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sandcobangevent · 5 months

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Please Don’t Say You Love Me

Written by @ratinavan, Illustrated by @silliestofg33sevik

Read Here on AO3

If this was how the podcast was going to end, so be it. Don’t let John be the one to stop it, obviously The Great Sherlock Holmes is just too good at what he does to want to associate with the likes of poor old John Watson. It doesn’t matter that he worked damn hard to get them where they were, it doesn’t matter that he hung onto every word that fell from the detective’s mouth, it doesn’t matter that he would throw his life away for that bastard man. None of it matters because the detective decided that the cases were the only thing that needed his consideration, the only thing that warranted even a scrap of his attention.

John had done everything, everything for this man. He followed that tall silhouette wherever it may go for weeks, months, God! He had watched that back for nigh on a year and what did he get in return? Abandoned, kicked to the curb like he was a bloody dog - homeless, broke, and heartbroken. Sherlock is- no, was , his everything. His reason to keep going after being shipped back from Ukraine, his reason to get up in the morning, his reason to not grab as many of those stupid chemical experiments and shove them down his throat when his own mind got too harsh. All of this - all of this - and it got him the sum total of nothing. His dedication, his life, his everything, had been turned away in disgust by the detective.

“Sherlock I-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Watson. I wish to end our acquaintance here, you may have a week to find alternative lodgings.”

The blood rushing past John’s ears at this moment was definitely unhealthy, but he was too busy trying to both stay upright and prevent himself from vomiting all over the living room floor. What had he done to deserve this, you may wonder? Well, the answer was simple. He had believed that Sher- Holmes would reciprocate, or at least not hate him for, his feelings toward the younger man.

Oh how wrong he was.

That conversation had been dreadful . There was no screaming or shouting. There had been no objects thrown. Just a curled lip and quiet scorn, both of which hurt more than if there had been physical retaliation. So now here he was, shoving his meagre belongings into his duffle bag and attempting to plan his next steps now that his life was over. He had already convinced Mariana to continue to care for Archie - if he was going to be out of a steady home for a while, he was in no position to give the poor boy the life he deserved. She had tried to say no, tried to convince him that this was just one of Holmes’ black moods and he would never truly wish him to leave. It was no use. She hadn’t seen the look on his face after the confession, the deep-rooted hatred that surfaced from seemingly nowhere.

Maybe the detective had never liked John as much as he had assumed, maybe he was just tolerating him to fill the hole of a companion - someone to worship the ground he walked on. Well. Not anymore. John was leaving, he refused to live with someone who had such an issue with his sexuality.

Did he feel like shite? Yes. Was he going to miss everything that they had developed in the past years? Absolutely. But he could already tell that his mental health was taking a nosedive back to pre-221B levels and he refused to sit around and let Holmes witness his downfall. If that meant leaving everything and running away? Fine, he’d rather be a coward than a cripple.

Sherlock was busy running through another one of the menial experiments that he was using in an attempt to push all thoughts of Wat- John from his mind. It had been just shy of a week since the Doctor had disappeared from the flat and the detective had devoted himself to his work. Eating, resting, anything that wasn’t one of his experiments had been thrown to the wayside and were only partaken under the scornful gaze of Mrs Hudson.

Sherlock knew why she disapproved, he knew that he had messed up by rejecting John, by doing anything other than falling at his feet and assuring him the feeling was reciprocated. He should have screamed it from the rooftops, posted it in the papers, told anyone and everyone that would have listened. But he didn’t. Instead, he had emotionally broken the best man the world had ever given him. He had done it without a second thought and with the ease that came only from someone as self-assured and arrogant as himself.

As he continued to experiment, his phone began to ring from its place on the coffee table. As usual, he ignored it as the ringtone indicated that it wasn’t the Yard calling. If Lestrade didn’t have a new case for him, he was in no mood to talk. Leaving the call to ring out, he turned his attention back to the samples, however, much to his dismay the phone began ringing again. An irritated sigh escaped his lips, but he made no move to answer it. After three more rings, Mariana barged through the door to 221B with a face like thunder.

“Dios mio, Sherlock! If you aren’t going to answer it, at least leave it somewhere so that it doesn’t echo down to my flat!” The woman stomped over to the phone and picked it up, “Hello, how can I help?” A pause, “He’s here, can I ask who is speaking, please? My name is Mariana, I’m… his flatmate.”

Presumably, the person on the other end replied. Sherlock spotted Mrs Hudson turning to look at him from the corner of his eye - she had gone pale, so pale the detective thought she might faint.

“Sit down, Mrs Hudson, and hand me the phone.” Sherlock guided her down onto the sofa and pried his mobile from her trembling hands.

“Hello? Sherlock Holmes speaking.” He was now invested in what could have caused such a reaction from the usually strong-willed woman, almost like a pseudo-case.

“Oh, hello, Mister Holmes. My name is Miss Haye and I’m calling from Saint Bartholomew’s Hospital.” Well, this was unusual, how did Saint Bart’s end up with his number? Why would they need to be calling him?

“I see, and what do you need from me? Scotland Yard usually contacts me directly if there is a body that needs examining.”

“Unfortunately, Sir, this is not a business call. I’m calling regarding Mr John Watson? You’re listed as his emergency contact and he was admitted late last night after being fished out of the Thames in what we presume was a suicide attempt.” Sherlock understood now why Mrs Hudson reacted the way she did. He was sure that he was in much the same state. He reached out behind him to steady his way to sitting, not trusting his legs to support him for the rest of the phone call.

“O-Okay.” He coughed, rueing the tremble in his voice, “Is he still there? What is his condition? Is he allowed visitors?” The questions continued to fall from his mouth in quite possibly the worst case of word-vomit he had ever experienced.

The guilt Sherlock was feeling was insurmountable, this was his fault. If he had just been honest with John rather than prioritising his image of stone this all could have been avoided. Why could he not just admit that John’s affection scared him - Sherlock was so worried about disappointing his podcaster that he immediately shut down any chance of a relationship. He had let John leave, blocked his number, and denied him any chance of contact with him in a fit of unexplainable terror.

“Yes, Mister Holmes, he is available for visitors but he is currently unconscious so may not be responsive by the time you arrive if you plan on coming over immediately.” Sherlock jumped, he had almost forgotten about the woman over the phone. He was quick to finish up the conversation, assuring her that they would be there promptly before hanging up the call.

“What have I done?” Sherlock murmured into his fist, staring at his phone. He navigated over to his contacts and, after a steadying breath, unblocked John’s contact and put his phone face-down on the table.

Immediately, the tone of John’s messages began to come through one after another after another. Each ping of the phone, each vibration against the table only worked to further embed the spear of guilt further into Sherlock’s chest. Nothing had ever gotten to the detective as acutely as this had. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He picked up the phone and read the texts.

John: Why did you have to hate me, was my love really that horrible?

John: I miss you, y’know? And I miss Archie and Mariana…

John: I don’t know what to do with myself now, and my phone is going to die soon

John: Not easy to charge your phone on the streets haha

John: I’m sorry, I wish I had never said anything. If I could take it all back, I would.

John: I won’t bother you anymore, I love you, I’m sorry.

Sherlock barely made it through the first messages before his eyes clouded over and tears were carving paths down his cheeks. The consequences of his inconsiderate actions were finally starting to unravel, and he would have to do some serious legwork to even begin fixing what he had done.

The next hour felt more like a daze. Both Sherlock and Mariana managed to flag down a cab and direct it to Saint Barts, all without really registering doing any of it. Climbing out of the cab and approaching the front desk, the woman from the phone directed them to the correct ward with a small smile, informing them that John had woken up just five minutes prior so may still be groggy.

This news spurred the pair of them to hurry in the correct direction, only getting lost once on their way there. When they finally made it to the door of John’s room, Sherlock stopped short, hesitating just before the door could open. “I- I don’t think I can do this Mrs- no, Mariana. I don’t deserve to see him like this, you should go in without me.”

Mariana grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look her in the eye. “You listen to me, Sherlock Holmes. You will go into that room, you will face your best friend, and you will tell him how unimaginably sorry you are, AND you will tell him about your feelings. Those are the reasons we’re in this position in the first place.” The no-nonsense tone was enough to force him through the door, stopping a couple of paces inside and locking gazes with the groggy Doctor.

His hair was a mess, his usually well-kept facial hair was now much less flattering than usual, the bags under his eyes were several times the size they should be, and the amount of weight he had lost in just over a week was more than concerning. John’s softer belly was one of Sherlock’s favourite things to admire - it was both effective at disguising his underlying strength and at being the best replacement for Sherlock’s hugging machine.

When John met Sherlock’s eyes, the only thing that escaped his mouth was, “I’m sorry…” The doctor looked so small on that hospital bed and now he was apologising?

“ Stop . Just… stop, John.” Sherlock could feel the tears building again. He looked at John, and slowly made his way towards the hospital bed. “Words can never describe the disaster that your loss would have caused me. I may-” He choked on his words, “I may be a genius, but I am also a colossal imbecile, an idiot, the worst man on Baker Street. Believe me when I say that I would never have wished this on you. I would never have wanted you to take your own life, especially not over me .” He was sobbing at this point, fallen to his knees at John’s bedside and trying to put the sheer pain of his agony into words.

“I-” Sherlock hesitated, debating on whether he should continue. A swift kick to the back from Mariana set him to rights and he carried on, “I love you, John Watson.” The pair locked eyes, suspended in time for what felt like an eternity, shame in the gaze of one and disbelief in the gaze of the other.

“Why would you say that to me, Sherlock? After everything that’s happened, why would you taunt me like this?” The doctor was crying now as well, salty tears following well-worn paths down his cheeks and neck. He raised his hands, in practice to wipe away his emotions, but truthfully it was more out of a child-like need to hide. The detective held his heart in his hands - the ability to crush or care hanging in the balance.

The detective rose, “No, no, John. You must believe me, I am not lying to you now. I see how utterly foolish I was to push you away to try and save face - I should never have thought myself above feelings, especially not your own. I will do whatever it takes to reassure you that my words are the truth, I would throw myself at your feet for another chance at us. Please, hear my words and try to find it within yourself to give me another chance. I love you, John Hamish Watson, and I will continue to do so for the rest of my days.”

Sherlock’s world narrowed to nothing but John, the look in his eyes, the words that may leave his mouth.

“You, Sherlock Holmes, are the biggest bastard to walk this Earth.”

His stomach plummeted.

“Get up here and kiss me you git.”

#submission #sherlock and co #sherlock & co #flashbang event #sherlock homes #john watson

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coyotesamachado · 2 years

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Picture Perfect Porcelain

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader/Original Female Character

Her arm curls around the door so it’s lined up along the edge of it, Bob thinks he sees a droplet of water track from her wrist back down to her elbow, but his glasses are back in his locker and he really wishes they weren’t right now. He swallows thickly, because it’s different when he knows she’s naked behind there as opposed to it being salt water after she had been thrown into the ocean by Coyote during dogfight football.

Basically, I love hot showers.

Title is from Ever After by Marianas Trench.

Callsign is Mist.

This is cross posted from my AO3, link in the source.

WC: 2907.

Warnings: 18+, smut, hot showers, girl can’t deep throat, oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering, rooster is a menace.

Walking into the shower room, Bob could kick himself. She always waits until everyone else is finished with their showers, because she likes to have hot showers, the kind of ones that turn the room into a sauna, and leave no hot water for anyone else. Apparently, he hadn’t been fast enough though, because Mist is in here and he still hasn’t had a shower.

The door closes behind him and he flinches as the resounding bang echoes around the room. He hears her gasp, and she’s opening the door to her stall and peaking her head out.

“Bob! Shit, sorry, I was told everyone had been through already, I’ll finish up,” she rushes out.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll just have a cold one. I don’t mind,” he says quickly, trying to placate the situation because he doesn’t want to take away her shower time. His own are a moment to decompress from the day, and since she tends to take the longest and the hottest whenever she has the chance, he can only imagine that it’s the same for Mist. Her arm curls around the door so it’s lined up along the edge of it, Bob thinks he sees a droplet of water track from her wrist back down to her elbow, but his glasses are back in his locker and he really wishes they weren’t right now. He swallows thickly, because it’s different when he knows she’s naked behind there as opposed to it being salt water after she had been thrown into the ocean by Coyote during dogfight football.

“No seriously, just give me a minute and I'll wash all this soap off and then it’s all yours, plenty of water left.”

She pulls her arm back and goes to lock the door behind her when Bob speaks again, it’s so soft that she can barely hear him.

“What was that?” she calls out, her voice singing out over the noise of the shower.

Bob rubs the back of his neck, wondering whether he should repeat himself or just let those words disappear with the steam.

“Bob?”

This was going to end badly, he could tell.

“What if...”

The door opens again, her head and shoulder appear before him. While he wishes he had the kind of easy assurance that Hangman does to ask for what he wants, he doesn’t. It deflates him a little and he sighs.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be out in the locker room when you’re done,” he says, turning away from her and going to walk out.

“Wait! Were you... Are you... Will you...” she stutters, and she wishes she had the kind confidence that Phoenix has, to say what she wants without stuttering over it.

The steam is still thick around them, but it feels thicker than it had a minute ago.

“Bob, what if you just joined me, instead of waiting or...” she trails off again, and it’s so difficult to just put herself out there.

He turns back to her, and the door is open a little more, her collarbone now in his line of sight and he feels ridiculously overdressed. He stands there staring at her a beat too long and she breaths a long sigh.

“Sorry Bob, I just, I promise I’m nearly done, just forget what I said.”

It’s the door closing again that pulls Bob from his head and he’s dragging his shirt over his head, and unbuttoning his pants as he walks over. The shower turns off before he can knock or speak again. He feels like his lost his shot, but for once, he doesn’t want to walk away from it without trying.

“Turn it back on,” there’s a demand in his voice, and it kind of shocks him because he only really talks like that when he’s in the plane and needs Phoenix to do something in particular. He hears the gasp behind the door, and he smirks to himself. But her shower is back on and he feels the steam where he’s standing. The snick of the lock opening again captures his attention, and his heart is beating an unhealthy rhythm. Her hand is darting out like she’s trying to grab his shirt and pull him in, but when she only meets the smooth skin of his chest, there’s a choked off groan hitting the back of her throat.

She pulls open the door and steps back into the heat of the water, hoping the steam gives her a little bit of modesty. For the fact that Bob isn’t wearing his glasses, he really wishes she was closer right now. He drops his shirt on the little bench seat next to him, and turns to lock the door behind him. He takes in a deep breath, it’s all humid air at this point, and tells himself he can do this. She’s watching him carefully from where she’s near pressed up against the back corner. She feels like she should look away, but he’s bending down to shed himself of his pants and she can’t take her eyes off him. He folds both his pants and underwear neatly and puts them with his shirt, and her eyes are glued to the curve of ass down to the muscle of his thighs. When he turns, she’s suddenly very interested in the tile beneath her feet.

He hisses when the water touches his skin, used to the more tepid temperatures that came with being on a carrier, not this, which feels like she hasn’t even got the cold water turned on.

“You can turn it down, I won’t die not having a hot as hell shower,” she laughs, and it’s cutting through the tension, so Bob feels himself smiling.

“I’d rather not walk out looking like a lobster,” his voice is jovial, but he means it as he tries to avoid giving Hangman another reason to tease him.

“I think you’d make a very attractive lobster.”

And that’s what breaks his resolve, so he turns to face her, finally close enough that he can see the droplets of water caught on her collar bone, the lines of her hair plastered to her shoulder, and he picks a freckle that’s sitting right there at the front so he’s got something to look at.

“You’re being a gentleman,” she utters, taking a step closer to him. And yeah, he is, because this feels like he’s about to wake up any moment, alone in his bed and he’ll miss the heat of the shower. He doesn’t know how he’ll look at her in the morning if that’s the case.

He’s just blinking at her, and he knows he should be doing something but it’s been a while since he’s been in this position. Well, not this position exactly, but a woman, naked in front of him isn’t something that happens every day.

“Bob, I’m going to kiss you now,” she whispers and she’s right in front of him, her eyelashes sticking together in the damp. She places a hand on his cheek, her thumb moving in a comforting motion, but she’s really waiting for him to tell her to stop, to tell her that he doesn’t want this.

When he doesn’t, she gives him a gentle kiss, and Bob’s grateful that his brain switches back on in that moment, and he’s able to kiss her back rather than just stand there dumbly. His hand wraps around her hip and his thumb digs into the soft flesh above it. He backs her up until her back hits the wall of the stall and she’s barely in the spray of the water. She sucks in a breath at the change of temperature that hits her suddenly.

A quick sorry is mumbled against her lips, but she shifts her hand to the back of his neck, her other one reaching up to meet it, so she can pull him closer and deepen their kiss.

He hisses when the heat of her skin is pressed up against his chest, and she grins into him. She breaks the kiss but keeps him close and Bob doesn’t really know what to do with that information.

“We should get you cleaned up.”

“We should?”

“Mmhmm.”

And she’s letting him go, slipping from between him and the wall, and if he wasn’t getting hard before, the drag of her body would do it.

He smells the citrus of her body wash, and no, he would not admit to anyone else that he had paid that close of attention to her, that he recognizes the scent of her soap. There’s a slip of her hands on his back, the cold of her wash, and he moans at the feel of her hands running over him. She rubs at the knots in his shoulders, he feels them loosening up in the warmth of the shower and the careful ministrations of her fingers. She runs her hands down the length of his back, over the curve of his ass and he jumps a little when she smacks him gently. The soap suds fall around their feet as her laughter rings through the shower room.

She moves around him, a hand on the back of his neck, up over his shoulder and down the line of his chest. He finds the freckle on her shoulder again, giving something to focus on rather than the feel of her hands against him. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, concentrating on her work as she lathers him up. He finds it just a little bit adorable when he looks back up at her, and he wonders whether she does it while she’s flying. God, now he’s going to be thinking about that when he’s up in a plane. Thankfully, Phoenix sits in front of him.

Her eyes roam over him, easily giving herself permission to look. Her hands track a path over his chest, down his front until her hands dip low across his hips and he sucks in a breath through his teeth at the sensation.

“You don’t...” “I want to,” she interrupts quickly, not giving him a chance to shy away from her.

Bob moans loudly at the feeling of her hand wrapped around him because it’s been so long since it wasn’t his own hand. She kisses him quickly, trying to silence him, but it’s messy as laughter starts falling from her lips, because it doesn’t work. So instead, she buries her face in his neck as her body wracks with her giggles. It brings a smile to his own face, despite the fact that her hand is still on his cock. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her under the shower spray with him, and grins when she looks up at him, hair plastered to her forehead. He pushes it away with a gentle hand before gripping the side of her face and kissing her hard. He bites at her bottom lip when she squeezes him, her hand slick with water and soap, so she glides easily over him. When her thumb pushes on his tip, Bob tosses his head back, when she does it again, the moan is ripped from him, echoing off the walls of the shower room.

“Shhh Bob, someone might walk in,” she chides, but the fact she swipes her thumb over it a third time, tells him there’s absolutely no heat behind it.

She pushes him up against the opposite wall, giving him a quick smirk before she’s squatting down in front of him and licking a stripe up the underside of his cock.

“Oh fuck,” he utters, and Mist grins because she doesn’t think the word ever sounded so sweet.

It’s not comfortable, but knees on a tile floor would be significantly worse. She takes him in her mouth and Bob honestly doesn’t know what to do with his hands right now. It’s an overload for his senses, the heat of her mouth and hand around him, the near suffocating steam, the spray of the water and the cold wall behind him. It’s a lot.

She works her mouth over him, trying to take him as far as she can, but she can only get to her hand before she’s choking and pulling back with a cough.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, before trying again with the same result, it’s definitely not as easy as they make it look in porn. But Bob places a comforting hand on her cheek, like he’s telling her that she’s doing great, that it’s the effort that counts. So, she swirls her tongue around the head, focusing on making that feel good while her hand takes care of the rest of his length. His breath is coming out in short pants mixed with the occasional moan when she twists her hand just so, and then her hand is speeding up while her tongue laves over him, and Bob’s moans grow louder and more frequent until he’s pulling her by her hair off him and she’s moaning at the sensation. He comes, it mostly missing her still open mouth but landing in painted stripes across her cheek, chin and chest. Bob wishes he had photographic memory at that point, because it’s an image he never wants to forget.

It’s cleaned off pretty quickly with her in the direct line of the shower.

She stands up slowly, taking Bob’s offered hand to help her, and once she’s level again, he's on her in an instant. His mouth slips over hers and he’s quickly deepening the kiss before she can really react. She wraps her arms around him again, pressing closer this time, and he’s less careful in his movements now. His hands run up and down the length of her back, over her sides and when he brushes the swell of her breasts, she huffs out a satisfied breath. He turns them around, taking the heat of the shower spray, one of his hands running down the length of her body until his fingers are sliding through her folds, teasing her gently. She’s so so wet, and Bob wonders idly whether she touches herself when she showers or if getting him off really affected her that much. A part of him wants to ask, but the other part of him doesn’t really want to know the answer to that. The self-conscious part of him is telling him that it’s just a part of her nightly ritual, but the other part that can acknowledge her soft moans and the cant of her hips chasing his fingers, tells him that it’s all about him.

He circles one of his fingers over her clit, drawing the sweetest sounds from her, and his cock jumps in interest. She’s practically mewing under his hands, but it’s just not enough for her.

“Please Bob,” she whines, her voice high pitched. He smirks at her and pushes a finger inside her, groaning at the heat around him. He brings his lips to hers again, and he swallows her little moans like they’re an oasis in the dessert. His thumb swipes over her clit as they kiss, and he hopes he’s making her feel as good as she made him feel.

As he plunges two fingers inside her, he pulls her hair at the same time, and Mist near about screams at the sensation. Bob hadn’t realized hair pulling was a thing he liked until it made her make those pretty little sounds, and by God, if he hadn’t just come, he’d be coming again. She rocks herself back and forth on his fingers, and the only thing that would make it better, is if it was his cock inside of her instead of his fingers. But then her moans pitch up and she drops her head to his shoulder, sucking messy, wet kisses there while she rides his fingers to her orgasm. He tugs on her hair again and she’s trembling around him, coming silently like it’s a surprise.

He lets go of her hair and wraps that arm around her, holding her close as he slows his fingers. He slips them from her when she stops shaking and washes them off in the shower that’s slowly cooling. When she looks up at him again, her smile is bright, but her expression quickly turns to embarrassment when she notices the line of red and purpling bruises she had sucked into his collar while she rode out her high.

“I’m so sorry Bob, I’ll help you hide those,” she says quickly, tucking her chin and looking down.

“Hey, no need for that Mist, don’t care if anyone sees them,” he says, cupping her chin and forcing her to look up at him.

He’s smiling, satiated and happy, glad that she had been in the shower when he’d walked in. She smiles shyly back, and he kisses her again, this time soft, like an assurance that everything is fine between them. He holds her close, pressing his forehead to hers and she finds something comforting in that.

“If you ever want a round t....”

“Yes, absolutely, as soon as possible.”

Phoenix walks into their common area, and throws herself on the lounge opposite Rooster.

“Where’s Mist?” she asks him.

“Showers,” he grunts in response.

“What about Bob?”

Rooster has the decency to look a little sheepish as he finally catches her eye.

“Showers.”

Phoenix’s jaw drops.

“Rooster, what did you do?

#robert bob floyd #robert floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x ofc #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #robert bob floyd fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #my fic

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suna-reversed · 4 years

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Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you.

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life.

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest.

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine.

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest.

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber.

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest.

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection.

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you.

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went.

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person.

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest.

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth,

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind.

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly.

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed.

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole.

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart.

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart.

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward.

“At least he kept his promise” You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle.

—-

“At least I kept my promise.”

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus.

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-”

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth.

“Nothing!” you reply in unison.

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad.

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy,

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table.

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly.

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.”

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry.

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before.

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.”

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them.

“Is everything okay?’

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you.

“Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi.

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world.

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck.

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps-

it didn’t matter now.

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo tw #gojo satoru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen tw #jjk x you #gojo angst #megumi x reader #megumi smut #sukuna smut #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #toji fushiguro

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dangermousie · 3 years

Note

How about danmei recs for beginners?

I love this ask but it's complicated by two things:

1. Like any ask, my answer is going to be based on my specific preferences - i.e., if your taste is towards contemporary fluff, I am not your person; also everyone loves Meng Xi Shi novels except for me, etc etc.

2. Normally the n1 author recommended would be MXTX and her three novels are a great beginner choice (yes, even Scum Villain's Self Saving System; one need not be familiar with Chinese web novels t enjoy this, being a dedicated fanfic reader would do) because they are irresistibly addictive and have served as a great entry point for many, but all the fan translations have been taken down due to them being properly published by an official publisher; however only first volumes of each novel are currently out in English so there is no easily accessible complete translation out there atm.

However, moving on from these, here are some recs. All are complete either in full translation or a combination of full translation and edited machine translation which is very readable.

Sha Po Lang by Priest - Priest is a popular writer for a reason and this is by far my favorite. This is heavily plotty but set in an alternate history steampunk setting. If you like fantasy and history, it's easy to follow, not insanely long, and has a slow-burn, understated couple in a very Victorian way.

Those Years in Quest of Honor Mine by Man Man He Qi Duo - the politics is not too complicated or too dumb, and the main couple is amazing - if you do not love them both - so good, so damaged (one in much more showy way than the other but both are walking wounded), you have no heart. Once again, it's a fictional dynasty so no history knowledge is necessary.

The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha) and Stains of Filth (Yuwu) by Meatbun Doesn't Eat Meat - honestly, Yuwu is probably a much better choice for a beginner, being shorter and less twisty and less gonzo but if I were ever to mention only one web novel to people, it would be 2ha - I have never read a web novel (and few of any other kind of novel) this tailored to me - so joyously gonzo, so emotionally searing, so luring you slowly into a delightfully picaresque adventure with a deeply hilarious cynical undertone and then whamming you hard and if you are like me, you find yourself crying, bawling really, going how did I get here? 2ha has a trigger warning list the size of its protagonist's equipment but it's so worth it. And so is Yuwu, a very different story with very different protagonists, but sharing 2ha's intensity and emotional heft. They have complicated narratives (especially 2ha, with its crisscrossing timelines) but nothing you can't manage if you've read fantasy novels.

Nan Chan by Tan Jiuqing - ahahaha this is being thrown off a deep end really. But sometimes that is what you need - this seemingly disjointed, deeply fantastical tale about a sentient fish and a human embodiment of a sword really is like diving into the Mariana's Trench but it gloriously pays off. And if you enjoy this, then you can def read most anything.

Mistakenly Saving the Villain by Feng Yu Nie - this is THE hurt/comfort fic of your dreams, trust me!

Golden Stage by Cai Wu Bin Bai - politics, power couple, a fast moving story. This is actually probably an easier entry point than Sha Po Lang (in some ways, it's a similar type of story) and I am ridiculously fond of it.

Wu Chang Jie by Shui Qian Cheng - once again, very mythology heavy, very long list of trigger warnings, but this is such an addictive, intense story and I love it so much, I cannot not rec it.

It's Not Easy Being a Master by Jin Xi Gu Nian - if you want to read disciple x his teacher story but can't get your hands on Scum Villain and 2ha looks too intimidating, this is a great choice. Like in the other two, disciple went evil and harmed the teacher in past timeline. Now, the teacher is being inhabited by a modern transmigrator who wants to avoid this fate; he doesn't know the disciple transmigrated too so it's gonna be hard. There are a lot of adventures, a good coherent plot and honestly a wonderfully functional OTP.

Spring Trees and Sunset Clouds by Wei Liang - this is a slow slice of life with slow healing (and some seriously dark underpinnings) and a truly good yet easy read.

How to Survive As a Villain by Yi Yi Yi Yi - a true delight about a modern person transmigrator into a book villain, who tries to survive since his original role is to torment and be killed by the protagonist. This throws the whole story delightfully off track.

And I am gonna stop now :)

#asks #cnovel

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loosesodamarble · 4 years

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Two can play this game! 8,38, and...

44 (you can use kiss instead of fuck) with Nozel, Inosuke, and Kirishima~! 😏✌

Steph... You really coming after me like this?

...

I can respect that. Let’s do this.

8. Favorite fanfic trope?

OBLIVIOUS TO LOVE~!

I‘m guilty of consuming and creating this one 9/10.

Eri from Nameless? Every route. All the time. She’s love blind but it’s fun to see her eventually go “ooohhh.” (BTW: best route is Lance.)

Lucette from Cinderella Phenomenon? Oblivious in each route but that’s because she has Emotional Baggage(tm). (Karma is the best route here.)

Katara x Aang? How long did it take for Katara to pick up on Aang’s feelings? Like, until the latter half of season 3? Come on, girl! I know there was a war but he used Sokka’s fishing line to make a replacement necklace for you!

Izuku x Ochaco? Have you seen these two blushing together because of each other?! They’ve got to become Heroes, I understand, but they really gotta learn how to pick up on those cues.

Kyouhei x Terumi? They are childhood friends and both mutually crushing each other but so deep in denial. They’re in deeper than the Mariana Trench. At least they’re cute together.

Ryouko x Okami? Okami doesn’t know anything, much less feelings of love. Ryouko knows that she finds some people pretty but she hasn’t wrapped her head around the idea of actually being in a romantic relationship.

Nozel x Helia? Helia cannot for the life of her see how Nozel loves her (mostly because he’s terrible at showing it but that’s beside the point)! Nozel is full aware Helia loves him but I doubt he’s aware of his own feelings.

Inosuke x Shizuka? Inosuke was raised wild so he’s got no idea what these soft, fuzzy feelings Shizuka makes him feel are. As for Shizuka, it’s half she doesn’t realize she’s in love and half she doesn’t want to be in love.

Eijirou x Haruka? distant, hysterical laughter Everyone but them can see how much they love one another! They both go: “Wait, they like me? Wait, I like them?” Children, please, you are worthy of love and your feelings aren’t a burden to others!

So yeah, you could say I’m familiar with this trope.

38. What’s your OTP?

Hey wait a minute... Didn’t I already answer this one?

*checks posts*

I did. But I can’t not answer the question, can I?

I’mma change it up. Here’s my OTPs involving OCs! (Hey, that rhymed.)

Yuno x Alexandria (Rex) by @argent-aviis. Youths in love with a truck load dash of tragedy thrown in thanks to ol’ Bone Daddy. Argent, thank you for creating such a cool oc and giving Yuno the love he deserves. Their dynamic, the conflict in their relationship, just them! I’m excited to see where you go with this ship! Please, continue with it!

Suzume x Takayuki by you, @cringeyvanillamilk! Okay, okay! Maybe I’m really a tiny bit biased towards this ship because I’ve written content for this ship before but I can’t help it! They’re such lovely characters and the things you’ve shared about them with me just makes me stupid with love for your characters. These two bring out the best in each other. These two find love in one another despite the frightening reality that brought them together. Their awkward start and eventual happy ending get me so soft!

44. Fuck Kiss/marry/kill?

Between Nozel, Inosuke, and Eijirou?

I’m just gonna kiss, marry, and kill Nozel. I would kiss Nozel with all the passion in the world. Then I’d marry him with an extravagant royal wedding (given it’s Nozel, it would have to be that way). And finally, I’d kill him in his sleep and run away with the money.

Am I allowed to do that?

Look, I love Inosuke and Eijirou. They’re my favorites in their respective series, but I love them platonically.

Okay but if I have to involve all three: marry Nozel (sorry Helia), platonically kiss Eijirou on the forehead/cheek (he’s still with Haruka), and try to kill Inosuke (not sure if I should be more scared of him or Shizuka in this scenario).

.....

I really went off with these answers didn’t I? Sorry if I blabbed too much. I just... Have feelings!

#questions from the ask box #nameless eri #lucette riella britton #katara #aang #izuku midoriya #ochaco uraraka #nozel silva #inosuke hashibira #eijirou kirishima #soda's ocs #steph's ocs #argentaviis OCs #sharkologydesigns OC #gayrhyas oc

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cordonia · 4 years

Photo

Ethan + MC: “PUSHING DAISIES” AU: P1

Summary: Ethan Ramsey has gift that goes beyond his medical experience. With a single touch he can revive the dead for one minute before consequences take place. It’s handy, for his position at the hospital in a small town called Delarosa where crime is suddenly on the rise. Except it’s dangerous when he has the chance to revive the last girl he ever loved. Because nothing is for free.

Warnings: This is less lighthearted than the show. Death, mention of physical attack and injuries. Also Pushing Daisies (2007-2009) is one of the best shows ever so this is your warning to watch it.

Word Count: 1550

Ethan Ramsey was thirty-seven years, twenty weeks, four days and fifteen minutes old. He was unlike most of the people who inhabited the small town he had lived in all of his life. At a very young age he had learned more about the balance of the universe than anyone he had ever met. He had suffered because of the ignorance around him, but it meant that he could stay, possibly forever.

Perhaps it also meant that he could not leave, the risk too great to expose to a greater audience than the regulars in his life. Thinking about it that way only made him feel trapped.

There were only two people who knew of his capabilities, one being June Hirata who was the director of Diagnostic Medicine until two years prior when the program had shut down. Believe it or not, there was little need for a diagnostic team when there were fewer than ten thousand people in their hometown. Ethan was moved to head of Trauma and June was head of Neurology, and while those titles sounded exciting, they were both too good for the very small hospital.

A lot had happened in the past two years, including Mariana Valentine leaving their hometown. Leaving him.

“Call it.” June’s tone was firm, and the resident who followed her around like a puppy hesitantly exited the room. Ethan stood still, his whole body attuned to only one person in the room. He couldn’t look away.

Mariana wasn’t supposed to be here. She shouldn’t have been lying on the gurney, head trauma severe enough that the resident had almost thrown up. One good blow with a weapon and she was gone within two hours. This was not how he was supposed to remember her, the last memory he would ever have.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Go grab some coffee, Ethan. I’ll finish everything here.”

This was not an offer she would make under any other circumstance, she only ever volunteered her puppy. Lahela, to name him, something that Ethan should have gotten better at doing. There were many things he was supposed to do and change. There always felt like there would be more time.

Mariana was an unexpected threat to his perception of reality. There was always time, until there wasn’t.

“Leave, Ethan.” That was a warning.

“Why is she here?” His voice didn’t waver, but his legs threatened to falter. Something seemed fitting about falling to his knees, but for what purpose? He did not need to pray when what he dreamed of asking for was woven into the tips of his fingers.

“Don’t pretend like I would know. She was attacked on Mirani Drive, that’s all that they got out of Aveiro before he was called off again. The police will probably come in to question her, I’ll let them know she didn’t make it.”

“She was only a street away from her parents house.”

He could feel June’s stare burn through him, but he still couldn’t look away. He took a step closer to the bed and reached out--

“Ethan, I did not sign up for what happens when you watch her die again.”

His gaze snapped to Dr. Hirata and she took a deep breath when she saw his expression. She was always stubborn, and exceptional at whatever job she had in front of her. But she was not God. And in that moment, it would take absolute proof of a higher power forbidding him one touch, to stop him.

“Why doesn’t she deserve justice, just like the others?”

Dr. Hirata shook her head slowly, sighing. “You don’t know the others like you know her. I know that she was your best friend once, and you know that one minute will never be enough!”

One touch, anywhere upon her skin and her eyes would open to him for the first time in a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time they had touched, it felt like a betrayal to everything he felt for her. He owed her the truth, it couldn’t really be too late.

“One minute is all that I want.” A lie. He wanted an entire lifetime.

“Fine, but I’m not leaving.” She crossed her arms and stepped back into the corner, looking away from Ethan and the bed. June did not enjoy watching all laws of the universe being thrown out the window, even if she agreed that it helped in criminal cases.

He reached for Mariana’s cheek and then pulled his hand back. Nothing felt quite appropriate, not when their friendship never involved a physical relationship in any form. Mostly. One single memory disrupted that truth. But they had not spoken in some time, so he reached out again and did not hesitate to put his hand in hers.

Before there was a gasp for air, her hand tightened in his. But he had to let go.

Fifty-nine seconds.

“Mariana,” he entreated, almost breathless. “You’re at Delarosa General, you were attacked and I need to know who hurt you.”

“Ethan,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide and alert, “you found me.”

Mariana Valentine; twenty-eight years, forty weeks, three days and two hours old. She would only grow one minute older.

“We don’t have much time. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Oh.” Mariana shook her head. She brought both of her hands to her face, wiping away at the tears that immediately formed. She felt no pain, Ethan knew that, but the agony written across her face was not physical. “It’s all over, isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why this happened,” Ethan lamented, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He wanted to wrap himself around her and promise that this was the end of all pain, the beginning of eternity.

Except his next touch would be the last and he did not know if death was an end or a beginning. He had no way to console her and no promises to make, only a heavy and permanent fate when his skin next brushed against hers. When he touched her again, she was dead for good.

His gift was often cruel, but he felt forsaken by all good in the universe. He had already lost his mother because of what he could do, he was surely being punished. He could not explain it any other way.

“Tell my parents I’m sorry I went for that walk. I should have stayed home. And Ethan...” She looked away, her eyes catching June leaning against the wall. “I wanted to come back, I missed you and I missed my parents. I would have come back to you.”

“Every minute of our friendship changed me, I want you to know that.” He didn’t know what else to say, there was too much to filter through in seconds.

That was their conclusion, a harrowing and blood soaked finale with no assurance of justice. One single minute on a gurney that ended as quickly as it began.

“Ethan,” June commanded.

“No.” He didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice.

Two seconds was no time to argue, and June was a survivor as much as she could be a fighter. She left so quickly that the room seemed to shudder upon her exit.

“Ethan.” His name came from Mariana’s lips. She looked up at him in fear and confusion, and the weight of his choice had a tight grip around his throat.

He didn’t know what to say. Their time was up, seconds past, and an alteration in the universe was completed. A life for a life. Mariana Valentine breathed because somewhere close by them, someone had just taken their last breath.

June, he thought as the panic burned in every vein. Guilt from every area of his life began to resurface, a compilation of every life he bruised, betrayed or buried. Who had he sacrificed to alter fate? This was not the person he wanted to be, the one he convinced himself he could be. He had never been more selfish in any minute of his life.

“I’m still alive,” she cried, “what did you do?” She wasn’t angry or upset, rather overwhelmed with shock.

“I couldn’t let you go, you were supposed to have more time.” His shame slowly evolved into a guilt ridden relief. She was safe, breathing against all odds and completely unaware of how complicated her life was about to become simply because she lived.

There was one thing she had already considered, the beginning and end of her life after death. Ethan’s touch.

“You can never touch me again.” She knew that something changed between then as soon as it was spoken aloud. Perhaps the one thing they hadn’t gotten the chance to explore; touch.

He could recall almost every time their shoulders grazed when they watched documentaries together. Or when she covered his hands with hers and promised him he had a purpose. The very first and only time they had ever kissed held permanent real estate in multiple parts of his brain. The last time he was completely and purely content, unbeknownst to anyone in his life, was that kiss.

They would never kiss again.

And then, like an alarm during a ceremony, a scream sounded off throughout the trauma centre. The consequences found Ethan before he could find them.

“Declan Nash isn’t breathing!”

Note: If there is any interest for me to continue this, I have a whole plan in place for the story. Also, it only makes sense for me to include some characters over others based on their value to the circumstances of this AU (not to Open Heart in general). I’m keeping what characters I think would fit into the story well and using other names in the story as places and so on. This would have lighter moments if I continued, the sad is out of the way...

Tagging: @ethandaddyramsey @binny1985 @openheart12 @bellcat2010 @edith-eggs1 @missmiimiie @queenofspades6 @schnitzelbutterfingers @longneckramsey @queencarb @kaavyaethanramsey @mkamra2355 @ethxnrxmsey whimsicalreader @jooous @blazerina @choices-lurker @itsgoingnuts @lilyvalentine @aworldoffandoms @choices-love-affair @nooruleman @junehiratas

#open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x reader #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart imagine #open heart edit #my fanfic #my edit

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smalltowndetective · 4 years

Note

1, 17 and 22 for any detective of your choice for the detailed oc ask (no rush to answer, take your time, especially if you're busy 💕)

Hello! Thank you so much for asking, you’re the best! Sorry this is late!

So, since I am a massive name nerd, I’m going to answer 1 for each of my detectives, and then I’ll answer one detective for the other two!

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?

Thea Annaliese Holland (romances Felix): Now, something that is probably good to mention that I spend way too long on my detectives before even playing the game haha. I spent forever on trying to figure out names for them that fit their character, and Thea is no exception. I spent a while with her first name actually being Theadora and Thea being her nickname (I might bring this back for a reincarnation AU later) But Thea by it self fit her better? It has that lighter feel to it, less regal-sounding, and it suits her much better. Thea is the Anglicized version of Theia, the Greek goddess of light, so I really liked that as well. Middle name took me forever to figure out, since Thea is not an easy name to figure a middle name for, but I came across Annaliese, and it really fit her. Meaning “grace” and the softness of it is just really pretty to me. And for poor Thea, I did so much planning for her character before playing her route for the first time, wrote so many notes on her about everything under the sun, to just forget that I needed to give her a surname haha! So, with no idea what exactly to do, I used a random name generator, and wouldn’t you know it, the first one that I got back was Holland, which I really liked how Thea Holland sounded, so I went with it.

And while I suppose that’s why I choose it, but I suppose I can tell a little bit about why Rebecca and Rook choose it as well. Kind of along the same vein as me, I have Rebecca wanting to use the full form of the name, while Rook wanting to shorten it, thinking the full name sounded slightly too regal for his tastes. Obviously, Thea won out in the end, and that is now her full name. :)

Natasha Kate Trexler (romances Adam): Now, for Natasha I just really just really liked Natasha as a first name, something about it just sounding right (Natasha means “born on Christmas Day” actually, but she was born in late spring haha!) It’s slightly harsher then Natalia, my first thought for what to name her, and it fit her much better with her as a name. And, back when I played the game originally, I had her nickname be Nat, but I do know how confusing that Adam and Nat looks to everyone else, so I’ve decided to avoid using it in the future haha! (Natasha isn’t the type to really use nicknames anyway, but I do personally think that once we actually get to deep relationship Adam, he would be the only person who calls her so) For her middle name, I forgot there was technically a Kate already in the story, (Garret Hayes’s mother) but since it was a middle name that won’t be mentioned ever, I decided to stick with it. Kate means “pure” and I really liked it instead of using a longer form like Katherine. And for her surname, Trexler is a surname from German origin, and it means “turner” believed to be referring to a wheelwright (Rook in Natasha’s route is from German descent)

And for how Rook and Rebecca choose the name, with Rebecca in this route being from Russian descent, that is how Natasha was originally decided on in the first place, with Kate a compromise between the two of them for something slightly softer. :)

Pearl Evelyn Reid (romances Nate): Since Pearl was my first detective (that’s a bit of a surprise I’m sure haha) I didn’t actually think of her name much before the game, since well, I had never played any interactive fiction at all before and it wasn’t something that I realized that I would want to do. But I do really like the name anyway. Pearl is obviously just a gem name for the well, actual Pearl, and it is kind of an old-timey name, which kind of suits her really well. Pearl is very tech focused skill wise, but she also has a vintage decorated apartment, so the different in those two has always been something that I have liked about her. Her middle name, Evelyn (which I choose for) means “desired, wished for” and also “water” which they both kind of fit. Pearl loves the ocean (I’ve always put Wayhaven as a seaside town) and it’s something that she has always been very special to her. (Nate’s hesitance to it makes her pause, but she hasn’t asked him much about it yet) (And I like the desired, wished for meaning as well, because I do think that the three of them were a very happy family before Rook’s death) And with her surname, Reid apparently means Red (I wasn’t looking at meanings at the time, so not making her a red head was a bit of a oversight on my part haha!) I also really like how “Rebecca Reid” sounds as well!

And for Rook and Rebecca, Pearl always remind me of the novel Scarlet Letter, which the main character names her daughter Pearl, her mother’s “only treasure”, and this kind of relates into everything after Rook’s death. It’s slightly old-timely, but it was something that both of them liked a lot ( I do think of all the names, they probably were able to agree on this one the quickest haha!) :)

Mariana “Mari” Rebecca Gonzales (romances Mason): It took me forever to play Mason’s route for the first time, since I was really having a hard time finding a detective that I really liked that would work very well. In the end, I went with a very different detective then the others, and after a while, I really do like her. There are several meanings for Mariana, from “bitter” to “beloved” which again, kind of both fit her. Mariana never wanted to be a detective, and is very bitter about it and her mother’s absences, but even with that, she is beloved by the people in her life anyway. Mari is what she goes by when she can, the nickname more comfortable for her, hating the almost stiff formality of her full name. And of course, for angst reasons only, I used my detective with the absolute worse relationship with Rebecca her name as a middle. (Was going to do so for all my detectives, but I really like it just being her haha) Mari does avoid talking about her middle name for this reason, and is less then thrilled about it for that reason. Now, for the surname, Rook in Mari’s route is Spanish, so well it made sense to give her one with that heritage. It is a different spelling of Gonzalez, meaning “war” or “battle” and for my combat focused detective who wanted to join the military, it really fit.

And for Rook and Rebecca, it was important to them that Mariana had a name that tied her to her heritage, and Rebecca was the initial one who brought up Mariana as a name. Rook’s idea right back, (in only Mari’s route) was to give her Rebecca’s name as a middle name, another connection to her mother. It took her a bit, but she did agree, and that is now her name (regardless of Mari feels about it haha!)

(Going to put the rest of the answers under the cut!)

17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?

Detective: Thea Holland (Felix)

I saw this question, and I couldn’t help not answer it for Thea, as much as I have talked about this recently haha! One of Thea’s hobbies is photography, and it something that she has done a lot of in the past few years leading up to Book 1. She loves to take pictures of just about anything in front of her, capturing that moment forever, but in Wayhaven, there are not many weddings, but she was been hired to do wedding photography a few times, which she always loves doing. Being able to give them memories of what (hopefully is!) one of the happiest days of their life is really special to her. (And Thea is also a huge hopeless romantic, so there is that to!) She has also done portrait pictures for the people of Wayhaven as well, and Thea is the closest you can get to a real photographer without having to go to the big city. She is not the biggest fan of selfies by herself, but with Felix? She’ll gladly do so. :) A lot of pictures that she takes do end up with the clients, but in her office, she does have framed pictures of the flowers around Wayhaven on the wall. And now as her and Felix are officially dating, perhaps there will be pictures of the two of them together in her office as well. :)

22. What are their favorite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

Detective: Natasha Trexler (Adam)

Natasha is probably not the best detective I have to answer this for, but I was reminded of something, and I don’t think I can avoid not mentioning this haha. She is incredibly stoic, and most insults she keeps in her head, a slight glare the only sign of what she is really is feeling. If you do annoy her enough, you might get a very flat insult, the harshness not hold back at all, no humor, just pure insult. And while there have been plenty of times where Adam has absolutely frustrated her, but she normally won’t say anything. But that time that he broke her plant, and then tried to say her office was cluttered? Natasha hates clutter with a passion, it not allowing her to focus, and her office is always immaculate, the only reason the plant in there was in the first place was because it was a gift from Tina. She would have not have put it in there otherwise. So, to hear Adam say that? If Nate wasn’t there, there would have been some few choice words that she thrown back into his face. And to the last question, Natasha hates gossip, so she does not talk behind anyone's back at all. If she doesn’t like you, you’ll know.

#specific oc questions #detective thea holland #detective pearl reid #detective mariana gonzales #detective natasha trexler #thank you again #you're amazing!

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misslisterkeepsajournal · 4 years

Text

1828 Wednesday 7 May

6 40/60 11 55/60

At 8 1/2 hair cut by young Parsons - breakfast at 9 3/4 - immediately came in Mrs. and Miss Belcombe - in deep mourning for Colonel Milne, and both much affected - Mrs. B- [Belcombe] obliged to go out and walk about in the garden for some minutes - then Miss B- [Belcombe] obliged to do ditto - the former kissed and received me as usual, and I was attentive to her, but gravely so - Mr. D- [Duffin] observed I did not speak - said I was attentively listening to Mrs. B-'s [Belcombe's] account of their arrival last night - Mrs. D- [Duffin] observed I ate no breakfast, nor did I take 1/2 my usual breakfast - would not take Miss B-'s [Belcombe's] hint to follow her mother into the garden nor did I follow Miss B- [Belcombe] no observations were made when they were gone - very soon after came Dr. H.S.B- [Henry Stephen Belcombe], and staid perhaps about 1/2 hour - He and I, as usual - says Jephson thinks everybody has a liver complaint, that is the worst of him - M-'s [Mariana Lawton's] liver is torpid - her present being not well caused mentally - Dr. H.S.B- [Henry Stephen Belcombe] hardly gone when Ald[?]n Kilby was announced - had taken the liberty of coming with the reverend Randolph Marriott who was in great distress to solicit something from Mr. Duffin! said if one was to attend to every such call...but ended I found (I slank off) by giving a sovreign -

Called on Mrs. Anne and Miss Gage - out - then sat about 20 minutes with Mrs. and Miss Yorke - might have sat longer but Captain and Mrs. Hincks came in - to go to the Yorkes' tomorrow evening - then went over the bridge with Mr. and Mrs. D- [Duffin] and returned to see Mr. D- [Duffin] and Miss S.G- [Sophia Greenup] mount to take a ride! then out with Mrs. D- [Duffin] met the Miss Cromptons - to see them tomorrow - left my card for Mrs. Willey - and for Mrs. and the 2 Miss Bests, looked about the improvements in and about the minster - left my card for the Miss Salmonds, now Mrs. and Miss, and saw their greenhouse then looked about near the Kearsleys they asked us in, and we sat a little while - the house the Salmonds lived in - should have been taken down and the new deanery erected on the site, but Mrs. K- [Kearsley] would not give up her lease of 7 years, only 1 of them expired now - the deanery is therefore close by, and the offices will in future stand where the house should have stood - then to the H- [Henry] Belcombes' - above 1/2 hour there - Mrs. H.S.B- [Henry Stephen Belcombe] wants me to go to her as soon as she has a spare bed - Mrs. D- [Duffin] observed afterwards, she fancied the 2 Mrs. B-s [Belcombes] did not always hit it well together - of course, I would neither know nor fancy so - Mrs. B- [Belcombe] still seeming to wish to seem on the same terms as formerly with me - took a good deal of notice of my little goddaughter - had her on my knee some time - called at Fisher's - not at home then sat some time with Mrs. Gilbert Crompton - made one or 2 shoppings, and got back at 5 20/60 -

Dinner at 5 3/4 - wrote the ends and sent off (at 9 1/4) my letter (begun on Sunday) to my aunt 'Place neuve de la Madeleine, No. [Number] 2, Paris' - mention the following Horner has just lost his daughter - wait a few days - will tell him to send the teeth to Hammersley to be forwarded - must stay till 1 August to execute the deed of sale of the land for the new church - Northgate let 8 years at £84. George Robinson to have a building of 3 stories and 6 rooms estate £150 - shall be glad to be off for £200 - Filling up the square of the Stag's head house and building barn for Hopkin must wait - my father consents to turn the Cunnery into a farm - Washington's estate £400 - should be glad to be off for £500 - to get water for the house at Shibden from a fresh source - Cunnery plantation valued at £70 - replanting with oaks about £50 - getting down the pit hill about £20, or upwards, that the value of the wood will hardly suffice - worst thing, the road to branch off from Mitholm and go just behind or just in front of Lower brea into the new Northowram road - all the coal pulled at willy-hill pit (on account of the turnpike bar set in Godley lane) by which we lose about £30 an acre - all the roads thrown upon the towns - Southowram wants to lead stones down Pump lane, and also down Bairstow - no preventing it - my father and Marian gone yesterday to Market W- [Weighton] on account of the sale there of some of the canal shares - my father would have us come to England - 'climate appears to him a mere nothing' we might do very well at Shibden if we liked - I said the difficulties were greater than he imagined - He will sell the Hampstead if he can get 7 or 6 hundred pounds for it - had thought of selling it without even letting us know, because (he said to Marian) our hands were full enough already - said I would not give £600, and should be glad enough if he could get that price; for the 1/4 of it would be very useful - Mark Hepworth ill - called on Mrs. Kenny and Mrs. Wilcock - Mrs. K [Kenny] delighted with her letter and the porte alumette - her rent for the house E.R- [Eliza Raine] had in Savile row £27 per annum called at the vicarage - 'he is pleasant and gentlemanly enough and she a quiet sort of person who has evidently seen very little of the world' - do not think quite like my father about the tithes - Mr. Eden's money to be paid in October, and got at 4 3/4 p.c. [percent] from a trust - 'She would like to buy the manor' of Market W- [Weighton] thinks the d. [duke] of D- [Devonshire] may sell it, and his property there in the course of some time - It seems they do not clear 'more than £50 a year by the Skelfler Estate' - Marian's illness was typhus fever and infectious so that all were obliged to drink port wine and live well to avoid it -

Thomas brought back my letter - too late - Mr. D- [Duffin] and Miss Sophia Greenup gone to a small party at Mrs. Saltmarshes - Mrs. D- [Duffin] and I had tea at 9 1/4, and afterwards sat talking - she says they have fifteen hundred a year but he seems to give about three hundred a year to his family at his death a hundred a year to each of his two sisters and four nieces for life and in default of issue to revert to his nephews and their issue and in default of that to go his godson and great nephew William Duffin Oxley absolutely and forever the two nephews to have nothing during Mrs Ds [Duffins] life but at her death to share equally her jointure of seven hundred a year her own two hundred and fifty settled upon her brother and his family and the thousand she got lately she will give to Sophia G [Greenup] - a drop or 2 of rain before breakfast - afterwards dullish, but fine day -

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/10/0156 - SH:7/ML/E/10/0157

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #gentleman jack #1828 #york

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awhilesince · 4 years

Text

Friday, 8 February 1833

6 50/..

not ready of 1 1/2 hour – fine mild morning Fahrenheit 44° at 8 40/.. outside my window – at my desk at 8 40/.. till 10 20/.. wrote 3 pages and ends to M– (Mariana) beginning

‘I see it will be a week Tomorrow, my dearest Mary, since I received your last – I had no idea time had sped away so rapidly – but now you are so at ease about me, I am satisfied – so long as you know me to be happy and comfortable, you kindly tell me, you can be so too – I neither do, nor can want more; and I now feel that there will be no drawback upon the cheerfulness, as far as respects each other, of our future correspondence – I have indeed learnt not only to fancy, but to believe, there are ‘more ways than are of being happy’; and that I am a living proof of this, I trust you will see, and acknowledge by and by – your plan of going with me to London is excellent; and it will delight me if you are able to keep to it – I shall be pleased, and proud to shew you how much I am improved since our journey to Holland – I only hope you are in no great hurry about your teeth; as I see no great chance of being en route southwards till May, at soonest But the fact is, I am so uncertain, that I do not mean to say any more about it, till days and almost hours are fixed – I shall, if possible, go to Langton for 2 or 3 weeks, be a day or 2 in York, and as long with you as may seem best suited to those circumstances over which I know you have no control – I anxiously hope you have had continued good accounts of your mother

……. very sorry have no interest in the India house and know nothing about the hanoverian service – perhaps Norcliffe may know something of the latter – If I should hear of anything likely to be of service (to Hamlyn Milne returned from a mercantile clerkship in Mexico)

‘You know with what zeal and anxiety I should do my utmost for you’ –

Congratulating her on keeping Watson …..

‘thank very very much for all your kindness and trouble about Thomas Beech’ –

Eugénie will wait –

‘I quite forget to tell you in my last, that I was out again with the woodman an hour after, and thought no more of it – In fact, I am better in health, and happier in mind than I have been for years – I feel my spirits as light as they used to be in days of yore – I have learnt to live upon my own resources, and in the firm belief that providence orders all things well, and makes all things work together for good, I have thrown away my regrets for the past, and kept nothing but hope for the future – ‘How is it’, you ask, ‘that one sometimes feels out of spirits without knowing why?’ It may be from a heavy atmosphere (a bad day) or some little difficulty in digestion of which we are not aware, or from various, and insensible little circumstances to which a nervous temperament is much more subject than a sanguine one – But never mind – you will be better and more vigorous by and by, as well as Mr Lawton – God bless you my dearest Mary! Ever very Especially and entirely yours AL– (Anne Lister)’

wrote the above of today and breakfast with my aunt at 10 50/.. in 40 minutes – sealed and left for the post by Hemingway this afternoon my letter to M– (Mariana) ‘Lawton hall Lawton Cheshire’ – and out at 11 3/4 with John getting up thorns between Pearson Ing and round Ing till dinner – then at 1 heavy shower for near 1/2 hour stood for shelter under a holly bush – then with Pickels at the deep cutting till about 2 3/4 from which time till 5 40/.. with John planting holly bush (etc on the slope between Charles H–‘s (Howarth’s) Pea field and acre field and getting up and planting oak in Lower brook Ing and had Charles and James H– (Howarth) to help to loaden and then plant thorns at top corner next the brook of upper brook Ing –

home at 5 3/4 – Dinner at 6 in 25 minutes – off to Lidgate at 6 1/2 – and there at 7 – tea – Miss W– (Walker) drawing 2 or 3 little botanical pencil sketches of flowers and Miss R– (Rawson) and I reading botanical works – Miss W– (Walker) very poorly all the day and this evening but better on my going in – came to my room at 11 25/..

fine day till 1 then 1/2 hours heavyish rain I standing under the shelter of the hollies at the bottom of the old lane – a few drops of rain in the afternoon afterwards otherwise fine and fine evening –

reference number: SH:7/ML/E/16/0015

#annelistercodebreaker #annelister #mariana #annwalker #febmarch1833

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doedreamss · 5 years

Note

Fanfiction Trope FMK: Adam Hangman Page, Joey Janela and Jon Moxley. ;P

hahaha, I got this same three batch of men from our darling von last night, and try as I might, I can’t swap the answers around (although I still don’t think moxley and I would go from enemies to lovers, or even start off as enemies to begin with, but also, I don’t think I’d be enemies with hangman or joey so he just kind of gets… put there lmao poor mox). but!!! I was so inspired by the stuff you wrote for your answer, I decided to write a one-shot for one of mine!! and it has my two favorite things: hangman adam page and horses.

That’s Our Deal

Ship: Hangman Adam Page x Glitter Sidesplitter (FOC)

Rating: General (there may be some foul language but there’s nothing super troubling I don’t think?)

Length: 2,886 words

“Howlong have you two been friends now?”

“Idon’t know. Year and a half? Twoyears?”

“Andyou haven’t made a move on him once?”

“No! Remember? I made the mistake of being a little extra flirty one time whenwe went out to ride Honey and Bandit and I swear he all but ignored me. Ithink that was the only time Adam has ever been remotely rude to me and it wasmortifying. So, no. I will not risk us losing our friendshipbecause I can’t keep it in my pants. I’m perfectly capable of just beinghis friend.”

“Uh-huh,”her tag team partner, Neon (ring name, of course – Nihilistic Neon), peeredover her phone at her with an expression that said she wasn’t buying it. Beneath that look, Glitter (also a ring name – Glitter Sidesplitter) squirmed.

“Neon,he doesn’t even like me like that. That’s why he didn’t respond when Itried to cross the line and see if he’d take the bait. We’refriends. We’re good friends. Hell, I’d say we’re best friends,even. I can call him or text him any time of night just to talk and he’s there. It never feels awkward or forced when we’re together. We spend almostevery afternoon together out at the ranch. I don’t think I could handlelosing him if I finally fessed up and told him how I felt. He’s becomesuch an important part of my life.”

Neonhad set her phone down and was watching her. She shook her head slowlyback and forth and sighed.

“You’vegot it bad, girlfriend.”

Glittergroaned, pressing her hands against her face and sinking down deep into thecouch.

“WhenI came and asked you for advice on how to bury my feelings you weren’t supposedto expose them and make me realize I’m fucking in love with him. It’snever going to happen, Neon. I’m not the kind of girl Adam’s lookingfor. We’re friends. Sometimes life isn’t fair. Sometimes youdon’t get the storybook ending. The prince doesn’t get to theprincess. That whole thing.”

“Wow…”Neon’s shapely, sharp black brow lifted, and her green eyes steadied onGlitter, slouched in anguish. “You do remember I’m supposed to be thedoom and gloom one in our little dynamic, right?”

“Shutup.” Glitter muttered and smiled, shaking her head.

“Glitz,”Neon sighed, setting her phone down and leaning forward on the couch acrossfrom the one Glitter was sitting on. “Do you remember a couple monthsback when you had your singles match on Dark?”

“Yeah?” Glitter frowned.

“Well,I was in the back, watching the match on the monitors, right?”

“Yeah…” Glitter didn’t understand where Neon was going with this. They alwayssupported one another if ever they were in a match the other wasn’t wrestlingin.

“Adamwas there too. Watching you. Remember? He was right therewhen you came backstage, celebrating you and telling you about all the waysyou’ve improved since you started with the company, how you were selling it tothe crowd…”

“Neon…that doesn’t mean anything. He was just being a good friend. Iasked him to help me train a bit after we first became friends, remember? He was just… congratulating me for all that hard work paying off.”

“Aye,”a frustrated breath disturbed them both, and Neon and Glitter glanced to seetheir friend, Mariana had entered the room at some point during theconversation. She waved the water bottle she was holding at Glitter andlooked at Neon. “¡Ellanunca va a escuchar!”

“Hey!–” Glitter started, having enough grasp on Spanish to know Mariana had saidsomething about her not listening. Before she could stick up for herself,Mariana shushed her.

“Youcan tell her about how Adam gets distracted every time she enters a room. You can tell her about how Adam starts smiling that dumb smile we all make funof when she’s talking. You can tell herabout how it’s so fucking clear to the rest of us that they’re madly in lovewith each other, but clearly she knows everything and therefore is not going tolisten.”

Marianaflopped herself down on the couch beside Neon and lifted her boots, plantingthe heels on the little table in front of them. She gave Glitter a pointed look.

“Okay,”Glitter shook her head, “if any of that were the least bit true, I’d havenoticed by now.”

Flickersand flashes of memories came speeding at her, like the way Adam grinned themoment they crossed paths with a smile that lit up his face and made herstomach do somersaults. But he smiled ateveryone, didn’t he? He was a genuine,kindhearted soul. She remembered the fewtimes they stood near one another in a room, Adam sometimes gently touched her,let his fingers brush her arm or her hand or even, once, her thigh. But it could just be natural reflex, sheargued. If he was trying to touch herintimately, she’d know. Everyone wasjust reading too much into something and Glitter wasn’t interested in ruiningthe friendship she and Adam had. Let therumors keep flying. She’d learn to buryher feelings her own damn self. Somehelp her friends were!

Herphone buzzed in her pocket and, giving it a quick read, she leaped for thechance to escape this lunacy like she was drowning and had been thrown a lifepreserver.

“Well,this has not been insightful at all. Youguys are all fucking crazy.” She flashedher characteristic ‘mad grin’ she was known for in-character. “It’s time for me to go take care of Honey.”

“Havefun with Adam!” Neon called teasingly ather back just as the door swung closed.

* * ** * *

Glitterglanced askance at Adam, who sat astride his bay frame overo gelding, Bandit, notfor the first time that afternoon since they’d met up at the stables. He was in his head, which left her plenty oftime to study his profile, handsome as a devil, and wonder if what Neon andMariana had said was true. Did Adamreally light up when she entered a room? Was it because they were such good friends – she’d dare to say bestfriends – or was it because he felt something romantic for her too? The only person who had the answers was Adam,but the only way to know them was to ask. If she asked flat-out if he had feelings for her and he said no, thefabric of their friendship would change.

Sure,they were both grown adults and could laugh off the misunderstanding… but she’dalways be left aching, and he’d always know she cared for him in a way he didnot care for her.

As ifhe felt her eyes on him, Adam turned and frowned when he caught her watchinghim. He always had those soft, almostsad, worried eyes, but when his brows dipped a little more the emotion seemedto increase by about a tenfold. Sometimes it made her want to say nothing, just wrap him in her arms andpull him in close and hold him until he was smiling again. Right now, however, she felt like she’d beencaught red-handed and blushed, glancing away quick.

“Everythingalright, Glitz?”

Glitteradjusted her seat in the saddle, the leather creaking gently with Honey’s gentlypaced walk.

“Yeah,I’m alright. You?” She forced herself to look at him and triedfor a casual, inquisitive look.

“Yeah…I’m alright.” He was still frowning ather skeptically. He hadn’t bought it.

Adamreadjusted his seat and cheated his torso toward her. His palm rested on the saddle horn and hisother hands loosely held Bandit’s reins. Today was just a pleasure ride, letting the horses stretch their legs alittle bit without working them hard in the arena, so they were currently beinggiven their head. Neither Adam norGlitter needed to pay much mind. Honeyand Bandit had been ridden miles throughout the farmland and forest surroundingthe ranch she and Adam boarded them at and were therefore familiar with theterrain. They were more than happy tobehave, walking side-by-side through the orchard and flicking their ears tolisten to the human’s conversation as Adam and Glitter talked.

“Areyou sure you’re alright? You’ve beenacting kind of funny ever since you got here. Glitz,” he paused, tipping his cowboy hat back a little so the afternoonlight hit his face and those blue eyes showed an ache that immediately made herheart seize. “Hey,” his country drawlwas soft, “you know you can tell me everything, right?”

“Ofcourse, Adam. You know I’d never hideanything from you.” Guilt twisted herbelly and made her feel sick. She’d toldhim so many of her deepest, darkest secrets over their hours and hours of conversation,never once hiding a single detail.

“Wellalright,” he said with a fair amount of skepticism drenched across his tone. “Just remember you can tell me anything. That’s our deal, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,”Glitter said, and forced the smile on her face. “That’s our deal.”

Glitterfaced forward in the saddle and gathered Honey’s reins.

“Raceya to the creek?” She asked, giving hima glance and then, before he could say yes or no, she squeezed with her knees,adding gentle pressure to Honey’s sides and cracked the reins against her thick,muscled neck. “Yah!” She shouted and Honey responded to her energy,gathering her legs under her and lurching forward.

“Hey!” Adam yelled at her back. Glitters laugh was stolen on the wind, herhat nearly flying off her head if not for the string that held it around herneck. Her black hair tumbled and tuggedback, and she leaned forward, squinting against the air blown past herface.

Honey’sstride ate up the ground in a blur, but the pounding of hooves close behinddidn’t take long. Stretching out herneck, Honey threw more of her energy into the run, picking up her hooves and lurchingas far as her stride would take her. Glitter hollered and cheered her on, feeling the mare’s energy like astorm. Honey was a young mare andsmaller than Adam’s paint horse gelding, Bandit.

Thehuffs and puffs of Bandit’s breathing soon became louder than the poundinghooves, and Adam pulled him up alongside her, their horses’ nose-to-nose asthey ran. Glitter and Adam looked at oneanother and he smiled that wild, happy smile he sometimes got when they didthings like this, free and away from the pressures becoming a weekly televisedwrestler gave them. Just the pair ofthem, horse nerds at heart, out riding in the wide-open countryside.

Thetilled farmlands fell away to hills that dipped into valleys just before theline of ponderosa pine trees and firs. The horses began to pull up their gait, careful of the uneven andunpredictable terrain. Glitter knew thecreek was coming up as soon as they crossed a few lengths of forest and leanedforward, encouraging Honey with a hopeful shout. Adam held the reins in one hand and snappedthem on Bandit’s neck, hollering, one hand holding his hat firm on his blondcurls that whipped back in the wind.

Comeon! Come on! Come on! Glitter encouraged Honey, her little can-do ranch mare.

She’dfallen in love with her the second she saw an advertisement for her, the prettylittle palomino quarter horse with one sock on her back-left leg. She’d asked Adam to go with her when shelooked at her, because she hadn’t ever owned her own horse, always just tooklessons on horses that weren’t hers. Adam had been so excited and so thrilled she’d asked him to be therewhen she looked Honey over. He’d beenserious and ready to grill the owner on every question and really check herover to make sure she was perfectly sound and didn’t seem prone to anyweaknesses that’d be a problem later.

Butthen he’d saw the way Glitter looked at her when he saw her and he’d smiled,elbowed her and said, “Why don’t you go say hi to her?”

Nowtheir horses were racing neck and neck…

Honeypulled her nose ahead right at the end, surging forward as if she’d seized anew burst of energy as the winding, babbling waters of the creek came into herline of sight. Glitter laughed andleaned back in the saddle, pulling gently on the reins and guiding Honey toslow her gait to a walk. She turned inher saddle to stick her tongue out at Adam once he’d pulled Bandit up.

“Loser!”

Adamgrinned and shook his head, whistling low under his breath as he arched a browat Honey.

“Yougot yourself one hell of a mare there, Glitz.”

“Iknow!” Glitter said and turned backaround, patting Honey’s warm, damp neck lovingly. “If I wasn’t so busy in wrestling, I’dseriously consider putting her in working cow horse competitions.”

“She’dwin every blue ribbon there is to win, and every trophy too.”

Theypulled the horses up at the creek and dropped their reins before sliding out ofthe saddle, letting them drink and rest after their unplanned burst ofenergetic fun. As Honey drank, Glitter gentlyran her fingers through her mane and patted her neck while murmuring littleterms of endearment. She didn’t noticeAdam watching her from over Bandit’s back, an adoring smile hung loose over hismouth.

Adamwas already leaning against a tree that grew close to the creek’s edge, thick,muscular arms crossed over that equally built chest. He’d readjusted his hat and fixed his curlsfrom where the wind had whipped them a little wild. The brim was pushed back, and Glitter couldsee his handsome face beneath the dappled shade and sun. Butterflies fluttered in a frenzy in herstomach and she breathed a low breath, desperate to steady herself and keepfrom revealing anything.

“Hey,what did you want for your prize?”

“My prize?” Glitter questioned, stepping away from Honeyand walking up the bank to where he was lounging upright against the treetrunk.

“Yeah,for you and Honey winning the race. Youcan ask me for anything, and I have to give it to you.”

Wasshe imagining things or had Adam’s eyes dropped to her lips for a second therewhen he asked her that? Why was herheart suddenly racing a thousand beats per second? Why did it feel like she was walking on atilt-a-whirl instead of the steady ground?

“Oh…I…” She blinked. Shit, she was staring at his lips. Her tongue swept the break between hers andshe forced her eyes up to his. He waswatching her intently and it made her stomach feel like it was doing those highsoaring moonsaults off the ring post that he did. “I didn’t think there was going to be aprize. I was just happy holding it overyour head that I was the winner.” She saidweakly, trying for a casual, nonplussed shrug that probably didn’t come off ascollected and cool as she hoped it would.

“That’stoo bad,” Adam said, and he looked at her, that strange, piercing look he’d wornfor a moment gone and, in its place, something hopeful and nervous. His eyes dropped. Glitter’s gaze followed and noticed he waswringing his hands. He sniffed hard andforced his eyes back up while hers lifted with them. “I was hoping you might ask me for a kiss.”

Hadshe heard him correctly?

Whileshe stood in front of him, stunned to absolute silence, Adam drew on some sortof courage she was impressed (and a little turned-on) to see he had inhim. He moved toward her and reachedout, hands gently grasping her arms and pulling her close until they stood toe-to-toe. She tilted her head up at him, hair tumblingdown her back and hat fallen too. One ofhis hands slipped and wrapped around her back, encouraging her to press againsthim. The other gently caught her chinbetween his fingers, turned her head a little and bent to catch his lipsperfectly, softly, sweetly against her own.

Ittook her all but one second to catch up to the reality that was Adam leaningover her, kissing her deeply. Shepressed back desperately into him, years of ache and waiting trapped insideher. It unleashed like a storm, and hertongue slipped into his mouth, and her fingers flew to his plaid button-upshirt and curled tight into the fabric before yanking him close. He groaned against her tongue as the lengthof her body was pushed against his.

Theybroke apart only when their lungs were starved and stood, inches apart, warmbreaths shared.

“Iwish you would have done that like a year and a half ago,” she whispered onceshe finally felt like she could catch her breath.

Theymoved just back enough that their eyes could meet. He smiled.

“Metoo, Glitz.” He leaned forward and theirforeheads gently pressed together. “Metoo.”

#snarkandsarcasmwrites #hangman page #hangman adam page #adam page #aew #wrestling fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction #ashjkjssfkldfsklsdf im so soft for hangman + horses #this is SUCH a horse girl's fic lmao #god i love it #and since i LIVE in an angst slowburn relationship i know how that shit FEELS #of course i know it deeper than these guys #ANYWAYS #oh another fun face glitter sidesplitter was an old mcr killjoy rp oc of mine lmao

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psychecoffee · 5 years

Note

🖤😈🥀 for the immortal asks!!

Do you believe immortality changes someone for the worst?

“Yes. Though it happens so gradually to some that it can seem surreal. Lines definitely blur, and what’s right or wrong is highly subjective to the point of view of the individual. Being trapped in your own head for so long would drive anyone mad. Especially when there’s no end in sight.”

[ Idris personally finds that topic very sensitive. His other Uncle, has been showing signs of decay. It’s nothing biological, it’s his mental state.

Idris can tell life, and that continuous cycle of not knowing and loss- that continuous ache? All Mages know that’s what awaits them eventually.

I mean, unless they’re Essida, or just joyously optimistic. ]

Would you ever use your power and knowledge to destroy?

“Wow, you sure don’t shy away from the hard questions. But, yes. If it is for the true greater good. Not that ‘greater good’ crap that is all biased, but the greater good logically for everyone.

... No, I’m not including that time I was drunk. Or the fae. Those pesky devils deserve any karma thrown their way... and no, I am not including games!!”

- Idris Covor

[ That last one just sums up the whole Anti-hero thing. He is very much on the side of yes, if it actually is for a truly good reason.

And also, that first one? Shit, that question was so deep the Mariana Trench is quacking in her metaphorical boots.]

#ask game #idris #this has been fun

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ficdirectory · 6 years

Text

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 62

(To listen, click here) - 12:51

Levi’s pretty sure that by the time he and Dominique are back from their last Dock Talk (God, that thought makes him so sad…) everybody will have forgotten all about going with him next door. But, turns out, as he squints in the sun, Levi can see Pearl, Jesus, Mariana and Francesca all waiting on the back step for them.

“So, Levi, if you need me to spy for anybody, just let me know. I’m the best backup for spying.” Francesca reassures.

“You guys...you don’t have to do this… It’s like eating into Feelings Time, and…” Levi hesitates.

“This is an important part of Feelings Time,” Pearl argues gently. “You feeling safe at home is important. And if you need all The Avoiders as backup to know it’s safe to go back? We’re all happy to do that with you.”

“Well, thank you,” Levi admits, ducking his head. Really, he’d just been hoping they’d forget all about it so that Levi could put it off some more. But the more Levi thinks about it, the more sense it actually makes to go in there with a ton of backup.

Way too soon, they’re at the door.

“You wanna do the honors?” Pearl asks.

Hesitantly, Levi takes out the key Pearl gave him, on the stress-cow keychain. He’s glad it’s not still on Carla’s keychain. That would feel too gross.

Behind him, Jesus says, “Hold up,” and slides his headphones into place over his ears. Then nods.

Levi’s confused, but unlocks the door. It’s a bit cleaner now. A bit better. He knows Pearl, Mari and Francesca had gone through and picked up the living room together last time. But Levi still has not been able to really touch his room at all, except for checking his closet that his lock box was still there.

The idea that she was in there, looking at all his stuff, touching his bed? It makes Levi nauseous. But he’s also glad he had his laptop with him. Knows that as Pearl doesn’t sleep in a bedroom, having the living room tossed was an awful invasion of privacy. She still hasn’t even touched her laptop, to Levi’s knowledge. Maybe she will now, with The Avoiders as backup.

They stand in the living room, not really moving until Pearl finally does. Cleo’s whining. She gets that something’s still not right. She did it before, too. It’s like she could smell Carla in here.

“So, where should we start?” Mariana asks.

“Doing what?” Levi asks.

“Well, you guys wanna feel safe here, right. So we wanna help you make it like you left it.” Mariana answers.

“Wherever you see an obvious mess, if you feel comfortable, you can tidy it. But Jesus, Levi, Dominique? No pressure.” Pearl reassures.

“Why, Dominique, no pressure?” Dom asks, suspicious.

“Because, you seemed especially sensitive to Peanut Butter Cookie’s vibes. So, feel free to avoid them.” Pearl reassures.

Resolutely, Levi heads downstairs to his room.

“Can I come?” Jesus asks.

“Can I?” Francesca echoes.

“Yeah, come on,” Levi nods. He figures it might be better, if both he and Jesus have trauma and cleaning issues, to have Francesca (who doesn’t) with them, too.

Levi takes a deep breath and opens his door. Gives his room a once over. His heartbeat picks up in his chest, looking at the mess his previously spotless room is. The bed’s got the quilt and the sheet thrown back. Pillow on the floor. Mattress is crooked on the boxspring. Closet doors open. The weird fabric drape Pearl hung over his bedside table is rumpled in a way that suggests Carla was looking for something.

“She messed this up,” Francesca observes, breathless. “Why?”

“Because she’s terrible,” Jesus fills in.

Gingerly, Francesca steps inside and picks up Levi’s pillow from the floor. Sets in on his bed.

Levi and Jesus exchange looks, as Francesca goes about pulling the sheet to rights, talking softly to herself: “We gotta fix this. Nobody messes with The Avoiders.” She looks over her shoulder at Levi, sympathetic. “Don’t worry, Levi. I’ll fix this all up.”

“Thanks,” he manages. Somehow, though, he’s rooted to the spot until Francesca’s managed to pull the quilt back up, too. It’s not the neatest job, but it’s ten times better than seeing what Carla had done.

When Francesca’s done, Levi watches as Jesus swallows and walks up to the bed, straightening out the boxspring and the drape thing on his table.

Finally, Levi can go inside, too. He risks another look at his closet. Makes sure all his clothes are there. Hung up. Double checks that his lock box is secure in the most unreachable dark corner, under some shelves. She hadn’t found it there once. That meant his hiding place still worked.

Pearl had waited until Francesca left with Levi and Jesus to risk checking on her laptop. She’s put it off long enough. Finally, Pearl dares turn it on. But she loses courage at the last second, and decides to redirect.

First, she goes through her journal, which Levi has always respected, wherever Pearl left it last. Usually, it’s tucked between the couch cushions, but ever since Mom’s been here, it’s been dead center on the coffee table. Finally, Pearl takes a deep breath and opens it, with Mariana and Dominique on either side. She finds pages where she’s mentioned Mom, scrawled with red ink. Whole passages are crossed out, with NO’s written in all caps, beside things she does not agree with.

(Seriously. Her only saving grace is that Pearl had not written anything about Levi disclosing to her. Pearl couldn’t imagine Levi’s betrayal if he knew her mom knew he’d said anything.)

“Well, this is garbage,” Pearl sighs. It breaks her heart, too, because this was the journal she had managed to keep writing in after losing Gracie. It still has some Gracie references in it, at the beginning.

Suddenly, Pearl flips to the front of her journal, where she’d tucked several pictures of Gracie. As a puppy, still being trained. A favorite picture from around the time Jesus visited the first time, side by side with Pearl. And a photo of Grace near the end of her life, going grey, but still so loyal. So there. So everything.

All the pictures are gone.

Pearl swallows her tears and angrily goes to her computer, clicking keys loudly. Instantly sees the email is still there as it has been. Pearl hasn’t managed to click on it yet. Anything titled “Love you!!!” from her mother? Was highly suspect.

“What is it?” Dominique asks.

“She took all the pictures of my dog,” Pearl remarks, wiping her eyes. “I had some in my journal and they’re gone. I’ve had this email from her since then, too. And I can’t read it. I might wanna curl up in a corner and never come out.”

“I can delete it. Or read it and delete it. Whatever,” she offers.

“Yeah, read it, please, I’d always rather know what’s going through her mind. If you’re okay.” Pearl double checks.

“Oh, I got this. You want me to share anything? Highlights, so we can mock it?” Dominique wonders.

“Sure,” Pearl manages.

“Good morning...Pearl, she says she hopes you’re well, I doubt that,” Dominique comments. “She’s made many mistakes but she can’t figure out why you don’t wanna talk to her.”

“Yeah, she knows.” Pearl nods.

“Hateful, judgemental, unforgiving, wow…” Dominique breathes. “Don’t be so hateful and judge so much. She’s only human. And, oh...my God. Your mother.” Dominique scoffs, a smile somehow on her face. “Life is short and the only guarantee is death.”

“Dramatic much?” Mariana asks.

“Right?” Pearl asks back, cuddling Cleo, and feeling the tremendous ache in her heart without her favorite pictures of Gracie to remember her by. “Anything else?”

“She’s...judging your world. And wondering why you wouldn’t want to come do all the things with her… Hmm, I wonder. Also...shit.”

“What?” Pearl asks.

“She said she expects a response, same day, or she’s coming out here, and you’ll regret it. I guess she meant this?” Dominique asks.

“I guess so.” Pearl nods.

“Okay, so get this? It ends: Love you no matter what, with about a thousand exclamation points….” Dominique remarks, skeptical.

“Gross,” Mariana scoffs.

“But so typical…” Pearl sighs.

Francesca’s doing her best to make sure all the blankets on Levi’s bed are perfectly straight because that’s how he makes it. Levi’s still cleaning his closet. Jesus and Dudley are supervising.

She’s up by the top of the bed, by the wall, when she slips a little on something. She looks down on the floor, and reads the piece of paper. Tucks it into her fanny pack.

“Levi, is that the way your bed usually looks?” Francesca asks, swallowing. Hoping she doesn’t look like she’s hiding something. Avoiders don’t lie, but maybe they should about this.

“Yeah, looks good. Thank you.”

“I gotta go pee,” she lies. (Hoping Jesus and Levi will forgive her.) Instead, she finds Mariana on the couch and nods at her, toward the door.

“Be back guys,” Mariana reassures. “What’s up?” she asks, as soon as the doors to Pearl and Levi’s cabin are closed.

“I found something I think from Pearl’s mom. In Levi’s room.” Francesca kneels on the grass and unzips her fanny pack. Takes the piece of paper out. Shows Mari.

Keep your mouth shut you little shit.

Mariana breathes. “Did you read this?”

“Yeah,” Francesca admits.

“Did Levi?” Mari asks.

“No. I kinda lied about finding it. I didn’t want him to be scared. He said she’s his trauma. Like the bad guy who took Jesus is Jesus’s trauma. If that bad guy wrote Jesus something like this, we wouldn’t want Jesus to see it, right?” Francesca asks, eyes wide.

“No,” Mariana shakes her head. “But we don’t choose for each other. Levi has the right to know about this.”

“I don’t want him to. I don’t want her to come back and get him, maybe.” Francesca worries.

“She won’t. She wrote this before Jesus made her leave Pearl and Levi alone.” Mariana insists.

“So, I have to show him this?” Francesca asks.

“That would be the respectful thing to do, yeah.” Mari says, like she’s sad about it.

Francesca walks slowly to the door and pulls it open. Finds Pearl crying and hugging Levi. Jesus clicking buttons on his phone. Dominique asking where the trash is on Pearl’s laptop.

“Um...Levi?” Francesca asks. (She can feel that Mariana’s come up behind her. Has a hand on her shoulder. “I found this when I was fixing your bed…” she admits, holding out the piece of paper.

“Okay…” he says, quiet. He walks over to take it from her.

“It has one bad word in it,” she cautions.

“Thanks for the heads up…” he whispers, but then Francesca watches him read and get pale.

Jesus walks up, too. “What is it, man?” he asks Levi, and Levi gives him the paper.

“This is her acting out because she’s losing her power. And she did this before I told her I’d go public with all the shit everybody in town has on her.” Jesus says it calmly. Francesca doesn’t totally understand. But she does feel safe, because Jesus makes sure they are. It’s one of his best skills. Francesca hopes she can be as good at Jesus at protecting someday.

“I got an email but it wasn’t current either,” Pearl admits.

“Okay? So you guys are okay,” Jesus reassures.

“Yeah, she can’t hurt you anymore,” Francesca insists.

“She stole my best pictures of Gracie…” Pearl manages.

“No, she didn’t,” Levi tells her. He reaches into his pocket. “Jesus found these in my trash can. I think she was trying to pin it on me. But you know I haven’t even been here, right?” he asks, offering the pictures.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” Pearl asks. She grabs the pictures and looks at them like they’re treasure. “Oh God, Gracie…” Pearl says a bunch of times. “They’re not even wrinkled or ripped?”

“No, just there. Like she wanted you to find them there,” Jesus says. “Face-up.”

“She’s a piece of work…” Pearl says.

“I still feel like she’s gonna...I don’t know…” Levi manages. “But I didn’t do that, I promise. I didn’t steal your pictures of Gracie. Please don’t kick me out…”

“I’m not kicking you out. I know you didn’t do it. Let’s go. You can throw that away,” Pearl says, noticing the note from her mom in Levi’s hand.

“Can we still have Feelings Time?” Francesca asks. “Even though it’s getting later?”

“Definitely,” Jesus says, coming up and asking to put an arm around Francesca and Mariana. Ahead of them, Levi has one arm around Pearl and Dominique is walking next to them.

All the Avoiders together.

#fic: somewhere inside

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suna-reversed · 4 years

Text

the sweetest thing

MAFIA AU! USHIJIMA X FEM READER !!nsfw!!

warnings/tags- slight voyeurism, fingering, smut turned fluff

The mixed scent of alcohol and that one expensive cologne he always wore hit you like a ton of bricks. That’s all you forced yourself to focus on, but you found it quite a tough task as the strong lingering trail of your juices filled the air, two of his long digits pushing past your slick walls. Choking back on a moan, you gripped his wrist tightly, confused as to whether you wanted to pull his hand off of you or beg him to rub it against you harder. He stopped his ministrations as you did so, not because he got the hint, but just so he could make you look up into his stern eyes that conveyed exactly how much worse tonight would be for you if you didn’t let him continue.

You don’t exactly know how you ended up here. In the backseat of a posh car owned by the most dangerous man amongst Japan’s underground mafia. Just a whisper of his name had even the most powerful of gang leaders shaking with fear. You were still conflicted about the fear, but he sure did have your legs shaking more and more with each thrust of his fingers. You had buried your face in his shoulder, hoping that the red-haired driver would simply believe that your closeness to the man he answered to was simply a gesture of affection and not a desperate attempt at muffling your moans. You seemed to fail at that task as the fingers inside you were pulled out, only to be placed at your sensitive nub instead, rubbing circles so hard and fast that you couldn’t contain the sudden moan that left your mouth. You came undone, hips bucking against the rings on his fingers as your mind drowned in both pleasure and shame.

You could barely breathe as you felt the car come to a stop in front of your college campus. Ushijima simply put your pushed aside panties back in place, bringing up his fingers to his mouth to suck off your juices, his intense gaze locked onto yours. You didn’t think your face could get any more flustered.

“Let me walk you back to your dorm.” Not a question.

A shiver went down your core for what you were in for. Your mind flashing back to the memory from barely less than an hour ago when Ushijima had you pressed up against a wall outside the venue of the banquet, his lips attached to yours, the taste of champagne and cigars still heavy on his tongue as it explored yours with a passion as deep as the mariana trench.

Your train of thought was interrupted as you noticed he had already gotten out, waiting for you with an outstretched hand. Despite having just felt him so deep inside you, the gesture somehow managed to give you more butterflies. It felt different. somehow more intimate. His calloused fingers slowly wrapped around yours, his large hand encasing almost all of yours. It made you feel warm. protected. safe. The crimson blush that grew on your nose didn’t go unnoticed by him, and maybe that’s why he didn’t leave your hand even as you started walking. Looking back, you wondered how differently things would’ve turned out if you hadn’t tripped over that one particular chair leg that unfortunate day.

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

“I would rather eat glass than live this day all over again” you thought to yourself while recapping the events of the last 18 hours.

Your roommate had shown up drunk late at night, bruised up and beaten from a bar fight, barely giving you any time to sleep as you tended to them. Because of that, not only were you sleep deprived, but also super late to your morning classes. Plus, you were pretty sure you had managed to royally fuck up the exam you had in the afternoon.

Wanting to unwind from the trainwreck of a day, you had stopped by your favourite cafe to grab a coffee. A headache seemed to be crawling up your head as you stood in line waiting for your order. You were so tired, you barely paid attention to your steps as you grabbed your order and went to leave. Instead, you felt time slow down as your foot got caught on the edge of a left out chair, your drink going flying onto the chest of the person who had been sitting on the opposite side. It took you a second to scramble up your feet, ready to apologise to whoever you had just sprayed with a high dose of caffeine. But as you looked up, you found yourself a little breathless staring into the olive brown orbs of a greek god of a man. A greek god whose face was raging with passive anger. The look immediately sent you into a ramble of apologies, your words of “I’m so sorry” and “I’ll pay for the ruined shirt” getting all jumbled over each other as you poorly tried to explain your own clumsiness.

‘It’s alright. You don’t have to pay for anything.’ The deep rumble of his voice made your insides shiver.

“Are you sure? I can get you a tissue-”

“It’s fine, I was leaving anyway.”

A curt nod was all you received before the man turned his broad back to you, striding out with confidently. You found it weird that not even a single person turned their head to look at the man in a white shirt with a large brown stain stretched across it. You pushed that thought out to the side as a wave of tiredness hit you again. Relieved that the situation didn’t get messy, you walked back to your dorm for a much needed nap.

On the other hand, people who had known the identity of the menacing man gawked at you, wondering how you had walked just out the place without a bullet in you.

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“Achoo!”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, visibly shivering as the cold air hit you. You almost whined at the warmth of Ushijima’s hand being pulled out of yours. But then a much larger and warmer fabric was thrown over your shoulders, you could've melted right there at its softness. Gazing up at him from under your lashes, you muttered out a small thanks as you nuzzled further into the collar of his cozy coat. You could've sworn you heard him sucking in his breath. His hand slipped into yours again, tugging you closer. You walked in silence, your mind still clouded by all that had happened in the span of half a night.

“Well, that’s my building.” you said. Looking over at Ushijima’s face, you found it glowing under the illumination of the lights coming from past the entry gates.

“ Thank you for accompanying me tonight y/n.”

“ Oh, it was no big deal really. Plus, I enjoyed it a lot. Thank you for inviting me.”

He gave you a small smile as his hand left yours and he turned around, ready to leave,

“Wait! Aren’t you going to…” You trailed off as he turned back, raising an eyebrow at your puzzled face.

Your face contorted in confusion, was he not going to join you in your dorm? Especially after the bulge you’re sure you felt while you had been grabbing onto his thighs for support in the car earlier.

“...come inside?” You finished, your voice small and hesitant.

His lips twitched upwards almost playfully,

“Was the perverse exposition in the car not enough for you?”

“No!- I mean yes, it was.” You found your voice getting smaller and smaller. “But um- don’t you...need anything?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he took two long strides towards you, your face now an inch away from his chest. You felt a finger lift your chin as he brought his head close to your ear to whisper,

“Not now- I want to take my time with you” His teeth grazed down as he mumbled onto the skin of your neck, “- to learn every inch of you.”

A small moan escaped past your throat. Pulling away, his intense burning gaze faded as a smirk formed on his lips,

“Besides, we wouldn’t want you to wake the whole building up with your screams now would we?”

Your eyes widened at that, causing a small laugh out of him. That only resulted in you getting more flustered.

“Ok then, I guess I’ll see you soon Ushijima-san.”

“Wakatoshi”

“Huh?”

“It’s Wakatoshi for you.” He said, adjusting the collar of his coat on you and then leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against your brow.

You tried to ignore the deafening drumming of your heartbeat in your ears as you muttered out a “Goodnight Wakatoshi”, earning a pleased look from the man himself.

“Goodnight y/n.”

Was he really as vicious and bloodthirsty as he was known to be? But then who was the man who had just now made you drown in an ocean of pleasure and then tender affection? Walking away, you could only wonder of all that you were yet to receive from the dual faced man.

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N E ways, hardcore dom-sub rough sex in part two? ☉_☉

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