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earlysunsetsoverambrose · 4 years

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Fool For You (2/4)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Part 2 of a request for @mynameisliterallycash!

When Lester said he was getting dog food, you figured he meant one or two small bags. Instead, you watched as he hefted two huge bulk bags of food over his shoulder. They each had to weigh around fifty pounds and he carried them like they were nothing. Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped, awestruck by the casual display of muscle.

Dazed still, you trailed after him to the checkout. While he made idle chatter with the clerk, he was completely unaware you were wrapped up in an entirely different check out of your own. Heat rose to your cheeks, allured by Lester’s physical strength as daydreams of him literally sweeping you off your feet flooded your thoughts. He turned around, snapping you back to reality as you tried to wipe the dopey expression off your face.

“Alright then, ya ready to –” Lester stopped short, sending you a puzzled look, “Hey are ya okay?”

“What? Of course, I am. Why are you asking?” you responded rapidly, embarrassed you’d been caught staring a third time.

“Ya sure? Ya look a little red. Ya ain’t gettin’ sick or nothin’, are ya?” Lester said concerned. He reached out his free hand and pressed its back against your forehead, “Don’t feel like ya got a fever.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” you stuttered, his hand against your head sending static through your brain as you tried to come up with an excuse, “It’s just from the cold air today, I think.”

“Okay, if ya say so.” Lester shrugged as he gestured for you to follow him out the door. You cleared your throat, thankful for the gust of wind that cooled the fire trapped in your face.

“You sure you don’t need help with those?” you asked.

“These? Nah, they ain’t so bad,” Lester responded, “You oughta see some of the bucks I gotta haul ‘round. Damn things weigh a ton! Nearly threw out my back once tryin’ to throw one on the truck.”

“Never knew you were a regular strongman. I guess it never occurred to me the deer can’t carry their own dead weight.” You said with growing admiration.

“That’s what I’m there for!” Lester said gleefully as he tossed the bags in the back. He closed the bed and rested against the truck as he crossed his arms.

“Well, thanks for taking me along for the ride, anyway.” You said, leaning next to him.

“Sure thing! I love bringin’ ya ‘long like this,” Lester told you, affectionately nudging you with his elbow, “I’ll tell ya, havin’ someone to talk to wouldn’t hurt during my day job neither. Might go a long way makin’ some of the time go by. Gets a little too quiet drivin’ ‘round all day all by myself.”

“Well, would you mind if I tagged along once in a while?” you proposed, looking up at him.

“Ya’d do that? I mean, ya’d really want to?” Lester asked excitedly, “It can get kinda gnarly.”

“Sure. Why not? Can’t be any gnarlier than Bo on a bad day. It’s got to be better than sitting around getting old in Ambrose.” You said, smiling back at him.

“Ya really don’t have to, if ya don’t want.” He said, giving you the option changing your mind.

“I know I don’t, but I would really like to go with you. That is, if you don’t mind.” You could practically see him vibrating with joy.

“Mind? Course I don’t mind! We’re gonna have so much fun together, I promise! Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best!” he exclaimed, elated. He jumped up from the truck and wrapped you up in a tight hug, swinging you back and forth. You couldn’t contain you laughter, even if you couldn’t breathe with the way he was squeezing you.

Lester set you back down, leaving you with only a ghost of the feeling of his warm embrace. You lingered in place trying to memorize the sensation while he went ahead to open the passenger door for you without a second thought. Once you were seated, he closed the door and got back in beside you. He threw you a carefree smile as you took off once again.

The two of you made lighthearted conversation on the way back to Lester’s cabin. You started going back and forth about the art of catching various animals that try to make a home in your garbage. Well, it was mostly Lester walking you through the process, breaking it down by species. You listened to how he had basically mastered the art of pest wrangling without killing them. Your heart swelled hearing how insistent he was that killing them wasn’t necessary. He never wanted to hurt anyone or anything if he could help it.

You were just about to ask him a question, when he abruptly hit the brakes. You both lurched forward before falling back into your seats. You glanced around, collecting yourself from the sudden stop.

“Is everything okay? Why’d you stop?” He didn’t answer, as he began to carefully scan your surroundings, “What are you looking for? Lester?”

“There she is!” Lester shouted, pressing his face up against his window, totally distracted from your questions. He smiled back at you over his shoulder, “Follow me!” He threw his door open without another word and jumped out, anxiously waiting for you to join him.

“Follow you where? Wait for me!” you called after him. You swiftly slid out of the car and onto the ground, clueless as to why you stopped here of all places. Lester darted ahead, chasing something you couldn’t see. You did your best to follow close, but he ducked down into the grass. You jogged to where he disappeared to find him on his knees, reveling in an assault of kisses from a delighted stray dog. Surprise took over your features, thrilled to be meeting a new friend.

“I missed ya too, girl!” Lester gasped through his uncontrollable laughter, echoing through the woods, “Ya been good a doggy? I bet ya have! Hope ya ain’t been too lonely out here!”

“Who’s this, Lester?” you asked in gentle voice, immediately enamored with the dog before you. She was about Jonesy’s size, with a blonde shaggy coat. She looked young with energy and enthusiasm that gave Lester a run for his money.

“Oh, Y/N! I’d like ya to meet Buttercup!” Lester said as he separated himself from the dog’s abundance of affection, “Buttercup, this is my friend Y/N!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Buttercup.” You said as you got down to offer your hand for a sniff. Buttercup took a few whiffs before deciding you were in fact a friend. Her tail wagged back and forth as she allowed you to pet her as well, “She’s so cute, Lester!”

“I know! Ain’t she the sweetest?” Lester concurred, “I found her snoozin’ in a patch of buttercups, so that’s what I started callin’ her!”

“How long has she been here?” you asked, scratching Buttercup behind the ears as she jumped up to rest her front paws on Lester’s shoulders, licking his face once more.

“A while now, I see a few strays runnin’ ‘round while I’m workin’. So, I try and visit with ‘em, if I can. But I left some bowls to fill when I’m on my route, case they get hungry.” Lester managed to gesture to an empty bowl a few feet away from you despite being smothered by more kisses. That explained the industrial sized bags of food. “Speaking of which – you hungry, Buttercup?” she barked in response.

Lester grabbed the bowl and jogged back to the truck to fill it with Buttercup in tow. Your eyes followed after him, the dopey look returning to your face. He conversed with Buttercup like an old friend as he scooped out her food. He was so attentive and kind, listening to her response and matching her excitement. They made their way back to you, thick as thieves. Lester set the bowl down when he made it back next to you, petting Buttercup while she dug into her meal, “Now, don’t eat so fast ya get sick, there’s plenty where that came from. Ole Lester’s got ya covered.”

You let out a deep sigh, endeared by the scene before you. Lester treated every person and creature with such consideration and care; and he never asked for anything in return. He had so much love in his heart and he was willing to share it with anyone who wanted it. With as much as he gives to everyone else, you wondered if anyone had ever told him how much they care about him or appreciate his presence in their life. He deserved to have someone who could give him back all the love he put into the world.

You wanted to be the one. You would finally treat him right. He all but stole your heart and he deserved to hear it from you, even if he might not feel the same. The consequences suddenly didn’t seem to matter so much in this moment. You wanted him to know how important he really was to you, because everyone deserves to know they are loved. You needed to tell him now while you were brave enough.

“Lester, there’s something I need to tell you.” You started, heartbeat racing in your ears, drowning out all the doubt and second thoughts. He perked up, listening close.

“Ya can tell me anythin’, Y/N. Ya know that.” Lester said softly, that warm smile pulling at your heartstrings again.

“Lester…I lo–” a deafening crack of thunder cut you off. With that, Buttercup hightailed it back into hiding. You gasped as you stood, starting after her, worried she may get lost or hurt in the impending storm. You moved to run after her, “Oh no, Buttercup, wait!”

“Hold up, Y/N! Ya can’t catch her, believe me, I tried.” Lester called to stop you, “I tried gettin’ her in the truck a few times to go to a shelter, but she don’t like it. If she ain’t ready to go, we can’t make her. She’ll come ‘round when she’s ready.”

“But we can’t just leave her out here.” You said, searching the area for any sign of her.

“Don’t worry ‘bout her too much, she’s a survivor.” Lester said, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “’Sides she’s got a little hideout not far from here. I found her there a couple times and left a few blankets after makin’ sure it wouldn’t cave in on her. It’ll keep her nice and dry ‘til this blows over. Alright? She’ll be safe, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, almost tearing up at the thought of her shivering somewhere all by herself.

“Sure as my name is Lester Sinclair. We can even come check on her tomorrow, if ya like.” Lester offered, “But we really oughta get outta here ‘fore the rain starts.”

“Okay,” you said hesitantly, “Promise we can check on her?”

“Yes ma’am, I swear. Cross my heart.” Lester assured you, drawing an X over his chest.

You both started toward the truck once more. You silently cursed the weather for interrupting your confession. The moment had passed and the doubts had returned to their work. Despite this, the affection swelling in your chest still pulled you to act on some part of it.

Without thinking too hard for once, you took Lester’s hand in yours. He glanced down to your linked hands and then back at you.

“Are ya scared of thunder storms?” He asked curiously.

“No. Why?” You responded, confused where he got that idea.

“Ya just look a little nervous is all. Thought ya might not like thunder or somethin’.” Lester explained, “I know storms used to scare the hell outta me when I was a kid. Never used to like ‘em one bit, ‘specially if I was by myself.”

“No, I kind of like storms.” You told him.

“Oh, then are your hands cold or somethin’?” Lester asked, gesturing with your connected hands, trying to understand the reason for the spontaneous handholding.

“Uh, well, not exac–”

“Cause ya look a little rosy again. Just makin’ sure ya ain’t gettin’ frostbite or nothin’.” He interjected.

“No, I’m okay.” You told him with your hundredth sigh of the day.

“Well, just in case. Take this.” He said as he released your hand and took off his hat to pull it over your eyes with a chuckle. He readjusted it on your head, revealing the way he was beaming at you. You rarely got to see him without his trusty hat. Even with his hair being a little sweaty and sticking every which way, it was still ridiculously tempting to run your fingers through. The energy radiating from him was so wholesome and pure. Looking at him, you could swear the clouds lifted and the sun was shining all of a sudden. He squeezed your cheeks in his hands, with a laugh, “There, now ain’t that better! Nice and toasty.”

“T-thanks, Les.” You stuttered, reaching up to feel the soft fabric of his hat, the heat in your cheeks only growing more intense under his hold on your face.

“My pleasure! I gotta say ya look mighty cute right now. Helluva lot better than I ever looked.” He told you, releasing your face and patting you on the back, “Now, let’s make like Buttercup and get to shelter!”

You made it back to the truck right before the heavy rain started pouring down. Lester took off down the road again, toward his cabin. You watched through the window as the storm raged on outside, matching the storm in your mind. The time had felt so right to tell Lester everything, but now you weren’t sure. What you were sure of, however, is that you needed to tell him soon. You thought you might actually burst if you didn’t. You couldn’t keep living like this.

#lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #Female reader #House of Wax #house of wax 2005 #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #My writing #tw: cursing #fool for you #request

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ma-sulevin · 4 years

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WHOA it’s here. It’s not finished because there are going to be like two more chapters, but GOOD NEWS that’s more smut for you. There’s also, like, actually a little plot this time.

Pairing: James Vega/Avery Ryder Rating: E Warnings: No warnings, just smut. Check out the tags on AO3. Word Count: 5969, chapter one of three.

Read it on AO3 instead, or catch up on their story from the beginning.

---

Avery’s halfway through her third reading of an article her doctor gave her about why the new synthetic DNA that had been found mixed with most humans after the end of the Reaper War had made the most popular contraceptive implants less effective when her omnitool chimes with James’ special chime. She jumps and drops the datapad. It clatters to the floor and Jonesy opens one eye to glare at her from where he’s napping on the other chair.

The orange interface pops up when she lifts her wrist to display James’ message: I found the perfect hotel for when you visit! Dec 30-Jan 5 still good??

Oh, James. She’s going to have to tell him before January. It's a few months away, but… she's going to have to tell him.

Another message comes through as she’s considering the first. I know you’ve been sick so thought I’d cheer you up. And then: Whatdid the doctor say?

She closes her omnitool without replying. She can’t talk to him right now. She can’t. She needs to talk this out before she brings him into it, needs to weigh her options and have… she needs help. She would have talked to her mom about all this, before, would have called her up when she first felt sick and gotten a ride to the doctor and then had someone to comfort her when she wanted to cry after.

Every unsafe encounter they had plays out behind her eyelids, in vivid detail: the broken condom, the drunken fuck behind Sam’s house, the sober but ill-advised condom-free sex the rest of the weekend before he shipped out.

One of those times did it.

They’re not goddamn teenagers. This was stupid, and they should have known better. There’s not any fucking excuse for this.

Her omnitool vibrates as James calls her, and she answers out of habit before she realizes what she’s doing.

“Hey, birdie!” His voice is optimistic, almost aggressively so, and she realizes he’s probably convinced she’s dying and doesn’t want to tell him. “You home yet?”

“Yeah, I’m home,” she says, and then… shit.

She chokes on a sob as her vision starts to swim, and she claps a hand over her mouth to stop herself from making any noise that will out her reaction to James.

It doesn’t work.

“What’s wrong?” His response is immediate, his voice low and comforting, and when she doesn’t respond right away she hears him shuffling around over the audio connection. He says something she can’t hear to someone she can’t see, then a door clicks closed and he’s speaking to her again, “Talk to me, Avery. What did the doctor say?”

She clears her throat and wipes at her eyes. “I, uh. I’m pregnant.”

His response is slower this time. It gives her enough time to take a few gasping breaths and for Jonesy to drag himself away from the sun and drape himself over her lap instead, a spot of comfort for the human who took him in after the reapers left.

“What?”

“Yeah, uh… I guess I’m due at the beginning of June.”

She can hear him sighing over the connection, a long exhale that makes her eyes well with more tears. She didn’t mean for this to happen, she thought she was preventing it, even if she wasn’t being as careful as she should have been.

“Birdie,” he says, still kind of sighing, “I thought you were going to tell me something awful.”

“I wouldn’t say this is great news.”

“But you’re okay, you’re not sick.” There’s more shuffling from his end of the line, more mysterious noises she can’t put a name to since he’s on the other side of the planet. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, miserable, voice on the edge of cracking again.

“It isn’t your fault—”

“It kinda is, though.” Avery’s not ready to let it go, but James doesn’t seem to be either.

“If anyone’s to blame,” he interrupts, voice a little louder to get her attention before it returns to the lower, more serious tone he’s been using, “it’s me. I wasn’t being careful, and I’m sorry.”

Avery groans and pulls Jonesy up to press her face into his fur. He chirps a little and lets her, starting to purr under her attention. “We can do this all day. I know, I know we said we’re going to try the whole long-distance boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but… this isn’t something we talked about, and I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t want you to feel, like, trapped or anything.”

“We did talk about it.” James doesn’t quite cut her off again, but it’s a near thing, and her temper starts to spark and then fades right away at his words. “You told me you wanted a family, and I said we’d make beautiful babies, and then we started making out on your sink.”

“That’s not really, that’s not really talking about it,” she protests, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks at the memory. “Not, like, ‘what if this happens this weekend,’ talking about it, it was more like ‘generally in the future we have this in common.’ Right?”

“Sure, but…” He trails off, muffles a groan, starts again. “I told you before, I’m not Alec. You don’t have to doubt me. I know this is, uh, way sooner than we thought it would be, but if you’re in this, I’m in this. All the way.”

Avery starts crying again, quietly this time. She hadn’t really had enough time to think about how James would react, but this is more than she could have hoped for. He doesn’t even sound worried or scared or any of the other emotions that have been swirling around in her mind since she found out.

He just sounds… supportive.

Here for her.

No matter what.

“If you still can, I still want you to visit in January. I found a great little house on the beach, it’s new construction obviously, but it’s in the old style. You’ll love it.”

She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “January?”

“Yeah, birdie.” He sounds hopeful now, more relaxed, and she smiles despite herself. “It’ll be nice and hot, and I have a few days off between training. It’ll be perfect. Just the… just the three of us.”

She laughs, just a little, and James does too.

“Come on, we’re in this together, right? I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” A pause, as she considers, tries to figure out how pregnant she’ll be in January, decides it’s probably okay. “I’ll come see you.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, can picture it so clearly in her mind. “I can’t wait.”

And, despite the tears still threatening to come back, she can’t either.

—-

James is fucking terrified. He’d never ever tell Avery that in a million years, absolutely unwilling to freak her out or make her worry for even a second that he’s going to leave her or treat their baby like Alec treated her, but he’s terrified about the future.

Sam gets an earful about it every time he comes up with a new concern, and she calms him down or calls him an idiot, depending on what the problem is, at least once a week. With her on his side, he’s able to listen to Avery’s worries and excitement (depending on where her mood has swung) and calm her down or gas her up, whatever she needs, whatever support he can offer her from the other side of the planet.

N-school is tough, and he’s exhausted so much of the time, and he misses her with every fiber of his being. He wants to be there with her right now, he wants to be home in her apartment, but every time he casually mentions putting off N-school for a year or two, she yells at him.

She’s not going to be the reason he puts off his dreams, even if his dreams are keeping them apart.

They’re starting a family at the worst possible time, and he can’t be with her, and he’s in love with her and she doesn’t even know it yet because he’s too much of a fucking coward to tell her.

He keeps trying, wants to tell her when they’re video chatting, staying up way too late to share their secrets; he wants to tell her every time she sends him an ultrasound, every time she sends him a picture of her belly as it grows (he still thinks it’s pretty small, even though she insists she already feels big), every time she sends him a dirty picture when he’s in class, and every time she smiles at him, flushed and happy, over a late-night vid call that ended in yet another round of phone sex.

He wants to tell her, but he’s a coward, and he’s afraid of her response, and anyway, shouldn’t that kind of confession be in person?

That’s what he’s been telling himself at least, and so he’s kept his mouth shut, and he’s fucking terrified because he’s going to be a dad and he’s in love with his girlfriend and he’s standing at the shuttleport with flowers clutched in sweaty hands because he wants to give her every good thing in the world.

He’s not prepared to see her being pushed in a wheelchair by a put-upon employee, looking absolutely murderous as she slouches with her shoulders up around her ears.

She catches his eyes and her face flashes as red as her hair, but she still points him out to the man pushing her. They change course and head straight for him, the employee looking at James with something like pity before he manages to smooth his expression back out into something politely neutral.

“What the — what happened?”

He looks from Avery to the man helping her and back, completely torn, flowers forgotten in his hands as he lowers them to his side.

Avery hauls in a deep breath. “You get a little motion sick—”

“She passed out, sir,” the man says, obviously done with Avery’s bullshit if the interruption and somewhat dead expression in his eyes is any indication. “It’s company policy to assist ill passengers to either medical help or to their destinations.”

“Okay, uhh, thank you.” James stares at him for another minute before moving a little closer and offering Avery his free hand. She takes it with a mutinous expression and stands up mostly under her own power, stumbling a little before she’s fully upright. She flushes red again, this time, he thinks, in embarrassment. “Do you have — oh, thanks.”

The man hands James a duffle bag and takes the wheelchair with him as he leaves, and James stands staring at Avery for several seconds before he manages to find his words.

“You passed out?”

She shrugs and avoids his eyes. “Just a little.”

“Birdie—”

“I just get motion sick anyway and the baby makes it worse. I promise I’m okay. Hey.” She finally looks up and meets his eyes, reaches out and puts her hands on his waist. “I missed you.”

The little knot of terror and worry relaxes a little when he sees her smiling at him, a soft expression aimed at him, close enough to kiss… so he does, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers in the softest kiss he can manage as she tries to push herself closer and hold him in place with her fingers tugging at his shirt.

He forces himself back up to his full height and smiles widely at the little pout she gives him.

“C’mon, let’s go to the house. Here.” He hands her the flowers he brought with him, excitement briefly overwhelming the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. She smiles and gives the bouquet a tentative sniff before inhaling again, more deeply.

He waits for her to pass judgment — on the flowers, on him, on the trip in general — and he’s still staring at her when she opens her eyes and offers him a wide, bright smile. She looks more like her old self, the one he remembers from London, color coming back into her cheeks and something playful in her expression.

“Get moving, soldier. We have a vacation to start.”

He grins down at her and slings her duffle over his shoulder before taking her hand. She lets him pull her outside to flag down a taxi, then she snuggles up against his side and slips her hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“I’m glad you could come.” He wraps his free arm around her shoulders and squeezes, and when she giggles, the noise is pressed against his ribs. He glances down and all he can see is one of her eyes as she peers up sideways at him.

“You’re going to be extra glad when you see what I brought.”

A taxi pulls up and the driver pops the trunk for her bag. James detangles himself from her, taking a second to enjoy the sight of her smirking at him with one hand resting on the bump that her shirt mostly hides.

“Oh? You bring something fun?”

She shrugs one shoulder and then somehow manages to look up at him from under her lashes without moving, and his heart does a funny little flip in his chest that has nothing to do with the promise written on her face and more to do with the confession he wants to make.

“A few things I think you’ll enjoy. You have to wait.”

He opens the door for her and snags a lingering kiss before she climbs in, swiping his tongue against her lower lip just to see the way it makes her eyes go dark and her lips part a bit.

Dios, she’s beautiful.

He loves her.

She climbs in the taxi with a wink, and he follows her without another word.

—-

He’s a little disappointed but not particularly surprised when she falls asleep on the way to their little rental house, her head tucked against his shoulder and her fingers tangled up in his like she never wants to let go.

She snores a little bit the whole way there, earning her several amused looks from the driver. James just keeps her hand tight in his and the warmth locked in his chest.

He can’t stop himself from smiling, though, not with her resting against him.

It almost makes him wish he hadn’t come to N-school at all.

She’s groggy when he wakes her up, rubbing at her eyes and smearing her mascara without noticing, and he ushers her into the rental without stopping to point out how close they are to the ocean, how private it is with the closely-growing foliage, or how he came out early and stocked the kitchen so they’d only have to go out in public if they want to. He just points her in the direction of the bed and takes off her shoes when she drops onto the blankets without undressing at all.

He putters around the house, looking for something to do to give her space. He puts the flowers in water, puts her bag up next to his, then eventually settles on the bed next to her with the datapad he wasn’t supposed to bring to work on reports for N-school he isn’t supposed to start until after she goes back to London.

He wonders if she’ll be willing to ask for a transfer to Brazil, or if she’ll want to stay in London where she has more friends, something of a support system for when he’s too busy or gone.

At least in London, she has Sam.

He decides he won’t ask.

At some point, she rolls over and shifts higher up the bed, opening one eye to stare at him like she’s not sure who he is or why he’s in her bed, then she blinks and a slow smile stretches across her face. She reaches out one hand for him, and he wraps his fingers around hers until she falls back asleep about ten seconds later.

It’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

She finally wakes up after a couple hours and staggers to the bathroom without saying anything. She pops back out a minute later, all smiles, shaking out red hair that’s almost down to her elbows now.

He puts the datapad away and moves to sit up right at the edge of the mattress.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm…” She comes to stand between his knees and he lets his hands rest on her hips, easy as anything, like it hasn’t been nearly five months since he’s seen her. She stops playing with her hair and runs her fingers into his the best she can with most of it so short. “You shouldn’t’ve let me sleep so long.”

He slips his hands up under her shirt to rest against her skin. “You needed it.”

She makes a quiet little humming noise, not really agreeing or disagreeing, and leans in close like she’s going to kiss him. Their noses brush together, but she doesn’t press her lips to his, and he can’t help but tighten his grip on her.

“You know what else I need?”

He thinks he has a pretty good idea, but when he tilts his head up to kiss her, she stays just far enough away so he can’t.

“Birdie…”

She dips her head and he tilts his chin up, but she refuses to come close enough, her fingers tightening on his scalp in a way that sends shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He loves when she’s like this.

He loves it.

“I believe I was promised a nice, big, delicious —” He tries to pull her closer mid-sentence, but she resists as her grin grows, “—fruity drink, and a white-sand beach, and a chance to show off the little bikini I bought.”

She nips his lower lip instead of kissing him and slips out of his grip as he groans. He can hear her giggling to herself as she grabs her bag and disappears back into the bathroom with it, leaving him to sit on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

He’s been waiting so long to get his hands on her and he can’t even lie to himself to say he’s annoyed with her teasing.

He loves that too.

He’s still sitting on the bed when she emerges from the bathroom once more, this time in the little bikini she’d promised, the one he’d requested be held together with strings. It’s tiny and black, and it shows off her curves, and all he can think about is tangling his fingers in all that red hair and refusing to let her out of the house all week.

He doesn’t realize he’s just staring at her with his mouth open until she starts to laugh, walking closer with an exaggerated sway in her step to stand between his knees again.

She tips his chin up with her fingers. “See something you like?”

“Uhh… can I…” His hands hover in the air on either side of her stomach, a swirl of confusing feelings washing over him. He wants to yank her into his lap, roll them over on the bed, absolutely devour her; he wants to take her to the beach, take her to his favorite restaurant, show her off to the world; he wants to hold her and tell her she’s beautiful, that he loves her, that he can’t wait to meet their baby. He wants.

She’s smiling at him still, but it’s a little softer, something in her eyes he can’t quite identify. “Go ahead.”

He’s tentative as he finally touches her, hands running over her biotic-warm skin, over scars and skin weaves and the surprisingly firm slope that leads down to her belly button. He brushes his fingertips across her skin, just the barest of touches, and she rests her hands on the small of her back as she waits for him to finish exploring this new part of her.

“Is she, um. Is she awake?” The question feels silly, he feels silly for asking it, but Avery doesn’t look like she’s laughing at him.

She just looks happy.

She puts her hand next to his as she shakes her head, then she pushes hard against the bump. “Nope. Lazy little thing.”

“Hey, growing is a hard job.” He leans forward and kisses the biggest part of the bump, then just under the string of her bikini top in something meant to be little gestures of affection but that makes her inhale sharply instead. He rests his chin there and looks up at her, unable to stop from smirking when he sees her cheeks stained pink. “Give her a break.”

He slides his hands around to rest on her back and pulls, and this time she lets him tug her all the way into his lap. She settles with her knees on either side of his hips and rests her hands on his shoulders.

“She can have a break when I get one,” Avery says, voice prim, repeating something she always says, and then she finally finally kisses him.

Oh, he’s missed this.

She kisses him like she can’t get enough, like she’d devour him if she could, hungry and desperate and everything he’s been waiting for. He opens his mouth to her and lets her lick into it as he runs his hands up her back. She’s warm and delicious and everything he wants, and he pulls at the bow holding her bikini top together without thinking about it.

She giggles and bites at his lower lip, tugging as she leans back before releasing him to pull her top off and drop it to the floor.

“Guess we can look at the beach later?” She arches her back as she speaks, and he barely hears her words as his gaze is drawn, as she intended, to her breasts and nipples that are little darker than he remembers, but still beautiful all the same.

He doesn’t bother to answer whatever she asked, choosing instead to let her figure it out by kissing down between the valley of her breasts and then over, keeping her in his lap with one hand on her back and cupping the weight of her breast with the other, squeezing, licking and sucking at the hard peak as she gasps and squirms in his grip.

The pressure of her body on his dick is getting to him, her restless little movements just making him harder, and he groans around her flesh in his mouth as she manages to hit him just right, grinding against the bulge trapped in his pants like she was always meant to do this.

“Fuck, I missed this,” she says, voice small and breathy. She digs her fingernails into his scalp and holds him close, like he’d ever willingly push her away right now. “Your tongue is amazing. I could come just from this.”

She gives her hips another strong thrust as she does, like she’s trying to prove her point, and he can’t help but peer up at her.

He’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

He braces his feet better on the floor and moves both his hands to her hips to help guide her, forcing her hips into a steady, rolling movement over his lap until he hears her shuddering little gasps each time he hits her clit just right. He keeps his mouth busy leaving little nipping kisses across her chest, giving both breasts the kind of attention he’s literally been dreaming about, letting her ramble about how good he is to her, just giving her all the attention she deserves until…

Her breath catches in her throat and then bursts out of her in a high-pitched whine, and her hips fight back against the motion of his hands, and her fingernails dig into his scalp.

She’s close, she’s so close he knows she just needs a little push, and so he groans against her chest and bites down just enough to change up the sensation, just enough to give his kisses that edge, and then she’s falling apart in his hands just like he knew she would.

A wordless cry falls from her lips and she shudders through it, holding him tight and pressing against him as hard as she can. It’s beautiful, and he can’t keep his eyes off her, off the goosebumps that flow over her skin and the red flush that reaches from her face down across her chest.

He wants to make her feel this good every single day of her life.

She pulls away after a moment, still panting, a wide grin on her face as she opens lust-darkened eyes and stares down at him.

He smirks up at her, stupidly pleased, and then she’s pushing at his shoulders so he’ll fall onto his back.

“You have five seconds to get your clothes off,” she informs him, and then she stands up to follow her own command.

It takes more than five seconds, but he’s so ready to get his pants off that he doesn’t argue, jumping up and stripping in record time as Avery simply pushes her bikini bottoms over her hips and leaves them on the floor.

She’s already scooting back on the bed to get comfortable, her eyes on his dick where he’s stroking it because he can’t help but touch it to push back the desire to sink into her biotic-hot body and forget everything else in the galaxy.

He crawls over her, and she opens up for him, bracketing his waist with her knees and parting her lips to make their first kiss deep and wet, already trying to angle her hips up to meet his even as he keeps his weight braced up and well away from her.

She makes a little frustrated noise, grabbing for his dog tags like she always does. “C’mon, Jimmy.”

He lets her pull her close enough to kiss her, a teasing little swipe of his tongue across her lower lip. She releases him with a smile, then she squeals as he leans down and bites at her nipple once more, still reddened and swollen from his earlier attention.

He kisses between her breasts, down her stomach, across her hip, pausing to nip at her inner thigh when she spreads her legs further apart for the breadth of his shoulders.

She’s grinning down at him when he looks up at her, something smug on her face as she anticipates what he’s about to do.

“I missed that tongue of yours while you’ve been here.”

“That right?” He licks over the spot he bit and watches as she bites her lower lip. “Well, it missed you too.”

She huffs out a laugh and flops back onto the pillows, but her legs stay open and her hips cant up toward his mouth, eager like always.

He gives in, like always.

The taste of her bursts bright and tart on his tongue, and he moans against her as he licks up her slit. He presses his tongue in deep when she starts to grind up against his face, then moves a little closer in on his elbows so he can start up a fast pattern over her clit just to hear her—

She swears roundly, hands landing on the back of his head like they belong there, tugging him closer like he’d try to leave.

He never wants to leave.

He holds her hips as steady as he can with his arms under her thighs, and doesn’t put effort into teasing her in favor of just giving her what she wants. She came all this way to see him, and he’s going to make sure she never forgets what he’s able to do for her, what he’s able to coax out of her body.

Her quiet groans become louder, cries of his name and little admissions that make his dick ache to be inside of her, unhappy to be pushed into the mattress for the time being.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” she says, voice breathy and rambling like she can’t help it, “I don’t know how I snagged you, don’t know how there aren’t girls lining up for a turn.”

His laugh is buried deep in her cunt but she hears it anyway, or she feels it, because she bites off a high-pitched moan that lets him know she’s close but not quite there before she picks back up where she left off.

“Mmm, yeah, you know it’s true just look at you, fucking hungry for it, couldn’t even wait until after we went to the beach.”

He’s not about to pull his mouth free to remind her that she’s the one who started teasing him, she’s the one who was talking about what big delicious things she needed, so he just tightens his grip on her hips and closes his eyes and focuses on the way his tongue is dancing over her clit because she’s so close and if he can just get her in the right spot…

“Fuck, right there.” She catches her breath, lets it out in a whoosh, and her thighs start to shake by his ears. “I’m gonna come, baby.”

It’s the only time she calls him baby, right as she’s about to come, and he loves to hear it, loves to coax it or force it out of her, and he just has to wait one more second she’s so close—

When she comes it’s absolutely silent, her body going taught around him, her fingers digging painfully into his scalp, her thighs tense and shaking, blocking him in from moving, her feet pressed against his sides like she can hold him there.

He keeps licking her until she catches her breath and manages to wail, the sound ripped from her almost against her will, and then she’s pushing him away because she’s too sensitive now, but he needs to be able to breathe anyway.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his face as she tries to catch her breath, legs still spread obscenely on either side of him, one arm hooked over her face so she can hide her eyes behind her elbow.

“That good, huh?”

“Fuck you,” she says, absolutely no venom in her voice.

He snickers and leans over her, bracing his weight on his elbows and knees, kissing her under her arm. She kisses him back and hooks her elbow around the back of his neck instead of holding it over her face. She licks his lips, into his mouth, moaning at the taste of herself like she always does, and he follows his instincts to sink down lower when he feels her legs come up around his hips too.

Her stomach bumps against his before he’s expecting it to, and he tries to push back up before she locks her ankles at the small of his back.

“Nuh-uh,” she says, fucked out and eloquent.

“You sure this is—” He trails off because she finally opens her eyes and looks up at him, moving her hands around to cup his jaw.

Her fingers trace his cheeks, dance over the scar that traces across his face, and his heart does that same little flop as before. “Perfectly safe. Recommended, even. I’ll tell you if something hurts, just, please, please for the love of god, fuck me.”

Well.

He can’t argue with that.

He kisses her again, then pulls away with a little smirk. “Yes, ma’am.”

She lets go of his neck and puts her hands flat on the headboard behind her, smirking right back, and he takes his cue to sit back on his heels.

He takes himself in hand and lines up, not bothering to tease anymore, slipping deep inside her with one slow, delicious thrust.

He can barely hear her whimper over his own groan at being inside of her again. It’s everything he’s been missing and somehow better than he remembered, tight and almost too hot and he never, ever wants to leave.

When he doesn’t move fast enough for her, too busy enjoying the feeling of being inside her again, she uses her leverage to push her hips hard into his, nearly knocking him off-balance

“Goddamn,” he says, forcing the word out through grit teeth. “Okay. You asked for it.”

He looks down to see her face break into a wide, dirty smile, her face flushed and hair sticking to her damp forehead.

And then he pulls out, and pushes back in, hard, and he grins at the delighted laugh that pushes from Avery’s throat.

He can do better than that.

He fucks her, hard, just like she asked, a punishing pace that has sweat dripping from his scalp and pleasure shooting up his spine faster than he’d like.

It has been a long time.

He puts his hands on her ass and lifts her hips onto his thighs, and the next thrust makes her howl and arch her back, a delighted sound that he wants her to make again, so he grits his teeth together against the mounting pleasure and keeps fucking going.

She’s going to come again.

She deserves it.

“This what you wanted, birdie?” His voice is rough, words forced out between sharp thrusts and harsh breaths, but they have the effect he wanted. She arches again, squirming against his bruising grip, face twisted in what he would think is pain if he didn’t know better. “This what you flew all the way out here for?”

Her “Yes!” is frantic, barely an answer to his question and more of a general exclamation of approval, and he smiles to himself as he shifts his grip on her so he can bring his right hand to her clit. She shrieks again when he presses his thumb against it, hips moving a little slower now so he can focus, but no less hard, and she absolutely howls with it.

She’s so close.

He is too.

“Come for me,” he says, trying to make it sound more like a demand and less like the plea it is. “Let me fucking feel you.”

She nods, fast, eyes squeezed closed and mouth open, chest heaving as she draws in ragged breaths.

He presses harder with his thumb, his orgasm threatening to overwhelm him at any moment, praying, praying, praying…

She begins to come barely a second before him, his name dripping from her lips as her cunt clenches around him, and then he can’t hold on for anything. He fucks through it, pleasure bursting through him and making his vision go white, and he curls around her to bury his face in the crook of her neck as he comes inside her.

When he comes back to himself, she’s rubbing circles on his back with one hand, the other cupping the back of his head.

“Doing okay there?”

She sounds amused, so he just groans in answer, earning the giggle he was aiming for.

“You’re gonna crush me,” she informs him, still sounding amused.

He rolls to the side but doesn’t let go of her, tugging until her back is against his front and her hair is all over his face. It’s annoying, but he can’t make himself care.

She wiggles in his grip. “I thought you were taking me to the beach.”

He squeezes her tighter, presses a kiss to the back of her neck where he thinks her amp port is. “I’m just catching my breath. Give me a minute.”

He’s asleep before he hears her response.

#james vega #mass effect #x: say you won't let go #my writing #pregnancy #oc: avery ryder

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elysiumwaits · 5 years

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Not to Me, Bro, Not If it’s You

So by now the scene from Orestes has made it’s rounds - the “It’s rotten work” “Not to me, not if it’s you” scene - which is great and uuuh this is @whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome‘s fault, by which I mean it’s my fault and they just... enabled me. They also told me to tag @modeans2 - hi, I don’t think we’ve spoken, I just do what they say.

So here’s Reilly and Jonesy re-enacting that scene from Orestes, but without the whole matricide thing. Also, important to note, I used a different translation than the one that the popular post came from, so dialogue may seem a bit wonky. This is the translation I used.

I wrote this in 10 minutes, sorry!

Also find this on AO3.

Reilly doesn’t get sick often. Immune system made of steel with a little bit of sheer force of will - “I just decide not to be sick, bro. Then I just feel better!” - so it’s not something that they have to deal with on a regular basis. Jonesy doesn’t get sick that often either, so things like summer colds don’t really even come up in conversation.

Which is why when things like summer colds come around, like actually come around, neither of them know what to do. But there’s Reilly, sniffling and sneezing and making a particularly pathetic racket over there on the couch - or at least, Jonesy’s going to assume that’s Reilly, and not that Reilly’s comforter has come to life and also gotten sick.

Eventually, though, after about ten minutes, Reilly’s head actually pops out of the blanket. There’s some wiggling, and a hand also pops out, holding a roll of toilet paper. And then Jonesy is grimacing, because that’s a really gross sound Reilly’s making into the toilet paper, but mostly Jonesy’s just concerned.

“Can I, uh,” Jonesy starts, and stops because he’s not exactly sure what he’s about to offer. Finally, he settles on, “help? Can I help, bro?”

“Nah, bro.” Reilly’s hand disappears back into the comforter with the toilet paper. “You should-” Sniff. “You should probably clear out, bro, you’re gonna get sick. Leave me here to die, save yourself.”

“You want me to, uh,” Jonesy starts, and then stops again. Shit, what do sick people need? What did his mom do? “Call your mom, bro?”

“Nah, bro, she’ll just cry when I die, bro.” Reilly’s head disappears back into the comforter too.

Jonesy frowns. “I’ll cry when you die, bro.”

“I’m not really gonna die,” Reilly says, muffled in the blanket. “I just need, like. Sick people stuff, bro. NyQuil and Kleenex.”

There it is, something Jonesy can do to help. He’s already out of his own chair. “I can get you that, bro! I’ll take care of you.”

“Nah, bro,” Reilly says again, and there’s this motion, like he’s waving Jonesy away, but it’s trapped under the comforter. “Nah, taking care of someone sick is like… it sucks.”

He stops, furrows his brow and frowns again. “It doesn’t suck. Not for me, bro, not if I’m taking care of you.”

A moment, and then Reilly pokes his head out. “You’ll just get sick, bro.”

“Don’t worry about it, bro!” Jonesy replies. “Then you’ll take care of me. Even though it sucks.”

“It wouldn’t suck. Not if it’s taking care of you, bro.”

“Aw, bro,” Jonesy says, and scuffs his foot, looks away so that Reilly doesn’t see him blush and misses Reilly looking pleased. When he looks back, Reilly’s ducked his head back into the comforter, so that Jonesy doesn’t see his blush.

#reilly and jonesy #fanfiction #writing

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unholyhelbiglinked · 5 years

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Arachnid | 001

READ IT ON AO3 | CHECK IT OUT FROM THE START

Dead men tell no tales. That’s the first thing Michelle Jones’s father taught her when she was younger. Secrets never spilled from cold blue lips. Drowning souls could only breathe water. All the good stuff that a man should instill in his daughter when she was sitting cross-legged in a sandbox with a plastic shovel in hand.

He wiped the hair from her face and gave her his dazzling Jones smile that could get him so far in this world. It was crooked, yet devilish at the same time, warm like the sun and hot like the fire that pushed into a starless sky.

Then a passing El Dorado with its windows tinted and its front bumper dragging opened fire. A small park on the corner of seventh and Waldon got four smoking bullet holes through its brand new swing set donated by the city- and two in Phillip Jones ’s chest.

MJ didn’t remember much of that day, but she had heard the tales; they had morphed over the years. The make and model of the car had changed. The sandbox had shifted to a bench on the far end of the park, and the bullets had multiplied in numbers, but never lowered, because it should take more than two shots to put one of the most powerful men in Queen’s in the ground.

She does remember the blood. The way stained his smile orange and two slowly growing spots of crimson quickly wetted his chest before he fell forward and someone grabbed her while the car did it’s best to speed off, sputtering toxic smog through the city like a carbon trail.

“Earth to MJ,” The words startled her, and she glanced up from the blank notebook page that was in front of her. Gayle was holding up two sundresses that looked the same in length and style. One pattern was red and the other was a seafoam green. Both, MJ was sure, would look fine. “You spaced out on me for a second, everything okay?”

Gayle Jones was a sophomore in college that still came back to their small place in the Bronx to leech of whatever their Aunt Anna decided to cook for the night and to do laundry. Not that any of them minded, but it made their tearful farewells at the college dorms seem a little less meaningful if she slithered her way into her old room every other weekend.

She carried the greenest eyes Michelle Jones had ever seen, the unripe color popped against brown skin and curly hair that flowed around her shoulders. She had the same smile her father had. She remembered that clearly compared to what her sister did. Warm, yet burning.

“Yeah, yes. I’m fine. I like the green one.”

“You’re going to have to work on your lying before you get accepted to MIT.” Gayle let out a long sigh and threw both dresses on the end of MJ’s bed. The hangers clanked loudly before the younger girl tapped her pen twice against the blank notebook page and slammed it shut. “Maybe I’ll just go naked.”

“Oh, I’m sure he would love that.”

Gayle squinted her sharp eyes before grasping at the closest fabric to her before holding it flush against her chest and staring intently in the mirror tacked to the inside of the door. “Green it is then. What are you trying to write?”

“A thing for class.” She responded in a beat. “It’s about the escalating violence in Queen’s. You know, the backstage stuff.”

She froze, and Michelle Jones made stilled eye contact with her through the very same cracked glass that had been in her room since she was carted in with a suitcase and the feeling of blood still on her lips. Her Aunt Anna told her that was the only safe space for her to color with markers in the whole room to keep her away from the vintage wallpaper. It worked for the most part.

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s a little close to home, don’t you think?” Gayle turned around before she stripped off her t-shirt and shivered from the cold. “Still is if you ask me. They keep that shit from you, from me even, so both of us can graduate and get out of here. But just because it’s hidden doesn’t’ mean it’s not there.”

“Poetic.”

“I’m serious, Jonesy.” Gayle took that tone that she hated. The motherly one that seemed to fall into place naturally. It leaked of desperation and concern and MJ couldn’t fault her older sister for that too much- for growing up early. For worrying the way that she did. “You can trip some wires you didn’t’ even know were set up. It’s your junior project, right?”

MJ frowned, but nodded. It was half her grade; study hall had been dedicated to picking a researching topic related to the city that they called home and pushing as far as they could before it scathed the judges completely. The topic was easy for her to find. The writing was gnawing at the inside of her mind like a saw’s teeth on wood.

“Easy then, do it on cell phone radiation. That’s what I did.” She shrugged. “Really knock’s their socks off, you know. Makes em’ think.”

She let out an uneasy sigh and closed the notebook before setting it aside completely. Her junior project could wait. It wouldn’t’ be the end of the world- maybe the start of a few all-nighters fueled by hate and red bull. But it would be enough to keep her buzzing. Instead, she stood from her bed and walked over the window.

It wasn’t a glamorous view, and it never had been. A small alley that was separated down the middle with a chain-link fence and a few metal trashcans that her cat, Scratches, would always lounge around on until she shooed him away. The house next door was overrun with weeds and a clothesline that swung when the wind picked up. It sat vacant until two days ago- a giant moving van carried in most of the furniture and a small pick-up kept tarp-covered boxes in its bay.

“Did you get a look at the new neighbors?” Gayle shimmied out of her jeans and threw her dress over her head while MJ leaned heavily against the side of the window. She squinted, trying to see a figure in the window directly across from hers. Blinds were drawn but a darkened shape moved with ease.

“No, not at all.” She said.

“Real shame. You could use some friends.”

Michelle Jones let out a snort of epic proportions and tossed the closest throw pillow her sister’s way.

Their forks scraped against their plates loudly. Maybe it was the silence that amplified the sound altogether. Michelle Jones pushed three lone peas into a sea of gravy, watching the struggle against the current as she frowned down at the mess of food that her Aunt had prepared. Good, hearty food.

The china was rimmed in gold and Aunt Anna insisted on using it for every meal even if it was frozen pizza thrown in the oven- the pepperoni moved to one side of the cheesy dish before it was cut. She found it overbearing but still filled the metal sink with soapy water every night to wipe away the dirt with a cloth.

Her aunt was a stoic woman that had given away to the grey in her hair over the past few years. It curled evenly against chocolate skin and made her looked aged in the best way possible. No ounce of exhaustion dominated her despite being thrown into raising two young kids at a child’s age herself. She scratched at the back of her neck now, testing the water. It was cold.

Then there was a knock at the door- loud and startling in the silence of yet another Sunday night dinner. MJ glanced towards the foyer and set her fork down on the side of her plate. Her fingers reached instinctively for the butter knife that matched the china in its gold finish. Her grasp tightened as her aunt stood from the table.

No one bothered them on a Sunday.

MJ stood, following her aunt as she leaned against the banister in the foyer. The walls were painted a honeycomb yellow and their muddied shoes lay by the door. A little plaque for keys held a red lanyard that swung back and forth the second the door was opened. She clenched the knife in her fingertips, mouth dry.

It wasn’t a brute. It wasn’t her cousin with a bag of groceries that he insisted on bringing by even though both of them were capable of traveling to the small bodega on the corner themselves. Instead- it was a dusty looking man with a badge strapped to his leather belt. This was worse.

He wore a kind smile that wrinkled at the sides and a distressed brown suit. His hair was salt and pepper and almost long enough to fall into his slate eyes if he didn’t have it slicked back. This was unprecedented. The NYPD had an understanding with the Jones family- they left the most high-profile mafia clan to run the city. To keep death off their doorsteps even if it meant in sighting some through closed doors.

But that was Chief Wicker. He had been the head of the department for more than 50 years. MJ had slid into a nice black dress and clinked glasses with the rest of the department at his retirement party. They knew a new face would show up in her part of the city- just not at the front door with what looked to be a store-bought bunt cake slid onto a plate that still had the price tag plastered to the bottom.

Aunt Anna’s eyes drifted to the badge before coldly moving to the gaze of the man.

“I told you the badge was a bad idea.” A new voice shined through, clean and muffled as she whispered something into the man’s ear.

MJ skillfully shoved the butter knife up her sleeve as she cocked her head to the side and looked at the girl that stood at almost the same height of what had to be her father. They had the same nose. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown and equally as dark hair fell over her shoulders. She had a slender frame and straight cut bangs cut across her forehead. She had a kind smile- wearing a black t-shirt for a band that MJ had never head of and acid-washed jeans. She didn’t offer up a smile as willingly. In fact, she squared up MJ just the same.

He let the side of his suit jacket fall to cover the offending object before he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, we just… I’m George Stacy. My daughter Gwen and I just moved in next door and I wanted to introduce ourselves.”

Gwen looked like he was biting her tongue, but she shoved her hands into her pockets and didn’t’ say a word. Anna Jones seemed to soften at that, her shoulders losing some pent-up tension. MJ moved quickly, bouncing back from the intrusion.

“Oh, you brought cake!” She said, smiling forcefully as she took the plate from George Stacy’s hands. He looked relieved and Gwen’s lip turned up in somewhat of a smirk. It bothered MJ. Rubbed her the wrong way but she was too focused on keeping the butter knife from falling out of her sweatshirt. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing, really.”

“Why don’t you both come in for a slice?” Aunt Anna finally gained her confidence back as she pulled the door a few more inches open. “We can get to know each other, seeing as we’ll be neighbors and all.”

George seemed to relax into things now. He nodded in acceptance and followed the Jones women into their family room. He commented on the art that decorated the walls and even nudged his daughter a few times to get her to say something, anything.

They sat awkwardly on an olive-colored sectional while Anna dished out some of the cinnamon-flavored cake. Gwen scanned her golden stare over MJ once more- this time she raised her eyebrow- pierced my two little silver balls like a snake bite- a vampire bat, maybe. She was close, sitting on the couch next to MJ who found the cake more desirable than the meal before. She took a generous bite.

Aunt Anna launched into asking the standard questions: “Where are you from? What made you move to Brooklyn? Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your wife… my brother he-“

MJ glared down at the cake and Gwen seemed to be more interested in the pictures on the mantel than the conversation in front of them. She felt like a child at the kiddy table during thanksgiving. The grownups are talking now, she reminded herself.

“Are you going to Midtown?” MJ whispered, low enough for the two of them to hear.

Gwen nodded and shoveled another forkful of pastry past her lips. “I start on Monday. Is it stereotypical?”

“I… don’t know what that means.”

“You know, the jocks, the cheerleaders that sleep with them. The introvert that barely speaks.” She nudged MJ’s shoulder, and the girl tried not to take offense to that.

“I’m not an introvert.” MJ placed the plate on the coffee table and turned slightly towards Gwen. Her bangs were shading her eyes. They looked black. “I just don’t like people, alright? They’re shitty. They assume things too quickly- like a fight or flight method.”

“Right,” Gwen drew out the word “That’s textbook definition of an introvert. Not a bad thing to be just… obvious.”

MJ let out a long sigh and became painfully aware of the butter knife up her sleeve. Her family had taught her six different ways to use it- and she wouldn’t mind testing one of those methods out on her neighbor right about now. But something told her Aunt Anna would be upset about the upholstery.

“Let me guess, you’re the editor of the school paper? Or maybe just the photographer. Oh!” Gwen said a little louder, but not to alert her father “Maybe you’re the recorder for whatever sports team takes president over the others.”

MJ scoffed and reached forward for her glass of milk, she hovered it over her lips. “You’ve got me all figured out then, huh? Labeled just like that. I bet you’re the rebel without a cause. There must be a few tattoos under those sleeves of yours. Stick and poke I’m guessing.”

It was Gwen’s turn to smile- her teeth pointed and dangerous as she shook her head. “You have no idea.”

“Yeah, well. Neither do you.”

#Gwen stacy #Michelle Jones #Spider Gwen #spider-man far from home #spiderverse #fanfiction

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birdiethebibliophile · 6 years

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{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 22)

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Commitment Rating: M Chapter Warnings: Mentions of non-consensual medical procedures Relationship: Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count: 1,448

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

I’m going to be moving basically this whole week, so I figured I’d post this chapter early. (Also, I wanted to.)

Also, @voidfishkid drew the ABSOLUTE CUTEST picture of Mary Sage winking at Nadiya from last chapter! Go check it out!!!

Chapter Summary: Jonesy breaks some rules. Mary Sage learns the truth. Nadiya makes a decision.

__________________

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Grace said softly. “Why you?”

In the silence that followed, Jonesy clicked to a new slide. Then another, and another. Each showed a photo of a personnel file.

Jamie Meadows.

Addison Parker.

Flanagan Kirmani.

Joe Carbinner.

Grace Perkins.

Scully Vanderbilt.

Paul Potts.

All of the members of the Do-Good Fellowship, their secrets and details and ways to manipulate them laid out on a tidy page in Times New Roman.

“I already told you,” Grace said. “She wanted the best and the brightest.”

Christopher Rembrandt.

“An Olympic athlete she needed to keep close, the son of the people she worked with and who knew what she was up to,” Jonesy paraphrased from the file, leaning over the counter on her forearms. “IT specialist. Ideal for a fighting-type stimplant. Desperate to save his brother’s failing gym.”

Remy looked like he was going to be sick. “Does it say anything about my parents?”

Grace shook her head. “Just that they disappeared right before your Olympic run.”

Remy nodded, tight-lipped, his fingers twitching as they gripped the edge of the table.

Nadiya Jones.

“The brightest scientist of her age, lonely and desperate for validation in the thankless world of academia,” Jonesy continued. Nadiya shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking at her hands. “The scientist who developed the original stimplant technology. She couldn’t let you walk free – you could’ve developed an antidote, or patented your tech before she had a chance to get her hands on it.”

“She doesn’t own it,” Nadiya snarled. Grace gave her a pitying look.

Irene Baker.

“I know you’ve wondered before why you were hired, Irene,” Grace said. “Jonesy?”

“An overlooked professional brimming with untapped power and an ability to connect with others that would bond Martine’s little group together irrevocably,” Jonesy said quietly. “She may not have known about Kardala, but she knew there was something special about you, Irene. Your bonds are off the chart. Trust me – I had to adjust the blockers this morning to account for it.”

Irene’s face was blank. “Right,” she murmured.

Jonesy hesitated, then clicked to the last slide.

Mary Elizabeth Sage.

Nadiya could feel Mary Sage stiffen beside her.

“Mary, you were the most dangerous of them all,” Grace said. “The one on whom Richard’s plan hinged.” She paused, as if wondering whether she should continue. “The one whose psyche Martine deliberately tampered with. The one who was getting too close with your investigations into parents.”

“What do you mean?” Mary Sage whispered.

“You were right, Mary,” Grace said. “I found this all out after the Fellowship fell… I never would’ve kept it from you. None of us would have.”

“Richard needed you for his broadcast,” Jonesy said. “Everyone has hints of what powers they’ll manifest. They figured out early on what you would be able to do if you were augmented. So… Martine used her influence to get your parents arrested.” She glanced towards the table, then away again. “Just like she presumably made Remy’s disappear.”

Mary Sage let out a small, choked sound like a sob. Without thinking, Nadiya reached out and put an arm around her waist, and Mary Sage leaned into her. She was shaking slightly.

“Martine knew you would do anything for revenge,” Jonesy said, still half-reading off the file displayed on the screen. “She offered you powers to fill that gap, and… there it was.”

“How’re you doing?” Grace asked gently.

“Mary’s okay,” Mary Sage said softly. Nadiya tilted her head to look Mary in the eyes. They weren’t completely clear, but they weren’t glazed, either.

“Good,” Grace said. “Because there’s more.”

“She tried to put a failsafe in your head,” Jonesy said, and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Do you need me to –” Grace started, but Jonesy shook her head.

“Tried?” Mary Sage prompted.

“Tried,” Jonesy repeated, opening her eyes. “From the info Grace and I gathered, she didn’t count on… well, on your already unstable brain chemistry. Instead of making you compliant, the tampering caused your seizures, heightened your depersonalization disorder.”

“This… explains a lot,” Mary Sage said. She took a deep breath and straightened slightly, a determined look on her face. “That was the failsafe, then?”

“More or less.” Jonesy took a breath. “It’s… possible that Martine managed to… code in a way to… stop you, if it came to that.”

“You’re sayin’ it’s possible she can instakill me, then,” Mary Sage said flatly. Nadiya took in a sharp breath. “Well, that just fuckin’ figures, doesn’t it. Ya got a plan?”

“Actually, yes,” Grace said. “Listen. This all may sound… dire. But Martine isn’t perfect. You’ve already thrown her off once. She wasn’t planning on having to go along with Richard’s idea to send the three of you – Irene, Nadiya, and Remy – after you, Mary. Hell, she wasn’t planning on Kardala at all. According to her notes, Irene, it seems like she thought you would just gain power over the weather.” Grace tapped one fingernail, French manicure chipped, against the counter. “What I’m saying is that it isn’t hopeless. A week from tomorrow, according to the news, Martine will be holding a press-conference-cum-gala here in San Francisco.”

“I suspect she’s using the government data bank and archives downtown, which would be a reason she’d be here in San Francisco,” Jonesy puts in.

“In simple terms, I want to infiltrate the party,” Grace said calmly, “and take Martine down by any means possible. Without her, Richard has nothing, and the government will drop the entire thing. They’ll still have the stimplant technology, which, I admit, isn’t great, but they won’t be controlled by Martine. Additionally – and we’ll go into the details of this later – with the help of you, Mary, and you, Remy, we should be able to interrupt the broadcast of the press conference and get our own on there instead, reveal Martine’s plans and completely undermine her credibility. There’s nothing that scares the government more than an inside job. I think we can all agree that’s better than nothing.”

“We have to act quickly,” Jonesy explained, shutting her laptop. “Your story just solidifies that. It’s clear she’s already putting the stimplants into action – look at what happened in Nevada, with the augmented soldier who attacked you. I also can’t keep us hidden forever – we can’t just stay in the building all the time, and someone’s going to figure it out sooner or later, we were on the broadcast. The faster we move, the less likely it is that Martine will figure out our plan.”

“Martine may have Richard and Sylvane with her,” Grace said, starting to sweep plates off the table and pile them in the sink. “Sylvane’s definitely augmented and very dangerous, though I’m sure you all can take him like you did at the ‘Berg. Richard may still be in bad shape. Martine may also have other augmented individuals or soldiers with her, and there’s always the addition of regular police or Secret Service. It’ll be tricky – I’m not denying that.”

“Wait.” Remy looked even sicker than before. “Are you saying we’re gonna kill Martine?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Grace said, and made eye contact with him, holding it for an awkward few seconds before Remy’s eyes dropped. “I need you all to tell me if you’re not in. I know I’m asking a lot. It’ll be dangerous, and I have no way of knowing what the outcome will be, even if we succeed.”

“I’m in,” Mary Sage said instantly. “I wanna make Martine pay, an’ I don’t wanna take the chance of her flippin’ that kill switch, or gettin’ in my head again an’ fucking me up more than I already am.” She paused, and caught a quivering breath. “And I want my parents back,” she added viciously.

“I’m in too,” Pridmore said nervously, then looked to Abbey, who nodded and signed something even Nadiya could recognize as me too.

“You know I’m with you, Gracie,” Jonesy said.

“I’ll help,” Irene said quietly. “I think… I don’t have a choice. If I want to live with myself.”

“I will too. I guess,” Remy said. “But I don’t like it.” He swallowed. “I don’t like any of it, okay?”

“Nadiya?” Grace said.

Nadiya closed her eyes, trying to think. She hated rushing into things, but it didn’t seem like they had much of a choice. She wanted her life back. She wanted her lab, and she wanted ordinariness, and she wanted her dad to drop by and ask about her research, and she wanted her mom to call on the first of the month like she usually did.

And she wanted to stop running.

She opened her eyes.

“I’m in.”

#taz #taz commitment #taz fanfiction #nadiya jones #irene baker #kardala #mary sage #space cadet #christopher rembrandt #remy #the adventure zone #the adventure zone commitment #taz: c #that old sweet feeling #tosf #mine #HERE... TAKE THIS

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birdiethebibliophile · 6 years

Text

{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 31)

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Commitment Rating: M Chapter Warnings: None Relationship: Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count: 1,237

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

Holy shit, I can’t believe we’re finally here. It’s been eight months - almost exactly - in the making. The longest thing I’ve ever written, and the thing I’m (so far) most proud of. Thank you everyone for sticking with me, especially everybody from the TAZ Commitment Discord.

I love you all.

Chapter Summary: A soft epilogue.

__________________

“No, Mom, I’m fine. I’m talking to you. I couldn’t do that if I wasn’t fine.”

Nadiya glanced up at a soft tap on her door. There was Mary Sage, wearing a t-shirt and worn jean shorts and holding a potted plant. She waved.

Nadiya smiled and motioned her in. “I mean, yeah, you can fly out if you want. Aren’t England to California, like, literally as far from each other as physically possible, though?” She paused to give Mary Sage a careful, one-armed hug. “Okay, okay! Call me when you get in, okay? I can give you the hospital address.

“No, Dad isn’t coming. Yeah. He emailed me yesterday, you know how he doesn’t like to talk on the phone. Said he was in the middle of something, but if I needed him, he could – yeah, no. Mom, it’s fine. My friends are taking good care of me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled. “Yeah. Looking forward to seeing you. Love you too.”

Nadiya hung up and set the cell phone on the table by her hospital bed, next to where Mary Sage had put the plant. “Hey, Space Cadet.”

“Hey, Reed Richards.” Mary Sage kissed her on the cheek. “How ya feelin’?”

“Less like shit than I did yesterday,” Nadiya said. “Or the day before. So that’s progress. That plant’s not going to last a week – I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever had.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Mary Sage said brightly, settling on the hospital bed with a slight bounce. “That was your mom?”

“Yeah. Apparently she saw the news and decided to fly halfway across the world to make sure I was all right. Good to know that something will make that happen, even if it had to be a life-threatening situation.” Nadiya rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling again.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t going to be perfect, between them, but her mom was making an effort, and maybe that was step one.

“Surprised it took this long,” Mary Sage commented.

“It didn’t make international news until this morning, I think.”

Martine may have shot the screens at the press conference, but Jonesy’s camera had still been up and working throughout their entire confrontation in the back room. She and Grace had retrieved the footage and disseminated it to every news outlet they could. As it turned out, it didn’t reflect well on Martine that she ordered the cold-blooded murder of multiple people on camera. Every security officer in the place had been on her as soon as they could get past her guards, anyways.

Because Martine wasn’t dead. What Mary Sage had done – whatever she had done – had ruptured the connections Martine had had with the former members of the Do-Good Fellowship, as well as the people who’d received stimplants since then. According to the news, she was suffering “unexpected neurological side effects” from what had happened.

“Oh, cry me a river,” Mary Sage had said when she heard. “I didn’t have a choice when she fucked up my brain. I’m not sorry.”

Now, Mary Sage flopped back with Nadiya, carefully avoiding her arm with the IV in it. “We heard from Jamie this morning,” she told Nadiya. “She wanted to know whether it was all true. We said yeah, an’ told her about the whole victim of war crimes protection thing or whatever. Sounds like she’s goin’ back to Eureka.”

“I’m glad,” Nadiya said, and was surprised to realize she meant it. “What about the others?”

“I think Irene’s been talkin’ to Flanagan, but Kardala’s been real cagey about it,” Mary Sage said, snickering. “She did say they were good, though, Addison an’ Flanagan. Figurin’ stuff out. Pridmore an’ Abbey are still hangin’ around. I think Grace got ahold of Joe this morning?”

Nadiya made a sound that she hoped adequately conveyed her utter contempt for and disregard for one Joe Carbinner.

“Aw, shut up,” Mary Sage said, giggling. “I know you hate him, but he got screwed over by the Fellowship as much as any of us.”

“Sure.” Nadiya smiled as Mary Sage’s absent fingers found the bracelet she was still wearing and started fiddling with it. “Has, uh… How’s Remy doing?”

“Not great,” Mary Sage said frankly. “Kinda the same as you. Today was better than yesterday was better than the day before. Somebody called him last night – his brother? He cried a lot an’ when he got off the phone he gave everybody a big hug, an’ he’s seemed a little better since then.”

“And you told him I want to see him?”

“Yeah. Might be a couple days, still. I think he knows it wasn’t his fault, but he’s still pretty messed up about it.”

Nadiya sighed. “I guess I don’t blame him. He probably got the worst of this, and that’s counting that I literally got stabbed.” She settled back further into her pillows. “You ever feel like… you can’t quite believe it’s over?”

“Every second,” Mary Sage said without hesitation. “Shit, Nad, this all started for us way before we even knew it had. I know it’s not, like, over over, with Martine’s trial we gotta testify at an’ everything, and figurin’ out what the hell we’re gonna do now, but… I talked to a lawyer this morning, Nad. A lawyer. He said he’s gonna help me get my parents out of jail, and he only had to look at the case file for like, a second before he said there was more hinky stuff goin’ on than it even seemed like at first. Bribes an’ shit. Didja know that forbidding contact with family members in prison without due cause is a crime?”

“No, but it makes sense. Have they found Richard yet?”

“Yeah, as soon as they raided Martine’s place. He’s under arrest too – aiding an’ abetting. And treason,” Mary Sage added. “Sylvane’d be under arrest too, but he’s in the hospital right now, an’ he’s sayin’ he was controlled like Remy. I call BS, but I guess the feds can figure that one out.”

“God, I want to get out of here,” Nadiya grumbled. “I hate having to hear everything secondhand.”

“Hey, Nad, guess what I realized?” Mary Sage, sitting up and grinning.

“What?”

“Now that we’re not on the run, we can actually go on dates an’ shit if we want,” Mary Sage said. “There’s a bunch of real great places in San Francisco. I’ve been checkin’ ‘em out so we can go when you get out of the hospital. Bookstores an’ ice cream places an’ coffeeshops an’ whatever. I dunno, that’s what you do for dates, right? I’ve only been on, like, one, an’ we went to Olive Garden, an’ I left early.”

“That’s one more than I’ve been on,” Nadiya admitted. “But that sounds… really good. And then I guess we’ll have to start apartment shopping, huh?”

“Yeah, eventually, once we know where we wanna live,” Mary Sage agreed. “Plus finding jobs, I guess. But we don’t have to worry about that yet, right?”

“Nah,” Nadiya said. “Let’s get through this first. Let everything reset and settle down. And in the meantime, yeah, let’s go on a bunch of dates.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mary Sage said, and kissed the corner of Nadiya’s mouth. “There’s that old sweet feeling again,” she whispered. “You feel it too?”

“Yeah,” Nadiya said. “I do.”

-----

(Tomorrow will take care of itself.)

#taz #taz commitment #taz fanfiction #nadiya jones #irene baker #kardala #mary sage #space cadet #christopher rembandt #remy #the adventure zone #the adventure zone commitment #taz: c #that old sweet feeling #tosf #mine #wow... I made it

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birdiethebibliophile · 6 years

Text

{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 19)

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Commitment Rating: M Chapter Warnings: Dissociation Relationship: Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count: 1,904

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

things are gettin’ gay, I promise

Chapter Summary: Nadiya takes a risk. Mary Sage reaches out. Kardala makes a connection.

__________________

“Anything?” Nadiya squinted at the map marked with black X’s. Who even used physical maps anymore?

Addison shook their head, resting their wrists on the top of the steering wheel. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“Me neither,” Flanagan said from the backseat. “Try the next one.”

Nadiya let out a sharp hiss from between her teeth, making another slash across the map at their intersection. “We’ve already been to seven places.” She ran the end of the pen along her teeth, making a ticking sound. “Where else she could be?”

“We have a few more places to check out,” Addison reassured her. “Don’t worry, we’ll, uh, we’ll find her, Nad.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nadiya muttered.

Addison put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space, checked their mirrors even though there was no one else on the street, and headed off in a new direction. Nadiya groaned to herself. They hadn’t even left until almost one (all three of them had slept like the dead, even with Kardala taking the couch, Nadiya curled into a chair, and Remy sprawled on the carpet). It had been four hours so far of driving around, listening to Addison alternately whistle and talk about their pet rabbit, and not finding Mary Sage, and Nadiya was fed up.

Not that she was thinking about quitting. They were going to find Mary Sage if they had to search all day and into tomorrow. That wasn’t a question. She just wished it was happening faster.

Suddenly, Addison’s whistling cut off. “Holy shit.”

Flanagan leaned forward. “You felt it too?”

“Yeah, yeah –” Addison jerked the steering wheel, pulling onto a side street. “This way?”

“I think so. Ouch, Kardala, move.”

“There is not room to move,” Kardala complained.

“Left! Left there,” Flanagan said, pointing.

Addison did as she said. “Should be straight ahead,” they muttered.

“Shit –” Flanagan doubled over. “Addison, I –”

Kardala pulled her back before she collapsed on the gear shift. “What’s wrong?”

“Powers,” Flanagan gasped, and then shook her head, eyes clenched shut.

“Do you need me to pull over?” Addison asked over their shoulder.

Flanagan shook her head and motioned for them to keep going. After a minute, Addison slowed and parked on the street. “That figures,” they said quietly, and pointed about fifty feet away to an old-looking elementary school playground.

“That’s where she is?” Remy said.

“Must be. It makes sense. She likes hiding, or high places, or both,” Addison said. “This place has been abandoned since the nineties, no one ever bothered to do anything with the building. Or the playground, I guess.”

“She really likes abandoned places,” Remy observed.

Addison sighed. “Yeah. Listen, she probably won’t want to see me or Flanagan. One of you should go.”

“Remy? Kardala?” Nadiya asked.

Kardala shook her head. Flanagan had taken hold of her hand and was holding it tightly. “I do not think I am who Mary Sage needs.”

“Not me either,” Remy said. “I… she probably doesn’t trust me a bunch right now. You’re the best shot, Nad. She trusts you most.”

“What? No she doesn’t.” Nadiya looked skeptically from Kardala to Remy, who both nodded. “Fine,” she said, tossing the map to Addison. “Fine, fine, I’ll go.” She wrenched the car door open, got out, and slammed it closed again.

What if Mary Sage didn’t want to see her? What if she didn’t want to come back? What if she tried to kill Nadiya, like she had in Halleluland?

Nadiya set her shoulders. This was Mary Sage she was talking about. It would be fine. Probably. She walked over to the playground, climbed up the rubber steps. “Gospel Girl?” she tried, trying to stay firmly in what the fuck, man, and not edge into where are you please come out. No response. “Space Cadet?” She sighed. “Mary Sage?”

“Mary’s not here.”

Nadiya blinked, her mouth open. It felt, quite suddenly, as if she’d gotten all the air knocked out of her at the sound of Mary’s voice. She felt kind of like bursting into tears. Again.

She shook herself. No time to have a breakdown. This was about Mary Sage. She climbed another stair, then another, towards the turreted tower leading to an orange, spiraling slide.

“You sure?” Nadiya said, and there she was.

Mary Sage was curled up against the wall, holding her knees to her chest, her chin resting on them. “Yeah. Mary’s not here,” she repeated. “She’s… somewhere else.”

“Hey.” Nadiya sat down against the other wall, making the small, circular space very cramped. “Um… can she come back?”

“Maybe.” Mary Sage let out a shuddering sigh. “How’d you find me?”

“Drove around until the Suburbanites’ powers activated. Don’t know what we would’ve done if you hadn’t been nearby. How’d you get here from Vegas?”

“Hitchhiked.” Mary’s hair looked almost as matted and wild as it had in Halleluland, like she’d been tying it into knots. “Somebody… picked me up. Then another somebody. I dunno. I knew the… what’d you call ‘em? Suburbanites were around here. Addison and Flanagan. I could feel…”

“The bond,” Nadiya filled in. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Mary Sage made a tired gesture. “Didn’t wanna get too close, though.”

“We took a party bus,” Nadiya said. “It was cool, I guess.”

A smile flickered across Mary Sage’s face. “Sounds like fun.”

“It was a bit much for me,” Nadiya admitted. “Lots of gay people, though.”

“I woulda fit right in.” Mary Sage closed her unfocused eyes. “Sorry about… runnin’ off. I didn’t… couldn’t…”

“Yeah, that was kind of a dick move,” Nadiya said. But then she didn’t get a response. “Mary?”

“‘I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast; my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death,’” Mary Sage said. [Psalm 22:15-16 English Standard Version] And then she uncurled and crawled the foot or so across the space to Nadiya and wrapped her arms around her. “Thanks for comin’ for me, Nad,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Yeah… I mean, yeah, of course.” Nadiya ran her fingers uncertainly through Mary’s hair, trying not to tug on the tangles. What was she supposed to do? Irene was the one good at stuff like this, not her. Even Remy was better. Why had they sent her? “Yeah. I – we weren’t just going to leave you. Not look for you.”

“I know. And I know y’all aren’t with them,” Mary Sage said. “You don’t wanna hurt me. I know. But when Remy said all that shit… I dunno. My brain short-circuited.”

“It happens,” Nadiya said. “I guess. You okay now?”

Mary Sage shrugged and pressed herself closer to Nadiya, her glasses digging uncomfortably into Nadiya’s arm. “Maybe. I miss my folks. They knew what was up. Good people.”

“Mary, there’s something you need to know,” Nadiya said before she could lose her nerve. “Martine… isn’t in jail.”

She felt Mary Sage tense in her arms for a moment, then go limp. “Fuckin’ figures. I’m not surprised at this point. She’s too smart to get locked up.”

“That’s what Addison said,” Nadiya said.

“I bet she has somethin’ to do with my folks, too,” Mary Sage said. “If she had to do with Remy’s. He doin’ okay?”

“I think so?” Nadiya said. “I mean, I guess he’s fine. He kind of freaked out when you disappeared, but other than that…”

Mary Sage sighed. “I gotta apologize to him too. Shitty thing of me to pull. Shitty brain that told me it was a good idea.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nadiya said, all her frustration and worries and anger – at least all of it directed towards Mary – melting. Because it wasn’t her fault. “You’re back, that’s all that really matters.”

A smile traced over Mary Sage’s face. “Aw, Nad. You miss me?”

Nadiya’s face heated. Her first instinct was to deny it, but then she nodded. “Yeah. A lot,” she admitted. “Let me know next time if you feel like you have to run, okay? We’ll figure it out. I don’t want to l–” She swallowed. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Mary Sage’s smile softened. “No promises, but I’ll do my best.”

Nadiya let out a deep breath. “Okay, feelings time over. Reed Richards has hit her feelings quota for the day. We should get back to the others.”

“’Kay.” Mary Sage stood up, dragging Nadiya with her. “But I don’t wanna see Addison an’ Flanagan.”

Mary Sage leaned on Nadiya as they made their way out of the play structure and back towards the car. Remy was in the midst of getting out. When Remy saw Mary Sage, he lit up and jumped the entire last twenty feet to them, grabbing Mary in a giant hug. “You’re back!”

She laughed a little and shoved him off. “Yeah, I’m back. Sorry about runnin’ off like that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay,” Remy said, grinning from ear to ear. “Nad! Hey, Nad, so Addison and Flanagan said we should probably go find Grace? She can help, she and Jonesy were developing tech, blockers for the bonds. They said Grace took the others – Jonesy, Pridmore, and Abbey – and headed up to San Francisco.” Remy brandished a wad of cash and a piece of paper with an address written on it. “There’s a bus we can take, it leaves at six, goes straight through the night. Walking distance from here, which is good, ‘cause I don’t think the car would fit everybody. Kardala? You coming?”

The other car door opened. “Kardala is coming,” Kardala said, unfolding herself from the small space. She waved, and Addison and Flanagan waved back before pulling away.

“Kardala, whatcha got there?” Remy asked curiously. Nadiya looked, and realized Kardala was holding a small piece of paper.

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at – little man give that back –”

Remy already had it in his hand and was looking at it. “Is this Flanagan’s phone number?” he said in delight. “Does Flanagan like you?”

Kardala’s face was turning red as she snatched the paper back from Remy. “It matters not. I am a goddess, and she is mortal,” she proclaimed, but put the paper in her pocket.

Remy was still grinning. “Sure,” he said. “Bus stop’s this way. Kardala, you should, uh… probably turn back into Irene if we’re going to be around other people?”

Kardala heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, but by the time the sigh was over, she’d morphed into Irene. Nadiya noticed that the first thing Irene did was put a hand in her pocket.

“Bus stop?” Irene said.

“Yeah, just a regular one, though,” Remy said regretfully.

“If it gets us where we need to be,” Irene said.

Mary Sage squinted at her. “You’re Irene?”

“Oh, I guess we… haven’t met,” Irene said. “I’m Irene Baker. It’s nice to meet you, Mary.”

“Nice t’ meetcha as well,” Mary Sage said warily.

“All right… down this street a ways,” Irene said decisively. “It’s a bit of a walk. Everyone all right? Mary?”

“’M okay,” Mary Sage said.

“I have cheese crackers.”

“…Yeah. That’d be good.”

Irene grabbed a few packets of cheese crackers out of the side pouch of her bag and handed them over. “Onward and upward.”

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birdiethebibliophile · 6 years

Text

{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 20)

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Commitment Rating: M Chapter Warnings: Excessive Naruto references Relationship: Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count: 1,244

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

Next chapter is beginning of the endgame. Get hyped, people. There’s some plot dump incoming, so brace yourselves.

Chapter Summary: Nadiya gets a fright. Remy spills a secret. Mary Sage gets some sleep.

__________________

To Nadiya’s shock, the bus ride went off without a hitch. Mary Sage nodded off on her shoulder fifteen minutes in, and she nodded off against Mary Sage’s head about thirty minutes after that, though she didn’t stay asleep for very long. Irene and Remy played word and number games for at least two hours of the trip, Remy put his feet up on the window and got yelled at by another passenger, and Irene gave the offending passenger the most chilling look Nadiya had ever seen, her eyes glowing blue-white with godly power.

God, she was really getting attached to these dorks, wasn’t she?

“Okay, should be pretty close,” Remy said, squinting at the paper he got from Addison under the dying light of Nadiya’s keychain penlight. The bus had pulled away, leaving them at the side of the road. Nadiya had always thought San Francisco would be bustling at any time of the night, like New York City, but this part of it was silent as the grave. “Couple streets over, maybe? Damn, it’s dark.”

“Mary, what do you – gah.” Nadiya swore under her breath. “You like fucking Kabuto or something, your glasses –”

Mary Sage’s glasses looked like they were glowing as they reflected the dim light. She snickered. “More Naruto references, Nad? Really? Can’t branch out and say I look like, uh, whatsherface. The ginger chick in Pokémon.”

“Misty,” Nadiya said reflexively, and then groaned as she realized Remy had been watching the entire exchange and vibrating at an ever-increasing speed.

“You watch Pokémon?” he said, and then, in an even higher voice, “and Naruto?”

“When I was in middle school, Remy, Jesus –” She staggered as she was suddenly hit with five feet eight inches of rocket-propelled jump boy throwing his arms around her.

“I watched every episode of Naruto!” he said. “I wanted to be a ninja when I grew up, I still have a leaf village headband somewhere at my brother’s house, I –” He broke off, and the sudden silence was deafening.

“You have a brother?” Mary Sage said.

“Um…” Remy let go of Nadiya and turned around to study the street again. “Yeah. I… yeah.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Irene said quietly.

“Not out here. Not that –” He jerked around again, eyes wide enough that Nadiya could see the whites all around the dark irises. “Not that I’m ashamed of him or anything like that, it’s just, I don’t –” He took an audible breath and let it out. “I don’t want him mixed up in this shit.” And then, in a lower voice, “He has a kid. Like… a five-year-old. I don’t… want anything to happen to him. To either of them.” Then, “I already fucked up his life enough.”

“Remy –” Irene started.

“Drop it, okay, ‘Rene?” Remy said. “Should be this way…”

The four of them made their way down the street, then Remy led the way to the right down another few streets, and came to a stop at a tall, pale brick building.

“This should be it,” Remy said. “Do we just… go in, or?”

“Knowing Grace, there’s no way we could,” Irene said doubtfully, examining the entrance. “Look, here. There’s a buzzer panel.” She pressed one of the unlabeled buttons.

There were a few tense minutes of silence before the speaker crackled to life and a mumbled voice said, “Yes?”

“Grace?” Irene asked.

“Who is this?” the voice said, a little sharper now.

“Irene.” Irene glanced at her companions. “Irene Baker. I’m here with Remy, Nadiya, and Mary. From… you know. The Fellowship.”

“Oh,” the voice said in a very different tone. “This is Jonesy. Gracie’s asleep. I’ll buzz you up.”

There was a collective sigh of relief as, with a whir, the door unlocked and Remy pushed it open. Inside, it looked like an apartment building, only it looked like it hadn’t been let in a while. All of the numbers on the doors were tarnished, there were no welcome mats to be seen, and even for two in the morning, it was quiet. Nadiya knew from experience that in a complex like this, there would at least be a couple people up and making a ridiculous amount of noise, but there was nothing.

Remy shrugged and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When they got to the top floor, there was only one door, so he knocked.

Almost immediately, it opened to show a tall, slim, middle-aged woman with brown skin and a short, choppy brown haircut. She was wearing what could reasonably called pajamas – blue sweatpants and a t-shirt with “I’m an Engeneer Enginere Engenere I’m good with math” on it. She was also casually holding a baseball bat in one hand, hefted and ready for action, but when she saw who it was, she stepped aside to let them in. “Sorry about the dramatics,” she said, closing the door behind Mary Sage and leaning the bat against the wall. “Can’t be too careful these days. Now. What the hell are you four doing here at three in the morning?”

“It’s a long story,” Nadiya said. “It’d be a pain to tell more than once, so can we save it for the morning? We’ve been on a bus for… eight hours, more or less.”

“Holy shit. Yeah, come on, you can talk to Grace in the morning,” Jonesy said, her eyes widening. “We have a couple free rooms still, this place is enormous.”

“Do you have this whole top floor?” Remy said, looking around the large space.

“It was a penthouse suite,” Jonesy explained, picking her way over various pieces of ill-defined equipment. “Technically, we have the whole building, but the lower floors would be a pain to use, so we’re mostly just up here. I wired all the buzzers up here, though.”

“You’ve set this whole place up in a week?” Irene said in amazement.

“I mean, it’s pretty makeshift, but yeah,” Jonesy said with a shrug. “Here, there’s a couple bedrooms down here. I can’t wait to hear what the hell happened to you all, by the way. Not like you could just hop on a plane like we did.”

“We’ll tell you everything tomorrow,” Irene reassured her, stepping into the first bedroom. “Thank you so much, Jonesy, we really appreciate the hospitality.”

“Hey, no prob,” Jonesy said carelessly.

“Oh, hell yes, a bed,” Mary Sage said, going into the next bedroom and flinging herself onto the bed. “Good fucking night, everyone.”

Jonesy laughed quietly and closed the door behind her. “It’s good to see Mary doing so well,” she commented. “Last time I saw her… well.”

“Yeah, she’s… okay-ish, mostly, I think,” Nadiya said hesitantly. “Better. I dunno. Anyways. Good night.” Remy nodded as well, giving Jonesy a small smile, and then they both went into the last two open bedrooms in the hallway.

In the dark, Nadiya took off her rumpled bus clothes and changed into pajamas, something she hadn’t done since the Colorado cabin. With a sigh of relief, she crawled under the covers.

And for the first time since all this fuckery had started, Nadiya Jones slept soundly, safe and exhausted, without a single dream.

Except for one she couldn’t quite remember the next day, but definitely involved orange hair and the smell of chlorine and citrus, and left her feeling happier than she’d felt in weeks.

#taz #taz fanfiction #taz commitment #nadiya jones #irene baker #kardala #mary sage #space cadet #christopher rembrandt #remy #the adventure zone #the adventure zone commitment #taz: c #that old sweet feeling #tosf #mine #it sure picks up from here #this is the last real transition chapter

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