chuckled, turning his back to the Side and feeling his own eyes begin to water as he lost control. The Lord of the Lies was only so good. It felt physically painful to walk out the door as he heard Roman break out into sobs behind him.

You’ll never get to hold him in your arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32061952

Pairing: Roceit

Word Count: 2017

CW: Janus has a panic attack but he gets comforted don’t worry :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janus wasn’t sure exactly when he’d fallen in love with Roman. All he knew was that at some point, over all of the theatre scenarios and courtroom flirting, he’d fallen head over heels in love with the wonderfully dramatic prince. It was terrifying, to suddenly care so much for another. Because of this, it was both a comforting and depressing fact that he could never act on his feelings. For one, Virgil would kill him. He was already suspicious and hateful enough of the snake, he didn’t even want to consider the backlash that would come if he tried to romance Virgil’s best friend. I used to be his best friend .

There were times, of course, where he did wish for more. When the light of the imagination’s stage caught Roman’s face at the perfect angle while they traded lines; When they accidentally brushed hands or shoulders while talking over one of Roman’s scripts and he had to force himself not to linger; When Roman had had a nightmare and chosen to come to his room for comfort.

He finally reached the other facet’s door and knocked politely, as he’d become delightfully accustomed to doing over the past few months. There was a shuffling on the other side before a visibly nervous Roman opened the door.

“Hey Jan! Come on in, sit wherever you’d like!” Okay, now he was nervous. Something was off, very off.

Janus sat down on the corner of Roman’s bed, glancing around the familiar brightness of his love’s friend’s room. Roman gently sat next to him, causing the deceitful Side’s gaze to snap to him. Roman sighed.

“I asked you here today to tell you something important.” Janus’ heart clenched. Please don’t be what I hope think it is.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while. We’ve had a rocky friendship, what with all of the stuff Thomas’s gone through, but I'm so happy that we got to the point we’re at now. You’ve become so incredibly important to me, Jan. It’s incredible how passionate you are about your role--and that’s coming from the literal embodiment of passion--and how much you care, even though you don’t like everybody to know it.” Roman chuckled a bit, Janus giving an exhale of amusement as well as the fear in his heart grew.

“I guess what im trying to say…” Please, god, yes no. “...is that I’m in love with you, Janus.” No. No, no, no.

Roman’s nervous yet earnest gaze travelled up from his lap, where it had drifted earlier, to Janus, searching for his reaction. Janus had short-circuited, his entire body frozen.

No no no, this wasn’t supposed to happen. How could he possibly love you? You can’t say you feel the same, no matter how much you want to, you know that. You’ve already hurt him before, if you tell him it’ll happen again and then you’ll really lose him and he’ll never look at you with his beautiful eyes or smile at you with his beautiful smile ever again. He can’t really love you. Just let him lose his infatuation. It can’t be real love. It might hurt him now but it will be way better than what you would inevitably end up doing to him.

No one could ever love you.

Janus forced his face into a smirk and his voice into something stable. He allowed the mask of the villain to slip over his face. You’ve always been the villain.

“Oh, Roman. You really have fallen, haven’t you?” he crooned. Hurt confusion slowly seeped into Romans face. He desperately pushed down the flash of guilt he felt.

“What are you talking about, Jan?” Roman spoke, his voice quiet and hurt.

“Did you really think that I could ever love you?” Janus hurt laughed. Roman’s eyes began to water, tears slowly falling down his cheeks. Janus stood up, forcing his hand not to shake as he patted Roman’s shoulder for the last time.

As soon as Roman’s door was safely shut behind him, Janus sank out to his room, collapsing on the bed as sobs overtook him. It’s better this way, he tried to tell himself, he can get over it quicker and you’ll save him the heartbreak. It’s fine. Everything is fine. His heart, which felt like it was physically burning, said otherwise. Janus could barely bring himself to move, weakly shoving his shoes off and wrapping himself in his blankets as he sat there, sobbing. At some point his hat had fallen off. He didn’t care. He lost track of time, trying to tell himself that it was all for the best, you’ll get over it, though he knew he wouldn’t.

Suddenly, Janus heard his door burst open. He was filled with the urge to make himself presentable or even look up but he only succeeded in reducing his sobbing into a gasping panic.

“Why the fuck would you do that to Roman you- Dec- Janus? What the-” the intruder spoke. Janus’ panic only increased and he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe help

Of course, it had to be Virgil. Now he knows and he’s seen you vulnerable. You fuck everything up, don’t you? Can’t go one day without hurting somebody else you stupid, ugly snake.

“Oh shit.” He felt the bed dip.

“Can I touch you?” Janus breathed rapidly, flinching when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, okay, just calm down, Jay. Breathe in for four.” Janus tried, gasping, only succeeding after multiple attempts.

“You’re doing great. Now hold your breath for seven.” He did the same again.

“Okay, now out for eight.”

The process repeated until Janus could breathe somewhat normally again. He finally lifted his head up from his knees, feeling pitiful, to look at Virgil. After a few seconds of silence, the anxious trait spoke.

“What- What happened?” Silence.

“Did… did you reject Roman even though you like him back, Janus?”

His sniffling quickly turned to sobbing again as he threw himself into Virgil’s arms, the Side swiftly hugging him back once he got over the shock. Janus’ other arms came out too, gripping the other like a lifeline.

“I had to- he doesn’t- he doesn’t want me. I’ll h-hurt him. Just like in the courtroom. O-or when I c-called him the evil twin. Like- like I did with you,” his voice shrank to a whisper.

“It- it just hurts so bad. Make it go away, make it go away.” He gripped Virgil’s hoodie tightly, sobbing harshly once again. He felt Virgil’s chest rumbling but he heard no words. Suddenly, Virgil started to get up, detaching Janus’ hands from his hoodie. He curled back in on himself.

He’s probably gone to tell the others how pathetic you are.

A few minutes passed, Janus only calming himself slightly. He heard a few sets of footsteps enter his doorway. They’ve come to laugh at you. The bed abruptly dipped beside him and a new set of arms wrapped around him. He opened his eyes and saw a white and gold sleeve. He froze.

“Roman?” He spoke in a small voice.

“Shh, it’s okay, darling. You’re ok.” Roman spoke, rubbing circles into Janus’ back. His voice was thick with emotion, he’d obviously been crying and Janus’ heart crushed with guilt at the notion, more tears and gasps leaving him. He began rambling apologies, all six of his arms wrapping around Roman like they had Virgil.

“I’m so sorry- I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Roman shushed the snake as he spoke, holding him tighter. “I never thought you’d feel the same way so I just b-bottled it up and then when you t-told me I didn’t know what to- to do and I’m so sorry”

Roman suddenly stilled. “So you really do? Love me back?”

Janus had run out of tears, left occasionally gasping for air. He leaned back and sat up, looking Roman in the eye and nodding before sheepishly looking away. Roman put his hands on Janus’ shoulders, causing the Side to stare back at him.

“Why did you lie about it, my love?” he spoke, his eyes full of earnest concern and love.

“I- you don’t want me. I-I’ll hurt you again. I always hurt them. And then they leave. I c-can’t-” but Virgil, who had been awkwardly watching the emotional exchange from the doorway, spoke up.

“We both hurt each other, Jay. It wasn’t all your fault.”

“Oh.” Janus leaned back against Roman as his thoughts swirled rapidly in his head. “Does this mean… that I can love you? I promise I’ll never try to hurt you and-”

Roman cut off Janus’ rambling with a kiss. Oh. Oh. Maybe Roman really did love him after all.

“Okay! Um, everything seems under control here so I’m gonna go,” Virgil hastily exited, closing the door behind him.

They pulled away from each other, both smiling. Janus wiped some of the leftover tears from his eyes, frowning at the wet marks on his gloves.

“I guess I’ve really ruined my reputation in front of you, huh?” Janus gave a light chuckle.

“Your big, tough reputation was ruined for me the moment you showed me your Scooby-Doo collection, you big nerd.” Roman teased affectionately.

“Like your Disney movie collection is any better!” Janus quipped back, Roman batting at his arm in retaliation.

“At least I have a variety to pick from!”

“At least my room isn’t a shrine to a billion dollar corporation.”

“My room only has 101 Disney posters! That’s not that many!”

“Maybe in your opinion.”

“Well, at least I don’t walk around in Hufflepuff-colored garb everyday!”

“I’m severely wounded, you take that back right now Roman Romano Sanders.”

“I refuse!”

“I can feel the dishonor of your insult burning me. I’m dying.”

“Stop being so dramatic!”

“I can see the light now.”

“Okay, fine! I'll take it back!”

“Nope, too late. I’m already in the afterlife. No, wait, I’m in Hell. It burns! It burns so much! But…”

“But what?”

“Nothing can ever burn me more than your insult! The shame! The shame…”

“Will you stop it if I finally agree to let you show me Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated?”

“Suddenly I’m alive! They sent me back.”

“Mhm.”

“They said that all of you were just so lost without me. Especially you, my dear Braveheart.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that, can I?”

Roman pulled Janus in for another kiss, both of them sighing contentedly. In that moment, everything was perfect. Neither could wait for the many more perfect moments sure to come.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts sides #ts janus #janus sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #roceit #fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction

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leahseclipse · 3 years

Text

The Reichenbach Fall: Aftermath - Chapter One: Happy Death Anniversary, Detective.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x GN!Reader (With some Fem mentions)

Warnings: S2 FINALE SHERLOCK SPOILERS, Major character death; death topic, mourning, suicide mentions, depression mentions... (lemme know if I missed stuff.)

Summary: Two years after the death of Sherlock, what could be next?

Word Count: 4.0K

A/N: Hey there! I've finally found the motivation to post my Sherlock fic here. If you prefer AO3, click here :)

Sherlock used to call at midnight, he never cared whether you were trying to sleep, or if you were actually sleeping- he’d just call.

Sometimes to complain that technology was futile given the multitude of defaults it contained (his phone, for example)- or to talk about an article in a newspaper, thinking we’d be interested in it.

It’s been two years since the last call. No one could bring themselves to delete his number since; and I understand the reason for it. We all had some hope inside us, it was small given all the time that went by, but it was there.

We all wondered if he wasn’t alive. Movies aren’t real, so the whole fake-death scenario couldn’t have been real but we all thought “why not?”, it could happen. That was over a year ago, but I still believed it, I wasn’t quite planning on giving up; and when my phone rang a bit after midnight, I still had a glimpse of hope, each time.

That glimpse was cut short when I read the caller ID. It was John. I did like him, he just wasn’t who I expected to see, but I picked up the phone, just to not be rude. Voicemail is awful. “John? What’s going on?”

"I...I don’t really know, actually. Guess I...needed to feel less alone. I don’t even know."

“Hold on.” I glanced at my bedside as I put the phone on speaker before sitting on the bed. "...so, you couldn’t sleep?"

"Yeah, I’ve been trying for an hour, certainly because of..." He stopped, hesitating with his words.

Who else other than Sherlock would it be, honestly. The man’s always been in our thoughts, and now that he’s gone, we have to be reminded that he’s stuck in our minds. The only way to hear him is through memories, and probably some of us are afraid to forget what he sounds like through time. He wasn’t the guy to make documentaries on him, film himself- hell, he rejected every interview he was offered. The only thing we have is pictures, which isn’t enough.

"It’s him, isn't it?" I presumed.

"Yeah, Sherlock." He confirmed. “It’s the anniversary of his death, in two weeks.”

See, that was the kind of thing I didn’t want to recall as it made me think of what I didn’t want to accept, but at the same time, if I stopped thinking about that, might as well forget Sherlock completely.

"It kept me awake too." I admitted.”I can’t believe it.”

No one really does, to be honest. We all wish that it could be fake, that’s what we would need, even if it’d hurt to see him while we mourned all this time.

"It still feels a bit weird without him, even after basically two years."

“It didn’t seem right without him, at first."

"It took us a bit to get used to it, and still...I think I didn’t get used to it fully to this day."

"Neither am I, John. I don't think I ever will. Time will make the pain less...painful, but it’ll never erase him, he'll be in our thoughts from the moment we wake up."

"I wish it was all a dream. I hate to wake up and not see him. He annoyed me sometimes but...he was my friend."

"He was annoying but a good friend, yeah.” I said, “It’s just...not right. Nothing is right. I feel like everything has gone cold. I swear that I haven't seen a single ray of sunshine."

"It's probably time fooling around, I don't know." He said.

"It could but, when he was there, there would be some sunny-ish days. I haven't seen one since. He left, and it's like he took the sun with him, John. The whole world is falling apart.”

"I felt that too, for a moment. But, I don't really trust whatever I think about these days. I don't pay much attention to whatever I do."

"You should be careful though, I don't need you to die because you didn't pay attention out there. And before you say anything, there's no joke in there. I mean it, Watson.”

"I wasn't going to say that, trust me."

"You better. I need you there."

"Same goes for me. You've been of great help since…"

"Yeah. Since." I paused. "It sucks."

"It does.” He agreed. “Well I...I’m gonna go back to sleep, I don’t want to bother you all night.”

“You didn’t bother me, don’t worry. It helped to talk. I could even stay a bit more, if you’re not planning on going back now.”

“Alright, then.”

It’s like the weather watched me plan the day, rain is on time. It couldn’t be more depressing on top of me dressed in black, but I just didn’t feel like coming in rainbow clothes would be appropriate, even if he wouldn’t care how I dressed anyway, even if he’s dead, yeah.

It feels weird to go, I always expected this was all a dream, or that it’d just...never happen. He’s the kind of person that outlives everyone, and Sherlock was this kind of person, he’s always been that person. He even used to say he’ll always be there, that he’d never leave, and now I guess we’ve both made mistakes, he’s not here anymore.

I never thought that would happen, I can’t tell how bad I prayed to whatever god to wake up, but that did nothing but make me a fool, nothing changed.

His apartment remained empty, as ours, he’d consider each house he could sleep at, his. I remember that he stayed at John’s for a week, before having to go back as John was “not entertaining” enough because he slept too much- As if we got to sleep all day.

He used to think everyone was like him, barely sleeping, barely tired, because I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity of seeing him elsewhere other than a room full of piles of papers.

He did sleep, but not at night, it was kind of like a cat, throughout the day, when possible. I always laughed about it along with John, and he never minded, he’d either pretend to not care, or join the conversation, and I already miss this kind of talks.

They’d either be incredibly short, or extremely long, you really had to clear your schedule for an hour or two when he’d talk. It’s not that it bothered me, it was more the others, those who didn’t know him. They’ve always found an amount of weirdness in him, which I had when I was like them, a stranger.

I never thought we’d get close, I didn’t even think anyone was close with him, he seemed quite the lonely guy, very private. Even after getting to know him, he remained quite private, as I thought, he wouldn’t share much, even with John and Mycroft; but, it didn’t matter that much, we still managed to have a great friendship, and I’ll always miss it.

Not any person will be like him, he was one of a kind. Not anyone could copy him without being seen as a fool. Sherlock Holmes was unique, he didn’t copy anyone to rise up, didn’t take anyone as a model, he did it all himself, he was a model himself.

He didn’t wish to be like anyone, it was the contrary, everyone wanted to be at his level, have the recognition he had, the fame, all the things that made him known, that made Sherlock be him. Even I won’t find a mentor like him, not any of them will be better, they’ll all seem ridiculous to me, even if they have more experience than him.

Nothing will be the same. This world won’t be the same without him being here, he’s gone now.

He took a big piece of whatever thing, when he left, and whatever thing he took was a big one, because it left us all empty. The kind of empty feeling that won’t quite go away, we’ve all been so used to having him around so much that it was a habit.

And now that he’s gone, nothing feels right, even living doesn’t feel right. It won’t ever feel right without him.

I almost feel guilty for being alive, I’m not as smart as him, I won’t contribute to anything. He was the smart one, we really lost an important person and I don’t think it wouldn’t have changed much if I had died instead, people would just be sad, I think.

It wouldn’t be that bad.

His death is bad to the point that the world he left behind can’t function as well as when he was alive. The whole puzzle is missing, hell, the whole world, if I go out of the metaphor.

...Sherlock would have been the corners of it, the foundations of it, what made it whole, what gave a start to get the rest of the puzzle.

He would have corrected me with hundreds of better metaphors if he could hear me, I really suck at this. He never did, though.

In fact, most of his talking contained metaphors, it was his signature, his day couldn’t feel right if he wouldn’t tell at least one.Now the whole ‘no day without a metaphor is a bad day’ is falling on us, and nothing or no one will make that feeling go away.

It’s strange, and funny that he managed to create all of those special feelings, memories, that we only felt with him. Sherlock’s had quite the special part in our lives. He changed our lives in such a spectacular way, and to be honest, life felt less depressing, even if our job is full of dead people and mysteries that make our sleep schedule non-existent, quite rare.

He made us forget all of that shit, whenever he could. That’s why I looked up to him, and thought about him so much. Whenever I had a problem, I’d call him first. Of course, I did call John, and Mycroft, but Sherlock was like my emergency contact, he’d always pick up, if possible.

Somehow, he always knew the answers to everything, and when he was clueless (which only happened twice, in five years)- he'd attempt to find something close to it, and even if his explanations didn’t solve anything, I didn’t care.

It probably made him sort of happy to explain it, share his big knowledge, so as long as he enjoyed himself, that was enough. I did hope he did enjoy himself, I never thought about asking and now that I think about it, I probably should have, it’s too late now.

If he can hear me, a sign would be great, probably. A good thing if he enjoyed talking, and a bad one if I annoyed him? It’d be nice to know even if he probably won’t answer, he must still be working; I know it.

He would be bored if he didn’t have his face in newspapers and whatever case. I always said Sherlock not to overwork, but he never listened. I hope he’s not doing it right now, that man was a total workaholic, right to his last breath, he never stopped.

I just hope he’s okay, wherever he is.

He deserves peace, enough things happened to him, he almost died a couple times, almost lost us if we hadn’t survived all of the wounds and things that happened, almost lost himself because of depression- all of these could have killed him.

He would have stayed alive, but he would have died inside, I just know it even if he didn’t show it much. But he did feel, he did have feelings.

I know he liked us a lot, even though he didn’t show it much; he did enjoy living even with all of the problems he had so, let’s hope he’s not in pain, stressing, suffering, whatever feeling that makes him feel bad.

You can take it easy now, we’re taking care of what you couldn’t finish for you, we’re taking care of the legacy you couldn’t pursue for you, we’ve got your back, Holmes. John, Mycroft, myself, and whatever person you know will tell you everything that happens so you don’t miss anything. You’ll be able to debate about the events, you won’t miss a single thing of what’s happening.

Even if I have my pride, and don’t want to admit I’m depressed about you being dead, I’ll tell you everything, I know you’d be here to tell me how to deal with the death of a person, the whole five stages of grief. You said them to me so much that I always have them in my head.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

I’d say that I’m at the last phase, but a lot of anger comes in it. I still wish it had been me, sometimes. It’s not fair it happened to Sherlock. I just hope he’s not too mad. If it had been someone else, he’d probably try to talk some sense into me, get me to tell more logical things.

If ghosts were real, I know he’d tell me to stop putting the blame on myself, even if I don’t even know why I blame myself, we don’t even know what caused him to jump from a damn building. And even if someone explains it, we won’t know if it’s real no matter how much they’ll prove it’s the truth.

The only person that can tell us that is gone.

So, unless we don’t find...a diary, or a note, proving it all, we won’t know.

The last thing we’ve heard from him was an apology, the ‘note’ he left behind was the call John received, which means the presumed note I mentioned doesn’t exist, only the call does.

After leaving his note, he fell from the roof and he died on impact, his pulse was long gone when he reached the floor, and it didn’t come back. I didn’t believe all of it happened, even when I heard John telling it, none of it seemed true...until I saw the death certificate.

The whole world stopped, and it still is frozen now. I wish the grave I’m standing in front of wasn’t real, I wish that my eyes were betraying me.

If only.

“Turns out you lied, Sherlock. You left.”

I hate you for what you did.

“You could have explained all of this a bit more. Even if I would have preferred not to, I would have prevented you from dying if you gave me a note...before.”

I wish I had known, I should have known. He didn’t have to die, he wasn’t supposed to die, certainly not like that.

Not now, that wasn’t his time. He was supposed to die of old age because of natural reasons, after all of us. Outlive us all.

Damn Sherlock Holmes wasn’t supposed to die at 35 years old. It's too young, too soon, Too much to bear.

“What am I supposed to do now, I mean- what are we all supposed to do? None of us can replace you, we’ll take twice the amount of time you barely took to resolve cases on our own, you left us in a really bad situation, you know that? It’s not going to be the same if you’re not here with us.”

And I miss you like a little kid.

“You could have made us take classes to become a close version of you, at least. I’m saying ‘close’ because no one will ever be like you. Not even that detective that had 30 years of experience, he wasn’t even close, really. I’d say he looked like a newbie, next to you.”

I even started to lose the habit of calling him when he’s not directly on the field and I hate this. I’ve only known him for a couple of years, and yet, he’s going to be ironed in my mind for a lifetime.

That man, I swear.

He didn’t think that sticking so close to us, getting to know us, sharing things about him would affect us so badly now that he’s gone. Real gone.

It hurts to say that, I wish I could just pretend he wasn’t gone, but that’s not really...healthy? It’s not really healthy in the way that if I pretend he’s still there- while he’s six feet under ground would drive me crazy, it’d completely destroy the whole ‘acceptance phase’ I’ve been working on. He’s dead, and there’s nothing we can do to bring him back.

That’s what my brain has to acknowledge, pretending he’s alive wouldn’t do any good.

Sometimes life gets to an end, and we have to accept that. I know that Sherlock, his brother and even John wouldn’t want to see me like this- ignoring reality, building a fake world to protect me from the real one.

Hurting sucks. Getting reminded that I won’t be seeing him anymore sucks, but everything sucks in life, and that’s what happens when you live. You can’t have a perfect happy life with all the shitty problems, that doesn’t exist.

But even if this sucks, I also get to remember all of the great things Sherlock has accomplished, the hundreds of memories we’ve made all together, whatever makes me happy- but there’s still a lot of hurt to go through before being able to think about them without crying because I miss them.

I wish that could be happening right now, I must have filled an entire bottle of water with all my tears. It’s even worse when that happens at 2am after you wake up from a dream about them.

Speaking of dreams, I don’t think I’ve ever had so many dreams with him compared to when he was alive. It’s as if he's haunting me, and even if I like him, I’d wish he wouldn’t do that so often, a little peace and quiet would be nice, even if I don’t want that to stop.

I’m afraid I’ll forget Sherlock if I stop thinking about him, block the memories to prevent me from the hurt that comes with it. I don’t want that to happen, he doesn’t deserve to have his legacy ignored because of my stupid feelings that hurt, he deserves to have his legacy remembered, discussed about, shared, not to have it trapped in newspapers, or in a corner of my head.

I like to imagine him being proud when I do that, even if I wouldn’t have known he was. He wasn’t the expressive kind, but he liked to show he was proud of you through a facial expression, a word, whatever could be ‘decrypted’. He wasn’t as cold as people saw him, he was extremely kind, even if he was broken in millions of pieces inside.

But yet, he overcame everything and came back even stronger. Every single time. He was amazing in so many ways, and that’s why I wish I could be like him.

So much.

I sighed, adjusting the grip I had on my umbrella, as I squatted down in front of his grave. “Did you know we went through your closet yesterday? There’s really not a lot, your clothes are so...similar. We can easily buy the same to be ‘like you’. But I don’t want to touch them, they’re kind of like precious pieces you can find in a museum.”

I hope he doesn’t think I’m crazy because of that.

“And...yeah, we went through your place because we can’t bring ourselves to sell it, I don’t want someone else to live in there and ruin it with their own belongings. But at the same time, living in it would be weird, I don’t know. I can’t find an explanation, just that it’s weird, living in the apartment of a dead person. Kinda creepy.” I explained, looking up from my umbrella as I realized the rain had gone down, letting a few rays of a ‘somehow’ sun. “Look, the sun listened to me. It’s coming up so I can give my emotional speech full of hope.” I sighed. “I don’t...I don’t even know what to say anymore. Kind of ironic as I always have something to say.”

I actually kind of know, but I don’t want to say it.

He’s gone. No miracle will bring him back, but I’ve kept hearing John saying it, I heard him last time we came; and even though I can’t bring myself to say that, I want to so badly. That’s all I’ve been wanting to happen since you died, I don’t want anything else and I don’t care about love anymore even if you always wanted me to be happy.

You’re what made me happy, you were the definition of love. Maybe what I’ve been feeling was that but I never brought myself to admit it.

I have loved you since the first day, but you always said that whoever fell in love with you should find better as you considered yourself a forever loner, unable to feel and give love, but I know you were capable of it, if you had tried, I believed you could have done it.

“Look at me, in front of your grave, exposing the feelings I’ll never have the answer to, I don’t even know if you liked me back. You really took all your secrets to your grave, huh? What a selfish prick, you could’ve shared that, at least.” I complained.

I don’t think I’ve ever known someone that hid so much stuff, he really was a whole mystery to himself, that man.

We can’t even solve what caused you to commit suicide, we’ll probably never solve it. You were the only one that knew why, and yet he can’t just pull a miracle and live again for a few minutes as a zombie to explain. That would be of great help, even if I’d prefer he’d live again.

That’d be an awesome miracle, even better than what happens at Christmas.

“Can you do that for me, though?”

Just that, I won’t ask for anything else.

“Just one more miracle, Sherlock, for us.” I said, putting my hand on the polished surface. “...don't be dead.”

It’s too easy, you can’t be dead, Nothing can kill you. I know John, and a shit ton of people saw you fall, but...let me believe all of that isn’t true.

Just a fake accident, Do that for us. Please. We need you more than you can ever imagine, you were so important to us, you were family.

A reason to fight for, to live for.

“Don’t be, please.” I pleaded, as I got up from the ground. “I uh...I’ll be back whenever I can, okay? Work’s been crazy since you’re gone, it’s incredible. I don’t know if it’s because we don’t have your help, or because it’s always been like that.”

Probably a mix of the two, I don’t really know, it’s been complicated to think properly these days. Sherlock would be the one to help with that, usually.

“I’ll have to ask someone else, I guess.”

I still haven’t found this ‘someone else’, by the way, It’s been two years, I know. But I still haven’t found someone that can help me the way he used to.

He still remains unique after all this time.

“I’ll be on my way, then. You’re awfully quiet today, guess you’re not in the mood, so I’ll go.”

I wish I still didn’t have to say goodbye, but this is the only thing I can say when I leave.

The weather had even gotten better, as if it only rained to have a full dramatic effect, there was only wind, which didn’t seem to announce a storm, for now. The sound of the leaves being crushed by my feet as I walked was to be heard, as no other sounds were around, it was very quiet today.

The silence did feel weird, I never liked it.

Not when it caused me to think of…

“Got time to spare for me?”

...him.

“Sherlock.”

|Chapter Two|

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #sherlock #lexies sherlock #sherlock holmes fanfiction

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years

Text

'Catch a train': New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

'Catch a train'

"You're going to be an wonderful asset !"

Chapter Summary : As Yirina is having an simple discussion, Park informed her that an unexcepted thing happened.......

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3600

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After that talk with Mason himself, I can say that I was like more intrigued to see who was his man more further. Our similar stories....getting brainwashed by the each opposite side of the Cold War, both knowing well of what happened to them and their desires to get over it and try to no never think about it. One has been facing that pain since the beginning of the 60's and the other....20 years later. One was allowed to live because he was an full-american, the other was left for dead because she was only seen as an full-russian.

Like he said, me & him are both alike because we're trying to survive in an difficult world as our lifes turned to shit but....it was just more than that. People like us are pawns in an chess game....the Cold War....the CIA with Adler & Hudson are the one controlling those 'pawns' against those used by Perseus or the KGB. We could be MI6, DGSE or BND.....it's always the CIA on top of our heads, ready to sacrifice an pawn if it's necessary to do. They sacrified me...'for the greater good' but by luck, that pawn managed to resist and will maybe try to change everything and to free the people seen as pawns.....my friends & Park....

When I was done with Mason, I returned back to Park who has prepared an little something for me before we walk back to work to our desk with Zasha, trying to intercept any weird communications from the KGB or even Perseus even if I was still an bit troubled with the talk I had with Mason earlier. Anyway, Park was progressing an little into decrypting as she got the big experts in the domain, not to brag ourselves. However, the next transmissions we got were not useful for us and to the others too, meaning that we couldn't know more about Ritter except for an file Greta was able to give us about him.

The others came back from their mission at the end of the afternoon with an success thanks to Garrett's intels about what Woods told us giving them some greats improvements for their mission. As the evening was beginning and after we eat, I decided, before leaving the place to put our hands on Ritter, to grab an coffee for me in the kitchen. The room was empty and it was better as I moved to get to the coffee machine.

"Can we talk, Grigoriev ?" An feminine voice came in the room as my back was turned from the door. I peaked my head to see Song, standing up and looking an bit stressed out.

"Uhm..." I started as I look at her, scratching the back of my head. "Yeah, sure." I fully replied, turning around to face her as she walk to get next to the table without sitting. "You might want an coffee or maybe just to sit down ?" I proposed, putting my eyes for an second on the coffee machine but she shook her head.

"No thanks." She gestured at me before she took a seat right into my direction as I prepare an coffee for only me then & hearing that freaking jackhammer noise coming from the coffee machine.....if only I could threw this machine outside...well, Zed is going to kill me for that.....

"So..." I began again as I took my mug filled with coffee to walk to the table, sitting on another chair facing Song. "What do you want to talk about ?" I asked once I was sit.

"Well, I wanted to...apologize." She responded, crossing her arms an bit uncomfortable to talk about it. "Apologize about what happened yesterday night." She added as I was taking an sip from the hot coffee, drinking an half of it to be exact.

"That ?" I exclaimed, the cup in my right hand, looking at her. "You couldn't know about it."

"Maybe but it was like I was forcing to give you that injection to be honest." She breathed, looking away for an second from me.

"I told you, Song. You couldn't know." I repeated again, sure of my words as I drink....it wasn't her fault and she was only making her duty to try to heal me. I have nothing against her. "We don't need to talk about this....or maybe what Garrett told about you." I suggested, knowing that Garrett was aware of my brainwashing as Park told him years ago.

"You're sure ?" She chuckled, having guessed of what I was talking about.

"Yes." I whispered to her directly, launching an weird silence in the room during 2 minutes as I was drinking my coffee and her, not moving at all from. It was akward and I was hoping for someone to get inside the room and start another conversation but nothing...."How's things with Garrett ?" I was the one to launch another discussion, asking this like that to her as I put my empty cup down, having finishing it in the two long minutes.

"Oh, that's nice." She answered with an smile, no more looking stressed or bad towards me. "Gonna say that I was pretty happy to see him back after an month to not be able to be at his side." She added, sounding more good.

"We can say that some weren't so pleaded to hear you during an night." I scoffed about it, making an little laugh as I could see her blush from that.

"I wasn't so loud." She exclaimed, her voice cracking in an funny voice.

"Not what the others says." I continued to laugh as I could see her roll her eyes to me before laughing an little too. "At least, you're happy to be sure."

"Of course." She admitted, putting her arms on the table but as she was going to continue to speak as I could see her mouth open an little, knocks at the kitchen door interrupted her.

"Park ?" I said as I turned around to see her standing outside the room and having her hand on the door frame, she was looking an bit nervous to say.

"You might need to come." She started, removing her hand from the frame. "We may have an little problem with Lukas Ritter." She added and by hearing that, I quickly got up from my chair, putting back the cup on the counter before I left the kitchen, Park awaiting for me outside. "Zasha just got an transmission out and it's bad." She told me as we walked through the safehouse to get back to our desk.

"Bad enough to not have any more leads for Portnova ?" I suggested but she didn't respond until we arrived at the desk, Zasha looking at us.

"Well, it's bad if we're letting this happen." Zasha heard me talking, answered at Park's place. "Ritter is going to try to leave town tonight from the Kiyevsky railway terminal."

"Damnit." I breathed as hearing this could really screw up our chances to find something that could help us to save Portnova. "I guess that it's not the only bad thing, I supposed." I presumed, seeing the two faces towards me.

"Someone in the KGB has ordered everyone in Portnova's team including herself to not leave town for an undetermined time, starting at midnight." Park spoke up, taking an breath as she leaned herself on the desk. "This means that they will be heavily watched except for Portnova."

"We're sure that it's not Portnova herself asking for this." Zasha said clearly, standing up from their chair.

"So, tonight became our only chance to have an talk with Ritter." They both nodded at me as I looked at Ritter's file on the desk. "We can't actually capture him as we can risk an lot if someone in Portnova's team has an little problem."

"Yeah, the KGB or even Perseus can make everyone disappear for a while if something like this happen." Zasha thought, putting their hand on their face, trying to find something to do with Ritter. "What if we're trying to make Ritter realize of our goods intentions ?"

"Like transforming him in an insider that could help us with Portnova...." Park suggested right and Zasha nodded. "Since Ritter isn't going to be followed tonight, we can do it."

"But we don't know at which hour he's going to take the train so we might need to go to the station right now." I proposed as I looked around, seeing the others working to their desk. "It's only going to be the three of us, it's better." Park & Zasha nodded. "Then, let's go to put our hands on Ritter." At the second I said this that we start to prepare ourselve for that improvised mission.

As Ritter was going to be in an very public area, only me, Park & Zasha were able to go into the station to talk to him without bringing too much attention on us and to be certain, no one wanted to make an slaughter into that train station so we only took our pistols with us. Zasha was given one by Garrett back in West-Berlin and it was the one they used to kill that CIA agent back when we 'saved' Sonya Kuzmin....only to learn hours later that they managed to escape...CIA's stupidity....

Going out of the safehouse was an first since we didn't leave the place since we arrived 2 days ago here and to return into the city was kinda make me & Zasha to feel a bit stressed out about this. We couldn't allow to be recognized or to make any stupid moves as the KGB think that we are both dead. We arrived at the station, fully equipped with earsets and our pistols hidden below our jackets before getting ourselves separated even if I was keeping an closer distance with Zasha, wanting to be there in case something's bad happening to them to protect them.

Each one of us were positioning on an bay like ordinary travelers awaiting for their trains while keeping our eyes on the entrances. The place was crowded but not so much, allowing me to breath freely as I was remembering the last time I was in an very crowded place...it didn't end well and I was feeling not so good to be surrounded by an lot of people around me.

"Anyone seeing Ritter ?" Park asked, 10 minutes after we got inside the station, through our earsets as she was positioned at 2 bays from me as Zasha was positioned to the one next to mine. By luck, we could see each other as there weren't any trains between our bays. "Got nothing on my sight."

"Same for me." Zasha replied as I look at their direction, seeing them alone and standing up to see the panel where the departures & arrivals of the trains will be.

"Nothing for me too." I said as I sit back on an bench, tapping with my feet on the ground as I was feeling weird to be here, stressed & anxious at the same time. The civilians could see me as just an woman who is waiting for her train....me, it was because of been in an place like this. "How are you feeling right now ?" I asked.

"Quite good." Park responded as I could see her, slowly waving at me from her bay as the ones between mine & hers wasn't so crowded at all. "You don't sound too well."

"It's just that I don't like to have all of these civilians around me." I explained, joining my hands together and taking an breath on the bench. "It's not something that I really like."

"You were like that before." I could hear Zasha's voice, sounding sad at hearing me talking. "You weren't an big fan of crowd and you kinda freak out if there's too much people." They added as I looked to them, also looking at me.

"Really ?" I asked.

"Yeah." They told me in an low voice, removing their eyes from me. "It was...."

"Got eyes on Ritter !" Park exclaimed silently through our earsets, inadvertantly cutting Zasha out in their words, making me look around me. "He's at the entrance." She added, I looked at where she said and she was right : Lukas Ritter was there alone, looking around him.

"Okay, let's see which bay is gonna take." I talked before I could hear an train arriving near the bay I was and then, I saw Lukas coming into the bay. "He's moving in : I'm going to stop him before he got into the train." I got up from the bench before starting to move away from it as the train stopped itself near the bay and I moved faster as I could see Lukas also walking more faster than usual. "Lukas Ritter ?" I said as I arrived near him at almost two steps from him to get into the train.

"Uhm...yes ?" He started, looking worried to see someone like me calling him out.

"I think that we have to talk." I spoke to him, giving to him directly my reasons to be her but he rolled his eyes.

"Sorry but I'm not free to...." He wanted to continue as I removed slowly an part of my jacket discreetly, revealing my M1911 in an holstler, making him stop in his words.

"Did I stutter ?" I got close to him, putting my hands on his shoulder more like an threat to him. "That was an order so we're gonna walk back to maybe your car and everything will go fine." I added before I make him look at the entrance. "So now, walk with me outside." I ordered as I stayed behind him, walking away slowly from the bay.

I didn't draw my gun as it was too dangerous and only showing it to Ritter was the only think I could do to make sure that he was going to comply to my order and to walk outside with me. We walked outside, still following him by behind. He was stressing by an lot to have someone like me, making sure that he will not do anything stupid move until we arrived at what I supposed to be his car in an parking well hidden from the public sight, now awaiting for Park & Zasha to come as they both saw me leave with Ritter.

But as Ritter was looking behind him for an second, he somehow decide to try something and to grab my gun inside my holstler. My first reaction was to knee kick him into the chest, removing his hands from my jacket. I tried to knee kick an second time but he managed to grab my right leg before I could put my both legs between the right arm that took my leg and then I make him roll on his car hood, holding his arm strongly. However, he managed to get himself up for an second and to throw me an punch right into my face, next to my lips but thanksfully, it wasn't enough to knock me out except feeling an little bit of blood on the bottom lip.

Right after that punch, I removed my legs from his arm, pushing him right on the ground before I took out my M1911 to aim at him with my both hands and now seeing the scare on his face.

"You try something like that...." I started before I lower my gun to the ground, seeing Park & Zasha running to get to me.

"You're alright ?" Park asked, seeing the blood on my bottom lip as Zasha was getting next to Lukas, making sure that he don't move.

"Yeah, just hit me but it's not so bad." I replied, passing my left hand on my lips to clean the blood on it and then, I put my M1911 back into my jacket "Now, he knows that he can't do an thing." I affirmed before I got next to Zasha, putting my hands on Lukas. "Help me getting him sit on the hood." I ordered to Zasha who nodded, helping me to get Lukas up....he wasn't knocked out....still scared about us.

"Do you think he's gonna talk ?" Zasha asked maybe to themselves as they were finished to have Lukas on the hood. "Don't need to tell me : he will !" They admitted as we needed some intels about Portnova.....and talking about her was making Zasha nervous.

"What do you want with me ?" Lukas questioned to the three of us as he was breathing an bit louder, trying to catch back his breath after that little fight.

"A lot of things and you will help us." Park responded, crossing her arms as she was looking around to make sure no one was looking at us, we were right next to an light pole but still in hidden sight. "Apparently, you have some...'differents opinions' and you're working with Yirina Portnova's team." She took back the same words the KGB used in that transmission. "Are you working with Perseus....or you're trying to defect ?"

"With Perseus." He said in an low voice, looking at her. "Listen, I wasn't willing to work with Perseus and same thing when I was send here to work inside the KGB." He added, mixing between looking at everyone.

"But why did you want to flee as the KGB was going to ask everyone to stay here ?" Zasha demanded him with narrowed eyes. "You did put yourself in danger for what ?"

"I wanted to go home !" He was sounding almost angry in his voice, causing Zasha to be almost scared about it. "I needed to see my boyfriend back....been months that I didn't see him..." He added, taking back his low voice as me, Park & Zasha looked at each other....he was trying to flee to get back to his boyfriend in East-Germany..."Just to be far from Perseus."

"You don't realize that Perseus is everywhere and he will do everything to have you back here ?" I started to say, wanting to make things clear with him. "What you almost did was going to make things worse for yourself." I continued, keeping my cool towards him. "And to make your life better, we need you to help us." I stepped back from him, getting next to Park.

"You're gonna be our insider in the KGB and that's not negociable." Park ordered him clearly, getting closer to him. "Once we're done, the MI6 can help you with your problems...only if you're helping us of course."

"Talk about Portnova !" Zasha told him in an sudden, sounding very curious. "Tell us what she's been doing."

"Well....she's been leading an team of cryptographer inside the KGB but in fact, it's just an team of Perseus spies." Lukas breathed, redressing himself on his car hood. "Portnova....she's been just placed as the leader by Perseus but in reality, he doesn't trust her."

"And why ?" I asked.

"Because even if she's with Perseus, she doesn't share his ideas." Lukas answered, rolling his eyes around. "She's been trying to struggle with an lot of things and Perseus recently removed her from giving the russians weapons from his arms trafficking around the world...He's doing it by himself now."

"So what I hear, Portnova has joined Perseus who doesn't really trust her and now, him or the KGB is going to watch everyone closely." Zasha thought, getting their both hands in front of their mouth. "You said that you were going to help us, so do it." They added, sounding an bit angry.

"Yes, I will." Lukas affirmed before looking at me, worried. "What should I do ?"

"You will be soon contacted by someone that will instruct you to help us so you will agree." Park was the one to speak up to him as she was the one leading everything in here. "We're going to make sure that you follow our orders because bad consequences will occur if you don't."

"And....and now ?" He whispered

"Now, you're going back to the place you're living, awaiting." Park took an deep breath, looking at him closely. "Our eyes are on us now, don't screw this up because there's people you don't want to see angry." She exclaimed, looking at me & Zasha. "Go." She whispered before walking away from the front of the car.

"Ok, I will." Lukas repeated as he start to move from the car hood while me & Zasha were going next to Park, watching Lukas getting back into his car, Park gesturing at him that we got our eyes on him, looking deadly before Lukas drove away from the place with our orders in head.

"Shit." I whispered to myself as I didn't thought of that to happen....especially that fight I just had with him. "And now, we're awaiting for him to do his job." I breathed away as Park moved in front of me to check my lips.

"I'm gonna clean you up back at the safehouse." She said with an smile, an normal face before looking at Zasha who was recovering from everything they have heard from Lukas.

"Don't worry, Zed." I tapped on their left shoulder, grinning. I just wanted them to feel better, to reassure them that we will save Portnova from Perseus. "Come on, time to go back to the safehouse." I continued before I laugh about something, making me tap their shoulder again......

"I'm pretty sure that an big cup of coffee will get you well."

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #call of duty cold war #call of duty #black ops cold war #cod bell #yirina grigoriev #helen park #fem!bell

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evanbuckley-heartofgold · 4 years

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Can you do one where TK's mom isn't really in his life. She couldn't accept that he way gay and puts TK in the middle of her and Owen. She comes to Austin for whatever reason. You can take it from there if you'd like?

This was so much fun to write omg

Read on ao3

“Cap!” Mateo shouts from the truck bay, “There’s someone here for you!”

Owen frowns from where he’s eating in the kitchen and makes confused eye contact with TK who is rummaging the kitchen. He barely knows anyone in Texas, who could possibly be visiting him at work? Nonetheless, he sets aside his foot and walks into the truck bay, TK curiously trailing behind him.

When Owen sees the woman standing by the doors, his spine goes straight and he instinctively puts himself between TK and the woman, Gwen, TK’s mother. He feels TK stops in his tracks.

“What’s she doing here?” TK asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” Owen says, keeping his eyes on his ex-wife. “You just go back to the kitchen, okay? I’ll deal with this” TK nods, not taking his eyes off of Gwen and does as his dad says.

As he walks past Mateo, he gives him a nod to follow TK and he stands before the blonde woman.

“What are you doing here, Gwen?” Owen crosses his arms.

“Can’t a girl come and visit her husband and son at work?” She asks innocently.

Owen seethes, “I’m not your husband and he’s not your son. You don’t even live in Texas, what the hell are you doing here?”

Gwen sighs in annoyance and pops a hip as she stares at Owen. “I want a relationship with you and Tyler.”

Owen scoffs, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t have time for this shit. “You didn’t want one ten years ago when you told TK that he deserved to rot in hell for who he loves.” Gwen stiffens at the reminder. “You hurt my son and by extension, you hurt me. You had a relationship with me and with TK, you were the one who burned it. It’s not up to you to decide you’ve moved past it.”

Gwen sets her mouth into a hard, thin line, “I am his mother, Owen.”

“And he is a grown adult,” Owen counters. “It’s up to him whether or not he wants to talk to you, but don’t hold your breath. You can see yourself out.”

Owen doesn’t say goodbye to her as he turns around and walks back into the kitchen. He finds Mateo and TK sitting next to each other, TK clenching a glass of water tightly between his hands. Mateo squeezes his shoulder when he sees Owen walk in and leaves the room.

“What did she want?” TK asks, looking down at the table as Owen sits down in the chair Mateo just vacated.

“To reform a relationship between the three of us,” Owen tries to keep his voice neutral, he doesn’t want TK to choose one way or another based on what he thinks his dad wants, but he can’t keep the bitterness away.

TK scoffs and tips his head back. He looks over at Owen, “You told her to shove it up her ass right?”

Owen chuckles, “That’s a no, I’m guessing?”

TK’s demeanor changes instantly, looking hesitant, drumming his fingers against his glass. “That’s okay, right? That I don’t want to forgive her?”

“Of course that's okay,” Owen squeezes TK’s arm with a soft smile. “Either way, I’m going to support you no matter what.”

TK looks down at his hands, “I don’t think I can ever see her and not associate her with one of the worst moments of my life. I think about the things she said to me every day and there are some days when I start to think they’re true.” He’s silent for a moment and then he looks up at Owen with watery eyes.

“Buddy…” Owen pulls TK into a hug, letting TK cry into his shoulder. Owen takes a deep breath.

He had come home from work to find Gwen towering over a thirteen year old TK, shouting at him, her face red in anger. TK’s head was bowed in shame, no reacting visible on his face except for the tears that dripped onto the floor. Owen was quick to step between them. He told Gwen to get out of their apartment and locked the door behind her.

When Owen turned around, TK was looking at him with such fear and pain that it broke his heart. TK’s cheeks were soaking wet with tears and his skin was pale. Owen pulled his son into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head and soothing him as best he could while TK sobbed into his arms, saying he was sorry over and over again. Owen kept his voice as soft as he could and told TK that it wasn’t his fault.

Owen didn’t even know what happened that night until two days later when TK sat him down on the couch and stuttered his way through telling his dad that he was gay. From there he talked about that night. He said that he had told Gwen and she’d started yelling all these awful things at him. Owen hated how still TK was as he repeated the insults his mother had thrown at him like he believed every word of them.

Owen just hugged his child, much like he is doing now, wishing more than anything that he could just keep him safe from anything that could ever hurt him, wishing he could take the pain away.

So Owen says the only thing he can think of, the same thing he told TK the night he finalized the divorce papers, “We’re enough, just the two of us. It’s all gonna be okay.”

Please reblog if you enjoyed!

#my fic #911 #911ls #911 lone star #911ls fic #911 lone star fic #tk strand #owen strand #tw homophobia

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Happiness Isn't Here, Chapter 2 (Jan-centric) - Joley

Chapter Summary: Jan really wants to be friends with Crystal’s girlfriend, Nicky. Gigi struggles to comprehend her attraction towards Jan. Brita gets further invested in Jan’s love life and confesses why she was so drawn to Jan.

ao3 link

It had been three days since Crystal had texted Jan, and Jan was getting frustrated at the lack of follow-up. She and Brita had visited most, if not all of the spots Crystal frequented, but to no avail. And now Jan was out for a jog, hoping to either clear her mind or have a breakthrough with a new idea. But all she got was a leg cramp and a strong pang of hunger.

There was a convenience store towards the end of the block, so Jan decided to do a quick shop. She wanted to get home right after and take a shower, flushed red and drenched in sweat from her run, she knew she must’ve looked like a hot mess.

Jan started to walk down the snack aisle, but instantly backed out and hid. “Oh, come on,” she whined to herself before carefully peering back into the aisle. Sure enough, Crystal was there and oblivious to Jan’s presence, much to her relief in her given state. “Wait, who’s that?”

A woman walked up to Crystal and wrapped her arms around her from behind. The first thing Jan noticed was that this woman – this unfairly gorgeous woman – was dressed entirely inappropriately for a trip to the convenience store. This woman was dressed for a high-end cocktail party, wearing a little red dress and black stilettos with hair that must’ve had taken at least an hour to style. She didn’t seem to belong in Missouri at all.

“Yeah, that’s Nicky,” a familiar voice pulled Jan from her thoughts.

“Fuck, how long have you been standing there?” Jan jumped slightly, putting her hand to her chest.

Gigi shrugged. “Not as long as you’ve been staring, I imagine,” she mused, then looked Jan over. “What happened to you? You look like hell.”

Jan huffed, crossing her arms with a pout. “I went on a run, thank you very much. I did a whole… half a mile.”

“Oh shit, didn’t realize you were training for a triathlon,” she teased.

“You too?” another woman, presumably one of Gigi’s friends, chimed in out of seemingly nowhere. “What’s your routine? I’m pretty sure I’ve got mine down, but-”

“It was a joke, Kameron,” Gigi cut her off.

Kameron wasn’t alone either, as a shorter brunette joined her side. “Who’s your friend, Gigi?” she asked. “This the girl from the party you was talkin’ about?”

Jan smirked as she looked from Gigi’s friends back to her. “You were talking about me?” she asked, twirling her ponytail around her finger.

“Never,” she retorted dryly. “Jan, let me introduce you to two friends, one brain cell. This is Kameron and Vanessa.”

“Vanjie.”

Gigi rolled her eyes. “She goes by Vanjie.”

Jan offered the two of them a bright smile. “So nice to meet you guys,” she said, though her attention started to shift when she heard the click of high heels on linoleum getting louder and the conversation between Crystal and Nicky entered earshot.

“Who’s the sweaty girl with Gigi?” Nicky asked with perturbed confusion.

“What?” Crystal looked where her girlfriend was pointing. “Jan?”

“You know her?”

Crystal swallowed thickly, her eyes darting back and forth between Nicky and Jan. “No! I mean yes. I mean… kind of?”

“Kind of?” Gigi chimed in. “I thought you guys were friends.”

“We are,” Jan jumped in to assure. “It’s just been a while since we saw each other at summer camp,” she explained, happy to be able to tell the truth. “It’s been a while, we were–”

“Ten!” Crystal abruptly cut in. “That’s why the details are a little hazy, you know? It’s been so long.”

Jan furrowed her brows and looked at Crystal with a mix of hurt and confusion on her face. She tried to meet her eyes, hoping she’d explain, but to no avail – Crystal wasn’t looking at her at all, her eyes were fixed on Nicky.

Nicky did look skeptical, though she didn’t say so. “Well, you did smoke away most of your brain cells, I guess that makes sense,” she decided, watching as her girlfriend’s entire body relaxed in relief. Then her attention shifted to Jan, whom she offered a polite smile. “So nice to meet you,” she said, offering her hand out – not to shake, it was more like she was presenting it on display.

Not that Jan questioned it; she surmised that it fit the way Nicky carried herself. “The pleasure’s all mine,” she chirped, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“What is it that you do?” Nicky questioned as she looked her over.

“Jan’s a lawyer!” Crystal jumped in yet again, though this time it appeared to be in Jan’s defense. “You just started at a firm out here, right?”

Jan nodded, ignoring the way her chest was still aching. “Yeah, it’s been going super well so far. What about you, Nicky?”

“I am a professional hairstylist,” she answered stiffly. “I do Beyoncé’s personal trainer’s sister’s hair, it’s very high-profile.”

Both Gigi and Crystal, with slight grimaces, had opened their mouths to say something, but Jan cut right in. “Really? Oooh, how fun! You should totally let me know if you’re ever taking new clients.”

Crystal winced and once again tried to interject, but Nicky answered before she could. “I do think I can fit you in, as a courtesy at least. Since you are a friend of Crystal’s,” she told her, then rifled through her purse until she pulled out a business card and handed it to Jan.

While neither Jan nor Nicky had noticed how Crystal was stressing out and Kameron and Vanessa had long since wandered off, Gigi noticed and cocked her head to the side so Crystal would follow her down the next aisle. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing!” Crystal insisted. “I just… don’t think it’s a good idea for Jan and Nicky to be friends. You know how she gets.”

“I guess,” Gigi shrugged. “But Jan seems pretty non-threatening, it’s not like you guys fucked or anything, right?”

She swallowed thickly. “Right. Because we only knew each other as kids and that would be weird,” she reminded herself, not wanting to forget the lie she’d established.

Her friend was dubious, but allowed it to slide. “So… Jan is definitely available, then?”

Crystal’s eyes lit up, this was perfect. “She is. Are you into her, Geege? Because you should ask her out, she’s great. And you’re great. So it would be, you know, great.”

Gigi shrugged, glancing down. “I dunno,” she told her, though a slight smile tugged at her lips. “Maybe.”

Before Crystal could argue her case further, Nicky rounded the corner. “Crystal, come on, we’re gonna be late,” she whined.

“We better go,” Crystal said to Gigi. “But think about what I said.”

——

Jan looked at her phone – 12:48 pm. She was a bit early for her hair appointment, by no accident. As soon as she stepped inside, she wanted to try to fit in a bit of a tour.

The salon reminded Jan of the one she would visit during the winter break she had spent in Beverly Hills. It was clean and chic and everyone who worked there could’ve moonlighted as a Victoria’s Secret model. Normally, she wasn’t intimidated by that, but she found herself cutting her tour short as anxiety started twisting her stomach into knots. Sure, she was used to the high-end life, but that didn’t make her ‘cool’. Jan didn’t know how to be cool – her ideal Friday night consisted of Chinese food, a bottle of wine, and her library of bootleg musicals.

But Nicky? Nicky oozed cool out of every invisible pore. It sent Jan back to her middle school days when she would see the popular kids and silently yearned to unlock the secrets to social acceptance. And while thirteen-year-old Jan had found the answer when she started high school without braces and with newly-developed D-cups, things were far less simple in adulthood.

“Jan?” The girl at the front desk pulled her back into reality. “You can go ahead and take the middle chair. Nicky will be right with you.”

Jan nodded and thanked her as she moved to take her seat. By the time Nicky made her way over, her racing thoughts had slowed to a walking pace, something she was eternally grateful for.

“Your hair is so thick and smooth,” Nicky observed, a hint of surprise in her tone. “You’re Italian?”

“Half Italian, half Jewish,” she confirmed. “Lots of hair on both sides.”

“I could tell from your arms,” she remarked offhandedly, but by then she was massaging shampoo into Jan’s scalp, rendering her too blissed out to register the comment.

Jan was entranced almost instantly, and she understood why Nicky worked at the only salon in Springfield with a near five-star rating. She had gotten actual massages that were less satisfying, and she was already certain she would be happy with any final result. “So, how long have you and Crystal been together?” she asked after a brief silence, curious as to how her answer would compare to Gigi’s.

“Since I moved here in the tenth grade,” Nicky answered. “Not consistently, but that isn’t the important thing.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re together now,” Jan murmured through gritted teeth, regretting bringing it up in the first place and deciding to change the subject. “This place is so nice, how long have you worked here?”

Nicky was too focused on Jan’s hair to notice the shift in tone. “About a year and a half, I cannot complain, but the goal is to open my own salon. I even think I can poach some of these girls to come with me,” she told her. “But securing a space is impossible.”

“I work in real estate law, you’re preaching to the choir,” she nodded, though her mind was already doing a speedrun of ideas. This was the ‘in’ she needed, how she could win Nicky’s favor and be her friend.

The comment didn’t connect the dots for Nicky, who finished Jan’s hair and spun her around. “And we’re done, what do you think?”

Jan gasped, her eyes bright and wide. It wasn’t an act, she was genuinely impressed with what Nicky had done. She had only trimmed a couple of inches off, but the styling was pristine, she never wanted to wash her hair again because she was afraid she could never get it back to this. “It’s gorgeous, oh my God.” As she got up and paid her, she added “Don’t stop thinking about getting your own salon, in fact, text me the info about the space you’re trying to secure,” with a wink.

Nicky’s intrigue outweighed her trepidation. “I guess you can give it your best shot, then. Landlord’s a real asshole, though.”

——

Brita eagerly led Jan into an empty conference room and set a folder down on the table. “Okay, so, what’s the plan? Before you say anything, I already looked it up and we can’t deport her to France unless we frame her for murder.”

Jan shut the door behind her and rushed to Brita’s side with concern and confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? No one’s being deported or framed for murder or… seriously, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Isn’t that what you were up to at your little hair appointment? Getting close to Nicky to find her weaknesses and exploit them to get her out of the picture? Everyone overshares at hair salons, it’s just how it works,” she explained as she opened the folder up. “I printed out all of the important social media posts dating back from when she started dating Crystal.”

“Brita, that’s eleven years’ worth of posts!”

She scoffed. “And? Do you want your happy ending with Crystal or not? Nicky is an obstacle in your way, she is the enemy.”

Jan rolled her eyes. “I don’t want her to be the enemy. I like her. She’s so cool and pretty and she smells nice and–”

Brita grabbed Jan by the shoulders and shook her. “Listen to yourself! This isn’t the Jan and Nicky love story, it’s the Jan and Crystal love story. The last thing you need to do is go all starry-eyed over, and I cannot stress this enough, Crystal’s girlfriend.”

“Okay, so, I get that you wanna help and I really appreciate it, but I promise I totally have this under control. You keep working on your plans, I’m sure they’re great.”

She sighed and let go of Jan. “I’m sorry, I know I’m intense and everything, but I just really like you and want to help you. I’ve always wanted a daughter, you know? I have a fourteen year old son, and he’s an asshole.”

Jan’s expression softened. “Aw, I didn’t realize… but that’s sweet, and it’d be nice to have a mother figure that isn’t massively disappointed in me right now. Don’t ask, it’s a story for another day.” Ideally that day would never come, but she didn’t expect Brita to let her off the hook on that either. “On that note, um, don’t get mad, but I’m getting brunch with Nicky tomorrow. But it’s a business brunch.”

“A business brunch?” Brita looked at her skeptically.

“I’m helping her get her own salon. The landlord’s a jerk but he’s only like, a four out of ten compared to what I’ve dealt with. And…” she strummed her fingers against the table as she tried to think on her feet. “Think of it this way – if she’s busy at her own salon, she’ll have less time with Crystal.”

Brita beamed and cupped Jan’s face, squishing her cheeks. “There’s that Harvard-Columbia brain at work, I knew you had a plan. You didn’t need to worry me like that, missy.”

Jan pressed her lips into a fine line and nodded. “It won’t happen again.”

——

Jan tried to keep her conversation with Brita in mind when she was out to brunch with Nicky, she really did put in an effort. But then she found out mid-mimosa that they got the location for the salon and Nicky showered her with gracious praise and it all went out the window. Jan’s latent praise kink and overwhelming desire to win Nicky over was more than enough to keep her from heeding Brita’s warning.

So, it didn’t end at business brunch. They wound up back at Jan’s house, talking, laughing, drinking, as if they had been friends this whole time. And Jan was becoming more and more convinced that in the end, she could have the best of both worlds – she could have Crystal as her girlfriend and Nicky as her bestie. There was no downside in that, right?

“Have you heard of The Nebula?” Nicky asked as she set the glass down on the coffee table, “It’s this cool, exclusive club downtown. Crystal and I were planning on going tomorrow night, you should come.”

Jan nearly spilled her drink with how quickly she perked up. She almost couldn’t believe this had worked so well and so fast. “Really? Oh my god, yeah, that’d be so much fun. I am such a club girl.”

“You’re so fun,” Nicky giggled, resting her head on Jan’s shoulder. “I love how fun you are, we’re gonna have the best time ever. You’re totally not the cunty east coast bitch I thought you’d be.”

“Aw, thank you!” Jan hugged Nicky from the side.

Nicky had ended up staying into the late afternoon, waiting until she was sober enough to take care of some things at the salon, but happily reminded Jan several times over that they would be going to The Nebula the next day at nine.

——

“Alright, are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind or not?” Crystal prompted as she watched Gigi absentmindedly clean the same glass for the third time.

Gigi looked up, finally putting the glass away and tossing the towel over her shoulder. “You know damn well I try to keep my head empty at any given moment.”

Even though Crystal might have agreed at times, she wouldn’t take that as an answer. “Come on, you’ve been weird ever since we all ran into each other at the store the other day.”

“I just…” she hesitated, chewing on her lip. “What’s her deal, anyway?”

“Who?”

“Jan.”

Crystal smirked. “See? I knew you liked her. You never act like that around girls like you did at the store. I don’t know what the hold-up is, she’s cool.”

Gigi snorted. “Cool isn’t the word I’d use, babe,” she retorted dryly, then added, “you sure she’s not into you?”

“What? Of course not. I told you already, we were kids, remember?” Despite how comically suspicious her voice was, Gigi didn’t push her any further, so she continued. “Hey, Jan’s coming with us to Nebula tonight. You should come, it could be like a cute double date.”

After a bit of hesitation, Gigi nodded. “Yeah, alright. My shift ended ten minutes ago anyway, I just gotta get home and change.”

The four of them met at Jan’s house, as she lived the closest to downtown, and took an Uber (Jan happily upgraded them to the best option) to the club. Considering they were four attractive women in mini dresses, they were granted entry easily and went right to ordering rounds of drinks.

It only took a few drinks to get Crystal and Nicky on the dance floor, giggling and grinding to the beat. But Nicky stopped after a couple minutes when she realized Jan and Gigi were still lingering awkwardly at the table, and simply had to remedy that. She jogged back to the table and grabbed both of them by the arm. “Come on, Jan, dance with Gigi,” she insisted, pushing them together.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” Jan admitted as she draped her arms around Gigi’s neck. “This doesn’t seem like your scene. Like, you probably think the music is too generic and the drinks are too sweet.”

“Well, both of those things are true.” Gigi rested her hands on Jan’s waist, the two of them doing the bare minimum to count as dancing. “But Crystal dragged me out and I thought it might be fun to watch you get drunk and make an ass out of yourself.”

Jan scoffed. Sure, she was a lightweight and already tipsy, but she thought she could ignore it if she tried hard enough. “Why don’t you get me another drink then, Captain Cynical?”

“Oh, I’m a captain? Here I thought I was just Lieutenant Cynical,” she teased, then let go of her to go to the bar.

While Jan was waiting, Nicky came back over and pulled her to dance with her and Crystal. “You and Gigi look good together,” Nicky remarked.

“You’d look good with anyone,” Jan mused playfully. “Oh my god, if we hooked up, we’d all be even!” She gasped, gesturing between the three of them and giggling at what she thought was a funny observation.

But Nicky and Crystal all but froze in their tracks. “What do you mean by that?”

Jan glanced at Crystal, suddenly remembering the lie she’d helped commit to. “I just, um…” To her relief, Gigi had rejoined them at that moment. “Oh good, you’re back!” She quickly took the drink and started to down it.

“No, no, tell me what you meant by that,” Nicky insisted.

Realizing she had been caught, Jan thought the only option was to tell the truth. “I meant, well, you and Crystal are together, and we, um… used to be…”

“You both said you weren’t,” Gigi cut in. “You both insisted you weren’t. What the fuck?”

“I just didn’t wanna make things weird!” Crystal defended. “But… yeah… Jan and I were actually sixteen when we met and um… did stuff.”

Nicky’s face reddened with anger. “I can’t believe you both lied to me!” She turned to Crystal. “We are leaving and will be talking about this. And you,” she turned to Jan, “just stay away from us.”

Although Jan tried to object and plead her case, Nicky was already storming out of the club with Crystal in tow, leaving her alone with Gigi. “Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it.”

“For a Harvard-Columbia grad, you’re kind of stupid, aren’t you?”

Jan pouted and nodded.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

Jan nodded again.

Gigi wrapped her arm around Jan’s shoulders and walked her out of the club and got into an Uber with her once it arrived.

The ride was quiet, enough so that by the time they arrived at Jan’s house, she was asleep with her head in Gigi’s lap.

Being rail-thin and fragile looking in comparison, Gigi struggled carrying Jan into the house and placing her on the couch. “God, you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” she muttered to herself before taking the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over Jan.

Just as Gigi was in the middle of contemplating if she should stay or leave, Jan started to wake up. “Ah, it lives.”

Jan looked around, slowly realizing that she was on her couch, and that Gigi tucked her in. She pushed herself to sit up a bit. “Um… thank you, you know, for helping me in. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, I know you’re probably pissed at me too.”

“Oh, I am,” Gigi readily assured. “But you look like a sad baby deer, so I can’t just abandon you, I guess,” she decided. “You need help getting to bed, Bambi?”

“Please,” Jan mumbled. The two of them went upstairs and Jan stepped into the bathroom to get changed and wash her face. Then once again, Gigi tucked her into bed.

Once Jan was sound asleep, Gigi went downstairs and crashed on the couch. But she woke up early in the morning and left without a trace. Without the alcohol softening her heart, she found herself mad at the fact that she so easily overlooked what Jan did in favor of taking care of her. And what was worse was that she still liked her.

When Jan woke up, she went downstairs, only to find her house empty. She felt a pang of disappointment, only to perk up at a knock on the door. “Gigi?” No answer, so with another wave of hopefulness she asked “Crystal?” as she opened the door.

“How funny, Gigi and Crystal are exactly who we need to talk about,” Brita huffed as she walked inside. “You are skating on thin ice,” she warned, walking Jan to the couch and sitting down. “What happened last night?”

Jan sighed. “Nicky found out Crystal and I were together and now she hates me and Gigi took me home. That’s it.”

Brita pinched the bridge of her nose. “I was afraid of this,” she muttered and took a deep breath. “It’s fine, we just need a new plan.”

#rpdr fanfiction #jan sport #crystal methyd #gigi goode #brita filter #nicky doll #brooke lynn hytes #kameron michaels #vanessa vanjie mateo #gigi x jan #crystal x jan #crystal x nicky #lesbian au #s12 #joley #happiness isnt here #rare pair

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lilolilyr · 4 years

Text

WIP tag

@banashee tagged me to post another work in progress, so I will post, un-edited, whatever bullshit I came up with last night when I was already half asleep after watching an ep of Suits and then reading an old Hanni&Nanni (St. Clare's) book. I think what my brain came up with is a crossover between those and also my ever growing fanfic multiverse so there's timetravel and dimensions and shit... oh, and naturally it's gay.

Wip lverse

Central arrives at Lindenhof

R/T (teaches) just been outed or sth, girls behind them but school threatened with being closed- dance, with boys from other school, H idea: dance ww mm, boys? Jenny's brother -> have an in, & if not all boys join doesn't matter as long as no Lindenhof girls dance with them. T/R gerührt but also hope won't nach draussen dringen)

Light off

Ugh wheretf are we, middle ages? Fuckinf castle and it isn't even hogwarts. Light...

Edits lumos maxima to fit kronleuchter

War nich lang dunkel also gleich wieder ans helle gewöhbt

Year? Oh lemme guess... Uniforms, awkward dance, electronic light but no smart tech in sight,... Must be xx... Hate that. Already bad capitalism of after & still shitty institurionalised homophobia & racism & misogyny of before.

Eyeroll

Well source isn't here, all muggles

???

Explanation:

Muggle= nonmagical

^or>: sacrilege!

Why?? Why does religion fit better or worse to nonmagical world? If anything magic is sth u can't explain fitting to religion, and as I have magic and you don't, if God exists likes me better than u

Pls no existential discussions before 3am after I had 3 vodka

Gross

Anyways

Looking for source: different universes, if timetravel splits, no-good bc vicious cycle, looking for source

Not here

U sure?

Knocks on Wall

Opens

Body in wall

O.o

Dude dead

Windstoss, zeefällt fast

Shield

Ugh now can't check for..

Well otherwise body!

...

Call the cops- poliicee! Just tell them sb hit a spec spot of the wall & it opened to a body. S the truth. & don't worry bout everyone being shocked, s a body in the wall, u gotta be shocked.

Girls notice T R stressed & not as close as want - H N Hilda J B C go 'need to talk to both' -> form wall so they can hold hands. Before leave turn around, T quickly presses kiss to Rs hand

Central thanks for assistance, & as thanks help against homophobia: a little confoundus maybe? Yeah, everyone in Castle who is homophobic & wants to act on it in some way is gonna forget homophobia exists. Forever? Hm naaah just until goes to sleep, but if next day same, same. Maybe enough to realise world doesn't end...

Isnt confoundus illegal?

Not if administered in a way xxxx by xxxx intentions and duration blah

???

Yeah lawyertalk u wouldn't understand

Oh shut up Harvard

Harvard? Yeah-

Already exists?

Founded in xxxx! Bitch. Bet already prestigious

...

Marianne near freak-out

Never allowed herself to think about it

Not since kissed Carla that day

Knows Carla just thinks about it and doesn't act on it, but she needed pretend wasn't a thing

Punches stuff in sportraum

H:??

Explains

So?? Not a problem for T R

Well they're not students!

?? Difference

Changing rooms! Schlafsaal!

So? I mean if makes u feel better guess can just turn around? But like eh. Hey actually... Ur into girls... So u know what looks good...

???

Would u be willing to check me out & tell me..... Bc want to impress some guy... U get to look without having to feel bad & I get info!

Not sure same (wlw mlw attraction)

Eh whatever best I've got. So?

Shrug sure whatever

In underwear when rest comes

???

Look

M shrugs like go for it

H explains happily

Rest also wants opinion

Petra eg afraid doesnt look good because Figur- M says pretty face way more important. Hilda says plus character more important anyway! M kinda almost laughs which makes Hanni laugh out loud.

Mamsell? Or sb comes around corner, Hanni (still in underwear) tries to hide, falls over tangled in skirt.

Who didn't ask M? Carla... What's with her anyway?

///before mamsell//Who's the prettiest?

Flickers to C. C blushes

Aww

Another pair of birdies?

Shut up!

Not since...

Omg so there is a since!

M heftig Yes but never again bc knew couldbt be!

Well now could...

C still won't tell mom- not cause she wouldn't approve but she'd worry about me and can't put her under strain bc health

M course

Just kiss already!

Oy!

Well?

Laugh and then they do bc wtf might as well happen this day already is so goddamn weird

Meanwhile J/B like when are they finally gonna figure it out lol

& Elli slowly realising that maybe those obsessions with Sadie and MrsQ etc were actually crushes xD

Hanni- heteroflexible

Nanni- ace

Jenny- bi/pan

Bobby- genderfluid, pan

Marianne- butch lesbian

Carla- femme lesbian

Elli- bicurious/bi

Doris- nonbinary/transmasc and still figuring out his sexuality

Hilda- lesbian

Carlotta- bi

Petra- straight

Jürgen straight

Peter x Wolfgang

Claudine trans girl

Sadie??

Yeah ok imma not explain but I might post a proper (ish) version on ao3 or my draft blog @thelucyverse some time :)

Tagging whoever sees this and wants to share!

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leonawriter · 5 years

Text

Leave A Message After The Tone

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters: Chuuya/Dazai

Summary: Chuuya tries to call Dazai after the incident with Shibusawa, only to find that getting through is much harder than it really should be.

...

The first time Chuuya tried to call Dazai after the whole thing with the dragon and the so-called ability user suicides, Dazai didn't pick up.

Then again, Chuuya had just got back home after a job, and by the time he'd got his hands on his phone, he was half drunk (okay, more than half drunk). He'd called the number he could still remember so damn well without even thinking, ready to talk Dazai's head off, even if he did have to deal with the comebacks he'd not be able to come up with decent answers to.

The phone had rung. And kept ringing. Eventually, a voice told him that the call had gone to voicemail.

Chuuya remembers having dropped his head on his desk, wondering why he'd bothered, and part of his being able to remember so well is that there's a slight bruise that he's going to blame on something somehow having caught him off guard on the job, because it'd be humiliating to admit he'd just done it to himself.

...

The second time Chuuya attempts to call, he's paced across the length of the floor of his living room several times, phone open on Dazai's number, and he's completely sober.

He doesn't know why he's so filled with nerves. He's never exactly needed to psyche himself up to talk to one shitty Mackerel before, after all - what difference is there? There isn't any, right?

His hand doesn't shake, because he isn't anxious, and he isn't afraid of what it might mean if the waste of bandages just ignores him again, after all they'd been through, all he'd done, again-

It's easier when he's drunk and angry. When he's sober, and when they're not face to face, it's harder to keep it up. That's a rather violent way of waking Snow White, he remembers, the words only just caught words through the fading haze of Corruption.

His finger accidentally brushes the Call button, and he swears, because now the phone's ringing, and ringing, and...

It's just going to keep going to voicemail again, the bitter voice in the back of his mind said.

Chuuya hears a click, a lot of noise - both voices and movement - and Dazai's saying Oops, bad timing!, and then...

Gone, again.

Chuuya sighs, and wonders why he'd expected anything different.

...

The third time Chuuya calls Dazai's number, he's exhausted, and his fingers find the number more by muscle memory than anything, and the call timer says that well over a minute's passed since the call had gone through, and he's just been staring at it like some dumb idiot.

Then again, it's not like Dazai's said anything either. It's enough that he's left wondering, really, if Dazai'd just left the phone on and swanned off somewhere, assuming Chuuya was going to say whatever he needed to into thin air.

He's tempted to just walk away himself. Cancel the call himself. Walk off, go have a glass of wine, go the fuck to bed, because hell knows he needs to sleep even if his sleep's been rudely interrupted with dreams of Dazai not waking up, his hands covered in Dazai's blood instead of his own, from when he'd seen that white coat of his, which Chuuya had no idea where it'd come from, come off. A knife in the back, then, and he knew (from being on the other end of the knife, more than enough times) how fatal that could be.

The familiar-yet-wrong sensation of feeling too big for his skin had faded after a few days, but there was something that felt as though it hadn't abated, something that hadn't yet slotted into place.

Just because Dazai wanted death like most people wanted to fall in love, didn't mean that Chuuya had to be okay with that particular brand of idiocy. It'd pissed him off years ago, and it still pissed him off now.

He groaned, caught between resignation and frustration, unable to move to figure out what he wanted.

"...Chuuya?"

He starts at the quiet voice that doesn't have any of the usual masks on it; just the differences from before that he was starting to see as Dazai's new version of 'normal', a normal that Chuuya couldn't help but still feel angry over.

It had only taken a complete betrayal of his trust, after all.

"Huh," he says, and wishes his voice didn't sound quite that flat, because-

"Is something wrong, Chuuya?"

Dazai could always tell.

"I tried calling," he says, figuring that the truth would work best. No use pretending, after all. "Almost thought you'd decided to start ignoring everything again."

Me, is unspoken. Ignoring me.

There's a blank pause, just long enough to start to irritate, and then there's the sound of Dazai tutting, like he's that damn tiger kid who's been bringing in so much trouble.

"Ah, but I was busy," Dazai says, and there's that teasing tone of voice again, more alive than it ever was in the mafia, patronising and playful. "Besides! Chuuya was hardly in any danger, or-"

"What? I've got to be risking my neck for you to actually answer my damn calls now, is that it?" He snaps out, without thinking, because if Dazai's going to talk like that then he's not going to take shit. And then he groans, again, because that's not how the call was supposed to go, not what he'd wanted back when he'd first called, all those days ago. Over a week, now.

"...No," Dazai says, and if Chuuya weren't so off balance himself (and it's always Dazai who does that to him, isn't it) then he'd notice something off about his voice. "The Agency's been busy since Shibusawa, however, and I knew that if it was that important, Chuuya wouldn't have stopped at just one call, but would have been annoying until I picked up."

Something about the way that Dazai said the Agency's been busy since Shibusawa resonated with how the mafia had hardly been having an easy time of things either. Apparently, a fair few idiots had thought that just because most of the mafia had disappeared and the rest were busy, they could take advantage of somehow not being killed by their own abilities and making trouble for themselves.

None of which he was actually going to outright say - it was one thing to talk, as if they weren't enemies, but another thing to sell out exactly what the mafia was up to for Dazai to pass the information along.

"Just... fuck, Dazai. That happened." He runs a hand through his hair, almost knocking his hat to the floor if he hadn't caught it and wound up staring at it instead. The words are humans not all frames for deeper experiences flit through his mind, and he scowls. Most humans can't shove a fucking building down a dragon's throat. And yet...

"It did." For a moment, Dazai sounds almost serious again, almost like he's reading his damn mind. But the serious tone doesn't last. "And Chuuya should know that I didn't really expect that second attempt at being Snow White's Prince Charming, but who am I to deny a-"

"Sh- shut up! You were the one who-"

It was hard to do more than just splutter and he could feel the way his face was going red, and he could hear Dazai laughing, and the worst thing was, he wasn't sure any longer if he wanted to punch his face in for it, or something else, because Dazai sounded happy, just like he could remember him looking happy while they were waiting for the fog to lift, as though there was no way things could go wrong, and everything was just how he wanted it, Chuuya's presence included.

The kiss had been short, and maybe he could have thought he'd just been lured into it for future blackmail, if it weren't for the slight expression it'd been so easy to convince himself must have been something his imagination had conjured up; a split second of surprise, not even that, but vulnerability, on Dazai's face.

Vulnerable. Dazai. Maybe the world had been ending in more ways than one. Maybe being dead for as long as that had done something to his head.

Dazai's laughter fades away, and they fall back into silence - not a companionable one, but that awkward one that happens when you just don't know what the hell to say to each other.

He puts his hat back on, and looks away from the phone, out of the window and into the Yokohama night. A night that they'd allowed to be possible.

"We should talk," he says, and what he should say next should be something along the lines of "it's not gonna work", or "don't think this is gonna change anything" - but he'd never just done as he was supposed to, not when it came to Dazai, and not when he was hearing startled noises from the other end of the phone.

"Chuuya, I..."

The sound of Dazai not knowing what to say is like an angelic choir to Chuuya's ears, and he could listen to it every day for the rest of his life. He can just imagine the look on Dazai's face - eyes wide, mouth open, just like some shitty Mackerel that'd been fished out of the river one too many times. He just wishes he could see it in person.

"And next time, either you pick up, or you can call me, got it?"

"Somehow, Chuuya makes that sound like a threat."

Dazai can't see the sharp smile he's wearing, but he'd bet that he can guess it's there anyway. It is a threat - but not one of the ones they're used to trading, where they throw words like knives and knives like knives, because both are the same thing anyway, to people like them, who've been saying next chance you've got, go die in a ditch since they met, but instead...

"What, as if that's ever stopped you before?"

He ends the call.

Prove to me that meant something. Prove it to me, Dazai.

...

He gets the call several days later, in the middle of a job, while he's hanging off the ceiling, and he could swear the bastard knew just how bad his timing was, but at the same time, it was as though the thing that had been still out of place had comfortably settled.

...

AN: In Dazai's defence, he didn't actually mean to leave Chuuya hanging up until then, because he had, in fact, actually been busy, and unable to really answer. And also, just as importantly, Dazai and emotions are not good friends on the best of days, and this requires a fair bit of accepting that yes, emotions are indeed involved, and he has to deal with them.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd stuff #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #soukoku #Leona fic #post-Dead Apple #alcohol mentions

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doodlelolly0910 · 6 years

Text

Close Encounters of the Spiritual Kind

Summary: Emma Nolan spent a lot of time alone, and that was fine by her. Because one is never truly alone. She should know. She can talk to dead people. What she didn’t expect was one of these spiritual encounters to hang around, taking her down a rabbit hole of missing women, revenge, and, least expected, love. Can she save the day and Killian Jones? Is there even another choice?

Read it from the beginning on AO3 and FFN!

A/N: Sorry this is updating so late in the evening! I've had a super busy day! I'm not going to say much about this chapter, just that it's another turning point :P As always, thank you to @kmomof4 for her fabulous beta skills and for generally being an awesome person, and to @courtorderedcake for making the AMAZING artwork for this fic. Also thanks to you, lovely readers! I appreciate and adore you all! Hope you like the new chapter!

Chapter 15

Water sluiced over Emma's body in hot rivulets, working the weariness from her muscles and bones. The water had finally stopped pooling a brownish red at her feet as it washed away the blood on her skin and hair, now running clear. Milah's presence had died down after the discussion earlier. It must have been exhausting to remain at that level of contact for so long. Most encounters didn't even last a fraction of that time. And frankly, Emma was quite ready for a break. It was nice to have some privacy, especially since she wasn't even safe from Milah inside her head, although it seemed she only picked up on thoughts that she intended to speak but didn't.

Emma wasn't sure how long she'd been standing under the stream of seemingly unending hot water, but she was fully intent on taking advantage of the moment before she had to dive headfirst back into the craziness that had become her life.

Jefferson had heard about the explosion and connected the dots. He had been furious, demanding that Emma return to base, threatening to call Regina and pull the plug, but she had begged a week out of him. A week with Hook, working the angle they'd come up with. He was adamant that this was the worst idea she'd ever come up with, especially since Emma refused to provide him with Hook's identity (in the poorly concealed guise that she simply did not know it), but at least she didn't have to hide her new alliance from him.

Well, she may not have told him that her cover was blown where Hook was concerned, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. This was about Gold. Taking him down, once and for all. Both of them understood what calling off this op meant.

This was their Hail Mary.

She cranked the water off when her legs grew tired of standing, drying herself with a scratchy terry cloth towel, and moving to stand in front of the sink. There was a dingy mirror there and she wiped the steam from it to survey her appearance. She looked like shit.

Bruises mottled her skin, concentrated especially where she had collided full force with the earth on her hip and shoulder. Her head still felt like her heart was pounding directly inside it, but at least the nausea and blurred vision had died down. The ringing in her ears remained, though, a result of being so close to the explosion. Dark circles ringed her eyes, betraying exactly how much sleep she'd gotten in the last two weeks since this all started.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“Swan?” Killian's voice asked gently through the thin particle board. “I have some clothes for you.”

Emma wrapped the towel around her, covering herself, and cracked the door. Hook's grin immediately widened at the sight of her, his eyes unabashedly raking over her barely concealed form and she rolled her eyes, snatching the bundle of fabric from his arm and slamming the door in his face again.

“No need for hostility, love,” his muffled voice teased. “Just appreciating the view.”

“You're about to appreciate my foot right up your ass,” she shot back, dropping the towel and aggressively yanking on the over large sweats he had given her, her muscles protesting the movement, and rolled them at the waist as they were about two sizes too big for her. She put her bra back on and pulled the (also too big) gray t-shirt over her head, hearing him chuckle on the other side of the thin barrier between them.

“If you say so, Swan,” he patronized, sounding slightly further away than before. Emma bristled at that, gathering her ruined clothes and flinging the door open with force, making it rattle on its hinges. She stomped her way into the small bedroom like room until she was standing in front of where he'd moved next to the queen sized bed.

“Let's get one thing straight, buddy,” she said, pointing a vicious finger in his amused face. “I'm here to do a job. Nothing else. So you can keep on looking, but this,” she motioned between them with her finger, “not gonna happen. Okay?”

Hook's expression didn't waver for a moment, holding her gaze so she could see the laughter dancing within the blue depths of his eyes.

“You're rather fetching when you're angry, has anyone ever told you that?”

Emma let out a noise that was half growl, half screech in exasperation and pushed past him, dropping her clothes with the rest of her things. She glanced at her gun and wondered briefly exactly how terrible it would be if it accidentally went off in the direction of his foot before retrieving the comb he'd set out for her and gingerly pulling the snarls from her towel dried hair. She braided her hair and tied it off with a rubber band she'd found sitting on the table next to the bed and sat on the mattress with a bounce, Killian's eyes on her the whole time.

“Okay, when I said you could keep looking, I didn't expect you to take it literally,” she said, not even turning to look at him.

“I'm a very literal person, Swan,” he replied lightly, moving towards her. “Are you almost ready to go? We'll stop by a shop I know and get you some clothes that fit, not that it doesn't speak to the primal male in me to see you in mine, and then we will get some supplies together.”

Emma stiffened and fought the urge to tilt her chin down to sniff the fabric covering her body to see if it smelled like him. Of course it would. She was in his damn clothes. He did this on purpose. She just knew he did.

“Yup,” she said, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. “Let's go.”

Emma was grateful that either Will or Killian had had the foresight to drive her car back to the compound. She needed to be the one that drove, needed to feel a little more in control. Less than an hour later, they were in a consignment shop in a quaint little part of the city that Emma had rarely been to. Of course it would be a second hand shop. Two spirits on the regular weren't enough to deal with.

“Time to make it a party, I guess,” Emma muttered under her breath and got out of the car. Killian was already waiting for her on the curb, his blue eyes watching her as she struggled not to wince getting out of her seat. She adjusted her oversized clothing and made her way towards him. She really needed to tell him what to expect in a place like this.

“Ready, Swan?” His voice interrupted her nervous thoughts and she blinked up at him, fighting the urge to chew on her nail.

“Uh, in just a minute. Before we go in there, this is a second hand shop, right?” she asked.

“Aye,” he replied, his brow furrowing as he tried to follow her train of thought. Emma bobbed her head once and looked down to her feet.

“Do you remember how I said Milah found me?”

“Something about a shirt? Wasn't it?”

“Ah, yes. Yep. See, I kinda have a thing about places like this. Sometimes the clothes that are donated belonged to people… well, people only I can talk to anymore…” she trailed off.

“Oh,” Killian replied, slightly surprised as he put the pieces of the puzzle together. “And these things are like a… trigger? When you're near them?”

Emma shook her head. “It isn't usually enough to be near them. I have to touch it. And suddenly I can see and hear things that no one else can. It's a little unsettling. And I've never experienced it with someone who, uh, knows about it.”

Hook seemed to weigh her words in his head, as if he were plotting the best course of action here. A slow, easy smile slipped onto his lips and he reached for her hand, tucking it into the crook of his bad arm and taking Emma completely by surprise.

“Well, I'll just have to touch the clothes first until you find something you like. We are shopping for knickers, aye?”

Emma snatched her arm back and slapped his shoulder, although it didn't come off nearly as aggressive as she wanted it to. She knew he was teasing and the thought of him handling her underwear… well, it was time to change the subject.

She marched past him, chin tilted up, and swung the door to the shop open. She gestured inside, allowing him to enter first with a mocking bow, mimicking his previous gesture from the compound.

Clothes shopping was a lot more fun with Hook than it was with Ruby, she found. He had made some genuinely helpful selections for her perusal, making it so she didn't even need to touch anything until she was sure she liked it. She didn't know how much she appreciated the gesture until it was actually happening.

It was a little strange how quickly Hook had flipped from staunch skeptic to making adjustments in his own behavior to accommodate for her “gift”, but it touched her in a way that no one else had been able to. She watched him as he jokingly held up items against his own chest on hangers, his tongue poking teasingly out of the corner of his mouth and laughed along with his jokes (even if her laughter was accompanied by a patented eye roll). She felt an overwhelming sense of comfort as they shopped and she was surprised to find the walls she had carefully constructed around her heart over the years slipping just the slightest bit. Killian Jones was unlike any man she had ever met, and, at least in this moment, she was glad to have him with her.

In the end, Emma ended up picking out two tank tops, a t-shirt, a sweater, and a pair of jeans and leggings, none of which (thankfully) sparked an encounter. Much to Killian's dismay, she did not get any underwear, but then she reminded him that they were in a second hand shop and, while they only accepted new in package items on that front, it was just a little much for her to consider.

“Does this mean you'll be going commando, then, Swan?” he murmured in her ear as they approached the cash register, his hand finding the small of her back with ease.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” she said with a bat of her eyelashes and she smirked as Killian's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

“Perhaps I would.” She heard him murmur as she approached the smiling red headed girl behind the counter. She flushed, her steady gait faltering for a moment, but she recovered herself quickly and smiled back at the cashier, loading her items on the counter.

“That'll be $38.57,” she said, packing the items into a bag for her. Emma dug in the pocket of her borrowed sweats for the money she had put there, extending the cash over the counter. The clerk's fingers swept over Emma's, the silver ring on her middle finger swiping over the flesh of her palm and Emma knew it was coming before it even happened.

Suddenly, she smelled fresh gingerbread and heard a voice she didn't recognize humming a song.

I love you, Addie, the voice said and Emma froze, her eyes blowing wide and she fought back the sudden shaking in her palm as she reached for her change.

“Have a good day!” the girl chirped, completely clueless to the inner turmoil Emma was having. Emma gave her a tight smile and said nothing, snatching the bag off the counter and bolting for the door as quickly as she could without looking completely mental.

She burst from the door and the encounter had all but faded away, the last remnants of baked goods still lingering in her sinuses, but she knew it, too, would be gone soon. She took several deep, calming breaths in the fresh air and let her heart rate return to normal.

“Swan?”

Killian. Shit.

She'd forgotten he was with her for a moment in her panic and she felt her heartbeat kick back up at the thought of having to explain her behavior to him.

Best to get it over with.

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to face him, her hands balled into fists at her side, making the plastic of the bag in her left hand crinkle.

“Are you alright, love? Did one of your… er… moments happen?” His voice was truly concerned and, instead of calming her, it only freaked her out more.

She nodded sharply, not meeting his eyes. “I think it was the clerk's grandmother maybe? I touched her ring,” she explained.

“That's…” here it comes, Emma thought, “amazing, love. Why didn't you tell her?”

If Emma's jaw could physically touch the pavement, she was positive it would have been scraping the concrete right about then. Killian was looking at her with such curiosity and fascination that it sent a thread of panic straight through her.

“Why didn't I tell her? Are you serious right now? What happened to ‘not this bit again’?” she snapped. Hook sighed.

“Look, Swan, I know I haven't been the most supportive of your… talents, and I won't deny that it is quite a shock to hear that someone you loved very much is still trying to reach you from the other side, but I…” he tapered off, stepping slightly closer to her and Emma held her breath. “If I can start to believe, anyone can. You can't expect people to believe you if you never tell anyone. You should tell her.” His eyes blazed into hers, willing her to take a leap of faith in herself, as he was with her.

Emma was sure she was going mad. Or he was. Maybe both of them.

"I am not a walking freak show! I'm not Sylvia fucking Browne, I'm not some foofy bullshit psychic bitch, and I just want to be left alone,” she ranted, flapping her arms at her sides. “I never asked to be this person. I just want to live my life! You have no idea what it’s like to feel crazy day in and day out, never knowing who you can trust enough to tell and I-"

Emma's mouth was still trying to move, spill over with reasons why, but it was hard to do with Killian's lips sealed against hers. She was shocked still, arms suspended mid air, interrupted in their wild gesturing, her mind overwhelmed with the thought of how perfect, how right this felt, and that was absolutely besides the point because Killian fucking Jones was kissing her. Her body finally caught up with what was happening and she pulled back, but his hooked arm had looped itself around her waist and held her fast to him.

"Please, darling, do shut up," he murmured only mere centimeters from her lips before her stunned psyche could formulate a response to the kiss at all. She felt anger boil in the pit of her stomach as she registered what he'd said, the sensation mixing with the fear and attraction already simmering there.

"You shut up," she growled, then fisted her hand in his shirt and slammed her lips back into his.

Kissing Killian Jones was unlike any other experience she had ever had in her life. His lips were softer than she expected, moving with expert precision over hers, his hand wrapping around the nape of her neck as his thumb stroked over her jawline. He nipped at her bottom lip and she opened for him on instinct, gasping at the first touch of his tongue to hers. He let out a soft little sound in the back of his throat that she might have missed, had they not been pressed so tightly together, and he tilted her head with a firm but gentle press of his fingers at her neck to kiss her more deeply. He kissed her like he would never get enough, stealing the very breath from her lungs until she felt like they were going to burst.

She pulled back when the need for oxygen became too much, still clinging to his collar like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Based on the slight sway in her balance when she broke away, it probably was. They stayed in each other's space in silence, save for the sound of their panting breaths intermingling in the air.

"That was..." Killian began, sounding completely wrecked. Emma released his collar and stepped back, blinking up at him and hopefully clearing some of the haze from her eyes. He looked just as wrecked as he sounded, his hooded eyes simmering with a dark heat, and she was sure she wasn't hiding her reaction all that well either. She needed to shut this down.

"Me shutting you up,” she filled in for him. He appeared confused for a moment and then a look of understanding swept over his features that made her heart clench tighter than it already was. “Let's get back."

She turned and began a stiff walk back to her car before she heard his soft murmur towards her retreating form.

“As you wish, Swan.”

#captain swan #cs ff au #cs ff #csff #cssns #close encounters of the spiritual kind #emma swan #captain hook #captain swan supernatural summer #killian jones #monday update #captain swan ff #chapter 15

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ycmiis-blog · 7 years

Text

now recording {chapter ten}

When upcoming YouTuber Lucy Heartfilia finds herself collaborating with popular channel Fairy Tail, she ends up getting more than she bargained for. ( ff.net // ao3 )

( ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE )

Natsu falls into his and Lucy's room, hanging onto the doorknob for dear life as Lucy giggles behind him. Neither of them are drunk, but Natsu ate far too much at dinner, even for him, and he's paying the price for it now. He doesn't even lean down to pet Happy on his way over to his bed, and so the blue cat heads to Lucy for his attention. Plue is already asleep on the couch.

"This is the real reason fate was kind enough to give us two beds," Lucy says as Natsu lands face-first in his pillow. "It's so you don't end up puking all over me in the middle of the night."

Natsu simply groans in response, shifting so he's lying on his side. Lucy isn't in her bed. Instead, she's rummaging through one of the inner pockets of her smallest suitcase, and in the dim light, Natsu can make out shampoo and conditioner. He resists the urge to groan again when he realises he'll have to take a shower before going to bed. He's already too comfortable to move.

"Don't these places come with free hair stuff?" Natsu asks, voice muffled by his pillow.

Lucy sends him one of those 'you clearly wouldn't understand' looks as she stands, towel and pyjamas draped over one arm. "My hair is long, Natsu. Those tiny little bottles of tiny little shampoo wouldn't even last me one shower. Besides, mine smells nicer."

Natsu nuzzles his pillow. "Whatever, I dunno anything about those name-brand things, anyway. I just use the supermarket one."

Lucy sighs, already halfway to the bathroom. "I'll be out in a bit."

The bathroom door closes and Natsu hears the faint sound of rushing water about half a minute later. He's tempted to fall asleep, but it isn't that late, and so he flicks on his bedside lamp and pulls out his script. He's been reading at least one scene every night before bed as some sort of memorisation tactic, and it seems to be working so far. He starts from where he and Lucy finished and reads his lines at least three times each, imagining how he should say them, muttering them to himself to test different inflections.

When he reaches the last scene of the film, he stops. This isn't the first time he's read through it, but it's the first time his co-lead has been in the other room, and he remembers Freed telling him earlier that Lucy had wanted to change the last scene so it was a hug instead of a kiss. It hadn't bothered him at the time, but now he wonders if there was a particular reason that Lucy was so adamant.

He's up to the very last line when the shower stops, and he places his script beside his pillow, knowing he'll lose it if he doesn't. Happy is curled up by his stomach, eyes closed. He gives the cat a soft scratch behind the ears as he waits for the bathroom door to open. Lucy emerges a minute or so later with wet hair and silk pyjamas, and she's surprised to see him awake.

"I thought you'd be in a food coma by now," she says, dumping her old clothes inside a different suitcase than the one from before.

"Nah, I was reading lines," Natsu says. He watches her for a moment, as if her body language will give him an answer to the question he wants to ask, but when it doesn't, he speaks anyway. "Hey, Lucy, can I ask you something?"

Lucy doesn't look at him as she slides into bed, a book in her hand. "Sure, what is it?"

"Why did you wanna write the kiss scene out of the movie so badly?" he asks, and he swears she freezes for a split second. "Freed told me, and I was just wondering. You don't need to do something you don't wanna do."

Lucy traces the spine of her book (an old classic he's never paid much attention to). "It's nothing to do with you, if that's what you're worried about."

That isn't really an answer, but that calms his worries. Just a little. "It's not that. I was just curious." When Lucy doesn't respond, only frowning at her book, he continues. "Okay, what if I guess what the problem is?"

That gets her attention. She looks up at him with an expression mixed with confusion and exasperation, but that's enough for him. "You're going to what?"

"Is it because you've never been kissed before? Is that it?" he asks, rather than responding to her question. He assumes it was rhetorical, anyway.

Lucy drops her book on the bedspread and glares at him. "I have been kissed, thank you very much. Any other genius guesses?"

Natsu already has his next question in mind, but he pretends to seriously consider it, rubbing his chin with narrowed eyes. Then he says, tone completely serious, "I know exactly what it is. You're a horrible kisser, aren't you?"

He drops the act as Lucy makes an outraged sound, laughing as she chucks a pillow at him. He catches it effortlessly. "That is not the case, you ass! I've been kissed by several people more than once, so your theory is complete and utter trash."

His laughter continues. It's so easy to tease Lucy, and it's quickly becoming one of his favourite pastimes. "Alright, alright, I'll take your word for it. For now. We'll see what the verdict is when we have to do that last scene, huh?" She narrows her eyes at him and Happy mews, as though telling her to calm down. Natsu likes to think that that's what's happening, anyway. "So, what? What's the problem?"

"I thought you were gonna guess?" Lucy grumbles, bringing her knees up to her chin.

"I couldn't think of anything else," Natsu says. "Nothing that would make you react like a crazy lady, anyway. It's not something like being camera-shy, is it? You're a natural, remember? I told you that before."

Lucy sighs and lies back on her remaining pillows. "That's different. I'm just being myself there. I'm not acting, and I definitely don't have to portray a love story. I chose the celestial princess because I love stars and I thought she sounded like a really cool character, but I don't know if I'll be able to do everything right."

Natsu is tempted to tease her again, but then he sees the worry in her eyes, the way she's pulled her bedspread so it covers half her face, as if to hide. This is something she's really struggling with, it seems. He doesn't quite know what to say, but he has to say something, and so he opens his mouth without thinking (as usual, but hopefully something good will come out of it this time).

"Hey," he says, softer than before. "You're Lucy Heartfilia and you're a badass in front of the camera, okay? You're gonna be the star of that film - no pun intended - and you're gonna be amazing, because that's how you are in front of a camera, and that's not gonna change 'cause you have a script. You wrote that script. No one can play the princess nearly as well as you can."

Lucy slowly lowers her covers so he can see her whole face. She's smiling. "Thanks, Natsu. That means a lot."

Before he can say, 'you're welcome' in return, he yawns. "Shit, I'm tired. Bedtime."

He switches his lamp off and Lucy abandons her book before turning hers off as well. They settle into their beds and Natsu closes his eyes, but is very aware of Lucy's presence on the opposite side of the room, barely an arm's length away. The only sound he can hear is the sound of the wind and the sea outside as well as the vibrant hum of the guests in the restaurant.

"Natsu?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I have my pillow back?"

"Nope."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"Ow!"

"Stay still."

"I would if you'd stop stabbing me!"

"It barely touched you, you big baby."

Natsu swears that Lisanna is doing this on purpose at this point. She's in the middle of fitting his costume, which is taking forever because so much goes into it, and the longer it takes, the more opportunities Lisanna has to accidentally poke him with the sewing pins. Or 'accidentally', in his opinion. Lisanna isn't that clumsy. She's enjoying this, he knows she is.

It's only the two of them and Mira in the room. Juvia is helping with the costumes, too, but she's gone to hunt down Elfman and Evergreen, who have mysteriously disappeared before their fitting was due to start. Natsu can't blame them. If he'd known that Lisanna would take the opportunity to make fun of him the entire time, he would have hidden away somewhere, too.

Still, with just Lisanna and Mira in the room, he can ask for advice, preferably without being made fun of. At least for the most part.

"Hey, guys, can I ask you something?"

Lisanna doesn't stop pinning bits and pieces of his costume, but Mira looks over from the sewing machine. "Of course, what is it?"

"What do you do when someone you're working with is nervous about something, but there's no way to change it, so you wanna make them as comfortable as possible with it, but you don't know how?" he asks all in one go, and he takes a deep breath once he's finished.

Lisanna actually looks at him this time. "This is about the kiss scene with Lucy, isn't it?"

Natsu coughs, but he can't deny it. "How'd you know?"

Both Lisanna and Mira give him a look as the latter says, "It was obvious. Besides, I was there when Lucy was talking about it to Levy and Freed, so it wasn't that hard to guess. Did she talk to you about it?"

"We talked about it last night, yeah." Natsu had been the one to bring it up, but he wasn't about to mention that. Perhaps Lucy hadn't wanted to tell him in the first place? That was plausible. "She said there was nothing in particular she was worried about, just the fact that she's not used to acting in front of the camera rather than being herself."

"I have an idea," Mira says. "Remember when we were all at the orphanage and we put on all those plays to raise money?"

"And you and Erza kept arguing over the lead role? Yeah."

Mira decides to ignore him. "Remember how Lisanna and I made those scented flowers for everyone, the one with the calming aromas, and we all used to keep them with us before we went onstage, and the entire backstage was filled with that calming scent, so we were able to stay focused? What if I made one of those for Lucy?"

Natsu grins, and if Lisanna wasn't holding a pin right by his collar, he would run over to Mira and hug her. "That's a great idea! Could you do it by tomorrow night? I think that's when we start shooting."

"Of course, they barely take ten minutes to make."

"Thanks!"

The door bursts open then, and Juvia appears in the doorway, Evergreen and Elfman behind her with red faces. "Juvia has apprehended Evergreen and Elfman!"

"And where were you two?" Lisanna asks, momentarily looking up from Natsu's costume. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago!"

Evergreen holds her head up high. "We - we just got sidetracked, that's all."

Lisanna narrows her eyes. "With what?"

Both their faces grow redder and Elfman bellows, "Nothing!"

The following night is when they start filming. Laxus and the rest of the film crew had been out there the previous night, getting in some landscape shots and blocking various scenes, searching the location for the best spots for different scenes. Everything is mostly set up when Natsu and Lucy arrive. Gajeel and Reedus are messing about with one of the tripods, and Lisanna is putting the finishing touches on Cana's costume. They're filming the celestial princess's arrival tonight as well as the fortune teller's scene. Natsu only came for moral support.

Once he's sure no one is around to disturb them, Natsu leads Lucy off to the side where some equipment cases are stacked, and he sits on one while she sits on another. She takes a moment to ensure her costume doesn't crinkle.

"What's up?" she asks, and while she smiles at him, he can tell she's nervous by the way her shoulders are up high, her feet constantly moving.

Taking the flower out from his pocket, he places it in the palm of his hand and offers it to her. "Here, this is for you. To help your nerves. Mira made it. She used to make them for all of us when we had to perform to raise money for the orphanage and we'd get nervous."

Lucy takes the flower, treating it with care as she brings it to her face and breathes in the scent. "It wonderful, thank you," she says, and Natsu is happy to see her shoulders relax. When she looks at him again, though, she seems confused. "You guys were in an orphanage?"

It takes Natsu a moment to catch up. Of course Lucy wouldn't know. He's so used to everyone else on the channel knowing about their circumstances, even those who weren't there in the orphanage days, that he forgot that no one had told Lucy. It's not public knowledge, and when they're asked in Q&As how they know each other, they just say that they're all childhood friends. There's no way she would know.

He responds casually, though. "Yeah, a lot of us are. That's how we all met and why we started the channel. Gramps suggested it to us when we were bored one summer, and the rest was history. Now it's a business, but we have fun."

Lucy's smile widens the slightest bit, and she twirls the flower around in her hand. "Well, thanks for telling me. It's nice to be trusted with stuff like that."

Natsu just smiles as Lucy is called over to begin shooting. "Of course! What are friends for?"

#nalu #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #natsu x lucy #**myfanfic #**nowrecording #updates on this are gonna be slow this month sIGH

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