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insufferablelust · 4 years

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Little Butterfly I (Sugar Daddy Mob Boss!Spencer Reid x Reader AU)

Warnings: Part 1 of an ongoing series (that i hopefully won’t abandon), Upcoming heavy violence, Mafia and Crime related fic, Spencer is a soft dom but is dangerous, HEAVY SMUT, upcoming dark kinks (Gun,Knife,Bondage etc), daddy kink for sure, Manipulation kink, Degradation, Humiliation (yknow the drill with me) spoiling kink?, upcoming murders etc, heavy topic regarding mental illness, College legal age!Reader, Age gap, older!Spencer, Mean!Spencer, BDSM themed, Indication of Subspace, Just heavily dark smutty series (yet again lmao)

Hello, my wonderful readers, i want to thank you all for the patience you all have for this series, hopefully i can stick to schedule an update this once a week like Thrilled. This will be a new territory for me since all i know about mafia and such are from the movies and countless books my father has inherited me with, so i deeply apologize if there’re some mistakes, this is an AU that means its only a story and fantasy. If you are uncomfortable to violence and sex then PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. Thank you, and Happy Reading.

This series will set around the 80′s New York.

MASTERLIST HERE

There is no hiding from the absolute luxury you indulge in, in fact you love showing it to whoever might want to pry deep enough into your life. You caused no harm by it, and it certainly isn’t anybody’s business but yours and his.

The pair of arms around your waist is a certain remainder of who you belong to, and you loved it. He looked good tonight, almost too good with the suit adorning his perfection like an absolute genius adonis— your genius adonis. You feel your cheeks heats up slightly as he glanced at you, knowing just how shy you get around so many people— his little girl is sensitive after all.

Spencer Reid knows every little thing about you, what makes you tick, what makes you snap, what makes you bow in submission to him, and what makes you feel heavenly. He knows it all, he knows the way you trembled slightly whenever he wrapped his arms around your neck as he leaned down to kiss you, or how squirmy you get whenever he tug your hair, said your name calmly whilst shoving his fingers into your mouth— he knows everything.

—

It was a mutual agreement at first, living on 80’s New York has never been so stressful during your 20’s, all the student loans, the bartending you do sometimes, even the couple of scandalous photoshoots you sacrificed yourself doing to keep your bank account afloat. Your family never really cared much, and the only person that you truly have is Emily, your roommate.The whole ordeal was strange when you found out Emily’s ties to the mafia, being the daughter of one of the strongest mafia’s capo on America during that time. You wondered how on earth she has managed to doesn’t want to get on her father’s good side, and just except the riches that comes along with being a mob, but then again you were a stranger to it too...or so you thought.

The night she asked you to accompany her to meet her father and his boss, you shrugged and said yes, having nothing to do in the apartment other than wallowing in your own debts and sadness— you immediately agrees which put a smile on her cute face.

“I thought you didn’t want nothing to do with your father.” You asked as you raked through the closet to find something... ‘elegant’ but not too much, it’s going to be in a lavish restaurant after all. Your eyes darted to Emily’s who has been staring at her phone, smiling to whoever is texting her— you could only assumed it was one of her secret girlfriend-hookup for the week.

“Well i didn’t but money is tight, fucking inflation.” She looked up for once, lips hanging open at the sight of you standing there in a black dress, short with a slit on the thigh area— looking absolutely ravenous. “Holy fucking shit.” Emily whispered.

“What? is this enough? god i feel like such a prude.” You bit your lip as you await her comments, “You look fucking gorgeous you idiot, i mean are you sure you aren’t gay by any chance?” She laughed, which caused you to giggle, “I never said i’m not gay.. just that i’m not—

“Interested in dating, yeah yeah but we can at least fuck or something.” She jokingly raised her eyebrows as you throw your bra her way and laughed, “I just don’t want to get distracted em, especially that we live together.” You pouted before giving her a kiss on the cheek, which made her roll her eyes and smile.

Only if you knew what this meeting will entails.

—

The wine tasted exquisite on your tongue, the sweet burn of merlot was pleasant on the base of your throat which shocked you at first— maybe you should stop buying cheap wines, because the real ones are heavenly. You looked around nervously, it has been a long time since you’ve gone out to have dinner, let alone one as expensive as this.

“Stop looking like you’re about to die.” Emily whispers as she took the seat next to you, which you humorously giggle and swat her shoulder, “I’m not. It’s just.. new to me is all.” You nervously chuckled, before sipping on your wine some more. It was clear that her dad and his so called mob boss were late— which you rolled your eyes since Emily was basically rushing your make up, you just hoped that you looked decent enough, not that you want to impress anyone, its just good to feel like you’ve fit yourself to the occasion.

“Oh, you’ll get used to it.” Emily chuckled, before you could even process what she meant by that the sound of a soft elderly timbre rang through your ears, “Cara mia! Jesus, you’ve grown!” Emily slapped your thigh softly, gesturing for you to stand up.

Dear heaven, lord save your knees from buckling.

You watched as Emily greeted her father as you stood by her side, she kisses him on both cheeks as they made a small conversation that you pay no mind to since you were distracted, distracted by the pair of eyes that caught yours from the moment he walked in.

A soft yet stern eyes that held yours captive at this very moment, a presence that demands every single person for its attention, and intimidating like no other. A man, a finely sculpted man, standing in front of you in an attire that you were sure was more expensive than your whole closet, His soft looking curls marvelously falls fo his side, his plump lips were begging to be kissed— to be listened, to be heard, his tall lean figure towers over you which has you gulping down nervously— so much so that you failed to acknowledged the presence of Emily’s father calling your name.

“Y/N!” You let out a gasp before turning to shake Emily’s father’s hand, trying your best to smile as you glanced over the towering man, “So this is the Y/N i’ve heard so much about huh?” The old man snickered, looking gentle whilst maintaining a facade still. You giggled softly, “I hope there are all good things, nice to meet you Mr.Prentiss.”

“Oh please, Robert is fine. Oh Emily, Y/N this is don Reid.” He stepped back in.. what looks like an utter fear, you gasped as you realized that this is.. the mob boss Emily talked about, the masochistically handsome man you’ve been staring at— you thought a mafia boss would be someone older, but this is certainly not the case.

“Pleased to meet you both, Spencer Reid.” He extended his hand which Emily gladly took before she nudges your side whilst you were still gawking at the man, the soft yet deep timbre of his voice soothes and intimidate you at the same time, not to mention how he carries himself— practically saying he’s a god.

“Oh— um yes hello, pleased to meet you, i’m Y/N.” You bit your lip as you feel your cheeks hurt from the embarrassment, shaking his hand quickly— before you could even imagine pulling away, he gives you an amused chuckle and squeeze your hand tightly before releasing you.

“Well, let’s take a seat shall we?”

You are so fucking fucked.

“So, Y/N, Emily told me you’re majoring in art department, how’re you liking it?” Robert spoke as you eat your pasta slowly, trying not to show how you were trembling under the very same gaze that held you captive from the moment it arrives here. You gulped down a delicious bite of pancetta, before answering, “Oh i love it, always been my passion— well painting is, but i do love everything about art and literature.” You chuckled.

“I would love to see your art sometimes.” The voice could strangle you and you’d die happily, it really could— you glanced at the man whose been looking at you like a wolf to its prey, fingers skimming over the feet of the wine glass as a soft yet eloquent smile strikes over his face.

“Oh um, it’s not— it’s not that good, i wouldn’t want to waste your time.” You choked on your wine, feeling the burn on your throat as he let out a humorous-less laugh, shaking his head, before bringing his lean fingers to his lips. “Nothing is wasteful, not if it comes to such art like you.”

What?

“Huh?” You felt small, your cheeks heated at the reference as you tried so hard not to squirm and praised yourself by hearing what you thought you heard. Your eyes darted to his in a shy manner as he kept his composure well, licking the rim of his glass before sipping his wine gently.

“Anyways! dad, shall we talk a bit more private? i’m sure Y/N can keep the don company.” You gasped at Emily’s words, still barely grasping the previous encounter— the bottom of your heel jab at her left foot, as you glared at her, “Of course of course, don?” Robert spoke up, eyes lowering as his body turned to look at the smirking masterpiece that still stares at you with the same intensity.

“Go. We’ll be fine, won’t we angel?” You gulped down as much wine as you could without burning your throat before smiling nervously, eyes glancing back and forth to The Don and Emily.

“Y-Yes um sure.” You offered a gentle smile, even though your heels jabbed Emily’s which yet again resulted in her tiny laugh before she walks away to the back area of the restaurant.

The area was thick with intensity and glamorous lights, adding to the headache that already starts due to you being a lightweight around alcohol. Suddenly you realized, that you’re practically alone— with the don of the biggest mafia ring in America. “Go ahead and ask me the question.” He murmured sternly, causing your ears to perk at the sudden thrill that made your goosebumps rose and thrived under the shimmering lights.

“Pardon?” Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your dress as you tried so hard not to stare at the huge man, feeling as if you’re being cornered by a lion, and you his prey.

“Your cheeks are warm aren’t they? you keep biting your lips every time i muttered a word, you can’t even look at me because you know that the second you do, you wouldn’t be able to stop. Emily is right, you’re a pure little thing, its fucking cute really. If this table weren’t here separating us, you’d be across my lap already— for wearing something so slutty like that.” By the time he finishes taunting you, you stopped breathing, thigh squeezing against each other so tightly that you could feel how damp your panties are getting.

“Go ahead and ask, doll. Surely you can’t be dumb enough to think i would just allow anyone to meet me let alone a little college student like you.” His eyebrow lifted, as you nervous squirmed on your seat and breathed out.

“Why did you asked her to bring me?”

“Nicely. You know better, Y/N.”

“Sir...”

—

And the rest was history, the pair of arms around your waist tighten as the owner’s lips caress and nip at the very sensitive part of your neck, causing you to shudder and mewls. “mmh.. t-too early.” You complained, fully knowing that would only amuse him even more.

He chuckled as you had predicted, nimble fingers grazing up and down your front like feathers, delicately worshipping every inch of your skin. The blaring sound of New York’s traffic was prominent, but somehow that adds a thrilling aspect for you, months ago— you were picking up morning shifts by now, working your ass off just to gain enough cash to pay this month’s rent. But now, here you are, in the arms of the most feared yet young powerful don in the entirety of the mob community, Heck if everyone knows who he is and how much power he holds— they’d all fear him, but not you, not his fiery little butterfly.

“Shh, let me love on you a little.” Your heart warmed, familiar feeling of a thousand butterflies swarming on your belly caused your cheeks to warmed at the gesture. He said things like those often, though he made it perfectly clear that you were, you are only here for business arrangements, you knew he likes to toy over affection like this— one you aren’t supposed to get attached to. But how couldn’t you? when his hand so softly glides down the curve of your godly features, warm breath fanning across your skin from behind, whispering sweet words.

“Look so pretty for me, butterfly.” He whispered, causing you to yet again whimpers, hand clutching the sheets tightly as he moves down down down until he turned you over and settle between your legs, smiling at you. “If heaven is real, you’re definitely it.” He nipped and bit the exposed skin of your thighs, last night and the night before and before still there but like he said,

“If you agree to the terms, i’ll give you every damn thing you fucking want. Your bills, rents, loans, plus each and every single thing you wished to buy.”

“And in retur—“

“In return, you will be mine, mine to have whenever wherever i want, you won’t be my chained slave or nothing, but you’ll be mine.”

So marked you again and again he did, tearing your satin panties he did, panties that cost more than a week worth of luxury meal that he only grunted with “I’ll buy the whole fucking store, now shut up and let daddy eat his breakfast.”

You swore you’re in god’s heaven then and there, even if you aren’t sure that you believe in one, you can’t help but to think that this is some kind of miracle, your life is, here you have a perfect adonis, suckling on your clit as his fingers pump your delectable cunt in and out with such a fast pace that made you feel all floaty and flustered. The same man that commands the room whenever he walks in, the same man who pay all your bills, the same man who bought you a new lavish apartment and hands you gifts every damn day.

“Oh! oh please daddy right there..” You moaned out loud as your fingers latched onto his hair, softly tug on them as he moaned against your drippy cunt and suck your clit even harder,earning a particularly loud and lewd moan from you. “mmh! a-ah! i’m gonna—“ He held his finger up then, eyes finding yours as his mouth continues to work on your now sensitive clit. Spencer wasn’t too strict or nothing about your rules but if there’s two that he’s strict about is for you to cum only if he gives you permission— no matter the place or time, if he wants you to cum, you’ll cum— not that it’s hard, with someone as skilled as him.

When you begged and begged, he slapped your thigh only to grunt darkly, “If you can’t shut up and let daddy enjoys this, i’ll fucking take you on the balcony and fuck you for all Manhattan to see. Do you want that, Butterfly? want everyone to see what a filthy college girl you are getting fucked by someone as dangerous as me?” He slapped your cunt then, over and over again as you pant, and mewls.. Body jolts and pulsed at his ministration.

“You’re going to cum like this—“ He paused to spit directly onto your swollen clit, watching it wet the sensitive nub, “Going to cum with daddy slapping your greedy little cunt. Or you are not getting an orgasm.”

“Yes, daddy— oh!” True to his words, he spank you, over and over again, leaving you quivering and brokenly cried at the burning pleasure, “Cum princess, come on, you surely know how to thank daddy don’t you?” Your hole clenched around nothing as you arch your back and sobbed,

“Can’t— daddy please i-“

“You were so fucking desperate to cum, why not now huh? your sensitive cunt surely looks wrecked enough.” He scoffed before he spank your clit so hard you jumped at the sensation before he licked his fingers and caress your clit in fast fanning motion, not giving you enough time to even breathe as your cunt pulses and throb with overwhelming need of release, building up up up, up until you finally trembled and cum all over the bed— an orgasm so intense that you blacked out for few seconds straight.

“Shh.. shh good girl, that’s it— fuck you look so ethereal like this, butterfly.” He muses as he settle his head on your lap and admire your pulsing body, “T-Thank- y-you.. daddy.” You gathered all the strength you have left as he smiled proudly.

Your head laid on his chest as you both cuddle in silence, trying to enjoy the serenity and calm environment around you as the city below you buzzed all round. It was calming for awhile before his phone rang and you involuntarily sighs, “I know pretty girl, i know.” He muttered, before smiling apologetically- Not that he needs to.. Business arrangements, not like you’re his girlfriend or nothing.

love on you,

let me love on you,

You forced your fuzzy subby mind to get the thoughts out, as you watched his figure put on his robe, and leaned down, “I’ll be back later okay, don’t forget to check your phone.” He kissed your forehead for a bit, letting it linger as you held back your tears, wishing he could stay with you, you need your daddy, you really really do need him now. Feeling all small and fuzzy like this. But with the blaring noise of his ringtone, you knew the don has business to take care of and of course you’re not important enough to held such important task to be left.

So you smiled all nicely and kissed all the rings finger on his fingers before bidding a tiny whimper of, “Best of luck, don.” Your head bowed a little in respect as he noticed the true and true sadness flashed across your eyes, but paid it no mind as his other burner phone blared.

“Thank you, Butterfly. Get dressed soon, and i’ll have Morgan bringing you that sandwich from the deli you love so much. I’ll see you soon.”

Oh how nice would it be if this is your life, but life doesn’t always have a happy ending after all.

——

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#spencer reid smut #littlebutterfly #mob!spencer #daddy!spencer #matthew gray gubler smut #mgg smut #insufferableblurb

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galahadwilder · 4 years

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Future Perfect

This is my @mlsecretsanta fic for @crispypata! Crispy asked for DJWifi and Bunnyx, so I delivered.

It’s been a long week, and Alya is grateful for some alone time. While it’s always nice to have the others around, there’s an unstated pleasure in being the only one of her friends awake this early. Nino and Marinette are always asleep until very shortly before class, and Adrien may be awake, but his driver won’t be here for at least another twenty minutes. That’s a precious twenty minutes away from her sisters, away from anybody else. A precious twenty minutes of quiet.

Normally she’d spend this time updating the Ladyblog, moderating comments, writing posts, but after last night’s battle she just… she needs some time. Time to herself.

She’s shaking, just a little. She’s not even touching her phone. For the first time in a while, she’s actually reading a physical comic book—specifically, The Mighty Majestia Issue #48. Her first comic. A gift from her father when she was a little girl. It used to make her feel better when things were going bad. She needs that, a little bit, today. The feel of the paper under her fingertips.

It wasn’t her first near-death experience—she’s had a lot of those since Hawkmoth appeared in Paris. But Ladybug almost hadn’t made it last night. Alya had gone running after the Akuma, like usual, and…

A body flops down next to her on the bench. The warmth and weight of it—she glances to the side, and meets the familiar warm eyes of Nino.

“You okay?” he asks, laying his hand on top of the comic. “You haven’t read this since before we met.”

Alya nods. “Last night was bad,” she says.

Nino nods. “Yeah,” he responds. “Yeah it was.”

He doesn’t say anything else.

Alya is rarely the most perceptive person—more passionate than perceptive, honestly, though not for lack of trying (she tries really hard, it’s just… hard to tell what other people aren’t saying sometimes)—but she cares, and Nino is at school forty minutes before he’s usually awake and he seems unusually tense. She closes her comic. “Babe?”

Nino sighs, looking down as he picks at a hangnail on his thumb. “I can’t keep watching you die, Als.”

Alya’s heart judders. “You’re not okay, then.”

He shakes his head. “I mean Rena Rouge is one thing. I know you can protect yourself, and Ladybug is right there if things go bad. But every time I see you chase after a giant baby with no protection but that sexy plaid shirt...”

“I have a responsibility, Nino!” she says.

“I know,” Nino says quietly. “I can’t really ask you to stop, either.”

Alya swallows. “Are you... breaking up with me?”

Nino looks at her for a moment, then snorts. “Hell no.” He reaches up to Alya’s cheek, brushing her hair away from her ear. “You ain’t getting away from me that easy, girl.”

Alya relaxes, leaning into his palm. “Attaboy,” she says.

Nino grimaces. “I might… need a day or two to process, though.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

Alya’s heart falls. “You’re sure.” It’s not a question—Nino doesn’t make decisions half-cocked the way she does. He thinks, and considers, and once his choice is made, he sticks to it. That surety—that stability—is one of the reasons she loves him. Even if right now it’s hurting her.

“I’m sure,” he says. “Just… I need a few days after. You know.” He hangs his head. “Seeing you die again.”

Oh, God, Alya wants to slap him. And maybe a year ago she would have. But today-Alya is not last-year-Alya, and, instead, she just drops her head a little. “It was a bad one, wasn’t it,” she says.

Alya trudges out of class, dragging her feet. It’s been a difficult day, to say the least, and Marinette—bless her—may be trying to help, but there’s not all that much to do.

“We could go to my place and stuff ourselves with Beignets,” Marinette offers, with her characteristic hyperenergetic movement. “I know you love the Majestia movie?”

Alya shakes her head. “I relax a bit better when I move,” she says. She looks at the basketball hoops. “Can you stick around for…” She catches a hint of green out of the corner of her eye—a familiar shade, one that she’s seen quite a lot. She blinks. “For a few…” She turns her head, and there—staring down at her from the roof of the school—is Carapace. “Uh.”

Marinette follows her gaze. “What are you—”

Carapace’s head jerks as he seems to realize that he’s been spotted, and he leaps down out of sight.

“What is he doing?” Alya murmurs.

Marinette’s iron fingers wrap around her bicep. “Alya,” she hisses, “that’s not Carapace.”

“What do you mean?” Alya says, turning her head, just in time to catch a glimpse of Nino—as Nino, not as Carapace—walking out of the locker room on the opposite side of the school from where Carapace disappeared. It’s too soon, too fast—there’s no way he could’ve come around the school that quickly.

“Excuse me,” she says, bolting towards her boyfriend. She grabs his arm and yanks him away from Adrien.

“Babe... what?” he says, looking at her like she just grew a second head.

“I just saw Carapace on the roof,” she hisses.

His eyes widen behind his glasses.

They didn’t really discuss it, at least not verbally, but they both pretty easily came to the decision that whoever this is, stealing their identities is not something this person gets to get away with. They don’t even talk it through before they’ve agreed to chase this imposter down.

“You’re sure he went this way?” Nino asks as they charge off down the street toward where Alya had last seen the false Carapace.

“Yes, I’m—!” Alya starts to snap, before she catches herself and—stopping her headlong charge by pressing a palm into a nearby wall—breathes in. “Sorry, sorry.” She glances at him. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

“God, I wish I had my shield,” Nino mutters. He grabs her hand and meets her eyes with his characteristic Nino Soft Look. “If this ends up being a bad one, please take cover?”

Alya grimaces. “The Akuma is using your face, Babe,” she says.

“Please.” His voice is calm and soft.

Alya thinks about how distraught he was this morning, how little she wants to do that to him again. “I’ll—I’ll try.”

Nino smiles. “That’s really all I can ask, isn’t it.”

Alya smiles, tugging him along. “You knew I was crazy when I asked you out,” she says, building carefully building back up to a run.

Nino snorts, vaulting over a street barrier. “That I did.”

It takes barely a minute before they reach the spot where the false Carapace must’ve gone, leaving them looking down wide avenues packed with people—none of whom are wearing a green hood.

“We lost him,” Nino says, puffing.

“I mean,” Alya gasps, “duh.” She leans onto her knees. “He’s got—powers, and we—we have, what—about eight—months of parkour training?”

A familiar whizz-crack comes from above, as a spotted red figure drops down in front of them. “Alya!” Ladybug says, glancing confusedly at Nino. “Did you see where Carapace went?”

“Nope,” Alya says. She leans in toward Ladybug, carefully eyeing the other people who are watching the exchange. “Definitely an Akuma, then?” she whispers, quietly enough that nobody else is alarmed.

“Maybe?” Ladybug whispers back. “Or a Sentimonster, or. Well. One other thing.”

Alya’s eyebrows narrow. “What other thing?”

Ladybug shakes her head. “Probably not important,” she says. She straightens and backs away, whipping her yo-yo in rapid circles. “Everyone stay calm and quietly evacuate the area,” she says in a clear, authoritative voice. “Calmly, please! Everything is under control.”

There’s a growing undercurrent of panic in the crowd at Ladybug’s words, but there’s a force behind her last sentence, a reassurance, that passes calm through the crowd like a ripple. Much to Alya’s surprise, there’s no stampede, no rush to flee. Everyone actually listens, beginning to carefully file away, emptying out the street.

“Any chance we could get our Miraculi?” Nino asks. “I don’t like this.”

Ladybug glances over her shoulder at him. “Not until Chat gets here,” she says. “I can’t just leave the Akuma without anyone containing it.”

A black blur drops out of the sky, rolling and springing to his feet next to Ladybug. “Good thing I’m here, then!” Chat says, leaning his elbow onto her shoulder.

Ladybug rolls her eyes. “Always so dramatic,” she says, turning to her partner. “Can you hold down the fort for a few while I grab backup?”

Chat eyes Alya and Nino. “So long as the Ladyblogger doesn’t get herself killed, yes.”

There’s still been no sighting of the fake Carapace by the time Ladybug returns carrying the bracelet and the necklace. Chat has been running across the rooftops, spying into alleyways, but hasn’t seen scale nor shell of him.

“Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe,” Ladybug intones, holding the two Miraculi aloft. “I’m trusting you with the Miraculous of the Fox and Turtle.” She purses her lip. “I’m going to ask you to switch, though. I don’t want us mixing up our Carapi.”

Alya grimaces, but Nino just nods. “Makes sense,” he says, taking the necklace and draping it around his neck. It sparks, and a tiny fox spirals out from it. “Trixx, Let’s Pounce!” Nino calls.

He flashes orange, sparks running across his whole body, and suddenly Nino is gone, replaced by an orange-clad superhero. He still has Carapace’s hood, peaked down over his forehead, with ears poking through holes in the top. Leggings are tucked into combat boots, black gloves cuffed over white-and-orange sleeves. He looks down at his arms, twisting his hands to look at both sides. “Hmm,” he says. “Pretty cool.”

“What should we call you?” Ladybug says.

Nino meets Alya’s eyes. “What about… Reynard?” he says.

“Reynard it is,” Ladybug says. She turns to Alya, handing her the jade bracelet. “You ready?”

“Always,” Alya says, sliding the bracelet onto her wrist. “Wayzz, Shell On!”

She feels her hair lift into a high ponytail as her glasses meld to her face into a domino mask. Unlike the Rena Rouge transformation, which slims her down, she feels herself bulking up. Armor plates slam into place around her chest, shoulders, and thighs. Everything feels heavier, but also stronger, more stable.

Reynard whistles. “Damn, babe,” he says. “Green looks good on you.”

Tortue Verte grins. “You expected anything else?” she ask. She absently lifts the shield. “Damn, this thing is heavy,” she says, looking at Reynard. “How do you even lift it?”

“Practice,” Reynard says, twirling the flute. “This is really light!”

“It’s basically bamboo,” Tortue replies, slinging the shield onto her back. “You ready?”

Reynard sheathes the flute on his own back. “Let’s take this guy down.”

Tortue Verte’s super jump is a lot like Rena Rouge’s—though, given the balance between her being slightly stronger with the Turtle and also being heavier, it’s a little weird to balance. She gets more distance but less height with each jump, and since her brain keeps expecting Rena’s jump arc, she keeps misjudging where she’s landing.

She lands hard on the side of her foot, twisting her ankle and stumbling shoulder-first into a chimney with a yelp. Her ankle is struck by stabbing pain, and she immediately collapses onto her side. She lies there on the roof, huffing, feeling desperate and foolish. This is not what she was hoping for.

She carefully drags herself up the chimney into a sitting position, carefully pulling the shield from her back and dialing Reynard.

“Hey babe,” he says, his orange-hooded face filling the screen. “You good?”

She shakes her head. “Landed bad,” she says. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

Reynard’s eyes widen behind his goggles. “Where are you?” he says. “I’ll be there in a—”

“Babe!” she interrupts. “Akuma. I’ll be fine up here.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I’m sure,” she says. “Give that fake hell.” She hangs up, then collapses backward against the chimney with a gasp.

“Sorry I didn’t catch you,” a voice—a familiar one, but one she can’t quite place—says from behind her. “I think you’d have broken a few of my bones.”

She whips her head around to see a red-haired woman dressed in blue and white, bunny ears sprouting from her head, leaning on an umbrella as if it were a cane. Tortue tries to leap to her feet, shield up, but pain spikes through her ankle the second her foot meets shingle. “Augh!”

The woman immediately drops the umbrella, and her arms are around Tortue’s body. “Careful,” she says. “Don’t want to put too much weight on that.”

“Don’t touch me,” Tortue growls.

The woman laughs. “Relax, Foxy. I’m not an Akuma.”

Tortue blinks. Foxy? She’s wearing the Turtle, not the Fox, which means… “You—you know who I am.”

The woman smirks and throws up a peace sign. “The name’s Bunnyx,” she says. “Wielder of the Miraculous of Time, from ten years in the future.”

“Prove it,” Tortue says. “What’s Ladybug’s real name?”

Bunnyx snorts. “You’re not getting it that easily… Alya,” she says. “Also, Nino’s sort of downplaying how worried about you he is. You really should start being more careful before you give him a heart attack.”

Tortue stares at Bunnyx, then blinks. “...Okay, you’re for real,” she says. “What are you doing here? Are you warning us about something?”

Bunnyx shakes her head. “I brought Carapace and Rena back from my time for one reason,” she says. “Future Hawkmoth has discovered Ladybug’s identity, which has put her daughter in danger.”

“Daughter?” Tortue says.

Bunnyx continues as if she hasn’t heard. “Ladybug asked me to bring her back in time to protect her from Future Hawkmoth, but I needed backup just in case she followed us. You and your boyfriend were the obvious choice.”

“Where is she?” Tortue says, trying to work her way to her feet. She hisses as pain lances through her ankle again.

“Jeez, stay down, Tortue!” Bunnyx says, carefully easing her back into a sitting position. “You need to be careful. We need you for this one.”

“Don’t bother,” says a voice that sounds like Tortue’s own as an older, taller Rena Rouge lands in a crouch. “I had absolutely no self-preservation at that age.”

Carapace lands next to her, softer, gentler. “You nearly killed me like eight times,” he says, cradling a baby in his arms. He looks down at Tortue. “Hey, babe.”

Rena rolls her eyes, gently punching Carapace’s shoulder. “Don’t flirt with young me, you butt,” she says.

Tortue stares at the baby, wide-eyed. “Is that…” she murmurs.

Rena nods. “Our god-daughter,” she says.

Carapace smiles. “Do you want to hold her?”

“She’s… mine?” Ladybug says, gazing down into her daughter’s emerald-green eyes.

The baby laughs, reaching up toward her mother’s face and pressing her chubby palm into Ladybug’s cheek.

“Who’s the father?” Chat says to Bunnyx, hope shining in his eyes. (Tortue admits to herself that she’s just as interested in finding out.)

Bunnyx smirks. “Oh, Kitty Noir, you know I can’t tell you.”

Chat looks crestfallen. “Not even a hint?”

“She’s so small,” Ladybug whispers, pointing a finger at her daughter’s face. The baby laughs again, gripping her mother’s finger in between her hands.

“You said she’s my—our god-daughter?” Tortue says.

Rena laughs. “My boyfriend has spent more time pampering this little terror than he has me lately,” she says. She turns and pokes Reynard in the chest. “You’ve got some growing to do, babe.”

Carapace rolls his eyes. “Please don’t flirt with the babies, babe,” he says with a smirk.

The laughter that follows seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, and Tortue looks around, unsettled.

“...Wasn’t that funny,” Carapace mutters.

Bunnyx walks toward the edge of the roof, looking down. “Missing the point again, Shelly?” she says, pointing down. “It’s starting.”

“What is?” Chat says.

“ATTENTION PARIS!” a booming, feminine voice echoes deeply through the sky as if it’s rebounding off the very atmosphere, followed by a sudden eruption of Wagnerian opera. “YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED TO JOIN THE RANKS OF ODIN’S MIGHTY WARRIORS IN VALHALLA!”

“Ah,” Chat says, nodding. “Akuma time.”

“Bad one,” Bunnyx agrees, nodding. “We picked today for a reason. Two illusionists needed at minimum.”

Tortue gingerly attempts to stand, only for the pain in her ankle to spike like a jagged piece of bone. “Ah!” she yelps, collapsing backward.

Immediately, two sets of hands are holding her up—Reynard’s and Carapace’s. “You okay?” Reynard says, his eyes soft and concerned.

Carapace swallows. “I’m sorry, babe, but I—” He glances at Rena. “We are going to need you to stay out of this fight. You’re injured.”

“I can help!” Tortue protests.

Carapace shakes his head. “I know how much it means to you to be out there with us, but A—um, sweetie, I need you alive, okay?” He smiles, glancing back at Ladybug. “Besides, um. Someone needs to keep the baby safe.”

Reynard raises an eyebrow. “You are a braver man than I,” he says.

Rena laughs. “Oh, it’s just ‘cause she’s a baby,” she says. “He knows I’d rip his throat out if he tried that.”

“You are also much less suicidally reckless than she is,” Carapace shoots back.

Rena shrugs. “Fair point.”

Ladybug approaches, carefully laying the baby into Tortue’s arms with a look of regret. “Stay safe, okay?” she says. She looks down and presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “And keep her safe.”

Tortue swallows, overwhelmed by the—the everything. The trust Ladybug is showing her, the softness of the moment, the sadness in the child’s eyes as her mother goes back off to battle… it’s too much.

“I’ll do my best,” she croaks, trying not to tear up.

Carapace had carried her away from the battle. Vilekyrie controlled the sky, making it difficult to keep the baby out of her reach, but he’d found her a little out-of-the-way cubbyhole that nobody would come looking in during the attack. Or, well. Not a cubbyhole, really. More of a luxury suite at the Hotel Gran Paris.

“How did you know nobody would be here?” Tortue had asked him.

He’d only smiled in reply. “Spoilers,” he’d said. “Love you forever, but I gotta get back there.”

“Good luck!”

Now, about forty minutes into the battle, she can hear the clash of swords, the clanking of armor, the screaming of horses as they flew past her shaded window. She’d looked outside earlier, caught a glimpse of the copies of Vilekyrie flashing across the sky—copies of her that kept growing by the moment—and the marching of ghostly Viking soldiers on the ground: the Einherjar she’d selected from Paris’ citizens, transformed into undying warrior spirits. It doesn’t seem to be going well, but then, she doesn’t really have the best vantage point.

The baby is fussy, fussier than she was when Ladybug was around—Tortue can only guess that it’s because she wants her mother. The room has been stocked with formula and fresh diapers, and, thanks to her experience with the twins, Tortue has plenty of experience with taking care of a baby, but the girl just won’t settle down.

There’s a quiet footfall on the balcony—not a Vilekyrie, and the Einherjar can’t seem to climb. Tortue turns around to see the balcony door creek open, followed by a pair of large orange ears. “Hey. Mini-me,” Rena says. “You hanging in there?”

Tortue smiles, rocking the baby gently in her arms. “You didn’t tell me her name,” she says. “Feel weird just calling her ‘baby’.”

Rena ducks around the door, shutting it behind her, then bends down, cooing over the child’s delighted face. “HellooOOOooo!” She tickles the baby’s nose with her finger, and the girl laughs.

Rena looks back up at Tortue with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” she says. “No names. Spoilers.”

Tortue rolls her eyes. “Am I always this aggravating?”

Rena gently wraps her arms underneath the baby’s back, lifting her from Tortue’s arms. “Pretty much!” She turns back to the baby and blows a raspberry.

“What’s up?” Tortue says. “Why aren’t you with the others?” As if to punctuate her point, an explosion sounds in the distance, and Tortue raises an eyebrow.

“Needed to talk to you,” Rena says, sitting down on the plush velvet bedspread across from her. “Also, I told them you were planning on running into the combat zone, so…”

“I was not!” Tortue yelps, leaping from her desk chair. The baby immediately squeals in distress.

Rena grins. “I know,” she says, gently tickling the child’s nose. “But they believed me when I said it, and by the time they figure it out…”

Tortue sighs. Gods, her older self is annoying. “What do you want, Alya?”

The animation in Rena’s face slackens, and she looks down at her own stomach. “I… want to show you something.” Keeping one hand under the baby, she reaches behind her and unslings the flute, opening the space within. “Take a look.”

Tortue reaches inside the extradimensional storage space inside Rena’s weapon, confused—and then her fingers close around something small, round, and metal, and she understands. “You’re going to propose,” she says, fishing the ring out of the flute. She stares at it, entranced.

“Yep,” Rena agrees with a nod, gently bouncing the baby. “Bought the ring last week.”

Tortue doesn’t even know what to say in this situation. Is it… weird to congratulate herself? Some situations, there aren’t just good responses for.

Rena sees her face and laughs. “Don’t look so shocked, Mini-me,” she says. She carefully rocks Ladybug’s baby, staring into her green eyes. “I mean, you always knew we were gonna do this eventually.”

“Yeah, but… kinda young?” Tortue says, handing the ring back to Rena.

“Ladybug’s younger.” Rena absently places the ring back inside her flute, still bouncing the baby in her other arm. “About a year younger than you, actually.”

Tortue blinks. She’s—well, she figured out a while back that Ladybug wasn’t actually 5,000 years old, but she’d always assumed she was, maybe, Anansi’s age? The thought that Ladybug is younger than she is... “Yikes.”

“Yikes is right,” Rena says. “And she has anxiety. So every time you go running face-first into danger like you’re never gonna die…”

“Is this a lecture?” Tortue says.

“Little bit,” Rena responds.

Oh, great. The last thing she needs right now is a lecture from herself of all people.

Rena rolls her eyes. “Listen, Kit, sometimes—sometimes Ladybug isn’t gonna be there. She doesn’t always show up, you know.”

Tortue narrows her eyebrows. “Yes she does?” That’s, like, the big consistency. Aside from that one time where the Akuma and the Sentimonster were in different cities, Ladybug has shown up for every single Akuma battle.

Rena shakes her head. “She has a life, Alya. And, well, sometimes she needs Chat to cover for her.” She looks toward the curtained window, toward the sounds of the battle still filtering in from outside. “And sometimes, Chat and Viperion get taken out early, and the only person who can use the Ladybug is you.”

A chill runs down Tortue’s entire body. The responsibility of using the Ladybug Miraculous—it’s terrifying. It hadn’t even occurred to her that it might pass down to her, that—oh, no. This is… this is what Ladybug feels all the time, isn’t it?

“Listen, however you feel about Nino now?” Rena says. “It’s nothing compared to what it’s going to be. He and I, we’d do anything for each other.” She breathes in, stroking the baby’s head. “Which means that, well, you and I need to stay alive.”

“The Miraculous Cure—”

Rena shakes her head. “It’s good, but it’s not… 100% reliable. Sometimes, Ladybug can’t be there.”

Tortue’s mouth opens, closes. Opens again. “Oh.”

Rena stands and places a hand on her younger self’s shoulder. “Alya, someday, you’re gonna get hurt. You’re gonna get hurt in a way that Ladybug can’t fix, and you’re going to wonder if you even deserve this Miraculous. If you even deserve Nino.” She looks down at the baby with naked fondness in her eyes. “I’m telling you now—you deserve way more than you realize. But if you want to make it to see our wedding...” She trails off.

Tortue waits for her to finish, but Rena doesn’t say anything else. The implications in Rena’s words are disconcerting, and Tortue asks the question that’s burning inside her chest. “Am I going to die?”

“Of course you are,” Rena replies. “You’re going to die a lot. But some of them are going to be harder to come back from, and Alya.” Rena’s eyes bore into hers. “You need to come back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tortue whispers.

“Miraculous LADYBUG!” Ladybug calls from outside, and pink insects swarm across the room. There’s a brief moment of pain as Tortue’s ankle snaps back into place, immediately replaced by cool relief as the pressure vanishes.

Rena puts a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Reynard, okay?” she says. “About the ring.”

Tortue mimes zipping her lip.

Rena nods. “Thanks,” she says. “Oh, and one more thing—you’re also gonna need to be more careful if you want to get into a good journalism school. Nobody wants to be the professor that killed the Ladyblogger.”

Tortue blinks. She… hadn’t even thought of that. “That makes sense, I think?” she says.

The balcony door creaks open and Carapace peeks through. “Hey, guys,” he says. “How’s everything going in here?”

“Really great!” Tortue says. She eyes her older self. Rena is fidgeting, looking away from her boyfriend’s face, and Tortue realizes—if she doesn’t make the push, Rena isn’t going to do it. “I think Rena has something to tell you.”

Rena glares at Tortue. “Betrayal!” she hisses.

Tortue laughs. “You’ll thank me later.”

Carapace glanced between them, confusion written across his face. “Um, what’s going on?”

Rena takes a deep breath, then carefully hands the baby to Tortue. “Hold her for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Rena looks at her boyfriend, then drops to one knee, fishing the ring out of her flute. “Nino Lahiffe. Will—will you, um…”

Carapace gasps and covers his mouth with both hands, his eyes shining wetly. “Alya?” he whispers.

Both of them sit in shocked silence, staring at each other, frozen, and after a moment, Tortue gets fed up. “Babe,” she says. “Say yes.”

Carapace glances at her, then back and his girlfriend... then lifts his fiancée bodily into the air in a crushing, spinning hug.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he crows in delight.

The portal closes, leaving just the four of them behind.

Ladybug huffs in relief. “You know, I love Bunnyx, but… every time I see her, it’s a brand new disaster.”

Chat looks at her in confusion. “Every? Isn’t this only the second time?”

Reynard sidles up to Tortue Verte. “So, how was meeting your future self?” he says, as Ladybug and Chat quietly discuss something else off to the side. “Mine was a lot more confident than I expected.”

Tortue snorts. “Kind of a butt,” she says. “But then again, that’s not much of a surprise, is it.”

Reynard coughs. “I invoke my right to not incriminate myself,” he says.

Tortue smacks his shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”

Reynard smiles. “Your dork.” He looks at where the portal vanished. “For quite a while, apparently.” He turns back to Tortue. “She tell you anything interesting?”

Tortue smiles, thinking about the proposal, about how happy she and her Nino were. About all the advice her future self gave. She has a lot of work to do.

“Sorry, babe,” she says. “Spoilers.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #djwifi #original content #my fic #Alya cesaire #Nino lahiffe #ninalya #Rena rouge #carapace #turtle!alya #fox!nino #bunnyx #bunnix #mlsecretsanta 2020 #mlsecretsanta2k20 #emma agreste

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years

Text

Save Him

Alright. Got an idea and I gotta get it out before I lose it completely

Shigaraki Tomura x Reader

There are no gender specific terms in this, so it’s anybody’s read.

Warnings: Slight angst, light fluff, Shiggy being really freaking soft and vulnerable

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: Weak Shiggy has me weeping and I love it so much. Like, there’s no way he’s not struggling with the nature of his quirk. It’s gotta take a toll on him mentally, and I really wanted to channel it here. I may or may not write a part 2 if I can figure out what to actually write...

*Update, I figured out what to write lol*

Part 2 - Part 3

Enjoy~

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like your quirk at least a little bit. It wasn’t an offensive quirk, in fact you couldn’t use it for any type of combat. But it did have its perks. Anyone within a ten foot radius of you would have their quirks temporarily nullified while in that space. Hell, they didn’t even have to be standing in that ten foot radius. Once a quirk got past that mark, it quite literally dissolved. It had taken a while for your quirk to even be able to show itself. When you were little, most people thought you were quirkless. It had taken a couple years for you to realize that people’s quirks stopped working around you.

That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? Nobody wanted to be anywhere near you, because you couldn’t turn it off. Your parents hadn’t even stuck around for a week after you were born, choosing instead to dump you at the doorstep of an orphanage. You’d gotten sick of that life rather quickly. Now you were living on the streets, stealing and fighting your way around. You didn’t care about society anymore, the world could burn for all you care. It’s left you to rot, completely forgotten.

Other than survival, you had a slightly different goal in mind. There was a person - a villain, so they say. He couldn’t touch anything with all five of his fingers, or the subject of his touch would crumble to dust. And you wanted nothing more than to give him what he no doubt wanted: To be able to touch, and not fear leaving nothing but dust in its wake. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that felt like. Sure there were things like specialty gloves he could wear. But it’s not quite the same, is it?

And that goal is what put you here, right now. Like an idiot you’d gone and decided you’d look for the famous leader of the League of Villains. And you’d gotten caught. And you were strapped to a chair, in an old bar, with Tomura Shigaraki’s ungloved hand at your throat, one finger lifted in a threat he had no idea was stupidly empty.

“I’m not going to ask again, doll, who the fuck sent you?” he spat, the alcohol on his breath swarming your senses. “I won’t hesitate to let my finger down and watch your body crumble into dust.” You look him dead in the eyes and repeat the same thing you’d said about ten times before. “Do it Shigaraki! Put your finger down! You don’t fucking scare me. I wasn’t sent by anyone. I came on my own! I came to find you and finally give you something you might want.” You nearly snarled into his face, your voice hoarse and throat raw.

Dabi was the only other person there, at the far end of the bar. He’d been watching the entire scene play out, and he was finally getting bored. “Just fucking kill ‘em already. This shit’s getting old.” But Shigaraki wasn’t having it. He was convinced you were there for some ulterior motives. And, well, he wasn’t completely wrong. You didn’t actually tell him what you wanted to ‘give’ him. He decided he couldn’t do anything on his own. “Dabi, get the fuck over here. You’re gonna burn it out of this thick ass skull.”

The patchworked villain’s eyebrows shot up and his lips pulled into a sickly sadistic grin. You weren’t at all worried, though, knowing exactly what would happen. As soon as he stepped into that ten foot radius, he froze. His face dropped, and he looked you right in the eyes, knowing exactly why you were unfazed by Shigaraki’s threats. He titled his head at you, and he glanced over at Shigaraki, then back to you. “Give…” he muttered, recalling your words, and you gave a small nod.

“What the fuck are you just standing there for? Get your fucking flames out!” Shigaraki growled. You had no idea how he hadn’t noticed his missing quirk. Dabi looked at him, “Do it. Put down your last finger.” “What the fuck? Now you wanna kill the little shit?!” he yelled, clearly annoyed. Instead, Dabi waltzed over to you, brought out a knife, and cut all the ropes from your chair. He knew exactly what you were here for. And the second you were free, he left the room.

Shigaraki only stared, dumbfounded. His moment of shock gave you just enough time to grab his wrist, pull it up in between your faces, and lace your fingers through all five of his, squeezing hard. He stared at his hand entwined in yours, and his eyes drifted to meet yours. Your eyes were full of resolve and conviction, and his shifted from anger, to fear, to complete sadness in a split second. “This is what I came to give you, Shigaraki. This is why you don’t scare me. This is why all of your threats were completely, ridiculously empty,” you say, never breaking eye contact.

You didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect from the villain, considering his reputation for being completely and utterly ruthless. People always said he was a bloodthirsty monster, a villain in all respects of the name. But the man that stood in front of you was so incredibly vulnerable you didn’t know what to think. You stood there, his hand in yours, staring into each other’s eyes for nearly a minute.

After a long, thick silence, a lone tear fell down the man’s face, and the hand you were holding began to shake. In that moment you knew that this limited contact alone wasn’t enough. You slowly dropped his hand at his side, and opened your arms wide. He looked down at your outstretched arms, and in a split second he launched himself into your embrace, wrapping his arms around your torso, cradling his face into your neck, clawing at your back like it was his lifeline. You held him as he shook, stroking his hair and rubbing circles into his back.

When his sobs died down, you began to pull away, and he squeezed you tighter in his arms. You chuckled softly, “I’m not going anywhere. But I think it would be a good idea to get a little more comfortable,” you said, still petting his hair. He nodded, letting you out of the embrace and lacing his hand through yours again, and began to lead you to his room. He was completely silent the entire time. As he reached his door he hestitated, and made sure to keep one finger off the doorknob.

You noticed the small break in his movements. “You don’t have to worry around me. Your quirk doesn’t work at all in a ten foot radius of me. It will be completely nullified, like you’re quirkless, until you step out of the area.” He looked at you once more before wrapping all five fingers around the door handle and opening the door. Such a simple task would seem normal, but for him it was a haven he never wanted to leave, and he held onto the door for a few seconds longer.

When you reached the mattress on the floor, he let you lay down first on your back, and he lay down almost completely on top of you. His head was on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers digging into your skin under your shirt, relishing in the feeling. If he wanted to keep you here forever, you’d be more than happy to stay. Because you were finally wanted.

For once, someone desperately wanted to be around you.

For once he could touch without fear of destruction.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki tomura fanfic

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bhujerban · 4 years

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A Leaf of Faith pt. 2

AN: Shoutout to @muselover1901 for immediately calling me out for my love of pantsuit!Zelda. Thanks to everyone who voted! My partner says that this is a “crowdsourced” story more than it is “Choose-your-own-adventure.” At any rate, hope you’re having fun with this--I know I am! I’ve added the tag, zelink plant au, if people want to follow that for updates!

Part 1

“Can I help you with anything?” he asks.

---

Zelda shakes her head. “No, thank you. I’m just browsing.”

“Okay. Just let me know if you have any questions.”

Zelda glances around, there are plants of various sizes throughout the store. A collection of trailing plants adorn the top shelves while smaller pots of cacti cover another one of the tables. There are plants with large, heart shaped leaves, smaller plants with round leaves that look painted, and jars of what look like balls of moss. Suspended from the ceiling are what she identifies as some sort of carnivorous plant. She’s read about these before, in school, but she’s never seen them in person.

Fascinated, she takes a few steps towards one of the hanging planters to study it. The leaves on top of the plant are green but hanging off the sides of the plant are what looks like little red goblets. Pitcher plant, she recalls. She leans forward to look into the opening, curious of there are insects inside. She sees a little bit of liquid inside the pitcher, but no bugs.

Fascinating. Zelda tries to remember the origins of the plant. Tropical. Faron, possibly? She’ll have to look this up when she gets home.

She looks up from the plant and accidentally makes eye contact with the employee. His eyes dart away immediately, as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have been. Then he meets her gaze again, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look. She tilts her head, confused. Did she look like she needed help?

Link only turns back to his plant, polishing the leaves with renewed rigor.

Shrugging to herself, Zelda makes her way through the front room, stopping to inspect some of the more unique looking plants. Then, she steps through a doorway into a bright room with a giant skylight. The plants in this room are larger; some of them are taller than her, more tree-like than anything, and there are some plants with leaves larger than both her hands. She didn’t realize that there were so many types of houseplants. It’s a bit intimidating to pick one. What are the care requirements for any of these? She needs to do more research before she can come to a decision.

She’s about to turn around and leave when she spots a handwritten sign.

‘Castletown plant zone display through the doors,’ reads the sign.

A display! She does love a good and informative display. She follows the sign through the doors.

It’s a little outdoor garden area set up behind the shop. There is a little poster on the wall that describes the ecological zone that Castletown is in and it talks about the indigenous fauna. The soil bed hosts a few different types of plants, both flowering and leafy. But most interestingly, the garden is hooked up to some sort of rainwater irrigation system.

Zelda can see the water tanks hidden behind a few trellises. The hoses leading from the tanks seem to go directly into the plant beds. Hmm. That might not be the most efficient system. Was there an overflow drain under the bed? Casting a surreptitious glance around, she doesn’t see anybody else, so she takes a few steps off the gravel path to get a closer look at the water tanks.

The trellises are covered in a vining plant that does a frustratingly good job of obscuring the water tanks, so she steps even closer. The water tank is collecting rainwater from the roof, but the shape of the gutter and the connection to the tank is haphazard at best so—

“Um.”

Zelda jumps back, wide eyed at being caught snooping. The handsome employee (Link, her mind supplies) is looking at her.

“I—uh…”

She what? What should she say? Should she tell him that she was studying the (inefficient) irrigation system? Or should she tell him that she…slipped?

[Part 3]

#ZeLink #ZeLink fanfiction #botw fanfiction #legend of zelda #bhujerbanwrites #zelink plant au

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sarah-writes-marvel · 4 years

Text

Without A Scratch: Avengers x gn!Reader

S.S.: Hello, heres another fic. I know Im very inconsistent with writing but Im working on it! Thanks to everyone who likes my posts I really appreciate it!! Hope you like this one!

Warnings: Car crash!!, police officers, medical staff, panic attacks... idk what else, let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 1,834

* I know it says Avengers x Reader, but it only features Tony, Nat and Bucky.... :)

** Mx: gender neutral for Mrs., Miss, or Mr. jsut an fyi for anybody who doesnt know!

MASTERLIST

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

There was a distant ringing in my ears. The sound of honking horns and brakes screeching to a stop and sirens seemed muffled. The sun seemed brighter than it had been. My body was buzzing with adrenaline and the feeling in my fingers was gone.There was debris amongst the road, pedestrians standing along the road or with one foot out of their car looking over their opened doors.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” a grey-haired woman stopped my wandering, her hands placed on my shoulders. Others stood next to her, barely within my vision through my helmet.

“I think so.” I mumbled, turning around to the wreck that I had just barely escaped with my life. My motorcycle laid in pieces off to the side of the intersection. The car that had run through the red light was wrecked, the front slightly crumpled from impact.

Police cars surround the area, immediately blocking off the road and encouraging pedestrians and drivers to detour. Emergency medical staff jumped from the ambulances, two coming towards where I stood with the older woman, and two to the man who looked unconscious in the front seat.

“Mx, my name is Alex Khan and this is my partner Trey Alpin. Do you know your name?” His voice was urgent and demanding, but not aggressive.

“My name is Y/f/n Y/l/n.” My voice wavered and shock began to overwhelm my senses. My hands grasped at my helmet, struggling to pull it off.

“Hold on, let me help you. We don't want to add insult to injury.” his partner insisted his hands hooking under my helmet and carefully pulling it off of my head.

“Alright Ms. Moon. Can you walk?” and despite it sounding like the dumbest question considering I was standing right in front of them, my knees gave out before giving them an answer. “We’ve got you.”

I turned to the older woman who still stood there with her hand covering her mouth and tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you.” she replied with a simple nod and a reassuring smile before the two paramedics helped me to the back of one of the ambulances at the scene.

“Is the driver alright?” I asked after they sat me on the end of the truck, a shock blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

“Lets focus on you first then we’ll get an update on him for you.” Alex smiled.

Trey stood to the next to him jotting down notes, before setting it to the side as Alex moved to the other ambulance.

“Stare at my finger for me.” he said, holding his index finger in front of my face before shining a light into my eyes, checking for the pupil's reaction. “Good, no concussion.” He said with a reassuring smile.

He wrote it down amongst the other notes on the clipboard before turning back. “Do you mind taking off your gear so I can check for breaks or sprains?” I nodded quietly, shrugging off the shock blanket and tugging at the zipper of the leather jacket covering my top.

“Also do you have someone that you can call?” He asked, filling the silence as I winced pulling my arms from the sleeves.

“I do but my phone was in my bike’s hideaway compartment. So I highly doubt it's functional anymore.” I said, giving a small smile.

“No worries, you can borrow a phone from any of us after I check you over for injuries.”

His hands were cold compared to my burning skin as he ran them down my arms, moving my wrists careful of the road rash across my knuckles that wore through my gloves. “Does that hurt?” I shook my head no as he repeated the same motions on my other arm receiving the same response.

His hands moved to the back of my neck squeezing along the sides of my spine, eliciting a slight wince from me. “Did that hurt?”

“Just a little.”

“Sorry” he pressed his lips together and his eyebrows furrowed. He stepped to the side continuing down my back with one hand without any other trouble. “Just some slight whiplash, nothing major, just be cautious with activities.”

He moved back in front of me, his hands settling on my highest rib, slowly trailing down my sides before I grimaced at the gentle touch he was using. “Sorry” he muttered before continuing.

“So that might be a break or just a crack but you'll have to take a ride with us to get that x-rayed.”

“Uhm, can I actually make my call while you continue to check me over?” I asked quietly, my mind still a little muddled with the fact that I was sitting in the back of an ambulance with a fractured rib being my worst injury.

“Of course.” He pulled his phone from his uniform pocket, unlocking the screen and opening the keypad. “Here you go. I'm just going to run over your legs and then wrap your hands.” I only nod in confirmation as I begin typing in the number.

After a few rings, the line clicked. “Tony Stark who is this and why are you calling me?”

“Tony…” My voice cracked trying to hold back the tears that had begun to form in my eyes.

“Y/n/n? What happened? Friday get a read on the call.” he called to the A.I. frantically.

“I got into a wreck.” I said my voice wavering as tears threatened to spill over “Im at 42nd and 11th.”

“On it.” And with that the call ended, and the panic set in.

“Thanks. Can I get oxygen or something? I- I cant breath.” I say handing Trey his phone back, my hands shaking and my breathing become erratic.

“Yea, of course one second.” He agreed hopping into the truck grabbing a tank and mask, setting up and bringing it back to me. I held the mask over my nose doing my best to take calming breaths as he brought the blanket back over my shoulders.

Commotion amongst the street caused me to open my eyes back up to see Tony in his Ironman suit landing next to the street blocked signs. A black lamborghini pulled up behind him, Bucky and Nat stepping out. It was amusing to watch the police hold their hands out, trying to block the trio from entering into the restricted area, but with a flip of a badge from Nat and a scolding from Tony, they stepped aside.

The trio took a minute analyzing the damage, noting the obliterated bike that belonged to their second youngest Avenger. The plastic and metal spread across the street casting shadows from the flashing red and blue lights. The car that was stopped in the middle of the intersection with the hood crumpled.

“Oh my god, Y/n/n.” Nat was the first to wrap me carefully into a hug. “Are you ok? What happened?” Bucky and Tony stood behind her both with rage in their eyes.

“Some guy ran a red light. I’m ok.” I said casting my gaze to the other ambulance where it seemed that the driver was still unresponsive.

“The only points of concern are thier minor whiplash, the road burns and fractured ribs 5-7 on the left side. I suggest getting an xray to make sure they are only fractures and nothing more and a CT scan for any other internal injuries that I can't diagnose here. I would offer a ride to the hospital but I realize that you will have better medical technology at the Avengers Tower.” Trey listed, smiling at the three Avengers standing there.

“Thank you very much for taking care of her. Apply at Stark Industries, I’ll find a place for you on the medical staff.” Tony smiled.

“Let's get you home.” Bucky spoke quietly, and I agreed adamantly.

“They’ll have to report to one of the police officers before leaving the scene.” Trey reminded us as I grabbed my jacket and helmet.

“Thank you.” Nat said, helping me from my spot. “Can you walk?” I nodded. Setting down the oxygen and dropping the blanket from my shoulders. I gripped onto her hand and pushed against the ambulance bed with the other to get onto my feet.

I took a minute to find my balance, hanging onto Nat for support. Her arm was wrapped around my waist as she helped me walk over to one of the police officers.

“Are you the motorbike rider?”

“Yes sir.” I replied, releasing my grip on Nat, noting that Bucky and Stark were standing closely behind on guard.

“I just have some routine questions for you quickly.” I nodded my head and he began asking the questions.

After the officer finished his follow up he thanked me before Nat began to pull me away from the scene.

“Wait. I asked about the driver of the car. I haven't heard anything.” I stopped turning around to see paramedics surrounding the bed of the other ambulance.

“Honey, don't worry about him. Come on let's get you home.” Nat insisted. I pulled away from her grip stumbling slightly.

“Just because he ran a red light and hit me doesn't make him any less important. I just want to check to make sure he’ll recover.” I argued before making my way over to the commotion.

The paramedics and a few police officers were congregated near the end of the ambulance as I approached. I could hear the orders for medical equipment being called out as I grew closer.

“Excuse me.” I tapped on someone's shoulder.

“Y/n? Why are you still here?” Trey asked once he had turned to see me.

“I asked earlier about the driver. Will he make a recovery?” I asked peaking over his shoulder to watch paramedics lifting the stretcher into the back.

“He’ll make a full recovery. He'll be spending a few years in prison for this though. If you're worried about insurance coverage dont worry. Officers will get that sorted when he's responsive.” Trey explained.

“Oh, I’m not worried about that. I just wanted to make sure he’ll make a recovery. Thank you.” I smiled before turning back to the three Avengers waiting at the police barricade.

“Ready to go?” Bucky asked as I joined them. I simply nodded my head as Nat wrapped her arm around me again leading me to the car.

“Let’s go get you healed up. I heard Cho is working on something with broken bones. Maybe you can be a guinea pig!” Tony exclaimed with a smile.

“As intriguing as that sounds I doubt that I’m stable enough to endure whatever it may be.” I replied as I settled into the front seat of the car.

“Fair enough.” Tony smiled. “Im proud of you ya know. For that little thing you just did. For understanding that his life is still important.”

“I learned from the best.” I looked at the three of them, each having a proud smile across their face.

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

S.S: Hope you all liked it!! Again dont be afraid to request. I also realize that alot of my fics seem to have a little (or lot) of angst. Ill try and make some more fluffy fics soon! Thanks for reading!

#avengers #tony stark #bucky barnes #natasha romanov #readerinsert #avengersxgn!reader #marvel #ironman #wintersoldier #blackwidow #mcu #marvelfanfic #mcufanfic #avengersfanfic #angst #fluff #gnreader

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snarkwrites · 4 years

Text

01 | upside down, steve harrington ; stranger things

Notes:

Guess who fell head first into binging Stranger Things? Again? Yep. This bitch. And I kind of came up with this at some point during. I’ve been dancing around writing a Stranger Things fic for a while, but here I go I guess?

A few big cautions up front... There will be things that change/differ from the fic and the show. I’m gonna sort of loosely follow the timeline set forth. But I will be changing a few things here and there. I mean, if enough people enjoy this that I feel like writing more to it, idk yet... We shall see.

I swear to God, I’m going to update my CSI fics and my Riverdale one asap. This just kind of caught me by the nose and demanded to be written...

Summary:

She moves back to Hawkins and manages to turn his life completely upside down. In the best of ways.

But how will everything play out between them? Also, can they handle all the weirdness ahead? We shall see.

Warnings:

loose canon compliance at best, total deviation at worst - this is just an up front catch all because sometimes, things happen that I don’t particularly care for (the senseless death of Barb, anybody?) and if you’re one of those canon only people, this is here to warn you that this is not the fic for you. language, occasional gore, monsters / fantasy elements, teenage drama and shenanigans - Obviously, teenagers are going to do stuff. They’re at that point in their life where not every decision they make is the best one. So if you’d rather skip over this kind of thing (teen drinking, fighting, etc) then yeah.. you’ve been warned. Slow burn / angst / mutual pining / eventual filthy good ness - because lets be real.. we’re all wondering when we’re gonna drop the plot and get to the good stuff. When this chapter occurs, I will flair it with an M. In the meantime, if you’re not into slow burn or mutual pining, then you’re probably not going to care about this.

Other Parts

[ soundtrack ]

Other Stuff

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

There’s nobody on my list yet but... If you wanna be tagged for this, tell me pls. It will make me overjoyed.

Throwing out a no pressure tag to @rampagewriting and @twistnet as well as @chasingeverybreakingwave just because. No pressure though bbies!

ONE

“Table six wants a burger and fries. Smothered for those fries, Jennie.” my nana’s voice shattered through my wandering thoughts. I closed the issue of Glamour I’d been reading and made my way out from behind the counter out in front, heading towards the dining area in the back.

“Marlena quit again, Nana?” I inquired, shaking my head. Marlena quits at least once a year. Turns up a few weeks later, tanned and broke, begging for her old job back and it’s been that way since my mom and I lived here still, when I was around 6.

“Girl, what have I told you about callin me Nana?” my grandmother asked, laughing softly as she nodded. “Yeah. Said she’s headin out to California this time. Thinks she’s gonna be the next Brooke Shields.”

“Broke Shields is more like it.” I mumbled, taking an apron from the hanger on the wall. My grandmother spoke up again, giving me a nudge and smirking at me while nodding across the diner. “He’s baaack.”

“Nana!” I muttered, raising a hand to my mouth, giggling a little despite my best efforts not to.

“I’m just sayin is all. That boy is not comin in here for my good cookin, Jennie Bird.” my grandma shook her head and I eyed the booth where a lone Steve Harrington sat.

It’s only the thousandth time since I moved back to Hawkins in May.

And my nana is right. He’s probably not coming here for the food.

I’d just grabbed two of the orders and sent Steve’s order back to our short order cook Brett, -or the order I’m assuming was his, he always gets the same thing down to a T when he stops in, when a hand reaches out, grabbing my wrist.

I nearly jumped right outta my skin until I realized that it was Nancy grabbing my wrist and Barb laughing about it. They were sitting at our usual little booth near the window, nursing milkshakes as they waited on my upcoming 30 minute break. Just like we’ve been doing two or three times a week since May.

Come to think of it, it’s around that time that Steve started coming in too. I shoved the thought out of my head right around the time that Nancy and Barb noticed him. And naturally, the question arose...

“What’s Steve Harrington doing in here?” Nancy asked, glancing up at me. I eyed his table and shrugged, suck popping a cotton candy flavored bubble as I told her, “Cher, your guess is as good as mine. He’s been comin in here since I moved back.”

Nancy wiggled her brows and laughed. Barb spoke up. “My mom wanted to know if you wanted to go to the lake with us this weekend? She knows your grandmother is going out of town.”

I smiled and nodded yes, zero hesitation. After Nancy confirmed that she was going too, we made plans to go into the department store in town tomorrow afternoon to pick up some swimsuits.

Nancy’s eyes settled on my boots and she let out a low and appreciative whistle. “Are those the same boots that were in the mall last time we went? I wanted those.”

I smiled, lifting my foot so Nancy could see my boots better. Then I whirled around so she could see the fact that I’d made my favorite pair of Levis into cutoffs and sewn white cherry print fabric over the back of one of the pockets.

“I love those. I wish my mom would let me cut off my jeans.” Nancy pouted. I shrugged. “Ginger said it was cheaper than buying shorts, so I went for it. I did two other pairs too.”

“I’m bringing my old jeans over tonight.” Barb spoke up. I smiled, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll do you right up, hon.”

“I wish I tanned like you. Do you just live outside, Jennie?” Barb asked, pouting a little. I shrugged it off, laughing. Taking a deep breath as I nodded towards Steve’s booth as I gazed at my friends after finally managing to tear my eyes off of Steve. “I best get over to table six. Then I have to go pick up the bohunk’s order, I reckon.”

“What’s a bohunk?” Nancy giggled.

“Same as a himbo, I reckon.” I answered, wrinkling my brows because I didn’t actually know myself. I just knew my nana Ginger often called her long-time live-in boyfriend, Hank, the same thing and I could tell by her tone that it was a loving thing.

I made my way over to Ethel and Earl’s table, setting them up with their food. “Y’all need anything else? Just let me know. Marlena quit on us again, so I’m the server tonight.”

“We’re all set, dear!” they assured me and I made my way over to the second of the tables whose orders I’d picked up.

The next table was Jim Hopper. My mom’s ex boyfriend. He chuckled and shook his head as I approached. “I see Ginger put you right to work.”

“I put me to work, sir. I’m saving money for a Trans Am I found for sale in Rollins.” I smirked as I said it, twisting a strand of hair around my fingertip.

“Oh really now.. Let me know when you get it. So I can warn the rest of the guys and the rest of town to keep a wide berth when you’re behind the wheel.”Hopper teased, chuckling. I pretended to pout, but got him set up with the food he’d ordered before finally making my way towards the back again.

I had to walk right past Steve’s booth in the process, naturally.

I did my best to keep my eyes trained towards the front of the dining area, but Steve cleared his throat just as I walked past.

“Is tonight the night you finally say yes?” Steve flashed a grin as he asked me the question. I wanted to melt, lucky for me, common sense prevailed once again.

“Steve..” I complained, shaking my head. Pretending to pout at him.

“Aw, c’mon.” Steve chided, giving me that charmer smirk as he gazed up at me. I bit my lip, eyes locked on his, lost in the depths of his eyes for a few seconds. My nana’s calling my name had me coming back to the moment and I sighed. “I gotta go get your food, cher.”

I hurried up to the front, ignoring my nana’s pointed stare and nod as she mouthed, “Well? What’d he say, huh?”

I gave a mysterious shrug and picked up the tray containing his food. Started my journey back towards his booth. On my way over, Nancy gave me a thumbs up and Barb mouthed at me in teasing, “ Aww, you’re totally blushing right now.” to which I stuck out my tongue and shook my head no.

I was all business as I sat his food in front of him. Consulting my notepad that had his order scrawled on it in my Nana’s loopy scrawl. “That’s a loaded burger and smothered fries with a chocolate shake.” suck popping another gum bubble as I spoke.

“Yeah.” Steve answered, locking eyes with me. My hand raised, trailing over the loopy cursive of my silver necklace. I toyed with the cursive that formed my name and he chuckled, dragging his fingers through his hair, nodding to it. “You still have it, I see. The necklace, I mean...”

“Why wouldn’t I? My best friend gave it to me, cher.” I gave him a soft smile. I couldn’t resist it because believe me, I tried. I’ve been trying to resist the guy since May, actually.

“Oh. So you did think about me when you left Hawkins...Interesting. I mean… you’re still wearing the necklace I got you for your birthday...” Steve mused quietly. His eyes were absolutely fixed on me. Studying me. And I felt this warmth spreading through my entire being. Like that first sliver of sunlight on a cloudy and cool day.

Then the calm. Be still my beating heart, the calm that took over when I dared to lock eyes with him as my own personal act of defiance. Popping another cotton candy flavored bubble as I did so. I bit my lip as I thought of the best way, read, least revealing way, to answer his question. This was venturing into very,very dangerous territory at present. Because if I said no I’d be lying and if I said yes, it would give him too much power. He’d know that maybe he was my first real crush back then. He’d know that maybe seeing him again after all this time had been like a burst of fresh air and somehow, felt as if maybe he’d taken all the air from me at the same time.

It was a huge risk. Huge.

“Maybe.” - it was the only word that would come presently. Blondie crooning Call Me from the old jukebox sitting at the back of the dining area shattered through the heavy lingering silence that followed immediately behind my answer. In a rush, I told him quietly, “I have other tables.”

“You’ve been on your feet all afternoon, little red. C’mon. Sit?” Steve nodded to the empty bench across from him.

I scoffed at him over my shoulder. Giving him a sweet but firm shake of the head no and smile. “As much as I’d love to sit, romeo. Sitting’s not what’s gonna put that sweet fire engine red Trans Am in my nana’s driveway by August.”

He pouted and called out as I walked away, “ I’m not giving up.”

This earned him giggles from the booth I usually filled with Nancy and Barb when I took my 30 minute break.

As I walked by them, Nancy teased out loud, “ Awww, look Barb! She’s blushing.”

“I am not.” I pretended to be offended by the suggestion. Mouthing to both of them as I fanned myself with some napkins in teasing and nodded in Steve’s direction, “Whew...He has gotten… Intense.”

“That’s Hawkin High’s big man on campus.” Barb informed me. I went to clock out for my break and came back with a Diet Pepsi, flopping across the booth across from then. Someone put 867-5309 on to play on the jukebox and I grumbled through closed lids, “I hate that fuckin song.”

Naturally, Barb and Nancy started to sing along. Loudly.

I pouted at them both as I rose to a sitting position.

Steve wandered over, flopping himself down in the empty spot next to me. “Ladies.”

“You’re not at Hagan’s party?” Barb asked, a brow raised.

“Yeah, why aren’t you at Tommy’s party?” Nancy asked, shooting me a covert teasing smile.

Steve shrugged. Took a long sip of his chocolate milkshake, slurping it through the straw noisily. I eyed it.

“I’d kill for a strawberry one right now.” I mused, gazing at the cup in his hand. He muttered quietly, “It’s not strawberry, but…” as he held it out.I eyed the styrofoam cup and him. Biting my lip.

Nancy and Barb were gazing at me intently. Teasing gleam in their eyes.

I sighed and reached out for it, taking a few sips. Holding it back out to him.

“I was there. Got bored. I like the scenery better here anyway.” Steve answered finally, shrugging.

“So you enjoy spending your Friday night in a diner packed with old people..” I muttered, locking eyes with him. Swallowing hard when I found him staring at me already.

He chuckled, shaking his head no. “I said I liked the scenery here, little red. Not the dining company. If you’d say yes and let me buy you a burger sometime…” he smiled at me as he went quiet.

I felt Nancy and Barb both fix their eyes on me.

“We’ll see.” I answered, shrugging mysteriously and smiling at him as I did so. I wanted to say yes so bad it was killing me, but given that I know the history of my grandmother and my mother, I was… Definitely erring on the side of caution.

Besides.. It makes things interesting when you play hard to get. I guess I figure that if Steve gets bored and moves on, then it’s better than agreeing, falling head over feet, making any number of bad life choices that seem to plague the women in my family and ultimately, winding up heart broken.

Call me a hopeless romantic. Overly cautious. I just want to wait until I know something is a sure thing before I dive in over my head. I want something that’s going to last a while. Not be this intense and scary whirlwind that starts off strong and ends just as fast as it began.

“Hey, were we all going to go for a swim later? Figured it was hot enough. Besides, Ginger and Hank are going to Rollins later. They won’t be back until 2. Or two days from now.” I mused, glancing from Nancy to Barb.

“Sleepover in the treehouse?” Barb suggested. Nancy nodded, giving me begging eyes. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. It’ll be like when we were little.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea!” I smiled, laughing.

After we all made our plans for the night, they left to go back into town and this left me with ten minutes in my break. Alone in a booth with Steve Harrington.

Hot Blooded came on the jukebox in back of the dining area and I grinned. Humming along with the song as I eyed the last of Steve’s fries. He chuckled, shoving them in front of me.

“You won’t let me buy you your own food… Yet you’ll eat mine.”

“Mhm.” I answered, dragging a french fry through gravy. Taking a bite thoughtfully. Groaning at the taste of the food because I realized just how hungry I actually was.

Steve chuckled, gazing at me. “Do I need to leave you two alone?”

I felt his arm go around the back of the booth. Brushing right against my shoulder. Normally, I’d politely move a little. But if I’m being totally honest here, I’m tired. So tired of fighting the way I feel. I managed to stop myself from resisting the urge to lean against his side though.

“That’s not so bad, is it?”

I sighed and gazed over at him. Smiling. “It’s not.”

From the kitchen, my nana called my name. Steve stood and I slipped out of the booth, making my way back. Clocking back in so I could finish waiting tables. By the time I’d done four more tables and was counting my tips for the night, Steve wasn’t sitting in the dining area anymore.

“You be careful getting home tonight, Jennie Bird.”

“Yes Nana.”

I didn’t have to look at her to know she was giving me a playful dirty look at what I’d called her. She sighed, the sound giving way to soft laughter. “Maybe get that handsome little beau of yours to give you a lift.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

“You are the most stubborn..” my grandmother teased gently, laughing as she shook her head.

I clocked out for the night, stepping out into the parking lot after counting down the drawer in the gas station area out front. Steve was standing outside, leaned against the cinderblock wall, his thumb hooked through his belt loop. Smoking a cigarette.

I glanced around to make sure my grandmother and her boyfriend weren’t looking or anything and I stopped beside him. Speaking up quietly. “Do you think you have another one of those?”

He chuckled, digging around in his pocket, producing a slightly crushed pack of Marlboro Reds. I took one and as I pressed it between my lips, he dug out a silver lighter and cupped his hands around the end, lighting my cigarette for me.

“You’re not afraid your grandmother’s gonna see?” Steve teased, grinning at me.

I laughed, shrugging as I exhaled, a plume of smoke creeping upwards into the sunset. “It’s more tame than her special brownies. I know for a fact it’s a thousand times tamer than anything my mom did at my age. I just don’t openly do it all the time around her because it’s a respect thing.”

“Ah. I get it, I think.” he nodded.

We stood there quietly. Staring up at the sky as the sun dipped lower. I really didn’t want to walk away, but one of us had to. I smiled, nodding towards the road. “I should probably get going.”

“I can drive you.” Steve offered.

“I’m fine. It’s only like a mile up the road.” I answered, swallowing hard. Dangerously close to caving, yet again. It’s getting so hard not to cave lately where he’s concerned and that kind of makes me panic just a little, truth be told.

“Yeah, but it’s getting late. And your feet have to be killing you by now.” he nodded to my boots. I shrugged, flashing him a smirk. “You’re a charmer, Steve.” I muttered as I rose up on my toes, fluffing his hair before stepping away, then turning to walk across the gravel parking lot and towards the road.

His BMW slowed to a stop beside me and he rolled down the window just as I started to walk towards my grandmother’s house. “C’mon.”

I eyed the car.

Then glanced at the road stretched out ahead. My feet were throbbing in these stupid boots because they weren’t broken in completely. I dragged my fingers through my hair, mulling it over.

“Take me straight home?”

“Anything you want, Jennie.” Steve promised, smiling at me. “Scouts honor.”

“You are a lot of things… Somehow I doubt boy scout was one of them, you charmer. Okay, fine.” I gave in, going around to the passenger side of the car and getting in.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he teased gently. I stuck out my tongue at him and reached for the dial on his radio until I found something other than his preferred usual pop station. He chuckled to himself, reaching out to lower the volume. “I missed you.”

“Aw, be still my beating heart.” I pretended to swoon. But something about the look in his eyes had me feeling like all the air escaped my lungs. Giddy. Lightheaded. And yet, underneath it all, that sense of calm.

The rest of the drive to my grandmother’s house was quiet. The air between us filled with this heavy and almost electric tension. Like I was waiting on something to happen, I just didn’t know what.

He pulled to a stop behind Hank’s beat down old Chevrolet truck and I went to open the door on the passenger side. I was about to get out, when he stopped me. “Same time Thursday?”

I smiled, nodding at him as I shut the door to his BMW and started towards my front door on very shaky legs. Once I was inside, I pulled off my boots and flopped down on the sofa, letting out several long and shaky breaths.

“Heaven help me. That guy is… Something.” I drawled. Resting until I heard Barb and Nancy knocking at my grandmother’s door. I got up to let them in and we went upstairs to find towels to take down to the river with us.

Then we set off, walking through the woods. Laughter and conversation echoing in the night around us. Diving into the cold water with ear splitting shrieks. Splashing at each other noisily.

We flopped onto our towels on the bank, gazing up at the stars as they started to come out.

“I can’t believe summer’s almost over.” Barb lamented, shaking her head. “It seriously feels like school just ended.”

“I don’t want to go back to school yet. Yuck.” Nancy agreed, shaking her head. “I mean there’s another month and a half but it’s flying by too fast.”

“At least we got a few classes with each other. I’m dreading starting at a new school. I mean it’s not new, but still..” I sat up, facing the two of them.

“It won’t be that bad. You’ve got us.” Barb pointed out and I smiled, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. It won’t be that bad.” I echoed her statement.

“Hey, Jennie?”

“Yeah, Nan?”

“Why won’t you just give in to Steve. It’s not exactly a secret you like him.” Nancy eyed me expectantly.

I mulled it over, shrugging. “Guess it’s just the fear I have that I’ll give in and then everything will go wrong and I’ll wind up losing my friend too.”

The truth was… so much more complex than that. And I couldn’t even begin to explain it to myself, let alone my two best friends.

“I will say this much though.” I started, going quiet for a second or two and taking a deep breath, speaking up again after, “It’s getting harder to fight it off. I mean when I moved back here and we ran into each other again, that old crush came back and it came back ten-fold. Enough about my weird hangups.. Is there some reason you’re not finally going for it with Jonathan?” I eyed Nancy expectantly.

“Every time I try it’s like my brain freezes? I don’t know, okay?” she laughed, shaking her head about it. Barb smirked. “Both of you are cowards.”

“Excuse… Says the girl who almost threw up because Logan, the guy she likes, winked at her on the bus back from an away game?” Nancy teased and Barb scowled at her, sticking out her tongue. “I’ll have you know, ha freaking ha, Logan is actually taking me to a movie on Friday.”

“Oh?” Nancy eyed her, wiggling her brows.

“Oh my god, details.” I spoke up, tapping my foot as I gave her an expectant look. Barb launched into the whole thing and I smiled softly, content to listen. Catching up on what I’d missed in being gone so long.

“Y’all. We need to get back down to my nana’s. It’s getting dark thirty.” I stood, reaching down to grab hold of Barb’s hand, pulling her off the bank of the river. Barb pulled Nancy up and the three of us went running through the wood and back towards my grandmother’s house.

Once we got there, we ordered pizza and went out to the old treehouse we used to play in out back to set up for the night.

And at one point, we wound up playing Truth or Dare.

And naturally, the first dare I was given was to say yes if Steve Harrington asked me out again…

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fic #my writing ; steve harrington #my fanfiction ; steve harrington #my fics ; steve harrington #// y'all. I have.. huge plans for this #i made a whole ass character sheet for Jennie here.

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

it’s Election Day. I know how stressful that is for you all, no matter what country you’re in, it effects the whole world, and we’re all scared. that’s okay.

if you want to click ‘keep reading’, I’ve tried to make the ultimate list of my anxiety easing tips & just some general guidance that you can use, to try and help soothe your nerves and make this day a little easier!

before the election;

go shopping, get a few days worth of chores done.

prepare yourself for the worst outcome, maybe call in off work for a few days.

reach out to all of your family and friends, and check in on them.

get your house ready, if you’re in somewhere clean and tidy, it’ll help you clear your mind, and serves as a good distraction.

cook a meal, you might have forgotten to eat, make yourself something healthy and nutritious. junk food does not count.

if you live in a potentially dangerous area dependent on outcome, please have yourself a plan ready.

take a bath/shower and make sure you’re feeling totally refreshed.

clear your mind, you need to be as level-headed and calm as possible for the results, going into it in a mess will only make it worse.

watch your favourite movie, read your favourite book, listen to your favourite songs, just surround yourself with things that make you happy.

don’t start doing things like rearranging your furniture or cutting your own bangs. it’s only going to end in tears.

instead, try painting your nails or other menial tasks that can distract you.

during the election;

now you can have junk food. pizza, alcohol, whatever you need, it’s going to be tense, and you need the comfort.

I know I say it constantly but heat. wear your pyjamas, wrap up warm, hot water bottles, heating pads, red it on your chest. the hot and heavy weight is incredibly soothing. I promise.

lock your doors and windows, close your curtains, make it private. you want to feel safe, and like you’re not being watched, so take those kinds of preventative measures.

make sure your pets are inside and taken care of, there might be angry people in the streets, but you’ll also just want their company, and it’s good to know that they’re safe.

after the election;

don’t go to bed straight away, you’re only going to dwell on it.

have a cup of tea, get sleep tea/calming tea if you have it, it always helps.

go for a smoke, or a drink, or a cake, whatever your crutch it. don’t beat yourself up about it today. just do what you need to do. unless it’s heroin, don’t do that.

reach out to other people, if you’re worrying yourself, or you’re worried about others, talking can help! not being alone!

whether it’s good or bad news, don’t go overboard with your after-election necessities.

send me an ask, I’ll answer them all privately, I’m just here to listen.

if you’re with family;

comfort everyone else, play games, watch a show, try to keep the peace.

if some of you are in families where the votes are split in the household, try isolating a little.

avoid all political conversations, don’t get into arguments, don’t be divided, just be quiet and calm.

find tasks/hobbies that unite you, instead of focusing on split-loyalties.

cook together, have a family dinner, share some stories

movie time!! nobody can talk during films!!

if you and your family are on the same page, then seek comfort with them.

hug your parents or your siblings or your nan real tight, it’s a scientifically proven fact that pressure resets the sympathetic nervous system and calms us down, like turning your anxiety switch off and on again.

if you’re alone;

reach out, text people around you, maybe facetime someone else during the results.

lock all your doors and windows.

put your phone on silent, especially landlines, so you don’t get spam/abusive calls.

don’t answer the door if you’re not expecting anybody.

make your environment cosy for yourself, get set up with everything you might need. maybe even make a blanket nest.

look after yourself, stay hydrated, well fed, and warm. don’t let your self-care slip just because you’re worried, it only makes it worse!

if you have to go out to vote;

don’t forget your mask!

don’t wear political statement clothing, be simple and anonymous.

wear sunglasses, it helps disguise your identity, nobody an see who you are or where you’re looking.

wear baggy clothes! I hate to have to say it, but ladies, there will definitely be trump supporting men out there who will try and ‘grab you by the pussy’. don’t even let them look in your direction. wear your brother’s oldest jumper. they’re all sexist perverts, don’t give them anything to look at or excite them. they should know how to control themselves, but they can’t.

wear your mask!!

take hand sanitiser, and your own pen, and your fully-charged phone, and your wallet, your ID, some money, and anything else that you could possibly need. having it all reduced the idea of ‘needing something but you forgot it at home!’

take some water and a snack, you don’t know how long you’ll be queueing.

take portable chargers, always be talking to someone, never go alone, keep them updated with constant news.

turn on location on your phone and send it to someone, and maybe even a picture of where you are, so that if you need support, they know exactly where to find you.

#stay safe y'all I love you all and I just want you to be happy and healthy #anxiety tips #election tips #election day #election day 2020 #chlo.txt

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futurewriter2000 · 4 years

Note

I have a question for you but you dont have to answer it if you dont want to. I want to reset my life and myself. I dont know if I can explain it perfectly but I want to improve my life quality both emotionally and productively. Do you have any recommendations on how to do that?

Oh, honey. There isn’t a reset button but you know what there is? There’s you. There’s your will, you determination, your strength, your love and there’s me to stand by you through all of that.

I don’t mind answering. I care about you because if you wrote to me out of billions of blogs on here, than that means that you trust me enough. Even if it is anonymous.

The fact that you want to improve your life in certain areas, is such a huge step to take. I’m proud of you already.

I know this is going to sound weird but I say that you should listen to your heart and intuition. Stop holding your emotions in, stop trying to please people, stop pretending to be somebody you’re not. I know it’s easier said then done but it’s a process, such a slow process might I add. Here are some things that helped me change my life for the better.

Positive thinking. This is the worst thing people want to hear. I know. It sucks ass to think positively but I promise you, once you start, once you start forcing yourself to look on the bright side, you’ll start doing it as a good habit. Positive thinking manifests into reality. That’s what 11:11 means for anybody, who follows numerology. This was actually my first step I took on my self-improving journey. Last January 2020 I was so done with life and I saw the numbers 11 everywhere and when I was crying my eyeballs out I saw 01.01 am in the morning and I was so annoyed by it that I googled it with teary eyes and it told me that seeing 1′s is a way of Universe, telling you to stop thinking negatively about everything and start thinking positively because it manifests in your reality. You know everybody likes to be around a positive person. Positivity is attractive af. The more positive you are, more positive people you will attract and inspire. What you give to the universe, the universe will give it back twice as much. So be careful of your own thoughts.

Work on yourself. Just push everything away. Just the fact to think positively is working on yourself and whenever somebody tries to put you down, rise above it. Always, ALWAYS, look on the bright side, even if you may feel there isn’t one. If you had a shitty day and that everything seemed to go to waste, just think of what you had learned or plan for tomorrow because tomorrow is a new day. Plan, make goals, do a to do list for your life, look for your passion, explore, read,... do what makes you happy man. Write it down, just stay away from moping in your bed (and I’m not saying to not mope or to force yourself to be happy, no. If you feel sad and if you want to mope in your bed, take a day to feel that but don’t stay there forever. Don’t do that for days or weeks.)

Work on your fears. I believe fear is an illusion. It’s something that exists in our minds and we don’t really know why but I think the biggest fear that there is is what other people think about us and just... dude... just push those thoughts away. Stop overthinking, stop letting anxiety take over because anxiety is bullshit. It’s complete bullshit. It’s not even real. It’s just your thoughts and fears and overthinking. Just tell yourself the opposite. If your anxiety says “They probably think I’m weird.” you say back “Yeah, so what? What will they do? Kill me? Tell other people? Let them tell other people, what will those other people do? Nothing. It’s none of my business. I’m weird and unique and fuck it. I don’t have time to think about this.” I literally always say “So what if they think that? What will they do about it? Nothing. It happened, so fuck it.”

I think if you work on yourself internally, you will positively start to realise changes on your other areas of your life. I think that people are so focused on their material world (such as job, future, life) that they completely neglect their spiritual world. Your soul needs peace, my man. It needs to be calmed down for a while. I know I probably sound like a hippie rn but it’s so true. Once I started working on my thinking, my emotions, my perspective on things... I just started noticing changes in my life. Such as: when I started thinking positively, a month later I believed in myself enough to be able to raise my grades and learn to treat my hair and skin. The moment I started to see changes on my grades and my hair and my skin, I wanted to work on my body and finish school once and for all. Once I started to see results from my workouts and healthy eating and that I was actually finishing school, I started to see people that were standing in my way and preventing them, so I let them go. Once I let them go (and boy did it hurt like a motherfucker) I started to realise who I am by myself, without any influences of who I should be and once I realised who I am, I also realised how toxic those people in my life were but I knew it man. In my gut I knew it that cutting some people out of my life was the right decisions because my soul got so lighter. It got so fucking light it made me breathe again. It was lonely at first because I didn’t know who I was without them but then I started to get my strength from that loneliness and I realised how many fucking things I can do by myself. Without asking people to do it for me or how to do it. I just did it and I’m ot afraid to do things on my own anymore. I actually prefer doing it on my own. Once I did that, in August I started to love my body, in September I finished school, in October I was accepted to the faculty but dropped out because it wasn’t my dream faculty and I didn’t want to go in the first place. In October I was finally happy and being my most self, I started reading again, drawing, painting, writing, going for long walks, connecting to my roots. I was myself again and it felt so liberating. I decided to take a gap year, create goals for the next year, plan things, organise myself a bit. In November I got a job and finally moved on from the past hurt and trauma. In December I met new people and was happiest I had ever been in so long and right now it’s going to be a year since that 01.01 moment that I looked on the clock and decided to think positively.

It’s a slow process. There isn’t a reset button and trust me that it’s better that way because once you see the process you made, it makes you so proud and so motivated to keep going. I know it’s hard and long but it’s worth it and you’ll keep seeing signs and inspirations to keep going every day. Just don’t give up.

I’ll be here if you need anything. I hope this helped and keep me updated.

All the love <3

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hailbop1701 · 4 years

Text

Only The Beginning

Chapter 3: Oops?

Chapter three everyone! This one was a lot of fun to write and I hope you all enjoy reading it! I want to thank the new Beta Reader for this story @toppysammy! Thank you so much, hun! 🥰

-H❤🖖

The sound of your hurried running echoes in the stairwell as you fly up the steps. Panting, you skid into the wall as you dodge a small barrage of gunfire. Instead of continuing up the seemingly never-ending staircase, you barrel through the forty-seventh-floor emergency door. Slowing down, you duck into a side office hoping that the very heavily armed men chasing you pass you by; taking deep calming breaths to slow your heart back down, you peek into your bag. Sighing in relief, you see that the computer drive you stole remains intact.

“Census data my ass,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes. The picture of a murdered young woman flashes in your head; the crime scene photos were pretty awful, her body mangled and twisted on a sidewalk. The PD declared it a suicide but the family of the victim--no, of Julia Lawson--was convinced that it was murder.

And after some imaginative investigating, you were convinced right along with them. She was too happy. Engaged to be married, a good job offer in Boston, went grocery shopping the night before. Hell, she was even graduating college that coming June.

The suicide note was a text. Julia was in school for classic literature and poetry; no way in hell would she send a suicide text. It was completely out of her character from what you gathered from her social media and your discussions with her younger brother. It took you precisely three hours to decode the case.

“Color me disappointed, wonder if they were paid off,” you muse quietly and make a mental note to talk to John about it later.

Biting your lip, you slowly move out of the small office and out into the open. Careful to keep your footsteps muffled against the hardwood floor, you strain your ears to hear incoming threats. The thudding sounds of boots make you freeze and tense, your hand slowly inching toward the back of your pants where your gun sat snug and cold against your skin.

The far door bangs open, letting five armored men into the room, gun raised and ready. Crouching low, you inch forward, weaving through the lines of cubicles while keeping your senses open. You decide against the gun and reach for the knife in your boot. Cocking your head to the side, you hear the distinct crackle of a voice talking quietly over an earpiece. The squeak of boots against the polished floor five feet from your current hiding spot make you grit your teeth. At least I won’t get into too much trouble, these assholes are black market, you think, hoping to ease your guilt.

Taking a steadying breath, you grip your combat knife tightly. The armored merc strolls almost casually past you. His comm beeps, most likely looking for an update. He presses a finger to his ear, “All clear here.”

You choke on a snort before creeping out of the shadows, staying just behind the man in front of you. Taking a cursory glance around the room, you spy two more mercenaries searching the break area and what seems to be the boss’ office. When they turn their backs you spring, clapping a hand over the man’s mouth and plunging a knife into the man’s neck. He gurgles on his blood for a second before crumpling to the ground. You fall with him, quickly muffling his crash to the floor. Pausing, you wait to see if the other men notice. When they don’t, you drag the dead man over to a shadowed corner.

Huffing, you keep low and speed through the room, only stopping long enough to dodge and hide from the men in the room. Sneaking up to the exit, you gently pull the door open, praying it doesn't decide to squeak or groan.

You honestly really should have seen the android coming. Sneaky bastards.

Yelping, you fly over the cubicles right into the wall of windows. The reinforced glass cracks and spider-webs at the impact.

“Rude,” you mutter after sliding painfully to the floor.

The android doesn't comment and stalks over to you. The mercs still in the room shout in surprise and raise their weapons. They form a semi-circle around you, cutting you off from your exit. Scowling, you stand up, spitting blood right onto Robo-dick's shoes. He doesn't much appreciate it.

The Android springs forward and grabs you by the throat. “Not this shit again!” you splutter as your airway closes.

He lifts you into the air and slams you into the glass again. It splinters and creaks under the pressure. Choking, you glance down, your eyes widening at the drop.

No surviving that, you think dryly.

Gritting your teeth, you release the android's tightening hand; with lightning-fast reflexes, you pull the gun from your pants and fire. Four shots and the mercs are down; they didn’t expect you to be that fast. You suppose it wasn’t their fault; they hadn't known you are superhuman. The shocked and horrified expressions stay with them like a bad picture.

The mercenaries’ android tightens his grip even further causing you to choke and drop the gun. He twists and throws you to the ground at his feet and without saying a word he lifts a booted foot over your head and plunges it down. You grab onto it just in time, grunting under the strain you give his ankle a violent twist.

Not expecting this turn of events, the android stumbles back a foot or two, his ankle twisted around. Without losing momentum, you kick out your leg, snapping his knee backwards. Jumping to your feet, you rush the humanoid machine, grabbing one of the discarded guns from the floor. Cocking the gun, you fire, the gun discharging loudly and the sound of the bullets against synthetic flesh make you wrinkle your nose.

The android stumbles back into the compromised windows. The gun clicks, signaling that it is out of ammo. You drop it and surge forward. Without missing a beat, you twist and kick your enemy in the chest, sending him crashing through the window.

The sound of a crash followed by horns and screeching tires make you wince. “I’m in so much trouble,” you breathe as you look down at the carnage below. Praying the dead android hadn't landed on anybody, you start to scrub the scene. Wiping your prints from every surface you could think of, you secure your unregistered glock haphazardly and peek over the ledge of the shattered window. Peering down at the street below, you hiss in frustration. Multiple police and fire trucks glitter below.

“Good response time,” you compliment, both impressed and annoyed. Taking one last glance at the scene, you rush out the door back into the stairwell. Dashing down the steps onto a different floor, you enter another section of offices. Grabbing various items from different desks, you pull yourself together. You throw on a pair of glasses, put your hair up, turn on the crocodile tears, and affect a look of shock and fear. You curl up under a desk just in time for police to enter, guns raised. An officer takes one look at you and sees a scared civilian. He escorts you down to the lobby and points at the evac point. Rushing toward it, you watch out of your peripheral as the officer runs back to the elevators.

You weren’t the best actress in the world but it was enough to convince the people around you, too preoccupied with the situation to notice you slip away into the gathering crowd. You would have made it too if it weren’t for the sudden strong grip on your elbow. Snapping your head up you see John looking down at you completely unimpressed.

“I can explain…”

Tags:

Everyone:

@thottiewithashotgun

@lauraaan182

@writerdee1701

@stileslover13-blog

@cowenby2

Only The Beginning:

@dw-writes

@marvelouslytrekking

*If you would like to be tagged please let me know!*

#almost human #almost human on fox #doom 2005 #john kennex x reader #john grimm x reader #john grimm/reader #john kennex/reader #John Kennex is John Grimm #Reaper!Kennex #reader insert #hailey the queen of typos #but I have a beta now soooo #its much better!

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squisherific · 4 years

Text

Rain Drop Chapter 6

A/N: *yells echoingly into the void* Helloooo therrrre… Man has it been a very long time since I made a tumblr post, let alone wrote any fanfiction. To those who are unaware (which is probably everyone), I had begun a story many years ago about Juvia’s past. It was called Rain Drop, and it has 5 previous chapters up on fanfiction.net

I'm so sorry to those who had liked this story. I both can and can't believe it's been 4 years since I last updated it (and 2 years since I’ve written any fanfiction at all). To be perfectly honest, I didn't think I'd ever continue this story. But something struck me the other day. I reread this fic, and the kind reviews from readers, and I just got the itch to continue, because I really, really miss writing, and I especially missed writing about Gray and Juvia. I can't promise I'm going to end up finishing this, but this is a step in the right direction? This chapter is dedicated to everybody who's ever encouraged me to continue this fic, and to anyone still reading. If there are people still interested in this story, I can not thank you enough for your patience. This is for you. <3

Chapter 6 - A Breezy Visit

Gray felt abnormally aware of his right hand as he made his way through Magnolia, and towards the outskirts of the town. He normally didn't pay this much attention to any particular one of his appendages. He just let them do their thing, and trusted all was well. But on this particular day, his right hand was clutching onto the left hand of Juvia Lockser, and his previous faith in his hand's abilities had all but vanished, resulting in his acute awareness of every bead of sweat currently collecting between his and Juvia's linked palms. It didn't help that he felt like every person they passed on the way to their destination was taking note of their clasp-handed position, and grinning amusedly to themselves as the two mages hurried past.

Why did I grab her hand? I didn't need to do that. She could just follow me to Gildarts' house. I could let go, and carry on as if nothing happened. But would she get upset if I took my hand away? She is holding it pretty firmly, so it would probably be pretty awkward if I just stopped holding her hand back.

These were the thoughts that passed through Gray Fullbuster's mind as he decided he would continue to hold Juvia's hand, not because he enjoyed it - definitely not that- but because he wanted to be emotionally supportive towards his friend, who was going through a rough time right now. Yes, that's why he'd continue to allow his sweaty palm to press up against Juvia's soft grip. He was a very good friend, and that's all there was to it.

"Gray-sama?"

Juvia's voice interrupted Gray's internal dilemma.

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think it's possible Gildarts-san will know something about Juvia's parents?"

"It's worth a shot. That old guy loves to reminisce though, so if we're not careful he might go off on a tangent, and we'll be stuck there until nightfall."

"Juvia won't mind, especially if he did have the answers Juvia has been seeking! Juvia would gladly listen as long as it takes!" she said, excited at the possibility that Gildarts could provide a window into her past at last.

Gray seemed a lot less enthused at that prospect of being stuck in Gildarts' place for hours into the night. But, if it meant keeping Juvia out of harm's way, and preventing her from going off on a hunt for a possibly dangerous Jose Porla instead, he would gladly suffer through Gildarts taking a long, and winding trip down memory lane. He just hoped they weren't walking into a dead end, because Gray had no back up plan to distract Juvia from her desired mission. He had promised Master Makarov he'd keep her safe, and even without that promise, it was something he always strived to do anyway. He could not fail.

They'd reached the far edges of the town, and Gray steered them slightly passed an overgrown forested area, before entering a slight clearing with a cobbled path which led to the S-class mage’s humble cabin. They both took note of the tufts of smoke coming out of the stout chimney, signaling someone was definitely home. They smiled at each other, glad to not have traveled there in vain, and headed towards the door.

Gray knocked a few times and waited.

At first there was no answer, but then a sound of what must have been several pots and pans clattering to the floor reverberated through the open window, before the door burst open.

Standing in the doorway, looking happily expectant, was the auburn-haired, and battled-scarred S- class mage of Fairy Tail. However his expression seemed to falter, and twist into one of polite bemusement at his surprise guests' presence.

"Oh! I thought you two were Cana finally accepting her dad's invitation to a home cooked meal," he said, gesturing inside.

Gray and Juvia peered behind him as the mess that could only be classified as Gildarts' kitchen came into view. He had clearly been attempting to cook, the lit fire within his home waiting patiently for the pot, which he had filled with some mysterious gloopy substance, clearly the subject of Gildarts 'home cooked meal.'

"Nope, we haven't seen Cana today," Gray said, as Gildarts looked hopefully around them, as if Cana was about to pop out of a nearby bush at any moment, to finally fulfill her dad's wish for more bonding time. "It's just us here," Gray assured him.

Gildarts, shaking off his disappointment, finally looked back down at them, giving them both a once over, his eyes lingering on their clasped hands. He grinned.

"You two out on a date?" a playful twinkle in his eye as he observed their flustered reactions.

Gray finally did let go of Juvia's hand at this comment. "No," he said, a little too insistently.

Juvia looked crestfallen.

"Now, now, that's no way to treat a lady, Gray!" He chastised him lightly, as he smoothly brushed past Gray to usher Juvia inside. "Come in,, come in! It's Juvia, isn't it? You're good friends with Cana. I'm sure she won't be too upset if I treat you to a meal in her place. Don't be shy, there's plenty to share. Do you like wine, Juvia?"

Juvia was gently directed inside the warm cabin, a look of bewilderment coloring her features, while Gray had the door slammed in his face, leaving him standing alone outside.

That perverted old fart, Gray thought angrily. He lingered there annoyed for at least a couple of minutes, hoping one of the two would remember he was still there, before knocking on the closed door again, this time much more aggressively than when he had first arrived.

Gildarts reappeared. "Can I help you?" he asked, as if this were the first time he had met Gray, and as if Gray hadn't arrived with Juvia only a few minutes ago.

Speaking of Juvia, Gray could now see she was sitting down with a cup of tea in her hand, likely having refused the wine offer from Gildarts.

Gray ignored him, and irritatedly walked passed Gildarts into the house to join Juvia.

"How rude," Gildarts muttered none too silently to himself, as Gray pulled up a chair next to Juvia, sitting down, arms crossed and scowling.

Closing the door behind him, Gildarts sat down to join them. Apparently after he had guided Juvia inside, he had put the pot filled with the mysterious substance onto the fire, and it was now bubbling away behind them.

"So," Gildarts said after a moment. "What can I do for you. Want some love advice? I've got lots of tips," his eyebrows raised suggestively.

"Stop messing around!" Gray spat, his face reddening. "This is serious, old man! Juvia is here to ask you about her parents!"

"Her parents…" Gidarts said, sobering… He gave Juvia a thorough appraisal, and seemed to go into concentrated revelry. "Oh man, were there any blue-haired ladies…."

"NOT YOU," Gray said quickly.

Juvia blushed.

"Juvia is just trying to find information about her parents. She doesn't remember who they were. Gramps clearly seems to have known them, but he won't tell Juvia anything, so we were wondering if maybe you had met them before, and could tell her something about them, " Gray explained.

Gildarts relaxed, leaning back in his chair. "I was going to say, imagine having two daughters who both happened to end up in the same guild I was a part of. What would be the odds, right?" Gildarts laughed, but then got suddenly serious again, as his eyes fell back on Juvia. He studied her, as she looked back self-consciously.

"You know, come to think of it, you do remind me of someone," he said.

"Juvia does?" she asked, a pang of hope in her heart.

"Where are you from originally?"

"Juvia isn't sure. She was left in an orphanage in Hargeon. The most information the people running the orphanage could tell her, was that an old woman had dropped Juvia off there when Juvia was one-years old, but Juvia never did find the identity of the old woman. She doesn't know if she was a relation, or not."

Gildarts seemed to contemplate this information. "Your last name is Lockser?"

Juvia nodded.

"Hmmmm, well I can tell you I don't know anybody with that name. But you do bear a striking resemblance to an old friend of mine."

Gray didn't like the way Gildarts emphasized the word friend. "Who was this friend?"

"A former member of the magic council. She was a gorgeous girl, dark hair, piercing eyes, really feisty," he said, as his eyes glazed over, clearly having traveled back into some kind of indecent memory.

Gray and Juvia were discomfited.

"Oii! We're still here you know," Gray jolted him out of his reverie.

"Relax," he said, catching a look at their expressions. "It wasn't that type of relationship," he assured them, sighing in a good natured, but dejected sort of way. "Not for lack of trying, of course. She was my friend's girl."

"Your friend?"

"Benny. Benjamin 'Fluid' Dackser," he replied, as he grabbed the bottle of wine he had offered Juvia earlier, and took a sip.

"Fluid?"

"He was a water mage."

Juvia's eyes widened at this information.

"Water?!"

"Yeah. So that was his nickname. Ol' Benny Flu Dackser," a sad smile crossed Gildarts' face. "Man, he was such a pain in the ass," he chuckled. "It's pretty pointless crashing apart water, you know? It just comes right back together again."

"He could turn into water? Like Juvia does?!"

"Yup, it was his specialty. Not a good match for me, as he couldn't help to remind me every time we had a friendly fight. And we were both always trying to impress Sylvi. He won her in the end, that bastard. Ah, we were so young then. Not even twenty."

"Sylvi?" Gray asked.

"Sylvia Loten. A talented ice mage."

It was Gray's turn for his eyes to widen. "Ice?"

"Not on quite the same level as your old master Ur, I'm sure, but really talented all the same. I might not have been able to do much against Benny, but she was more than a match for him. It was great watching that cocky, lovestruck fool get beaten down by her. But she must have liked his persistent approach, because they ended up married."

"Benjamin-san and Sylvia-san…" Juvia mused to herself "did they have any children?"

"I lost touch with them both after they went into politics. They never joined a guild either, as far as I know. Like I said, Sylvi was a council member, and so was Benny - youngest council members ever at that point. It all happened while I was out on a major quest. By the time I came back, years had passed, and Benny and Sylvi had…" he trailed off somberly.

"They died?" Juvia concluded, her face stricken.

"Yeah."

"How?" Gray asked, almost afraid of the answer as he looked over at Juvia.

"Supposedly drowned," he said flatly.

"Drowned?! No way!"

Juvia agreed emphatically with Gray. "Benjamin-san was a water mage, how could he have drowned?"

"Just because you specialize in a type of magic doesn't mean you are immune to it's dangers," he explained, his mood had darkened considerably, the wine bottle's contents now severely depleted as he went on. "But again, that's just what I heard. Their bodies were found off the coast of Akane beach."

"Was the drowning an accident, or…" Gray trailed off.

"I don't know. But let's put it this way, I doubt they suffered a boating incident, and they couldn't save themselves. Doesn't make sense. Not for those two," Gildarts admitted.

"Terrible," was all Juvia could think to say as the three let a silence fall within the messy cabin, the only sound being the bubbling contents of the copper pot in the fireplace.

Juvia couldn't believe there had been another water mage. She'd never met anyone else who could use water magic other than herself. And she had been able to use it for as long as she could remember. It wasn't something she had studied to learn, which is usually the case for mages. People aren't born knowing magic. But for whatever reason, Juvia could instinctively control water, and as used to be the case, there were things she couldn't control about it as well - that constant rain that plagued her for so long. Water had literally been tied into her emotions - her very being - whether she liked it or not. It was a rare ability. A rare magic.

And yet this Benjamin Dackser was also a water mage. And he died. She couldn't imagine this skilled water mage, someone who could best Gildarts, could be drowned - and his talented ice mage wife as well. How? Why? Juvia had so many questions. The greatest of all being, could these two people have been her parents?

"Gildarts-san?" Juvia began, breaking the silence. "You said I remind you of Sylvia-san?"

"Yeah…" he said, studying her again, "the more I look at you, the more I think you look just like her. Same eyes, same pale skin, you even act a little like her. She was real regal, you know? You are very similar. Except for the hair. Her's was a very dark grey, almost black," he recalled, his voice a little slurred from the wine he had been using to dull the pain of his somber recollections.

"What color was this Benny guy's hair?" Gray asked.

Gildarts simply pointed to Juvia's hair in response.

Juvia's heart skipped a beat.

"You think they were Juvia's parents?" Gray came right out and asked what they were all currently wondering.

The question hung heavy in the air.

Juvia's fists clenched in anxiety.

Gildarts looked from Gray to Juvia, a pained expression on his face. He shook his head. "I never heard anything about them having a kid… but, there's a lot I don't know. I was gone for so long. I would think people who were on the council with them would know a lot more about anything like that. I knew them best when we were all still just a bunch of brats."

"How long were they on the council?"

"Not long. A few years, I think. And that was nearly 30 years ago now."

"Who do we know on the magic council who would talk to us?" Gray pondered. "None of them have ever exactly been the biggest fans of Fairy Tail. Plus, so many of them who might have been on the council with Benjamin and Sylvia are now…." Gray's thoughts wandered to the mass murder at the hands of the Tartarus members.

Another heavy silence fell.

"Yajima-san?" Juvia said tentatively, recalling the tiny man who ran the 8-island restaurant she once waitressed at with some of the other Fairy Tail ladies.

"Oh yeah, Gramp's friend. He's ancient, and he was on the council for ages," Gray recalled hopefully. "We could take a trip out to his restaurant in Hargeon and ask him if he knows anything more about these two."

"Let's do so," Juvia agree immediately, so grateful that Gray had suggested they go to Hargeon. This meant he intended to continue to accompany her on this quest of hers. Her heart was so burdened at the thought of possibly finding out who her parents were, only to be left with more devastating questions about their awful fate, and how she might tie into it. So, Gray's companionship served to lift that weight considerably.

"Thank you so much, Gildarts-san. You've been such a great help. Your information was truly invaluable," she said in earnest, getting up from her chair and heading towards the door. Gray followed closely behind.

"Wait! You sure you guys don't want to stay and eat? The stew is almost ready!" he pointed back towards the now overflowing muck bubbling out of his copper pot.

"That's very kind of you, Gildarts-san," Juvia eyed the stew in trepidation, "but we really have much to do if we are going to be leaving for Hargeon soon. But thank you for your hospitality, and the tea!" she added, leaving the warmly lit cabin behind her. The sun was setting as she stepped out into the clear air.

Gray was about to join her when Gildarts caught a hold of his arm and pulled him back.

"Hey!" Gray said, alarmed as Gildarts leaned close to him, his grip vice-like.

"Listen," Gildarts said, his tone uncharacteristically dire, "if Gramps didn't want to tell Juvia anything about her parents, then he likely had a damn good reason for it, and that reason was probably that he thinks there's danger involved. And if Gramps thinks looking for information on her parents is dangerous, then it probably is. I've only heard conspiracy theories about Benny and Sylvi's deaths, but if even one of them is true, Juvia could be headed into some serious trouble. I feel for her, I do. But if Benny and Sylvi were her parents, then there's nothing left to find."

Gray considered Gildarts words of warning. He looked towards Juvia, who was waiting patiently at the end of the cobbled path for him to join her. He again thought back to that night at the guild, and how hurt she was at never having known her family. "Juvia has a right to know the truth. If I can help her find at least that, then I'm going to do so," Gray said firmly. "And if there's danger, I'll protect her no matter what."

A/N: When rereading the previous chapters of this, I honestly didn't think I could continue the story no matter how much I wanted to. I genuinely didn't remember where I was going with the plot since it had been so long. But, thank goodness I had notes for future chapters saved. ;_; Otherwise this chapter would not exist right now. Anyway, if anyone is still reading, please do let me know with a review. But if everyone has abandoned this story, as I once did, then at least I can say I enjoyed writing this again. ^_^

#gruvia #juvia lockser #gray fullbuster #juvia loxar #fairy tail #my fanfiction

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

Text

17. A Song About Simon

Word Count: 4369. I don’t think that there’s any triggers in here besides the fact that Grace is still in the institution (which will be maybe another chapter or two, depending on how writing goes), and her and Hazel’s issues from previous chapters. I just want to announce here, like I’ve already told fandom familiars... I do not hold any of you to trying to read this story or any story that I may write. I do appreciate if someone reads, but I also understand that everything is not for everybody, I’m not for everybody, and my work isn’t either. At no time do I feel entitled to your reading and nobody should feel pressured to try to read anything that I write. I will love to hear from y’all and know that you enjoy reading, but if you can’t or don’t, that is your right, Folks. This is an ugly story with ugly content and hard topics, but even if it wasn’t, you still wouldn’t have to read, review, or reblog. I just want to make that clear for those of you in my space. Thanks for your time.

Whenever she first arrived, she was scared to get the help that she knew she needed. She always thought about how her parents had shot down the idea of it whenever her old driver was concerned. How they seemed to feel like it would mean that the work that they put into her as parents would be ruined if she needed mental help. Then, she would think about her 16th birthday, when her mother said that maybe he was right… the way it felt like her mother was saying that at that moment, she knew that Grace was a waste. “You’ll regret it…” her voice echoed in Grace’s mind. “If only someone had warned you…” The last day that she saw her.

Months had passed. Her parents didn’t even visit. Someone still controlled her social media. Because videos of her singing at the facility and captions insisting that she was getting the help she needed would show up. Grace didn’t know who was responsible for that, at the time, but all of the comments were disabled on all of her accounts. She didn’t want to imagine what people would have to say about her trying to recover.

Eventually, she warmed up to her doctor and the staff. She warmed up to her treatment, to the fact that she had to get better before anybody would let her go anywhere. Her goals became forgiving Simon, accepting responsibility for the things that she did and potentially reaching out to him to suggest that he try to get help as well. She knew that the first and last ones would be the hardest for her, so focusing more on self growth and accountability became her brand of help, at the moment. At least, she went through the motions.

Some days were better than others. Sometimes, she got onto the computer in the library and searched his name. He seemed like he was doing fine, in terminology, but he didn’t look great. That was a lie. He looked great. He was a little more muscular and his hair had grown out. He looked like maybe he had tattoos, though she couldn’t see what. But, he didn’t look happy. Good, she told herself. Even if she wondered in the back of her mind if that was an accurate observation, wishful thinking or unconditional love causing her to worry. Sometimes, she checked his social media pages to see what he was talking about.

She watched him receive badges, be crowned prom king, be valedictorian, travel to go to MIT… He really seemed like nothing was bothering him. He had thrown her to the wolves and just smoothly carried on… She would always be mad all over again, that he didn’t even care. It wasn’t even everything that he did to her! It was… but more importantly, it was the fact that he was able to do it and live like it was nothing to him.

But, that usually made for a very progressive therapy day, and a productive music session. She’d asked her caregiver about the posts on her social media. That was who she eventually found out was responsible for curating the content during her stay in here. “What about my rights?” Grace wondered. She had been creating a lot lately and whenever something got posted, she didn’t know the copyright status or anything legal pertaining to her very personal art!

“Your team takes care of all of the details like that. I basically just post and properly word updates about your healing process and progress. Your team decides which posts to make public or private. (I always post them privately, and sometimes someone comes in later to make things public).”

“It just doesn’t seem fair. I’m being my most authentic self, trying to be my best self and things that I use to get there are now being subjected to my mother and her team of handlers for me.”

“I can’t speak on feelings about it, but as of right now, you are still a minor and still in our care. That means that your welfare and decisions are decided by your parents, who are your legal guardians and us, who you’re a ward of. Whenever you turn 18, if you are mentally capable enough, you will be able to have more control over that type of thing.”

“I’m 18 pretty soon! But… mentally capable… I mean… I feel like I’m mentally capable enough to discuss my legal rights to my art, but I don’t know if I’m capable of like… rejoining society…”

“Well, whenever you do turn 18, we’ll talk about how you’re feeling and assess what you’re capable of. In the meantime, you can always tell me if there’s something that you just want to keep for you, and I promise, I won’t post it. But, your music and the fact that you’re creating in here is inspiring a lot of young people struggling with mental illness and it is warming people up to you since the scandal that led to you being here.”

“I… don’t care about those people right now. I just… want to heal and create.”

“Fair enough.”

Stingray Lyrics

You were burrowed in the sand.

I didn't know that you were there.

I reached out my hand,

only to connect with someone…

But you weren't prepared for my touch.

You didn't know that I would never hurt you.

I dug in a little too much,

And in your startled state you made me regret it.

Like a stingray, you were so cute.

Just living life, just doing you.

But I had to reach for something else, I HAD to have you for myself and it stung me.

Getting too close to you really stung me.

She scribbled the words down, humming the melody. She wasn’t sure if Simon was out there somewhere being bothered to even think about her, but if he was, she wanted him to have to see or hear things about himself.

There wasn’t sheet music in here, but she could use her notebook and sort of guess where the lines would be. She had requested sheet music weeks ago! She was trying to teach Hazel how to read music, too. They usually were able to spend time together twice a week. Technically, they weren’t assigned to the same areas, but one of the caretakers would always make an exception and help them to see each other, because they just seemed to be really good for each other. Neither of them had any other friends there.

They weren’t antisocial, but they just only really clicked with each other, and Hazel had not been thinking she was a turtle nearly as much since she met Grace, and Grace’s almost entire first year there had been monotonous and for the most part stagnant until she met Hazel. Hazel seemed to make her want to be better, want to move forward on something other than the pendulum of attacking herself and defending herself for things she did and didn’t do. Hazel helped her to really seem to grasp empathy.

They were stretching, silently, getting ready for the dance lessons that Grace would give her near the playground, during activity time. Grace was really quiet, with Hazel was singing to herself. Suddenly, she wondered, “Grace, did either of your parents sing to you when you were a child?”

Grace scoffed and shook her head, “No. Neither of my parents did any of the TV parent stuff. My dad was a lawyer, politician, and ambassador. My mom was a high paid performer turned model turned socialite, the daughter of someone just like my father. Most of their parenting was instilling a certain image on me, or having a nanny take me away if I didn’t quite fit the bill in time enough for guests or appearances.”

“What’s ‘appearances?’”

“It’s like when you have to go somewhere just to be seen. For my dad’s job, there were political or business meet and greets, sometimes charity functions, auctions and stuff like that, and at times it was simply an extremely elegant dinner party or some dignitary’s kid’s birthday event. My last birthday party was…” She frowned, thinking about how that night ended. The beginning of the end in her mind. She looked at the charm bracelet that she had managed to still never take off, despite everything.

“Was what?” Hazel wondered.

“Too much. It was too much. I’ve always lived pretty extravagantly, but I think whenever I leave here, I might like to get an isolated place and sort of just live there with maybe a pet or something. I’m never going to have guests over for dinner parties or house any ambassadors.”

“Can I come over?” Hazel wondered, timidly.

“Yes! Of course, if your parents let you…”

“I’m never gonna have parents.”

“Hazel!” Grace called. The younger girl just shrugged her shoulders. Grace sputtered air out of her lips and shrugged too. “Well, who needs them, anyway?”

Hazel threw her a look. “I do, Grace. I need them. I’m 6.”

Grace frowned. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re right. I have a really bad habit of saying whatever I think is gonna make people I care about feel better. It's one of the things that I need to work on. Of course you need parents. Every child needs parents… which is why I’ve gotta believe that you’ll get some! And whenever you do, they’ll hopefully let us be friends. We have a very big age gap, so I don’t know how comfortable they’ll be with you just coming over.” Hazel looked like she was thinking about something as she stared ahead, but she was still standing, so Grace figured she wasn’t a turtle right now. “Ready to learn our new hip hop routine?” Now, she blinked and looked at Grace with enthusiasm, nodding vigorously.

Making time to put together figures was hard, but Simon had all of his figures with him whenever he moved from his family house shortly after the clash with the void. The fame that he had risen to over his scandalous book deal and all of the allegations against it had gotten him a very comfortable situation. He was wealthy, in his own right, and schools that he might have needed Mr. Monroe to get into previously were no longer something to be dangled in front of his face. He actually missed the Monroes. Mrs. Monroe less than her husband, but both of them. They really weren’t as bad as she made them out to be. He believed that much. But… they belonged to her. He could have them on his side for a while, but not after all of this. He hated not having Mr. Monroe to bounce things off of. He’d sacrificed a mentor to get rid of the void.

He had tried not to pull them into it, but eventually, the narrative began that her parents were using him, as well. That he was something to taper their wild-child and as soon as he stood up for himself was financially cut off. Mr. Monroe had been very public about the fact that unfortunately, they knew nothing of their daughter’s extreme condition until she viciously attacked her mother. Simon would have paid money to see that cat-fight. Simon felt bad for them, having lost their daughter to the void, so he withdrew accusations of the crimes, though several of them couldn’t be taken back, as the victims wanted to sue personally. But, the Monroes fared fine, after all of the settlements or wins. Simon wondered whatever happened to the charm bracelet, but he pushed that from his mind.

He still carried the name The Apex, though many companies used that or had it in their name, so he couldn’t trademark it, but the general of his Apex was that if you were tagging The Apex, Simon Says was also there.

He took his book opportunity as his big chance to move forward with his other works. They didn’t sell as well, but he could say at 17 that he was a bestselling author for Free From Grace, and that by 18, he had published several books from throughout his adolescence and had a huge trilogy deal that he intended to have released by the time he was 20.

Senior year in high school was a blast. He was worshiped and kids who had only held allegiance to him via the void either came around or were fun to alienate as nulls. Shana rose to popularity and the two of them continued their banter, a little will they won’t they brewing, as far as he was concerned. She got rid of her weave and replaced them with braids for going natural. Apparently, she was going to be going to an HBCU and she wanted to finally wear her hair “the way it was intended,” when she got there. It made her look ever more like Grace to him, despite the fact that Grace had never worn braids, only locs, and the full out afro she had whenever she left.

Maybe he was just weakening again… missing her… “Hey, Shana - we should attend the prom together,” he said, as they sat across from each other at their desks in the newsroom.

She looked up at him with only her eyes, not lifting her head from her work, but he could still see the disdain in her eyebrows. “For what reason would I ever even consider something like that?”

He laughed and leaned back in his seat. “We’re the apex of the student body.” She groaned at the word that she was BEYOND sick of hearing. “You’re the most popular girl in school now, and while not my equal, the best of what we have. We both know that you and I will be class favorites and prom king and queen. Might as well make an entire thing out of it.”

She raised her head now and he was confused by her expression, because it was still clearly disdainful. “Simon. I don’t care if I was going to win a cash prize of a million dollars. I would never even so much as think about attending anything with you. Thanks for asking.” She shook her head in disbelief and continued working.

“Why not? Did you not hear the reasons this works out perfectly?”

“I heard the reasons that you think I’m a status symbol that for whatever reason would actually want to be seen with you. They weren’t reasons that I would overlook who you are as a person and how I feel about you as such to put on some sort of publicity show for a bunch of kids that I’m never going to see again, because if I ever come to a class reunion, it would be to see if Grace showed up and how she’s doing.”

“Nothing that you said makes any sense. Me as a person? I…”

“You’re a bad person,” she said. He laughed, then stopped. Oh, she’s serious? “Simon… I, along with the entire student body watched you destroy a girl that we knew you were once like this with.” She crossed her fingers. “We watched you lie on her, make her out to be worse than she was, and bring her so low that she’s in an institution!”

“You hated Grace, and now you’ve taken her place as the boss bitch.”

“Grace and I did not get along. We argued. We dissed each other. We competed. We hurt each other. We were mean and nasty to each other, and even I can see that what you did to her was fucked up.”

“You didn’t try to stop me.”

“That’s not my business. But what IS my business is the company I keep. It would never be somebody who would turn on even his day 1. Nobody even would have cared about you if it wasn’t for Grace and I still to this day think that you’re the one who shared that video of you two. Your lost and found again laptop story was always corny to me.”

“You seemed to get a kick out of it at the time.”

“Yeah, of humiliation! She got a kick out of it whenever my father was arrested for white collar crime! Fucking with each other was our dynamic! But you were supposed to be the girl’s friend, and you didn’t just fuck with her, you fucked her up. Everybody thinks it’s so funny? They’re only amused because they’re scared that you might fuck them up too. If you did it to her, there’s no telling what you’d do. You’ve got people thinking that the old rumors are true..” He furrowed his eyebrows and glared at her. The old rumors. That he killed his sister. They were true, but it was an accident. “In short, I don’t care about any of your reasons. You asked me to prom. I decline. End of discussion.”

“So… you don’t like me anymore because I stood up to Grace, something you did all of the time. We’re on the same side now!”

She stared at him and for a moment, he saw fear. That wasn’t something that Shana showed very much. She cleared her throat and wondered, “When… When did it ever cross your mind that I would EVER like you, Simon? You have been a jerk the entire time that I’ve known you. When Grace and I were rivals, you were disgusting to me. You’ve called me out of my name, tried to tear me down about my looks and my family. Where in the world would you ever get an idea that I could possibly like you, even as just a person that I know of?”

“Because of our banter…”

“Arguing.”

“All of the flirting…”

“Clearly happened in your mind, but did not happen in mine.”

“The way that you always blush whenever we talk! I know what it looks like when somebody your skin tone blushes. I knew Grace like the back of my hand.”

“And you tossed her in the trash like nothing. I don’t like you. I have never liked you, and I have never BLUSHED when we talk. What you should know, as the young genius that everybody tries to make you out to be, because this is science related, biology, if you will… Is that what you’re describing as blushing, is actually heat rushing to one’s face. My heartbeat accelerates, I may even sweat a little as I get hot and my blood rushes. That’s not because I have a crush on you. It’s because you are one of the most infuriating people to have a conversation with. Because in addition to being a rude jackass, you are a delusional egotist. Every conversation I have with you makes me want to punch you in the face. And I know that if I do, they’ll toss my ass out of here and that will mess up me following my mother’s footsteps as a Spelman College Delta Sigma Theta! You, Simon Laurent have never been worth anything to me, certainly not my future. I’m sorry for Grace that she didn’t know that, but my parents raised me with the utmost love and confidence. I don’t need anybody like you to upgrade me, and I love myself too much to even entertain you as a friend. And my father, who you love to try to weaponize against me, after serving his time is still worth at least five times as much as yours…”

Simon threw over things from her desk and she jumped. His eyes went wide. He surprised himself with that outburst. Shana was moved for a moment, when she thought he was about to attack her, but when he didn’t, she got up. “Please pick up this mess, Simon. I will not mind reporting you for it.” She left the newsroom for a breather. Simon rushed to pick everything up before anybody else came in and wondered what happened, but a lot of Shana’s words cut him for a moment. She’s lying. Girls lie, he reminded himself as he picked things up from the floor. But, he wasn’t going to beg her to go out with him. She declined. Okay, whatever. He’d have been doing her a favor.

Sometimes, he thought about her words, though. Blushing because she was infuriated by him… That made sense after a while, especially when he conflated her with the void, who he knew never loved him. He and Shana were prom king and queen, but she declined dancing with him and said on the microphone, “We all know this is Grace Monroe’s sloppy seconds.” There was an uproar of laughter in his mind.

Actually, only a few people laughed. Some looked shocked and horrified that Shana would make fun of who they believed to be an abuse survivor. Shana shrugged her shoulders like Kanye and doubled down, “You all know good and well that Grace never harmed a split ended hair on this boy’s head! She was as obsessed with him as he was with her. You’re all wild to go along with that narrative. You would never believe all that mess about a white girl..” The dean snatched the microphone from her and gave her some warning that the other students couldn’t hear. Simon was livid. He waited for her outside.

“Shana,” he said. Shana yelped in fear whenever she saw him at her car, then reached into her clutch for a weapon. She didn’t have much, but she did have a nail file. Whenever he came near her, she stuck him in the neck with it and he groaned. She set off her car alarm trying to get inside of the car before deactivating it and Simon just smiled at her as she did. Shana was driving and crying and that was the last time that Simon saw her.

He was questioned about assaulting her in the parking lot, but informed them that he only wanted to talk to her about what she had said in front of everyone and that she actually assaulted him. Now… once, people might believe, and people might even have believed that Shana was entirely capable of it. But, most of the kids and staff knew that Shana was a mean girl, but never violent. The only physical exchanges she had were the ones with Grace Monroe and now Simon Laurent. She finished out the end of school how Grace had finished her junior year. Simon finished it out with people beginning to doubt some of his stories about Grace. But, that didn’t matter!

He hated that school, those rich kids, the system that worked for them but made him work for it. He was on his way to becoming better than all of that. He still wanted to make time for his art - writing, photography, creating figures and scenes… but he had gotten really into the robotics program whenever he was in engineering and decided that was what he was going to focus his education on. MIT was his first choice and he had been accepted by the end of junior year. He got his small living space as close as he could, since he prepared on spending the bulk of his time enrolled. He knew that he was destined for greatness.

But, sometimes, his social media would think he needed to see something, like today, when he opened a video of Grace, playing a piano at wherever the undisclosed facility she had been at was, singing something captioned as “Stingray,” and looking… beautiful. He watched it more times than he would ever admit.

He opened his own treasure chest and pulled out images of her, them… things that he had made and just didn’t have the strength to destroy when he purged the void. He picked up a photo from the pumpkin patch, when they were 14. She had her tongue stuck out at him and he was blushing. It was one of his favorite photos of them.

“You should take every photo of me, from now on!” She said, looking at her ones on her page that had gotten her the deal. “You always seem to make me look my absolute best in every photo you take of me. Like, you have a real eye for it.”

“I have an eye for you,” he corrected. “Two…” He blushed a lot. He hadn’t meant to say THAT.

“You’ve got eyes for me, Simon?” she teased, making him blush more and his heart rate speed up. And in the midst of him trying to collect himself, she grabbed on to him, pulled him into a hug and took another of her many selfies. She groaned, “I just can’t make any photos look as good as you can… but you’re adorable in this,” she said and showed it to him. “I’m putting this on my Christmas cards this year.”

She didn’t lie about that. He tossed it back into the box and picked up the torn out foreword that she had written for his fantasy novel. He went through the entire box before locking it back up and throwing it into the trunk of his car. One day, he was going to find the strength to throw it in a river or burn it, or something. It’s just that… she was his entire world… for half of his life…

“And you tossed her in the trash like nothing,” he heard Shana’s voice say… or was it Grace’s voice? He was starting to forget it. Like… of course he knew what it sounded like, but his head couldn’t place it in the chorus of girls’ voices that haunted him: his sister, his mother, the void, Shana… Shana was interchangeable with the void. His brain kept trying to tie them together and perhaps that was why her words affected him. Or maybe it was because they sounded so true, when he knew that they couldn’t be. The Void betrayed him. He counterattacked. “Getting too close to you really stung me.” He heard her singing. Simon bit his lip, picked up his phone and took a deep breath before liking the Stingray post.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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twdeadfanfic · 5 years

Text

I ain’t sick, Pt.2

Daryl x Reader

Chapter 2/4

Summary: Daryl has gotten sick with fever, but he won’t admit it and slow down until he just can’t keep going, passing out and ending up bedridden, haunted by nightmares and trapped in deliriums about his past abuse while the reader tries to take care of him.(Or: Me indulging in how much I want to take care of Daryl, comfort him, and protect him from everything.) Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff…just my kind of things. Prison era.

Inspired by a request. It’ll be updated twice a week, next chapter coming on Monday.

If you want to read more Daryl x Reader series, mini-series, one-shots and drabbles, check my masterlist in the description of this blog.

..............................................................

You didn’t have to walk for long until you saw another walker dead on the ground, and a few meters ahead you found another two, one of them with a broken bolt in his head. Daryl… Worry closed your stomach but as you looked around you couldn’t see him or anything that told you where had he gone. You kept walking but you didn’t find any more walkers, neither any other trace of Daryl, and so you decided to backtrack, see if you had missed something.

You had walked past the first walker you had found when a noise caught your attention. Looking towards it, you saw a walker stumbling its way to you. You unsheathed your knife, but before you could do anything, you heard a whistle and the walker fell down to the ground, arrow embedded into its forehead.

You turned around and spotted Daryl making his way to you. He looked worse than this morning, worse than even just an hour ago, his skin paler than you had ever seen him, and even from distance you could notice his laborious breath and the layer of sweat that covered him.

“The hell you doing out here alone!” You couldn’t help but snap, scared and worried as you were.

“Hunting.” Without looking at you, Daryl went to yank his arrow back.

“You’re sick! You’re sick and you have gotten worse!” You stepped in front of him so he’d look at you but he didn’t. “You can’t just go out all by yourself! Putting down walkers and what not!”

“I always hunt by myself,” he grumbled, annoyed. “Those walkers ain’t nothing.”

“But you are sick!” You repeated, exasperated. “You’re not feeling well, anything could have gone wrong, anything could have happened, you have a fever…” You felt tears in your eyes just thinking about it. Daryl was a hothead, sure, stubborn, and not one for resting, but still, he was being irresponsible and it scared you.

“Told you I’m fine!” Daryl snapped, though when he looked at you he seemed to realize how scared you were, and his voice softened. “Hey, Y/N…I’m sorry I made you worry…” he apologized, taking you aback. “But I’m okay.”

“You’re not. You’re ill, and you have a fever, and those things are dangerous now, and you wouldn’t let us help, and you go out alone, and you wouldn’t listen!” You half snapped, half whimpered.

Daryl looked at you as if he didn’t know what to say. “Let’s go back, okay?” He offered, eyeing you carefully.

You nodded and began walking, upset. “I’m not even going to tell you to take the medicine, and rest, because what for, you won’t listen…” Daryl didn’t say anything, and you both walked back to the prison in silence.

Once you were sure Daryl was safe inside and wasn’t planning on going out again, at least for that day, you went to your cell. You needed time to calm down. You thought that maybe you had overreacted, but you couldn’t help how worried you had been knowing that Daryl was alone and outside while he was ill with fever, how scared you were when you saw those walkers…

After a while, Daryl came to the cell too, hair wet after having a shower that did nothing to lower the heat you still could feel radiating from him when he sat down next to you on the bed. For a while, he didn’t say anything and neither did you, until he finally spoke.

“I really need to teach you how to track, you were doing a real shitty job today. Going in the wrong direction and all.”

“It’s not funny!” You snapped, shifting to lie down on the bed with your back to him, upset all over again.

“I’m not saying it is…” Daryl grumbled, letting out a sigh, dropping onto the bed too. “Told you I’m fine, Y/N.”

“No, you aren’t…” You looked at him over your shoulder. “But I’ve given up on trying to make you rest, take the medicines, or anything to help you. Just…just don’t go out alone again or anything like that while you’re like this…”

“Okay…” Daryl murmured, and you didn’t think you could ask anything else from him, you didn’t know if you could even believe his word anymore.

Daryl woke you up twice that night. First when a coughing fit shook him, despite his efforts to pretend nothing was wrong while he kept saying he was perfectly fine. The second time, you woke up when you heard him mumbling and whimpering in his sleep. He still felt warmer than usual, warmer than he should, and you wondered if he was in pain or just having a bad dream.

He kept whimpering and mumbling and you reached to stroke his hair as you tried to shush him and calm him down. He flinched away from your touch but at the same time snuggled closer, and so you held him until he calmed down.

“Are you hurting?” You asked when he woke up.

“No,” he rasped, as you knew he would.

“You still have a fever,” you held your hand to his forehead. “It might have gotten worse.” You were sure Daryl was going to say something, but he just nuzzled into your touch, which worried you more. “I’m going to wake Hershel, tell him to give you something.”

“No,” Daryl wrapped an arm around you when you went to get up.

“Daryl, it’s for your own good…” You tried to move again but he held you tighter.

“No.” His hand fisted on your shirt and he pulled at you to lie down again. “Please.”

He rested his head on your chest, his arm around your middle as if trying to prevent you from leaving, and you didn’t have the heart to move away when he asked like that, maybe you should, but you couldn’t. Instead, you wrapped your arm around him and began to stroke his hair. You could make him take the medicine in the morning.

Daryl didn’t take the medicine in the morning, didn’t let Hershel check him, even though it was painfully clear he wasn’t feeling well, his voice as hoarse as you had ever heard it, his eyes glazed, and his skin pale and sweaty. Still, instead of resting, he joined the group who was going to clear another cellblock. Nothing anybody said made him change his mind, and you were afraid that if they didn’t let him help, then he’d go alone by himself again. With an exasperated sigh, you took your gun and your knife, and followed everyone with Daryl by your side.

Once the main area of the cellblock was cleared, all of you paired up to inspect the corridors, see what you could find and put down any walker that might be stranded there. You paired up with Daryl, peering worriedly at him. You could hear his laborious breathe, the way in which his hands shook when he trained his crossbow in front of him. He’d been slower than his usual self when putting down the walkers in the main area, but you hadn’t said anything in front of everyone, afraid of Daryl snapping. You reached for his arm now.

“Daryl…you’re not feeling well, don’t say you are. Let’s go back.”

Daryl moved his arm away from your hand, stubborn. “No. Let’s clear this place.”

“Fine…” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

At least there didn’t seem to be many walkers in the place, if you were lucky you could just sweep through the area and leave without any problem. For a while, you just found dead bodies on the ground and empty shelves. It was disappointing, but it was better than a herd of walkers.

At some point, though, you hear the growl of some walkers, and as you approached the area you found a group of them. It was small enough, though, just three of them munching on something.

“I got it,” you said, unsheathing your knife, though Daryl was already loosening the bolt, putting down one of them.

You put down the other two before he reloaded his crossbow, once again slower than usual, and when you turned to look at him, you noticed Daryl’s hands trembling as he put the string into place, and the way in which he seemed kind of dizzy when he looked up from it.

“Why don’t we go back already?” You suggested again.

“No, let’s see if we can find something here…” he rasped, gesturing around at the big room weakly. “Go through that area and I’ll check these cabinets.”

“Alright…”

You went to do your task, trying to do it as quick but efficient as possible so you could leave soon. You were still at it when you heard a clank that startled you, and when you turned around you saw Daryl had dropped his crossbow. He was looking down, head hanging low, not doing any movement to retrieve his crossbow, not that you had ever seen him letting it fall down before.

“Daryl…”

“Maybe…” he muttered, voice so low that you could barely hear it. “Maybe I ain’t feeling that well…”

Hearing him say that, the way in which his voice sounded, the way he looked, you felt fear paralyzing you for a couple of seconds, before you rushed to him.

“Okay…okay…” You tried to calm down, feeling as if your heart might burst out of your chest at how fast it was beating. “Come on, we’re going back to our cellblock, alright?”

Daryl nodded his head once, so weakly that you could have missed it, but he didn’t move. When you bent down and picked his crossbow he reached out a shaky hand as if to take it from you, but he didn’t seem that coordinated and you strapped the bow to your back, deciding to carry it yourself.

“Come on…” You took Daryl’s hand, which was so hot it felt like burning. You began walking, Daryl stumbling next to you, looking worse than you’d ever seen him. It seemed as if each step took him more and more effort, his eyes more and more unfocused, and you tried to control your fear as you wrapped one of his arms around you.

“I’m fine…” He murmured, but he let you support part of his weight, as if he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

You tried walking you both to the first corridor and then to your cellblock, but Daryl’s weight felt heavier and heavier as he leaned more on you, and you could see him fighting to stay conscious, until he couldn’t stop it anymore, his head hanging loose as he passed out and you stumbled under his weight.

“Damnit…” You tried to stop Daryl from falling down, dropping onto your knees so you could lower him down, holding him to you as you tried to think what to do.

“Sorry…” Daryl whispered so weakly, seeming to be barely conscious, as he tried to move but couldn’t, falling into your arms again. “I’m good…”

He wasn’t, that much was obvious, and it didn’t look like he was going to get better, if only worse. He was fainting again and you tried not to panic. You shifted him so he could rest against the wall. You needed to go looking for help, but you hated the idea of leaving him alone and defenseless.

You knew there weren’t walkers behind, but you weren’t so sure about what you might find ahead, most of the corridors had seemed clear, but it wouldn’t be the first time that a group of walkers seemed to come out of nowhere in that maze of a prison. Still, you needed to do something, and so you walked forwards, giving Daryl worried glances, until you reached the hall in which you had gotten separated from the others.

They hadn’t come back yet and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t dare to venture much further while leaving Daryl alone and unconscious behind, but neither could you carry him alone. Making noise was dangerous, you knew it, but you didn’t know what else to do, and you hoped all the corridors were clear by now.

“There’s somebody close? Rick? I need help! Please!” You called for the others, as loud as you dared.

It seemed nobody heard you, but then you heard an unmistakable growl and you cursed under your breath as you saw a couple of walkers stumbling out of a dark corridor. They hadn’t been there before so they must have wandered from someplace else, and you hoped there weren’t more than those.

You still had Daryl’s crossbow and you took it, reloading it as Daryl had taught you and aiming for one of the walkers, putting it down silently. You had just reloaded again and aimed for the other walker when you saw a group approaching. Shit…

“Help!” You yelled, not caring about being loud now, you were just worried about the monsters getting to Daryl. “Rick! Anybody! Help!”

You loosened the arrow to put down another and began to backtrack to the corridor where you had left Daryl, the walkers slowly by surely moving to you.

You stopped midway, closer enough to Daryl to see him but far enough to hopefully put down the walkers before they could get too close. You looked back at Daryl, still passed out against the wall, and charged against the walkers that were getting closer, putting them down by knife.

“Y/N?” You looked back at Daryl’s weak voice, distracting you almost enough to let a walker grab you, but you hold it back and stabbed your knife into its head. “Y/N?” He called weakly again, his glazed eyes trying to focus on you. He went to grab his knife, but it dropped onto the floor, and then he tried to get up, stumbling against the wall again. “Y/N…”

You didn’t have time to tell him to stop trying to get up before you had to charge against more walkers, but as more approached you knew in the back of your mind that they were too many for you, but you refused to acknowledge it. You weren’t going to let them get to Daryl, no matter what. Before you could think that everything was lost, thought, Rick, Carol, Glenn and Maggie showed up, charging against the walkers too, and you all put all the monsters down.

“What happened?!”

“It’s Daryl…I think he’s very ill, he’s burning and he passed out! We have to get him to the cell.”

Rick wrapped one of Daryl’s arms around him and Glenn the other, dragging him to the cellblock, while he slipped in and out of consciousness, murmuring unintelligible things, though he never seemed to be really conscious. They dropped him onto the bed, you sitting down next to him, and Hershel rushed into the cell to check him.

Daryl seemed unconscious, but then he flinched away from Hershel roughly. “Don’t touch me!”

“Hey, hey, shhh…” You pressed a hand to Daryl’s chest to hold him down, your other hand soothingly stroking his hair, while he kept murmuring and squirming, trying to open his eyes and failing. “Shhh, it’s okay…” He was weak enough for Hershel to be able to check him, and the worried look in the vet’s face just scared you even more. “What?”

“His fever…I can’t know exactly how high is it, but too high. We need to lower it, or else…”

“Or else what?”

Hershel didn’t say anything, just reached out to squeeze your arm reassuringly, and then he began explaining to you what needed to be done in order to help Daryl. You tried to focus on what Hershel was telling you, but you couldn’t help your mind from wander, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe…could Daryl…could he die from this? From a fever? Just like that…it didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be. Not like that, not after everything you all had gone through, not after everything he had survived.

It just couldn’t be.

.............................................................

And...we’re diving into deliriums...

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Priceless: 7/8

I know it's been MONTHS since an update on this fic, and I know my apologies for that sound like a broken record. But ya'll, this chapter was agonizing to write. I would stare at the screen then maybe write two or three paragraphs at a time. I knew what I wanted to happen and where I wanted to end up, but I just had major writer's block. Thankfully, I ended up really liking this chapter despite it all! This chapter also ends with my absolute favorite scene from the movie and the part that had me seriously considering writing this AU. I hope ya'll like my version of it! Massive thanks to @xhookswenchx for being my beta on this. She has been holding my hand through this - my first foray into writing in first person.

Summary: Desperate men often find themselves in places they never thought they would go, but for Killian Jones it would finally force him to be the hero his daughter always thought he could be. The job was simple: drive the truck, don’t open the back, don’t ask questions. But Killian Jones has never followed instructions very well …

An AU of the movie Priceless starring Joel Smallbone of For King and Country.

Rating: M for themes

Trigger warnings: This story is about human trafficking so there are discussions of rape and non-con, some of it involving minors. None of it is portrayed as positive nor is it graphically described. If you have any specific questions or concerns before reading, feel free to message me.

THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING, I SWEAR!!!!

Also on Ao3 and part of my movie au series Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom-Com: Second Edition. There is also a First Edition.

Tagging (my tag list for my movie au series is massive, so if anyone would like to be removed, let me know! But a heads up that I will be doing a third edition of the series after Priceless with some lighter fare!): @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @delirious-latenight-laughs @resident-of-storybrooke @vvbooklady1256 @teamhook @tiganasummertree @nikkiemms @hollyethecurious @distant-rose @ultraluckycatnd @bethacaciakay @jennjenn615 @branlovestowrite @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @stahlop @thislassishooked @scientificapricot @spartanguard @shireness-says @kday426 @shipsxahoy @shady-swan-jones @cat-sophia @artistic-writer @thejacketandthehook @dassala @allofdafandoms-blog @flslp87 @pocket-anon @snidgetsafan @onceuponaprincessworld @courtorderedcake

Since it’s been so long since an update, here’s a chapter summary: After David sends the shady cop and Gold's men packing, he and the Brothers Jones follow the white van from The Red Lantern Motel. They are now staking out the house where the girls are being held, but David and Liam may not be able to hold Killian back for long from a daring rescue.

Across the street, I watched Emma climb down out of the unmarked white van, Neal close at her side. The scumbag grabbed her by the elbow as he led her towards the brick ranch house with black out curtains on all the windows. My fingers dug into the seat in front of me as my jaw clenched.

“She’s right there,” I hissed to my brother and David.

“Get down,” David snapped in response.

“We can’t just sit here!”

“Killian, they know what you look like,” Liam snapped, “so hide before I punch you.”

“We’re outmanned,” David added, glancing at me in the rearview mirror as I laid myself out across the bench seat, “and I’m sure they have guns.”

“So what was the point of following them?”

“We know where the girls are being kept,” David explained as he continued driving down a side street just past the house. “We’ll come back in a few hours when everyone is sleeping.”

“You can get up now,” Liam told me as we turned out of the modest suburban neighborhood. We saw a young mom jogging past with her baby in a stroller. How could people like her not know what was going on in her own neighborhood?

“We’ll also need to be armed,” I said, “just in case.”

Liam looked at me incredulously, but David nodded grimly. “He’s right. We’ll break into the house and try and get the girls out quietly. But just in case, we have to be prepared.”

“Don’t we have to do this legally?” Liam argued.

“All we have to do is get them out of there,” I snapped. “I don’t care how.”

*****************************************************

The house was completely dark inside as we tiptoed through the kitchen door. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, but the heavy curtains throughout the house made it feel like the middle of the night.

“I can’t see a thing,” Liam whispered, “anybody got a flashlight app?”

“We can’t risk it,” I whispered back.

“Let’s split up,” David instructed, “we can search the house better that way. I’ll go down this hallway, Killian you go check the living area, and Liam you search the garage.”

I inched my way around the half wall separating the kitchen from the living area. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw what one would find in any seventies-style ranch: threadbare, avocado furniture in the center of the room with an old tube television shoved against the opposite wall. A lopsided coffee table, gouged and stained with rings, held the crumpled remains of junk food. I thought of Anna and her love of hamburgers and chocolate milkshakes.

“Nothing in the garage.”

I tensed before I recognized Liam’s voice over my shoulder, then I deflated and lowered the gun I grasped in my hand. I waited a few heartbeats, and then David’s voice drifted from the hallway.

“You guys gotta see this.”

Liam and I rushed down the hall, skidding to a stop in the doorway of the last bedroom. Disappointment surged through me as I realized that every room was empty. The room David was standing in had no furniture; just a dirty sheet draped across one wall. Another was covered in dozens of Polaroid photographs. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach as I made my way over to them. Every single one was a picture of a woman scantily clad in lingerie. Some weren’t women at all, but mere girls dressed to look older than they were. Heavy makeup was a thin veneer over their haunted faces. The blood drained from my face when I recognized one of them. My hand shook as I pulled a picture of Anna from the wall. Her chin was tilted down, and shame and fear swam clearly in her eyes. I clenched my jaw as I crumpled the photo in my fist.

“I don’t understand. They should be here,” I choked out.

David shook his head. “I’m sorry, Killian. It looks like they moved them.”

“They might know we’ve been watching them!” Liam exclaimed. “This is exactly why we should have gotten help!”

“From who?” I snapped in irritation. “The dirty cops?”

I let out a feral yell as I began to rip the pictures from the wall. Some of these girls were only a few years older than my Alice. They could be someone’s daughter or little sister. I thought of Emma, trading her body to keep her sisters safe, and I fell to my knees as hopelessness washed over me.

“Killian,” David said gently, resting his hand on my shoulder. I shook him off, but he continued anyway. “This isn’t over yet. These pictures are probably on the internet. I know that’s not easy to contemplate, but we can use that in our favor to find them.”

I nodded, and though I felt completely numb, I stood to my feet. I was following David to the door when I realized Liam wasn’t at my side. I turned around to find him facing the wall where only a handful of photos had escaped my rage. With a shaking hand, he reached out and took one, then turned slowly to face me. Tears were rolling down his face.

“Liam?”

“You’re right, brother,” he said, “one way or another, we end this.”

Then he took the picture in his hands and ripped it in half. As it fluttered to the floor, he followed David back out into the hall. I couldn’t resist; I reached down and retrieved the picture. As I lined up the two halves, Elsa’s face looked back at me. She was more pale than I remembered, and I had a feeling it wasn’t the makeup. Even worse, her eyes were dull. I understood Liam’s reaction now. I crushed the picture as I had done with Anna’s, and ground both under my feet as I left the room.

*****************************************************

It wasn’t safe for us to stay at the motel anymore, so David and Mary Margaret were graciously letting us stay with them at a cabin they owned up in the hills. Since David had stood up to the dirty sheriff and Gold’s men, he felt it was best he and his wife lay low as well. They left their super Leroy in charge and we all prepared to lay low and plan our next move.

Only I couldn’t do it.

Liam didn’t like it, but David seemed to understand when I asked him for the name of his favorite bar. With promises that I’d take a cab to the Nolan’s place later, I walked the lonely streets until I found the bar David said was owned by a friend of his. The Nautilus was practically empty; after all, it wasn’t even five yet. I wondered if the barkeep who filled my tumbler with rum was David’s friend, but I wasn’t in the mood for a chat.

Getting drunk wasn’t my motivation. I’d been down that road before, and God knew if I was going to help Emma I needed to be clear headed. So I nursed the same glass until the sun dipped low in the sky, mindlessly staring at ESPN on the small television in the corner.

By that time, patrons began to trickle in. I asked for another glass of rum, the first having done little more than send a pleasant warmth through my veins. Not enough to cease my worry or smooth the lines from my brow. The barkeep eyed me as he set the second glass down in front of me, clearly expecting me to spill what had me brooding. Something about his eyes caused a flicker of hope to flame to life within my heart. I took a sip of my rum, then pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I pulled up the selfie Emma had accidentally taken. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Have you seen this woman anywhere?” I asked.

The barkeep shook his head in sympathy. “I’m sorry, no. Is she missing?”

I swallowed thickly before I could answer. “In a way.”

He gestured around the bar. “You could ask around. Most of these folks are regulars, so if I haven’t seen your . . . “

He looked at me pointedly to fill in the blank, and I hesitated for a beat.

“My . . . um, sister.”

We looked nothing alike, but it still seemed the safest answer. If I said girlfriend (I won’t lie, that was the first answer that popped in my head), this guy might assume I had nefarious reasons for looking for her. If I said I didn’t know her, I would sound like a creeper. Sister seemed the safest answer.

“Well, as I was saying, if I haven’t seen her, they probably haven’t either. But, we do get out of towners from time to time.” He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

I nodded and looked again at Emma’s picture: her hair blowing in the wind, the half smile on her face, her gaze looking beyond the camera. At me. Would she ever look at me that way again?

“I hope you find her.”

My gaze never left my phone as I sighed in response, “I hope so, too.”

I did as he had suggested and made my way around the bar asking if anyone had seen Emma. Everyone shook their heads no, yet their gazes were filled with sympathy. Defeated, I collapsed back onto the stool where I had begun and rubbed my thumb absently against the condensation on my glass. Rum seemed pointless. Numb, I sat there until my drink turned lukewarm. Not that I cared.

A group of new patrons - college guys on break from the looks of it - came noisily into the bar. A few headed to the pool table in the corner while a couple of others headed to the bar.

“A round of beers,” one of them asked the barkeep.

I decided to take one last shot and leaned over toward the guys. “Have you seen this woman?” I asked them.

One of them whistled. “I wish. She your girlfriend, man?”

His buddy leaned over to see. “Dang, that girl is fine.”

I gritted my teeth. “Have you seen her?”

The second guy tilted his head. “I mean . . . naw, man, can’t be her. That girl was top tier.”

I shook my head. “Wait - what are you talking about?”

The first guy started laughing and punched his friend in the shoulder. “This idiot tried to go into one of those spas over on West Sunset.”

The blood drained from my face and my whole body tensed. “A spa?”

“Yeah, he wanted to get a night with this gorgeous blonde, but let’s just say she was a little over his budget.”

“Shut up, Chris.”

“I’m not the one who couldn’t afford a decent prostitute, Chad.”

Chris and Chad. Of course they had names like that. They’re mothers had probably bought the Polo shirts they were wearing. My jaw was close to breaking as I waved the phone in their faces again.

“Hey, pay attention. Was it this blonde?”

One of the guys - Chad? - squinted as he looked at Emma’s picture again. “I don’t know, man. You don’t even get to look unless you pay. They had her picture on the wall -”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I fished out my wallet and paid for my drink.

“You’re one of those Jones boys, aren’t you?”

I froze at the barkeep’s question.

He smiled and lifted a hand in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry. I’m Nemo. David’s friend? I own the place.”

I tilted my head. “Why would David tell you anything?”

He glanced around the bar and leaned forward. I came closer. “I’m one of his contacts.” He searched my eyes intently. “I wouldn’t go to that spa. Let David help you. Let us help you.”

I didn’t answer him. I tossed my bills on the bartop and strode out the door.

*********************************************************

There it was. On the corner of West Sunset and Mark Street. There was nothing fancy about it, just a crumbling brick facade and a flashing red neon sign that said simply “Spa.”

And parked right out front was a familiar white van. I had stared for hours at that piece of faded cardboard that read “tag applied for.” Rage built inside of me as I dashed towards the front of the building. I yanked open the glass door, my eyes scanning the room frantically. To my right was a counter with a receptionist behind it. Her sickening smile as she asked how she could help me made me want to punch someone. Just as the college guy had said, there was a “menu” board above her head with lists of “spa treatments.” Slid into a plastic slot beside each was a woman’s picture. I didn’t look for her picture though. I couldn’t bring myself to.

“I want to see Emma,” I demanded.

The woman’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, sir, but it doesn’t work that way.”

Clutching fistfuls of my hair, I scanned the room again. There was a swinging metal bar that blocked a narrow hallway. Beyond it, I could see women clad in skin tight dresses slumped against the walls.

“Emma!” I shouted.

“Sir,” the receptionist cried out, “you need to leave before I call the cops.”

I almost laughed. I knew which cop she would call.

“Emma!”

“Killian?”

Her voice was the sweetest sound I had heard in days.

“Emma!” I was screaming her name now.

“Killian! Killian, I’m here!”

Without a second thought, I leapt over the bar blocking my way to her. Behind me, the woman was hysterical, yelling that I had to pay if I wanted to use the “spa services.” I couldn’t believe she was still clinging to the charade.

“Emma!”

“Killian!”

I saw her then. She was trying to get around a man who was shoving her into a narrow room. He was big, but soft around the middle.

“Killian!” she screamed again, feebly pummeling the man with her fists. Something was off about her; her eyes were glassy, her movements sluggish.

I yanked the man backwards, then landed a quick fist to his jaw. He went down like a heavy rock. I reached for Emma and dragged her across the man’s prone body.

By this time, chaos had broken out all around us. Male voices were shouting, the other girls in the brothel were screaming, and feet pounded the floor. I knew there had to be an exit into the alleyway, so I pulled Emma towards the back of the building. A man lounged on a folding chair next to a heavy door marked “Exit.” He obviously hadn’t expected a breakout attempt because I easily took him by surprise, slamming the butt of the pistol I still carried into his skull. By this time, I was half carrying Emma against my side. I hauled her out the exit, and she sagged against me.

“Did ya kill em?” she slurred.

“No, love, just knocked him out.”

I hurried her down the alley and turned onto Mark Street. This area was more of a respectable one for tourists, with a well lit casino, chain restaurants, and an upscale bank. Taxi cabs and Ubers made their rounds, and friends shouted greetings out to one another. Suddenly, Emma’s legs buckled beneath her.

“I can’t Killian,” she whimpered.

“You have to,” I told her, “they could be following us.”

She managed to shake her head as she sagged further against me.

“What the hell did they give you?” I muttered as realization dawned.

“Dunno.”

Growling under my breath in anger at how she’d been treated, I scooped her up in my

arms and carried her. A giggled escaped her lips and her breath fanned against my neck. She reached up and traced my jaw with her fingertips. I looked down at her, and her face illuminated by the streetlights was so full of trust, my heart almost burst.

“You’re very handsome when you’re angry,” she told me.

All I could do was smile as I adjusted my hold on her and picked up my pace. A cab had pulled over, waiting for a customer, about a block ahead, and I needed to catch it.

“Of course,” she sighed against my skin, nuzzling her nose against my collarbone, “you’re always handsome. Soooo handsome.”

I chuckled. “I’m going to tease you about this someday. You know that, right?”

“Someday,” she sing-songed, “I love someday.”

When I reached the cab, I managed to get it open while still keeping a hold of Emma. The driver frowned when he turned towards me. My face burned at what he must be thinking. I ducked my head away from his gaze and slid Emma across the bench seat.

“She okay?”

The driver’s words were laced with suspicion.

“Aye, my wife just imbibed a little too much at the casino tonight.” I gave him a smile to reinforce my words.

The driver shifted his gaze to Emma. “Is that true? He your husband?”

“Mmmm,” Emma replied as I slid in next to her. She threw her arms around me and rested her head against my shoulder. “My husband. Isn’t he the best?”

I gave the driver a sheepish smile and he grinned back. “Sorry, mate,” he said with a thick Cockney accent, “I just always like to be careful.”

I nodded. “We all should.”

“Where to?”

I pulled out my phone and read off the address David had given me. The cabbie whistled under his breath.

“That’s up in the hills. It’ll cost ya.”

“I know. You’ll be covered, promise.”

Emma shifted against me, and I put my arm around her. With her cheek pressed to my chest, she fell asleep, her breaths rising and falling in an even rhythm. I couldn’t help holding her a bit tight, overwhelmed with the reality that she was here with me. That she was free. I knew she would be angry with me once whatever they had drugged her with wore off. She wouldn’t be pleased that I had rescued her without her sisters. Liam wouldn’t be happy either, come to think of it.

“It’s good to hear a more familiar accent.”

I startled slightly at the cabbie’s words. “Aye, it is at that. Although I’ve been here in the states awhile.”

He nodded. “I followed my girl Belle over here. She’s my wife now.”

He wiggled his left hand to show off his ring. I swallowed hoping he hadn’t noticed the lack of rings on mine and Emma’s fingers. I nodded, slipping my left hand under my knee surreptitiously.

“My name’s Will, by the way.”

“Killian.”

“Nice to meet ya, mate. My wife’s the same way. She’s a tiny thing, so it don’t take

much, ya know? But there’s something about taking care of her when she gets that way. I can’t explain it, but it makes me realize how much she trusts me, if that makes sense.”

Guilt pricked at me as the city lights turned to rocky desert. Emma’s trust was something I would go to hell and back to earn. If she’d let me.

#cs ff #cs modern au #cs movie au #captain swan is my favorite rom com #second edition #cs priceless au #human trafficking #dealt with seriously #at least I am trying really hard to write it in a sensitive way

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annakie · 5 years

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An Annotated Mass Effect Playthrough, Part Nine

Previous Posts: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Wheren we run out of sidequests, so we head back to the Citadel already.

With the quest log pretty empty, I didn’t feel like flying around the galaxy hoping to bump into something Hackett wanted me to do already, so let’s go finish up some of those loose sidequests and pick up some more!

I didn’t grab a screenshot of this, but one of the mods (faster elevators maybe? Or MERe? IDK!) COMPLETELY removes the scanning component from getting on and off the ship.

I don’t remember the exact origins of this, but one tick Annakie Shepard has is... she really really fucking hates being scanned. And it probably was because of how long the scanning bit of getting on and off the ship here took, but I used to always try to outrun it if possible, or at least put up the effort. I’m so glad it’s not here at all.

The only acceptable scan is Chakwas scanning her for medical reasons, and even that is just barely ok.

Anyway, here we are, freshly not-scanned, heading right down to C-Sec to... oh no what’s this?

Ah. Yes. Mikhailovich. Here for inspection.

One of the reasons I cheat in Paragon points is that it’s nearly impossible to ever make Mikhailovich happy unless you don’t come back to the Citadel for a very long time. So maybe I could have gone to Noveria and done the Paragon Point Cheat, but one cheat or another, doesn’t really matter.

The Mikhailovich encounter is another one of those things that didn’t have to be in the game, but is great worldbuilding. Not everyone agrees with the Normandy being built, or the turian design, etc. Mikhailovich is right that some of the things we built here could have been tested in a lab, you know. It was a huge chunk of money, but it’ll be wrong later in thinking it’s a waste. He also again shows that people aren’t sure that working super close with the turians is a good idea, which, again, he’ll be wrong about, but it’s a good thing to see differing opinions on a lot of things.

Anyway, I like this bit not only for that reason but to see Kaidan’s salute.

Finally, after lingering at the dock for who-knows-how-long while the Admiral inspected our ship, we get down to C-Sec, ready to...

Oh what’s THIS now?

Time for another interview, this one a little more voluntary.

Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News.

She’s a character I have very mixed feelings about.

On one hand, well, I used to love to punch her out. And now I never do.

She’s clearly digging for an angle here in her interviews. She’s reporting for humanity, not the council races or galaxy as a whole. But answering her diplomatically here, she’s another character who questions you and what you’re doing, but doesn’t actually step over any lines. It’s more when you get testy with her here, she gets touchy back.

It would be a shitshow with the fanboys I think if you took out the option to hit here. But wow that moment... didn’t sit right, especially when it was an MShep doing it but it’s not a great look for Femshep either. Nobody should hit ANYBODY unless it’s actually necessary. Getting your feels hurt by a few tough, even unfair questions... does not call for punching.

Especially today when we’re already getting scary close to losing freedom of the press. Being diplomatic with her really nets the best responses in 2 and 3, as well.

And maybe if we hadn’t just gotten raked over the coals by Mikhailovich it’d be less grating to then get questioned by a reporter. But I find it interesting how the game keeps pushing and questioning Shepard, and maybe even trying to find holes where maybe Shepard or the Alliance isn’t completely right, or could be questioned.

Damnit, Chorban and Jahleed. Just kiss, already, neither of you are trying to kill the other!!

I do love that Chorban figures everything out based on your scans... just like... a couple of years too late. Anyway, I already finished all the scans, no way I’m not finishing this quest with Chorban for that sweet XP.

And YOU, using a girl with no undercover experience and putting her in Chora’s de-- what’s that? Conrad dies if I end this quest early? SIGH.

Also... Gideon Emery. So you’re fine. All is forgiven. I’ll do your dirty work.

Helena Blake! I DEFINITELY won’t forget to go speak to her, get back on the Normandy, do another planet quest, realize I didn’t speak to her, then go back to the Citadel just to actually pick up this quest, then pretend later on in this update that I remembered to speak to her all along!

I mean, speaking as if I were someone who hasn’t played the next two games, this is DEFINITELY SUSPICIOUS right?

I guess in a way, we did pull our gun on Conrad all along.

Just give me the damn mods.

Honestly, I love this part of the quest because you can COMPLETELY fuck up by being too goody-goody. I have probably had to reload after mindlessly clicking paragon answers more times than I care to admit. This time, I remembered to not obey the law.

The second reason I wanted to come back to the Citadel is that after one planetary mission, Morlan’s Iconic Armor shop (which, again, is thanks to ME1Recalibrated) sells special armor for Kaidan, that looks like his ME2 armor, so he has his own unique look.

A picture from later, once the armor texture is loaded correctly. (Turns out it required a restart.)

I LOVE IT. Thank you, MERecalibrated team! Welcome to Kaidan’s look for the rest of the game.

Let’s head up to the presidium!

Whoops, shoulda brought Ashley along. I’m sure whatever he wanted to talk about can wait til later.

BTW, that gif isn’t sped up.

If you don’t have the console enabled and aren’t setting your out of combat runspeed to at least 800 whenever you’re anywhere you have a lot of running to do, then consider doing so. I’ve found 800 is the perfect amount of fast without leaving me slamming into walls constantly

The annoying thing is that every time you have a major area transition or have to reload the game, you have to do it again, but after the first time it’s 4 keystrokes.

` then up arrow, then [enter], then ` again.

Also your companions may fall behind, but that’s only an issue for the places they have ambient dialog. So mostly I start using it on the Citadel after going everywhere once, and then most of the time on the Normandy and sidequests.

Oh let’s talk to this nice lady. Oh no, her sister has been kidnapped, how sad!

Well, the poor woman deserves my help, I’m sure it’s all on the up-and-up. Sure, I’ll rescue your sister! I’m glad we have this friendly relationship that will be profitable and non-lethal forever!

You DID know that Anderson and Udina comment on each major mission afterwards, right? It took me more playthroughs than I care to admit to discover this.

Also, this is a kind of humanizing moment for Udina here. He tells us how the council isn’t happy that we lost the prothean ruins at Therum, then Anderson stands up for us (we love you, Space Dad), and then he actually really backs off and says in a much softer tone “I know, I know. But we all get judged on how you behave.”

And again, we’re not meant to love how he says it, but um, Udina is right. Everything we do has repercussions throughout the Citadel, and sometimes the Galaxy.

Poor Liara, the only one left without an iconic armor in ME1.

Also, like Tali earlier, she hilariously has lines in quests we turn in or make updates to that she has no business knowing about. I guess she read all the questlogs while traveling back to the Citadel.

While we’re here on the Citadel, let’s take a flycam visit around to the edge of the room, shall we?

So we’re heading out, towards this building, past the Mass Relay sculpture.

What you can see as soon as you’re near it and then over it, is that that building hides the seam where the water meets map.

From just beyond it, there’s the apartment-looking building, for whatever reason you can see through the textures on the other side, leaving just the roofs/floors visible (the slats).

It took quite a while to go this far, but eventually, you can find the invisible wall where the cars spawn from, and not long after, the map ends. The map is very curved, btw, that’s no illusion. There’s no chance you could see this far without flycam.

Looking back, you can see the bridges in the distance, but the Relay sculpture and where Shepard is standing is very far away, quite difficult to see even if the full-sized screenshot.

I love how huge these maps are. It makes the illusions really work and the sense of scale works BECAUSE it is actually just... that big.

Well, back to smaller issues.

Again, a great quest not only from a memorability perspective, but a worldbuilding one.

How does religion work in this galaxy? Well, some people still have it. Enough that there’s laws in governing how people are able to spread that religion. I think that the council actually enacted a fairly sensible law here -- they cannot allow zealots to take over near the seat of government, but also people should be free to worship as they please.

I myself am a person of faith who, despite being brought up in a HIGHLY Evangelical movement, now very much believes that people should be able to worship as they choose, (or not at all!) but also that faith is a private matter and shouldn’t be forced on others.

So yeah, the hanar is being unreasonable, but should still be spoken to with respect. It’s good that this particular hanar takes it well.

I am honestly dying to know how the hanar deal with the absolute proof that the Enkindlers were just... people. I mean we saw the one hanar in ME3 react to Javik, but you have to think that the religion as a whole must get shaken up a great deal after the game ends.

Also... seriously read Mass Effect: Annihilation (the quarian ark book).

Anyway, I like resolving this peacefully and getting the hanar to leave peacefully. Calling someone a big stupid jellyfish is hilarious in the moment, but not so nice once you think about it.

Ah, Michael and Rebekah.

I love this quest because... it’s not cut and dry.

I don’t think either of them is wrong. I think they’re facing a tough choice and they both have good points.

For a long time, though, my response has been that it’s Rebekah’s body, her choice.

But the funny thing was, this time when I was playing, I didn’t see this as just an allegory to a woman’s right to choose. From Michael’s POV, it’s more of an allegory to Anti-Vaxx. Obviously back in 2007 when the game came out Anti-Vaxx wasn’t nearly as much as a concern as it is now, so I love that this small part of the game actually grew more meaningful over time.

Yes, there’s a SMALL chance you could hurt the child from the procedure, but a greater chance of harm if you don’t. I had a harder time choosing this time, like, oh, am I going to lean a bit more towards being pro-choice, or pro-vaxxination? I’m pro both of those things??

I still sided with Rebekah. Mostly because I know the kid turns out OK either way.

Well, for a couple of years, at least.

Emily! You changed your clothes! What’s that? You want me to plant bugs? Won’t someone notice?

Guess not. Not even this bug.

I’m sad that this is the last we’ll see of Emily Wong face to face. But hey, a good reporter, and good person. :salute:

Kahoku... thank you for finding out about Cerberus and telling us. The first time we hear the word I think, in the game?

You will be avenged.

Welp time to head up to the ship and go off on some sidequ--

I mean... Uh, time to go talk to Helena Blake, OBVIOUSLY.

(Also Liara you cannot climb that wall, stahp.)

I love them having just a bad bitch like Helena with her sneaky-plan to kill her business partners so totally above the board by Shepard, but hey, she’s just a concerned citizen giving tips to law enforcement, right? She’s awful, and she knows it, and she’s cool with it.

Well, since Ashley magically appeared in the party without me going to the Normandy AT ALL, as long as we’re here, let’s go talk to Samesh Bhatia

A great moment for Ashley, remembering her friend, and treating her husband with so much care and kindness. OBVIOUSLY we can do this very easy thing for him.

Fuck, this just got a lot more complicated.

I love this quest because it puts you between a rock and a hard place. Again, neither side is wrong. Samesh SHOULD have his wife’s body back. But it IS important research.

For a long time, I didn’t give a shit about the research and would get the body back, no matter what.

But so many more lives are saved with the research. So this time I ask him to understand, and he does. But it never sits quite right, either way.

As my other SciFi favorite franchise* reminds us in one of its most poignant moments... Sometimes the needs of the many do outweigh the needs of the one.

Okay now we’re heading back to the Normandy for the first time this update, and next time, back out into space!

*Star Wars is a Space Opera, not SciFi.

#mass effect #kaidan alenko #liara t'soni #ashley williams #conrad verner #bioware #gaming #video games #annakie's mass effect stuff

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snarkwrites · 4 years

Note

me: *minding my own business*

my side of the one (1) brain cell: what if we got finger fucked by greg or tim?👀 cause hands👏

me: 🙄🙃🥴😏🤤🥵 <— the whole shift of moods i got through

- ❤️

Ahhh omg! Have I mentioned that I LOVE your mind? I absolutely LOVE it. So so so much. I’ve been dying to answer this. I wanted to answer this so badly when I was gone on my trip, but I never got a chance. So, now after a little bit of rest (because 29 hours in a vehicle is... quite an experience) I’m going to answer this because honestly, this is something I have imagined vividly on more than one occasion...

I LOVE YOU. KEEP SENDING ME THOTS PLS. FEEL FREE TO SEND THEM. I DO NOT MIND AT ALL.

Warning:

This content is not for the kids. If you’re not 18+ then you don’t need to read this. While it might not be outright sexual, it is going to be semi sexual.

If you’re choosing to keep reading beyond this warning, that’s solely on you. I warned you right here. If you’re sticking around, these are some things you need to be aware of : hand jobs / fingering, male giving, teasing, semi public location ( a locked VIP room in a club) , body fluids and unprotected sex...

LIFE UPDATE. IT GOT SEXUAL. ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS HERE.

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@twistnet

TIM SPEEDLE & finger fucking;

You could feel him pressing into you from behind. The line outside of the club was around the corner of the block and you were wondering exactly how long you were going to be able to endure his subtle teasing. When he bucked against you and grabbed your hips, swaying them back and forth to the song playing you turned to face him. Raising up to press your mouth against his, not caring that anyone saw. “If you’re going to start, you better be willing to finish.” you whimpered against his mouth as his hands squeezed at your hips and he chuckled quietly, his tongue slipping between your lips, crashing against yours. “Have I ever not finished something I started, baby girl?” he questioned breathlessly. Caught up in the moment. Totally uncaring as to who might be able to see you two. The kiss deepened and he mumbled lazily, “I wish we hadn’t promised Eric and Calleigh we’d meet ‘em here. There’s somewhere else I’d really rather be.”

“Me too, baby.”

“I bet I can make you wanna leave this club early.” Tim challenged, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he gazed down at you; lust blacking out his pupils as his hands moved over your curves, pulling you flush with his body. Letting you feel the way he already strained at baggy pants. Waiting.

He knew you’d been looking forward tonight because it was a hot new club and you wanted to go to the opening. That was the only reason he was here. He could see your eyes clouding with desire. When you whimpered as he dared to glance around, noting that nobody was paying either of you any attention and then proceeded to slip his hands up the bottom of your little black mini dress, you rocked against his hand, your whimpers turning to whines of sheer frustration. Especially when he stopped just as your orgasm was starting to really build and your stomach began to coil.

The bouncer stamped your hands and you two wandered inside. However, instead of looking for Eric and Calleigh on the dance floor, he cornered you up in a more private little area towards the back of the club. His hands all over you. His mouth latching onto your neck and dancing / grazing over your collarbone, covering your skin in light hickies and bite marks. He sank down to sit in a burgundy velvet covered seat and pulled you on his lap. Bucking himself against you as he scraped his teeth against your mouth, tugging at soft and swollen flesh. your hand dipped down, slipping beneath the oversized white button up.. Down the front of his jeans. Circling his hardened length and pumping over it slowly. Tight, just like he liked it. He growled against the shell of your ear and chuckled lazily. “So that’s how we’re playin tonight, hm?”

“First one to cave and want to leave loses.” you mumbled as your hand moved faster and then slowed just as you felt him tensing. His fingers brushed aside soaked lace and almost the second thick digits were buried past the knuckle inside your dripping center, he groaned. Your juices coating his fingers as they worked in and out, fast and then slow. But so very deep. STrumming against your spot a time or two as his thumb circled and stroked your clit. Your legs were starting to shake and he laughed into a deep kiss. “ You’re going to taste so sweet.”

“Tim, ah-ah fuck.” your head fell back as you tried rocking yourself over his thigh in the hopes that the friction in combination with each pump of his fingers buried inside you might be even a little close to the kinds of orgasm you were used to... But it wasn’t. The thrill of possibly being caught at any second had both of you going straight past any previous boundaries you’d set unspoken. Tim was in a mood tonight and you were going to enjoy that.

The wetter you got, the more your juices coated his fingers. The more he groaned and nipped at your skin, muttering against the shell of your ear at one point, “I’m close to takin you in the bathroom, baby girl. Fuck.”

You pulled away, glancing around. Checking to see if anybody was around. Nobody was, they were all at the front of the club, out on the dance floor or at the bar. And nobody seemed to be in a hurry to use this particular VIP area.

You pressed into him and muttered into his mouth, “Hold that thought.” as you gazed at the door. Slipping off his lap. Wandering over to the door. Closing it and locking it. You wandered back over, sinking back down on his lap. His fingers slipped back inside your pussy and you moaned out. Your hand lowered, finding the zip of his jeans. He chuckled. “You know they probably have security cameras around, yeah?” as his fingers turned and worked away inside of you, strumming against your spot all over again, making your breath catch as you muttered against his neck and rose up slightly when his cock was free, “It’s a VIP room in a club we know operates as an escort service after hours.”

“You have a good point, doll.” Tim groaned as he pushed your panties to the side and withdrew his fingers, passing them between his lips. Groaning at the taste of your juices on his tongue and you rose up, sinking down on his length, impaled by it. He shivered as your warmth closed around his cock. His hands gripped your hips, bouncing you up and down on his cock. Making you moan as your head fell back and your eyes fluttered. “C’mon, baby girl. I know you were already real close...” Tim coaxed. SMirking when you started to shake, trying to fight off your orgasm. “We gotta be quick, princess... C’mon, fuck. I wanna feel you let go.” he muttered, his mouth burying in the space between your neck and shoulder. “Gonna fill you up, baby girl. You ready?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” you begged for it, as both of you went crashing right into a shared orgasm so intense that it left you melted against him, breathless and trying to come down from the high of it and the rush of doing this somewhere so public.

He pulled you into a gentle kiss and chuckled softly against your mouth, “We should probably find Eric and Calleigh now so they know we didn’t stand ‘em up.” as you two tried to compose yourselves and re dress.

#Anonymous

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