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randomoranges · 3 years

Note

I'm pretty sure you've mentioned it before but what tribe does Étinenne belong to? Any specific details you can give?

Bonjour – hi hello pardon for the delay

I got super busy with work and stuff and then had to think of the answer because this is not a straightforward question haha and then had to revise the og answer to make it better.

Anyways this is going to be a Thing and a little bit all over the place but here we go.

As they say in the vernac’ attache ta tuque a’c d’la broche à foin.

Bref.

The island of Montreal was before colonisation a meeting hub for different groups of first nations. They’d come to what is now the old port area and trade, exchange, meet up, etc. But not no one really stayed permanently esque in that gen area in a long term type of way.

Keeping that in mind, Pointe à Callière is currently the museum that has the ruins of the old Ville Mariefortifications from the Maisonneuve era.

Both areas are super close to one another. Like it’s part of the same area.

After MUCH consideration and going back and forth (thank you 5ever @allbeendonebefore for the help – the real MVP) I’ve come to these following thoughts.

For starters, it’s more particular with étienne because Montreal is a city – but it’s also an island and a few years back they tried to like unite all the cities of the island into one giant city on the island. To some success. So – what path did I want to go with? And also both paths have their pros and cons and things that make it easier and harder.

I always chose the island one because it encompasses the Important Areas of the City and the ones with the Most History, so it’s easier to include More. Ish.

Ét would have started off as just Some Guy who appears where Pointe à Callière is. He’s a regular dude and he likes the vibe of the place and the comings and goings of the people in the area so he sticks around and lives his life. People (the First Nations people who were using that area as a trading/exchange/meet up hub) would tell him stories of their adventures/things that happened because ét seemed trustworthy and because he was the “local guy” who just happened to be there and et is curious and does fit in with crowds really well. Ét ends up “collecting” these stories and obviously finds them fascinating.

Throughout his early days, he picks up on these tales, makes connections with people and lives an ordinary life by the heart of the river and at the foot of the mountain [poetic license here]. Élyse may be his only constant by then, but their relation isn’t as close as it would be today. She too would come and go but she’d be the only one coming and going as frequently and because she too does not age like a regular human, ét would assume that’s the standard. The others who come and go don’t necessarily come back so he’d think little of it – or he’d see them again Much Later, so Clearly It’s Fine.

He isn’t aware of a bigger role he may or may not have just yet.

There would have been other “avatars” of the first nations groups that would come and go and they would have traded stories with étienne as well and that would be how he would get the cartiertales from the St-Laurent Iroquoians [who are, according to history, the group that happened to be there when Cartier showed up]

For now, étienne without knowing is like the personification of the Meeting Spot where everyone meets up. He has a connection to the spot but he’s still unaware of his raison d’être. Of course, he yearns for a sense of belonging, but whenever a group comes over for a bit and he thinks this might be it, it turns out that it’s not.

Eventually, by the time the Mohawks come and settle on the territory, they would be the first group that would make an actual real connection with Étienne and like invite him to join them. And seeing as Étienne has longed to belong to a Group, he’d join. Also since they seemed to actually want to stay in a more permanent way and not just – well growing seasons done so long and thanks for all the fish.

Étienne equally being a quick study of languages would also pick up really quickly and he’d fit in nicely with the Mohawks who could see potential in him/him being an asset.

It would be around these times that he’d start to realise that people around him – that he’d met just a few years back – that were just like him what feels like the other day – are changing when he isn’t. And it’s prolly around then that he realises he’s different from the others in his community and question why. The answers he gets aren’t satisfactory, but he grins and bears it and keeps searching for Others Like Him and he wonders if maybe those others whod swapped stories with him before, with warnings and caution knew something he didn’t.

The interesting thing with PAC as well is that they’ve done this thing a few years back called the Memory Collector – collections of memories and whatnot from people who’ve come and gone through Montreal from the og Montréalistes to current immigrants and everything in between. So Étienne being the actual Collector of Memories through people coming and going and telling him their stories is like – perfect.

He’d move around with the Mohawks and it would be the first time he’d feel as though he’d belong to a group so he’d associate with them as an identity.

In my humble opinion, my thoughts have always been that when Maisonneuve and co arrived and tried to get a village started, étienne, being the curious being he’s always been, woulda been intrigued by these newcomers and would have wanted to see how they lived compared to him and the people in his community. Also, with Maisonneuve and Co wanting to get a village started in like his area he woulda been like well hello neighbours! Come, come, here is the land! Enjoy!! So, he would’ve prolly wanted the others of his community to do the same and want Maisonneuve and Co to welcome the ways of his people as well. In his mind he doesn’t understand why these two groups – and others – can’t get along and just live peacefully together. He’s seen enough bloodshed and it’s Exhausting. He much rather have those evenings of trading stories and having a good time.

Also, an interesting note is that Cartier mostly just came, saw left-ish compared to Maisonneuve who was like “aight, let us live here Permanently” that changed the dynamics and also pulled at Étienne who again was like I Want Friends.

In the og village of Maisonneuve and his Montréalistes [yes, that’s what they were called at the time] there were different first nations ppl who decided to live with Maisonneuve and Co. So it’s not always easy to be like ah yes, étienne woulda belonged to X and Y. Hence this rambly mess.

Obviously and unfortunately, there were way too many conflicts btwn Maisonneuve and Co and the first nations folks and that would upset étienne who woulda wanted all groups to get along. In his opinion there were many resources for all to live happily. The Grande Paix de Montréal [1701] would have given him Hope TM that things could settle down once and for all.

On a side note, before Maisonneuve and Co arrived, Étienne would have not used the name Étienne. That would come post colonisation but I’m not sure when. At the time he would go by Tiohtià:ke.

In the early days of Ville Marie ét woulda still been more “first nations” than “bonjour I am now a Montréaliste” but he woulda offered his services/employment to Maisonneuve as a voyageur after a bit, because on top of errthing else ét woulda been hella intrigued by the idea of exploring the world and the fact that there were people who crossed the big ocean and who lived so completely differently from anyone hed ever known woulda boggled his mind and also to get away from the hot mess of conflicts going on. He woulda thought the Grande Paix would have brought back the earlier trading hub/story swap vibes, but too many bloody conflicts he was tired of made him want to get a change of pace. Plus the fact that now he felt Attached to Groups so no longer needed to just Wait. And also the fact that said Groups were Not Getting Along would have made him want to Leave.

After a while of that, around [18XX] he woulda settled in the city and like been a merchant of sorts. [im still working on the notes and details, but he’d get tired of the trips and the conditions and it wasnt just go out and have fun and explore but there were too many issues as well and he just – wanted to have a good time, really, so hed go back to the city and change again]

By the 19th century, whatever ties with his og first nations roots he had woulda been completely washed away by the colonisation of the island – especially by what is now the old port/ville marie and he would have tried Real Hard to Fit In because of his curiosity and wanting to live like these european folk and because of how shite the first nations were being treated. George-Étienne Cartier would have been an Aspiration of his and someone he would have modeled himself after [way of life, personality, etc]

By that time he would also consider himself as French and first nation (Mohawk) as a second and maybe even third thought. Equally, compared to some other avatars, I feel like Étienne would have “lost himself” and is now unfortunately more disconnected from his OG first nation roots than others might (think Ed). The colonisation + the large amount of euros that came to MTL would have given him whiplash for years and would have been like a tidal wave over his head. All of a sudden the village boomed, it was a city and there were more of these french cathos than anything else.

For a good part of the 19th and 20thcentury, he would have identified as Catholic and French with very little regard to his first nation roots. The og village of Ville Mariewould now be an actual thriving and important city and offering more opportunities for growth to him/suddenly MTL city is super relevant. He’d get swept up by the fast pace and the “glamour” and pretty words and it was easier to just go with the flow than to fight. He’s always been someone of good times and parties and of celebrations over everything else and obviously it wasn’t always easy for everyone in the city, but it certainly is when you know the right people and you’re on the up and up as an Important City.

Post Oka crisis (1990s), I think he would have started lowkey thinking about his first nation roots again. Mostly because the crisis shoved it in everyone’s faces in a big way that hadn’t been heard in a Long Time. And maybe slowly slowly like veeeerrry slowly reconnecting. But feeling v lost and overwhelmed by it bcs is that even still him? Was that ever even him? And if not then what the heck even bcs thats like centuries of his life just – forgotten and lost. But to a point he’d also relate with the immigrants who’d come to his city and then feel alienated from their og roots. And then also like even going back to it it’s not even what it was Before, because the Mohawks changed over the centuries as well [duh] as most groups do. Like with any language and expressions and fashions and such from any place.

Eventually at some point in the 21st century he would reconnect more and make his own amends with his identity and the multiple facets it has as well as coming to terms with certain events that happened btwn the euros and first nations over the centuries. The Catholic identity would peter down post 1970s, but the french id would stay even though he likes the multicultural aspect. Theres just something about being a little shit and also being Different in a Sea of Same, etc

In the end, he would attach himself to being Mohawk + French origins since those two would really be the two first groups that gave him a sense of like “belonging” in their own way. [And, obvi he’d belong to the queer community lamao]

Literally coulda just answered your ask with: Mohawk, French, Queer Lamao bit I turned this into a Thing TM oupsee.

And I totes hope this actually Answered the Question and you didn’t mean something completely different LAMAO

#rooniebuttercups #ask #answer #heeeey salut là #do you want info on étienne m maisonneuve and his Origin Story #lamao #this was a Thing #ive written one shots shorter than this #ask and u shall receive lamao #pc: montreal #étienne maisonneuve

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radamazard · 3 years

Text

From Me to We

This is my piece for the DJWifiZine! Everyone who contributed to it is honestly awesome and so talented, so you should go check it out at @thedjwifizine

You can download it here!

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

The lights flickered in time with a tired sigh, throwing darkness over pages that had already left Nino feeling increasingly frustrated. What was it about old timey books that made them so… so obtuse!

Had it's previous owners meant to mock him? If so then he guessed they ought to congratulate themselves. Never before had anything left him feeling so completely and utterly defeated.

With that thought and a heavy groan, Nino let the tome hit the cushion beside him.

“Waaaaayzz,” he whined, earning a dry look from the kwami. “How the sweet heck am I meant to read this crap? No offence. I know this is, like, your idea of fun and all, buuuut…”

“None taken,” Wayzz replied, drifting down to sit upon his holder’s shoulder. “I understand that it is a rather…” he paused, seemingly taking a moment to choose his next words carefully. “...dull and dense text. But you were chosen to inherit this role, and with it comes certain responsibilities. Such as-”

“Readin’ old books drier than the Sahara Desert?” Nino scoffed, leaning back into the worn comfort of his couch.

“At least you’re allowed to read them!”

Ah, he was wondering when she was going to join the conversation.

Across the room from him, grumbling to herself from her squeaky desk chair, sat Alya. Her legs were crossed and her form hunched, a sure sign that she wasn't quite over being scolded by the tiny god of protection earlier this evening.

“Aww, come on, babe.” Nino attempted to assure her. “I promise, you're not missin’ out on anything exciting here!”

Well, not anything that he himself would find exciting. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't sure why he'd had the title of guardian thrust upon him. Hero stuff wasn't really something he was passionate about. It was just something he did outta a sense of duty.

Alya though? Now SHE was someone who woulda been squealing at the opportunity. She dug this kinda shit.

Thick, boring books full of lore and secrets that had to be decoded and unravelled?

The responsibility of deciding who was worthy of the same power they wielded, and who could never be allowed even near a miraculous?

The weight that such a position held, and the changes it would bring with it?

That was right up her alley!

It was the ultimate hero's life, all stress and life altering decisions and sooo much information that it made his brain wanna shrivel up and roll right outta his head. This was her dream, not his.

Yet here they sat, neither of them pleased with the cards they'd been dealt.

Man, was life ever a bitch.

“.... Okay, so maybe it'd be exciting to you,” Nino conceded as his girlfriend threw him an irritated glare, one that only softened as she took note of how exhausted he seemed.

Alya pulled herself away from her desk, crossing the room in a few quick steps before she dropped herself next to her beloved with a graceless thump.

“I know you're not trying to make me feel like shit, boo,” she assured him, although with how he slouched into her side Alya was getting the feeling that, perhaps, he felt he had failed in that. “It's just…”

A strong arm wrapped itself around Nino’s shoulder, and with one smooth motion he was pulled into the warmth of Alya’s embrace. It was a comfort, a silent reassurance that no ill feelings were shared between them. That even if the situation was less than ideal, they refused to let it sour their bond.

“Sucks major ass?”

“Couldn't have said it better myself, Neens~”

Alya felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips, one that was awfully contagious as she caught sight of the same beauty blossoming upon her boyfriend's gorgeous face.

“You know I'd give ya the damn title if I could, right?” Nino said with a slight shrug. “I wasn't really gunning for something like this. Or even remotely wanting it.”

“Maybe that's why the old fart gave it to ya,” Trixx chimed in, his sudden presence making the couple jolt comically. Alya threw a pointed look at her kwami, one that went entirely ignored by the mini master of mischief.

“Just saying! I mean, isn't that what boring old humans do? Give power to those that don't want it?”

“As much as I disagree with his choice of words and blatant disrespect for my former master,” Wayzz retorted with an air of annoyance. “Trixx does have a fair point. I do believe that Mas- that Fu’s choice, or at least part of it, was based on a lack of desire. One that does not desire power is far less likely to abuse it.”

Wayzz’s own lack of tactfulness earned him a nasty look, from both his chosen and his fiery partner. Unlike Trixx though, he at least had the decency to appear guilty, knowing that he lacked a certain level of social savvy. The fox instead had whizzed off to find a new place to nap. How typical of him.

“I did not mean anything offensive by it,” the kwami quickly added. “I do not believe that Miss Alya would ever abuse such power! You have proven to be a hero of great honour and responsibility, and I would never wish to besmirch your name with such dirty implications…”

“I'd hope not, little dude,” Nino said firmly, the sternness in his gaze starting to melt as Alya relaxed beside him, along with her grip that held his lanky frame. “I love ya, but Als is my frickin’ Queen. I ain't about to let anyone talk smack about her, not even you.”

“I would never. In fact, if it would assure your fears, I will let it be known that Miss Alya was Fu’s second pick.”

A beat of silence passed, broken only by the slight cry of shock that fell from Alya's slackened jaw.

“You… You can't be serious! Was I- I could of- What?!”

“Oh, but I am. You possess a brilliant mind, and a passion for knowledge and the history of us kwamis that is both pure and unrivalled by anyone alive today. To be completely honest, the perfect guardian lies somewhere between you both. It made the decision terribly hard…”

As he trailed off the silence returned. Unlike last time though, it stretched out, filling several long lasting minutes.

Nino felt Alya’s cheek come to rest upon his head, and even from where he rested, his face pressed into the crook of her neck, he could hear her heart race. Was it excitement, the idea that she was thought of so highly by someone she deeply respected? He hoped so. She deserved at least that.

No, she deserved so much more.

“You right there, Als?” Nino whispered against her skin, laying a gentle kiss to her thrumming pulse. To his delight he felt her shiver beneath his lips, egging him on to smother her in a flurry of feather light affections.

“I will be once you stop being such a damn lovable DORK,” Alya shot back, her cheeks ablaze. It wasn't often that Nino managed to catch her off guard as such, not that she was complaining of course. She loved him dearly, with his sweet tenderness and near endless patience for her more… wild ways.

But right now was meant to be serious talk time!

“Well excuuuuuse me, Princess!”

Oh, how her eyes rolled.

“Anyway, back to the topic at hand. You know, the one where I was ALMOST THE GUARDIAN? I seriously can't believe that I was this close to being allowed to read the same book that you wanna throw in a fire!” Up went her hands, and with them Wayzz, who hopped out of the way of any further hand shenanigans and took refuge on the arm of their couch.

“Like, come on universe! I'm sorry that we can't just fuse or mind meld or be co-guardians or something equally as ridiculous!”

“Man, that last one woulda been hella sweet. Could you imagine? This shit would be so much easier if we could tackle it together. That damn book would be halfway understood by the end of the year if you were actually allowed to read it!”

Together they sighed, almost dreamily, as though the idea was but a wish, one fit only for fairytales. Or perhaps a low budget rom com, like the ones they enjoyed playfully mocking every Friday evening. Ah, for their lives to be so stupidly simple.

“Don't even say it, babe. Don't give me dreams that can't be fulfil-”

“Co… Guardians?” Wayzz interjected, drawing their gazes to his suddenly pondering form. “I hadn't thought of that option. Neither of us had. It certainly isn't traditional, but Ma- but Fu has never been one to follow tradition. Does that truly matter now in the scheme of things?”

His tiny brow creased in deep thought, so much so that they feared he may give himself a headache. Then, without warning, the kwami was zipping across the room, coming to rest upon the coffee table where Nino’s phone lay.

“What are yo-”

“I am contacting Fu. This new guardianship is only days old, you see. We should still be able to make amendments. With this new idea presented I believe we may be able to reach a more agreeable situation for all.”

“You… You mean…”

“Yes, Miss Alya. Now please, a moment of silence.”

The couple shared a look of bewilderment, one that swiftly morphed into giddy delight as the meaning of Wayzz's words and the hushed conversation he was having, started to settle in.

“You don't think…?” She started.

“Heck yeah I think!”

“I wasn't even being- well okay, I HAD thought of it before, but I didn't seriously think that it could happen! But now it’s- Neens, I might-!”

Excited giggles burst forth between them, both barely able to contain the jittering joy that flourished between them. What once had seemed like a sore point now pulsed with a new life, promising a future that held them together closer than ever before.

Strange, how quickly one’s night could turn from a grouchy sort of sour to a sweet, bubbly delight.

Together they tittered, their conversation an excited mess of hardly hushed whispers and tightly gripped hands. The energy was punctured by a familiar, yet sharp throat clearing, which snapped their attention back to the awaiting kwami.

“Although our conversation was brief, and we will meet at a later date to discuss the details, we are both in agreement. A Co-Guardianship is something we are willing to trial. If you will both agree to this arrangement, that is.”

Wayzz watched with a delighted chuckle, already braced for the squeals and hollering of joy that were soon to follow. Ah, to be young and so wonderfully human, to find such happiness in something shared.

“Are you kidding, little dude? Of freaking course I agree to this shit! Als, did ya hear what he sa-”

“SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!” Alya shouted in pure, unfiltered glee. Within seconds she was reaching across her boyfriend, grabbing the tome that had been the source of so many nasty feelings not even half an hour ago.

Nino’s easy laugh filled her ears, and soon it vibrated against her lips, gobbled up by a kiss of pure, vibrant glee that left them both more than a little love drunk.

“I swear, I- no, WE won't let you down!”

We.

Yes, that had a nice ring to it.

We, as in friends.

We, as in lovers.

We, as in heroic partners.

We, the Co-Guardians of the Miraculous, together until death do us part.

#the djwifi zine #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #DJWifi #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #wayzz

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eerythingisshaka · 4 years

Text

Check Up

[Doctor!Erik “Killmonger” Stevens x Reader]

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: A light filth

A/N: I was in the Vagina Monologues at my college and there’s one skit/story about a vagina workshop that inspired this one. Enjoy

Your leg bounces up and down anxiously as you sit waiting for your name to be called. You made sure to arrive extra early to account for a crowd or forms to fill out asking all the standard, invasive questions that any health facility is required to know. This visit was particularly nerve wrecking considering your friend’s referral to come.

One night during a girls hangout, wine and tea was spilled while discussing your personal lives. Your one friend from high school griped about how yet another Tinder date didn’t live up to their profile and couldn’t hold his own in the bedroom later to add insult to injury. Your other friend from college was a little more mum about her escapades and turned out it was for a reason you weren’t expecting.

“We decided to open up our marriage.” She says.

You both gasp involuntarily before bargaining for more information.

“Are you guys not happy? Whose idea was it? It’s only been three years!” You exclaim.

She sniffs her wine glass while taking a deep breath. “All valid questions and comments but it was my idea. In a small way, I’ve always been polyamorous.”

“I thought you were just a cheater but…” Your high school friend mutters.

“Get outta here! Those were misunderstandings of love. I enjoy the company of every partner I come across but I haven’t found the one that could be my anchor as I continue to love freely.”

“So he is really ok with this? With other men?” You ask as slow as possible to get your point across.

“Yup! Luckily he is not gross to think one sex is ok over another. It’s all the same whether I liked men or women but my heart is his always. And honestly, it’s been hot ever since we just talked about it. Like we just got a jump start!”

“Hell, I need a jump start. I wish I could make an appointment to my vagina workshop but I ain’t had the time.”

“The hell is that?” You whip around to your high school friend intrigued.

“It’s got some official title, but at the clinic on Grand, they have some workshop that teaches you how your vagina works and the BEST thing of all, how to achieve orgasm. Now when I went there some lady just told me where to find and touch and how to relax but I heard some big fella up there now is helping out and chile, if he was there when I went, my next stop woulda been the OB!”

Your college friend fans herself. “So wait wait wait. A fine man doctor teaching me how my pussy works? Why haven’t you told us before?!”

“I said he wasn’t there when I was! Plus this was before I was told you married with an asterisk. Emphasis on the risk.”

“On Grand you say?” You pull out your phone to Google.

“Mhm, that’s right. Cuz if anybody needs it, it’s you. How long has it been since you even went out with somebody? I have tried to set you up, make a dating profile for you, wingwoman a guy at the bar, with no results!”

You shrug. “Sounds like your problem. But ummmm listen. I do wanna check this out, but no way am I letting a stranger touch me like that. I just want pointers-”

“And a story to tell us afterwards, ok?!” College friend cackles along with high school friend. You roll your eyes looking over the website, praying they take your insurance. No mention of a fine ass doctor but hopefully fate worked in your favor.

Which brings you to where you are today: in a lobby with about 4-5 women looking at their phones or a magazine preparing for their treatments.

“Come on back!” The joyful nurse says, holding the door open for you. You snap back to reality as the white walls are almost blinding against the lighting as you are led to a room with a 4 above the door.

“You can have a seat while I get you settled.”

You sit on the examination table as she signs on to her computer and asks you general questions. What brings you here? When was your last cycle? Have you had issues with this? Pain during that?

“I’m really just here for informational purposes more than anything. I would like to know more about myself but I haven’t had problems.”

“Ok. And when was your last sexual experience?” She asks as she types.

“Including myself or…” You ask.

“Not including yourself.” She says with a reassuring smile.

You think and start to feel hot with embarrassment. “It’s definitely been over a year…” Or five more like it.

“Ok, that’s fine. And have you had issues achieving orgasm with a partner or by yourself?”

You mull it over. “Not...necessarily. It has been a while since I could lately, but I have been busy with work too, so…”

“Ok, that is up to you to bring it up with Doctor Stevens when he sees you. But that is the end of my questions so at this time we have a gown over there if you would like to disrobe. We offer an examination or a self examination if you so choose. Unless you request otherwise, it will be mainly superficial and informational so don’t expect a pelvic exam or anything like that, ok?”

You nod, thanking her as she steps out, closing the door behind her. The room felt more cold and quiet now that you are alone, but you waste no time in getting undressed. Your worst nightmare is to take your time and accidentally be walked in on.

The gown is clean but lacks in softness, plus your ass was hanging out no matter how tight you tied the strings around you. The paper separating your skin from the exam seat crinkles loudly as you fidget, looking over the posters of the female reproductive system and molds of various vaginas.

One catches your eye that is see through, showing the depth of the canal. You can’t help but get your phone out and take a picture. You text it to the group chat and start to search for a good meme reaction when a rapid knock startles you.

“Good afternoon, Ms.- OH!”

The deep voice behind you makes you drop your phone and it is not until you bend over to pick it up that you realize your ass is not covered in that gown. You spin around, backing up to the wall to pick it up.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to barge in like that.” He says, face covered by a clipboard.

You put your phone in your bag and tiptoe back onto the table, cursing yourself out for embarrassing yourself.

“It’s fine, really it was all me. I shoulda stayed my ass seated.”

He pulls down the clipboard, giving a meek smile. “Frankly, it’s not the first time it happened. Shame on me.”

You feel your breath leave your body a split second when you finally see the man that got your friends so ready to come back. He did not look like the type to even be interested in medical school, but you thank God prejudices are not facts. He was the most beautiful doctor you had ever been seen by and so modern looking, with his short locs bound in a mini ponytail to the back of his head, and the sides shaved. His eyes were so youthful they made you feel silly to stare and despite his small smile, his dimples announced themselves proudly.

“Well, isn’t it, ‘fool me twice, shame on you?’” You respond, pulling your gown down and sitting up straighter.

This made him smile wider, and you thanked God generously. “I never blame a patient. It might be a HIPAA thing, but I might be making that up too.”

He pulls up a stool and sits down, checking over the notes on the clipboard. “Now, as I started to say...what brings you in?”

Your mouth began to feel dry. This was easier to discuss before, but you really don’t want to go deep into your personal life with him now. “I just...uh, wanted information on the body. You know, the female parts and what I may not know.”

He nods, looking back to you. “It says you have had trouble achieving orgasm lately?”

“WOW! I did not-”

“It’s ok!” he says, graciously interrupting. “That’s what a lot of people are here for. You aren’t alone.”

You cover your face. “This is embarrassing, why did I even come here.”

“Look, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I won’t ask you or bring up anything you don’t want to discuss. But I am here to help, so let’s make the most of our time here.”

You look at him again, seeing the sincerity on his face. A face like his can’t be completely trusted around any hot blooded woman but he is a doctor.

“Let’s start from the basics.” Dr. Stevens pulls one of the example molds from the counter and places it in front of him, facing you.

“Now a lot of people call all of this the vagina, but in actuality it is called the vulva. That includes the labia minora, labia majora, urethra and clitoris. Only when discussing your vaginal opening and inward, is it actually the vagina.”

“Ohhh, really?” You ask, leaning in for a closer look. He nods, smiling at your perceived interest. “Now where is the urethra on here…”

He points to a tiny hole that you couldn’t have found with the CIA on your side.

“I figured it was somewhere there, but you know I didn’t know there were three holes until an episode of Oprah told me when I was a teenager?”

“I have heard that before. It’s unfortunate how many women don’t know about their own bodies when they own them, right? But curriculums aren’t set up to teach it without thinking they are sexualizing things to kids.”

“But it’s not! It’s their bodies, they have those things so they should know!”

He raises a hand up to you and you smack it without thinking. The loud clap between you both sends a shock beneath you. The doctor’s charm was bringing you out of your shell little by little.

“Right. The best way of learning is demonstrative. They gotta see what you’re talking about to get it. Now I’m going to bring back what we spoke about earlier…” He points to a higher area of the vulva. “On here, the clitoris is here. It’s fairly easy to spot, it’s not hidden and that’s just to make it easier for a teacher to show. But not everyone is like this.”

“I know where mine is, so that’s fine.”

“However…”

You roll your eyes. “Sure, it’s like your little paper says. I can’t always get what I want from it.”

Dr. Stevens nods understandingly. “Ok, that’s common. Now one offer we have is an examination. I won’t have to do anything but observe.”

He stands up to reach underneath the side of the exam chair you’re sitting on to pull out a mirror on an extendable arm. “You would just view yourself here and if you have questions along the way, I’ll answer them.”

You puff your cheeks to get rid of nerves, sitting back slightly as the paper crinkles and crackles.

“I’ve been examined before. Not my first rodeo, so let's do this.”

A part of you couldn’t help but feel curious about what he may have to say about your parts as you hike your gown up. He pulls out two mini stirrups to rest your feet on as you spread your legs apart. Dr. Stevens stands next to you, adjusting the mirror to get the best visual of your vulva for you.

“Huh.” You say.

“What’s up?” He asks.

“Mine looks nothing like the diagram.” You take your hand to pull apart your lips some.

“What do you notice is different?” He asks.

“A lot,” you say with a tone of defeat. Why does every vagina depict this pink flower with symmetrical lips that barely overflow and a ready clitoris that probably distracts if you had to ride a bike.

Dr. Stevens stands beside you, hands behind his back, peering politely from you to the mirror reflection. “What specifically?”

You exhale deeply. “Right out the gate, the color is nothing like the rappers be talking about. Pink pussy this and that. It looks kind of like if you had grape bubblicious and once the flavor is gone and you toss it? Yeah….” You pull your inner lips to the side with your middle and ring finger. “And my urethra is there huh?”

He nods, adjusting the mirror for shared benefit. “Exactly right in the middle. It’s kind of small so not surprising that you wouldn’t notice.”

“Interesting.” You feel a sense of discovery within you as you actually learn a thing or two from this exercise. Looking back at the model vagina on the counter, you think of a new question.

“Ok, so the clitoris right? Why is it so difficult for me to get to it?”

Dr. Stevens crosses his arms. “Well, you might be affected by the clitoral hood. It helps to protect it but can be bothersome during arousal. So depending on what position you are in, it may take some maneuvering. Try moving it back now; take two fingers on either side and pull back.”

You do as instructed, feeling a sensation hit your exposed skin until you see the little pearl looking button that must be it. Your finger grazes it, making your legs jerk unexpectedly.

“Whoa, ok, haha. That’s it.” You laugh sheepishly, pulling your legs closer together.

He places a hand on your back encouragingly. “That’s ok! Honestly, it's best to make sure you also have feeling. Don’t be shy to try.”

You open your knees again and gently feel around for your clitoris again. You can tell you’re close but the feeling is not as intense. Embarrassment starts to affect you as you notice your concentrated expression is not at all sexy and what woman doesn’t know where to stimulate themselves.

Dr. Stevens notices the trouble, stepping away from you to get a pair of gloves, latex popping against his skin.

“It looks like you are rubbing yourself through your clitoral hood, which can be fine but I think for what issue you’re having, you would want as much surface area pleasure as possible. Now I could show you, but that’s up to you.”

Your body tenses up at the question he was asking. Seeing as he has gloves on, you don’t suspect he meant to show you on the model vagina. But that’s why you’re here, right? To get help and also to be touched by a smart, handsome, kind gentleman that you never met in a backroom: just the normal human experience.

“Uh...well, it would certainly make it easier. Sure.” You say, moving your hand back to grip the exam seat as you sat like you were in the final stages of giving birth. You repeat in your mind that he is a medical professional that means no harm and any gynecological exam gets awkward sometimes and he has also seen thousands, so yours won’t get him any more rattled than the next one.

You watch as he nods to you, confirming he received your consent. He rests one hand on your knee and the other reaches toward your now throbbing lips. Time seems to move slow until he finally makes contact, giving you a jolt again.

“Sorry. I know it’s different with a foreign hand but let me know if it’s uncomfortable.” He says kindly.

You take a deep breath and drink in his comforting words. “All good! X marks the spot, right?”

You feel his fingers slide along your inner lips, giving them an occasional gentle pull that curls your toes. “Now, your labia minora doesn’t look like the model because the model is the depiction of a white woman’s genitalia. More often, Black people won’t have that high pink color that is praised as you said. But it does not make you abnormal or less desirable.”

“No?’ You ask quietly, relaxing under his touch once again. The medical terminology is a good distraction from what is happening, so you try concentrating on that instead of your growing arousal.

He smirks, revealing those dimples that caught your eye again. “Not at all. So don’t listen to anything otherwise. You look perfect.” He looks at you as he says this, pulling and stroking at your lips slowly you can’t help the arousal building between you, breaking eye contact as soon as possible to study the mirror.

But that only makes you hotter to see him touch you as you gasp out, “Well that’s good news!”

He looks back down at your vulva again. “Now I am doing this one handed, which may not be comfortable when you attempt, but it’s easiest for me since my fingers are thick and nimble.”

“Hey, practice makes perfect...I mean, not like you have played with a lot of vagina before. Not played but examined...which I guess if you’re good at it, you would have played with many vaginas then, right?”

Dr. Stevens gives you a confused look before breaking into a chuckle. “Not ‘played’. I don’t play with anything. I work.”

And I am glad you clocked in, you thought.

“But as I was saying, the clitoral hood can be pulled back like so…”

You feel it before you can see it. His thick fingers fan your lips out so much easier than your own hands, you gasp audibly before covering it with a cough.

“Uh huh, go on.” You croak.

He appears to barely notice as he studies the reflection of your clit in the mirror, pressing his middle finger right on the peak.

“And that makes for a more accessible area in which you can arouse yourself, like so.”

He slowly circles your clit over and over again, much longer than you expected for an examination. Are you supposed to say stop, you’re unsure. Can he sue you for cumming on his hand? You feel your thighs beginning to buckle and attempt to close them but his grip on your knee was stronger than you noticed at first. Once his middle finger plunged inside of you, there is no going back. You can’t control the small mewling sounds you make as he touches you.

“You have a good amount of lubrication produced as well.” He says matter of factly, spreading your wetness along your lips. He bites down on his lower lip as he rubs your vulva.

“No shit! I mean…” You slip up, getting too comfortable but he pats your knee, flashing that winning smile.

“It’s ok, just remain relaxed, you’re almost done. But yeah, long as you keep the hood pulled back like so and set a rhythm, you should have a pleasurable experience going forward. If not, come back to me”

“I’ll cum alright,” you moan as your head falls back as you bring your hips forward, rocking against his hand for more friction. This naughty spirit enveloped you. If he ever said to stop, your train would’ve derailed, but he never did. His accommodations to your reactions sent you further down a path to unrighteous glee.

He penetrates you with two fingers, while running this thumb along your clit in tandem with the strokes. “Is that better?” He asks, stroking you faster.

You nod, throwing caution to the wind as you grab hold of his wrist, writhing against his finger before your body decides it has had enough. You felt like how chocolate tastes: lush, sweet, a jolt of energy with a smidge of guilt but unwilling to put it down.

Erik holds you close with his freehand. “That’s good, ride it out and hold on to me. I feel you tightening, you’re just about there, aren’t you?”

“Mhm!” you dig your face into his chest, breathing erratically as your climax approaches. It mattered that it was him doing it. How you got so lucky was a question you weren’t willing to confront because it just felt so good, why even think.

“Let that pretty pussy sing, you got it.” The release you feel wash over you makes you feel like world peace started and ended in your pussy and you screamed for joy. You lean back on your elbows as he rests his hand still against your mound, your walls pulse in the afterglow.

“That’s better, right? Luckily I see you have a fully functioning muscle down there.” He says before going to take off his gloves.

You shakily pull your gown down and begin to sit up. “I hope so cuz if that is what sick feels like, I don’t wanna recover.”

He snickers at your comment, writing something down on some paper, tearing off a piece, folding it to give to you.

“Now, this is something in case arousal doesn’t always come to you easily. That’s a prescription that can get the job done naturally and quickly. Take that home with you and you can order it any time you feel it may be necessary.”

You nod, getting up to put it in your pocket. “Thanks. You know my friends recommended I come here and I can’t say I am upset.”

Erik holds his clipboard in front of him, holding out a hand to you. “I’m glad you came.”

You shook it and as he left, you got dressed and drove home feeling lighter than air. You started to call your friends about it but figured you might start at the pharmacy just to see what he prescribed. If men can have a ‘get freaky’ pill, why not you. You dug out the prescription from your pocket and your mouth dropped when you read it.

Erik 555-0123, use as recommended.

Part 2

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@chaneajoyyy

#erik killmonger fic #shakafic

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hysterialevi · 4 years

Text

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 14

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

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This story is also on AO3

ONE WEEK LATER

BARROW LAGOON, AMBARINO

Steadily rowing the narrow boat back to shore, Isaac allowed himself to glide across the icy water as a series of ripples wobbled in the surface around him, causing broken plates of ice to shift to the sides.

He had just finished catching some fish in the snow-covered lake, and thanks to the peaceful nature of the wildlife in these parts, he also managed to pick a few herbs that might’ve helped with his father’s sickness. Isaac doubted they would do anything to cure him, but he just hoped they’d be able to tame his cough at the very least.

He had enough to worry about, after all. Between watching out for Pinkertons and looking after Arthur’s health, Isaac honestly didn’t care that much about reaching Canada for the time being.

Hell, he was willing to stay in The United States for another fifteen years if it meant his father could focus on recovering, but... knowing Arthur, Isaac doubted he’d able to convince the man to worry about his own well-being before his son’s.

That stubborn old man always seemed to attend to everyone else’s needs first. Isaac knew his father came from a place of compassion, but he just wished he could’ve done something to help him in return. A gun didn’t do much when it came to battling pestilence, and that was about the only thing Isaac knew how to use.

Part of him just wanted Arthur to return to civilization. He knew the man loathed being around places that were full of people, but they weren’t going to find a doctor anywhere else.

Time was running out for the outlaw, and the last thing Isaac wanted was for that time to be wasted. He and Arthur may have argued sometimes, but the man was right about one thing. This was their only chance to make things right.

Letting the boat slide back onto dry land, the young man hopped out of his seat and lugged the sack of fish over his shoulder, slowly trudging through the crunchy snow as he made his way back to Arthur.

At the moment, the older man was looking after their horses just by the shoreline and had a fishing rod of his own cast in the lake, but it didn’t look like he had been able to catch much.

His nose was red from the cold, and judging by the pale tint of his skin and the dark circles surrounding his eyes, Isaac assumed his illness wasn’t getting any better.

He walked up to the man, trying his best to conceal the concerned expression on his face.

“Isaac,” Arthur greeted upon seeing the boy. “You’re back. Find anything?”

Isaac hurled the sack of fish onto the ground, showing him what he had caught.

“Got a couple of fish, but... it ain’t much. Hard to find any food in these parts.”

“Well, it’s still better than what I did. Good work, son.”

The boy strolled over to his horse, giving the animal a friendly pat on the neck.

“What ‘bout you, Dad? You have any luck?”

Arthur let out a chuckle, reeling the line in. “I’m afraid not. You know me, kiddo. I was never much of a fisherman. Though, I did manage to kill a rabbit earlier. Should keep us fed for a few days.”

Isaac grinned humorously. “Once we get to Canada, I’m never eatin’ fish or rabbit again. I’ve had enough of it for a lifetime.”

The other man returned the grin. “Try eatin’ it for thirty years. That was all our cook ever made for us. That, and venison. We rarely ate anything else. Just stew full of rabbit and deer bits.”

“And you wonder why everyone in your gang was always so cranky.”

Arthur paused for a moment, thinking back to his time with the gang. “...Hey, did I ever tell you about Hosea?”

Isaac shook his head. “No. Who is he?”

“Oh, he passed a few years ago,” he said regrettably, “but he and Dutch raised me together. They were practically brothers. Funnily enough though, Hosea was nothin’ like the old man. He was an outlaw same as the rest of us, but somehow, he always managed to be a gentleman about it. He was kind, but firm. Wild, but delicate.”

A warm smile spread across Arthur’s face. “You remind me of him. I think Hosea would’ve liked you.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Sure. I imagine he’d wanna take you hunting or fishing. He always preferred the outdoors. Hell, he even took me to hunt a bear once.”

Isaac glanced at him incredulously. “Really?”

Arthur nodded. “Really. We dragged ourselves all the way from Valentine to the Grizzlies East just to find the damn thing.”

“Did you catch it?”

“Eventually. But it weren’t easy. The beast almost killed the old man. Luckily, I managed to shoo it away -- more by luck than anything -- and ended up huntin’ it on my own. Got me a pretty good sum. The trapper recognized the ugly bastard’s pelt the minute I dumped it in front of him.”

Isaac gave Arthur a playful smirk. “You ever gonna take me huntin’ for bear?”

The older man laughed. “Not a chance. You’d just scare it off.”

The two of them chortled at that and began packing their things up, preparing to continue their journey as the white sun inched across the sky. The weather was a little warmer today -- or at least warm by Ambarino’s standards -- and tiny droplets of water could be seen melting off of the numerous icicles hanging around the environment. Unfortunately for them though, the road ahead was still mostly obscured by thick layers of snow.

“Hey, Dad,” Isaac said, climbing on top of Aldo’s saddle. “I’ve been thinking...”

Arthur mounted his own horse, letting out a brief cough. “What’s on your mind, son?”

“Well,” the boy tapped his reins, riding alongside his father, “when all this is over -- if we actually manage to make it outta the country, that is -- I’ll have to find a new way to make a living. A new career. I can’t just be an outlaw forever.”

The older man let one of his arms dangle casually by his side. “No, I s’pose you can’t. You got any ideas on what you wanna do?”

Isaac nodded. “Yeah. I think... I think I wanna be a doctor.”

Admittedly, Arthur found himself surprised by the decision. He didn’t doubt his son’s capability, but the young man never really struck him as the medical type. He guessed his recent illness was impacting Isaac more than he realized.

“A doctor? You sure about that?”

“Maybe,” Isaac replied with a shrug. “I dunno. I just...” his eyes sank downward, “...I’m tired of hurtin’ people all the time. It’s all I seem to do. I feel like I can’t go one week without nearly killin’ somebody. I wanna start carin’ for people for a change. Save their lives instead of taking ‘em.”

Arthur smiled proudly. “That’s a real noble thing to do, Isaac. I think it’d be good for you. Heh. And you didn’t believe me when I said you wasn’t a killer.”

The boy’s mood didn’t seem to lift at the remark. “Maybe I ain’t a killer now, but I definitely was before I met you. If you had seen the way I killed Eli...”

The other man remembered the name. “Eli Whitley? He was one of Shay’s friends, wasn’t he? You never really told me what happened to him.”

“Yeah.” He confirmed. “Eli was there when mom died. I hated everyone in Shay’s gang with a passion after that, but Eli... I guess you could say he was the kindest in the group. He was the one who convinced everyone else to spare me when they woulda shot me. He’s the only reason Shay ever took me in.”

“But... that didn’t stop me from goin’ after him.” Isaac continued. “I cornered him outside of Rhodes just a few months before I got to Shay. Interrogated him at this abandoned barn. Didn’t let him die until he told me what I needed. He was probably the least deserving out of the entire gang, and yet... I killed him the slowest.”

Arthur sighed, speaking in a gentler tone. “...What’s wrong with you, Isaac?”

“I... I don’t know. But I wanna change. I don’t wanna be that kinda man anymore. That’s why I’m thinkin’ of being a doctor.”

The older man encouraged the idea. “Well, you’re a smart kid. And you’re still young. I think you could do it.”

“Well, it ain’t set in stone yet. It’s just a thought. For all I know, I could end up becoming a hillbilly granger somewhere. Spend all my days roastin’ under the sun. Scare away the occasional coyote. Yell at kids when they come wanderin’ too close to my property. Marry my cousin.”

Arthur chuckled. “Good to see your sense of humor ain’t run off. Maybe you could go into show business. Become a... performer or something.”

Isaac scoffed in an amused manner. “You really think I could be a performer?”

“Well... maybe not. But don’t limit yourself. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be in Broadway someday.”

The boy laughed. “I hope not. Have you met New Yorkers?”

Arthur nodded, thinking back to a certain stranger he met outside Strawberry. “Yes, actually. Yes, I have.”

He fell quiet for a second, suddenly remember something.

“Hey, Isaac. Before I forget, I just wanted to say, I’m--” a series of coughs interrupted him, “--I’m--”

Being cut off once again, Arthur brought a hand up to his mouth and did his best to overcome the sudden attack, only to feel his heart racing when he realized that it was getting worse.

His entire body shook in pain, and with every jagged cough that escaped him, the more he could feel his throat burning.

“Dad?” Isaac said in concern. “Are you okay?”

Arthur didn’t respond. Instead, he simply continued to cough into his hand, desperately trying to catch his breath. The edges of his vision were starting to grow fuzzy now, and despite his efforts to fight through it, Arthur’s strength began to drain from his body by the minute.

“...Isaac...” He wheezed, his voice raspy with irritation. “I...”

Without any warning, Arthur suddenly tilted off his saddle and collapsed to the ground, sending Isaac into a state of panic as he inspected his father’s unconscious body.

“Dad?!” He exclaimed, shaking the man by the shoulders. “Dad! Hey! Wake up!”

His voice began to echo in Arthur’s ears, fading along with everything else as the world turned black.

“...Wake up...!”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW HOURS LATER

NIGHTTIME

NEAR LAKE ISABELLA

Cold. Pain. Fear.

These were the only things Arthur could feel at the moment. The only things to greet him when he finally returned to consciousness.

The world around him was still dark, and without the sensation of a solid ground beneath him, he might’ve assumed he was dead.

As for his illness, Arthur could still feel it burning the insides of his chest. His throat was dry and sore, and due to the freezing wind embracing his body, it almost felt as if the breeze was carrying his life away with it.

But no... not yet. He couldn’t quit. He was still here. He was still alive. His body hadn’t given out just yet, and he still had to protect Isaac, no matter the cost.

He just didn’t know if he could anymore.

Waking up with a start, Arthur felt yet another chain of coughs rattle his chest as he forced his eyes open, sluggishly observing his new surroundings.

It looked like he had been moved to a shack somewhere in the middle of Ambarino’s mountains, and if it weren’t for the stiff bedroll lying underneath him, Arthur would’ve been sleeping directly on a fresh blanket of snow.

There wasn’t much of a roof to shelter the shack’s interior from the weather outside, and with the sun now hiding behind the horizon, the night only seemed to grow colder.

Jesus Christ... what had he gotten himself into?

“Dad...?” A familiar voice whispered, drawing Arthur’s attention.

Slowly turning his head to the side, the older man spotted Isaac sitting in a corner of the shack with his rifle clutched tightly to his chest as he guarded his father, clearly anticipating some kind of threat.

His eyes were widened with anxiety, and the way he kept his voice low only heightened Arthur’s sense of fear.

What was going on?

“...Isaac,” Arthur said, barely able to speak at an audible volume. “Where... where are we...? What happened?”

“You had another coughin’ fit.” The boy explained. “You just... passed out. Right onto the road. You-- Jesus Christ, Dad... I thought you were dead. I tried to find you some shelter, but there ain’t much in these mountains. The best I could do was this rundown shack.”

Arthur tried to ease the young man’s nerves, not wanting to escalate things anymore. “It’s okay, Isaac. You did good. But... why d’you seem so afraid? What’s goin’ on?”

“I saw Dutch and his men on the way up here,” Isaac warned. “They were searchin’ the wilds. I think they’re looking for you. They didn’t seem to notice me, but... we have a trail leading directly to us. Dutch could be here at any minute.”

The older man cleared his throat, trying to ignore the pain. “...Shit. That man don’t give up easily. I’ll give him that.”

Isaac looked to his father for guidance. “So, what do we do? Should we just stay here for the night? Or keep moving? I mean, you’re in no condition to travel.”

“We need to get outta here.” Arthur concluded. “You said we have a trail leadin’ straight to us. If anyone finds that...” another cough escaped him.

The boy disagreed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You need to get some rest. Pushin’ yourself will only make things worse right now.”

“And if we stay, we risk Dutch findin’ us. Or even worse, the Pinkertons.”

“But you’re too weak!” Isaac argued. “And it’s the middle of the night. If we go back out there, we’ll freeze to death! It doesn’t--”

Interrupting the young man, an ominous thud suddenly emitted from the shack’s flimsy door, causing both of them to go silent.

Isaac instantly aimed his rifle at the entrance and cocked his weapon, standing directly in the middle of the shack due to a lack of cover.

There weren’t any voices talking at the moment, but underneath the loud howling of the wind and the creaking of wood, Isaac could hear a series of footsteps approaching them.

It sounded like they knew someone was inside based on the steady pace of their movements, and when Isaac glanced down at the crack underneath the door, he couldn’t help but notice an orange light seeping through the small gap.

Part of Isaac just wanted to shoot whoever was outside, but if it was Dutch like he suspected, then that meant his men must’ve been nearby. He couldn’t risk drawing their attention with any loud noises, and if a shootout were to ensue, there was no guarantee Arthur would be strong enough to fight through it.

He’d have to keep things quiet for now.

Swinging the door open with a light push, their unexpected visitor welcomed himself into the shack as a gust of wind breezed past him, chilling Arthur and Isaac to the bone.

The man was wrapped head-to-toe in winter clothing and had a revolver in one hand whilst holding a lantern with the other. His face didn’t strike Isaac as incredibly familiar, but upon seeing the pinned-up hat that he adorned, the boy instantly knew who it was.

“...Bill.” He murmured, watching the man’s every move. “You’re here.”

The other man’s eyes widened in recognition, causing him to raise his gun in alarm. “...Shit. So it really is you. I thought I saw someone out here.”

Isaac stepped protectively in front of Arthur, keeping his finger on the trigger.

“...What’re you doin’ here, Williamson?”

“What d’you think I’m doing? Lookin’ for your daddy, of course.” Bill’s gaze wandered over to Arthur, leading to a sudden shift in tone. “...What’s wrong with him?”

The boy tried to hide the fear in his voice. “He’s sick. With what, we don’t know. But... we think it’s the same thing Dutch has.”

Bill was quiet for a second.

“...Is he coughin’ a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there blood?”

Isaac thought back to when Arthur passed out. “Sometimes.”

The other man sighed, his expression remaining flat. “Then it’s probably tuberculosis. At least, that’s what Dutch has, accordin’ to the doctor. He finally saw one the other day.”

The news hit Isaac like a bullet to the gut. He knew whatever Arthur had couldn’t be good, but he never expected it to be that bad.

“...Shit.” He cursed quietly. “That... explains a lot.”

Bringing his attention back to Bill, Isaac pushed his thoughts aside for the moment and strengthened his grip on the rifle, bracing himself for anything.

“Listen to me, Bill. I dunno what the hell Dutch wants, but you don’t have to do this. Just... walk away. Forget you ever saw us.”

The outlaw stood his ground. “And why should I? If I recall correctly, your daddy said he didn’t care about what happened to me the last time I saw him. So why should I care what happens to him now?”

“Because he’s my family. Wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

Bill’s glowered at that. “I would, and I have. The gang was my family. I tried to help ‘em, but the only thing anyone ever did in return was ridicule me! Everyone always treated me like I was some... some idiot! A fool! A drunk! Dutch was the only one who ever treated me with respect. That’s why I gotta do this for him.”

Isaac felt a familiar sense of anger boiling inside him. “...You lay a single finger on my father, and I will kill you myself, Williamson.”

The veteran guffawed mockingly. “Oh, yeah, you’s real tough when you’re attackin’ our gang from the shadows. But you ain’t nothin’ compared to Dutch. And neither is your daddy. That man ain’t just strong. He’s caring. He’s the only reason our gang has survived for so long. He has something that the two of you never will. He has our loyalty.”

The boy almost laughed at the ludicrous statement. “Loyalty? Dutch doesn’t give a shit about you. Any of you. Look at how quickly he turned on my father. What makes you think you’re any different?”

Bill looked at him in bewilderment. “Dutch didn’t turn on your father. Arthur turned on him! Dutch... Dutch is a good man. He helps people. He helped me. When I was at my lowest point, he saved me while everyone else ignored me. He saw somethin’ special in me, and he gave me a new purpose in life. And I will never forget that.”

Isaac sighed in frustration. “You’re blinded by your loyalty, Bill. Dutch may have been a good man in the past, but he’s a tyrant now. A madman. Surely, even you can see that!”

The outlaw grumbled to himself, shaking his head in disagreement. “...You’re a real fool, Isaac. You know that? You kill a couple of our men, and suddenly, you think you’re an expert on our gang. You think you know a goddamn thing about us!”

“I know enough. I know that your gang is finished. I know that there’s no more trust between you. No more loyalty. You’re the only one in your gang who still believes in Dutch’s old rhetoric of a better world, and meanwhile, everyone else has given up on it. Hell, even Micah’s already betrayed you.”

Bill fell silent at that. “...What? What’re you talkin’ about?”

“How else do you think I was able to sneak into your camp?” Isaac pointed out. “How else could I have known about the bank robbery in Blackwater? Think about it, Bill. Your gang’s been fallin’ apart since before I even showed up. Only difference now is... there’s no chance of savin’ it.”

It was clear that the other man’s faith was crumbling at Isaac’s words, but he remained reluctant to admit it.

“No... no. That ain’t true! Dutch is special. He knows how to save people. He’ll get us outta this mess. He always does. And besides, I owe him everything after what he’s done for me. Without him, I’d be nothin’ but a big, dumb oaf. But Dutch... he’s a great man. And when I’m with him, I feel like I can be somebody.”

Isaac found himself at a loss for words, unsure of how he was going to convince Bill to walk away.

The last thing he wanted was to start a firefight in the middle of nowhere, but Bill was turning out to be far more obstinate than even Dutch himself.

The man seemed to idolize their gang’s leader. He still saw Dutch with the same image that he held eight years ago, and it looked like he wanted nothing more than to be like him.

But... there was more to Bill. Isaac could see it. Beneath all the anger and recklessness, the boy could sense that there was something pure at Williamson’s core.

It was clear that he still carried some wounds from the ridicule he endured in the past, but with enough encouragement, Isaac hoped he’d able to persuade Bill to overcome it.

If they were going to get out of Ambarino alive, they’d have to make sure that no one else found them. And right now, Bill was the only determining factor on whether or not that would happen.

Isaac didn’t want to take another life, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

“Y’know, Bill...” he said carefully, “I used to feel the same. Not too long ago, I used to believe that without my father, I’d be nothin’ more than a heartless killer. I saw him as somebody I wanted to be. Somebody who I needed to be. But you know what he told me?”

Arthur perked his head up in interest, silently listening to Isaac from his bed as the boy spoke about him.

“He said that when all this is over, I ain’t gonna be like him. Or Dutch. Or Shay. Or even Micah. I’m gonna be my own man. A better man. And somethin’ tells me you can be, too.”

Bill softened his voice at the non-hostile approach, struggling to get his thoughts out. He hadn’t exactly reached a friendly disposition just yet, but his demeanor wasn’t nearly as aggressive as before.

“Them’s pretty words, Isaac...” he muttered quietly. “But how do I know you mean them? How do I know you ain’t just playin’ me for a fool like everyone else has?”

The young man clenched his jaw in nervousness, trying to steady his breath.

“...Because I’m tired of killin’ folk. I’m tired of always fearin’ for my life. If you lower your gun, I’m willin’ to lower mine.”

Bill glanced at Arthur. “And your daddy? He gonna let me go, too? Or is he gonna gimme the same treatment he gave Micah?”

“He ain’t gon’ do nothing. He doesn’t have the strength. Just walk out of here and pretend you never saw us. We’ll do the same.”

The outlaw hesitated for a minute, clearly torn by the dilemma. Despite his animosity towards Arthur, he seemed to have some sympathy for the man due to their history together.

Their gang used to be like family after all, and as rotten as Williamson could’ve been sometimes, even he wasn’t so monstrous as to murder a boy and his dying father in cold blood. Not yet, anyway.

A part of him actually believed what the young man said to him earlier, and if Isaac was telling the truth about Micah being a traitor, it was likely that the rat had spoken with the Pinkertons too. If that was the case, then their gang truly was finished.

Dutch may have been a fighter, but even he couldn’t work miracles. Bill would have to get out of this life as soon as possible if he wanted any hope of surviving, and perhaps this was his chance.

He finally lowered his gun, keeping an eye out for any sudden moves from the boy.

“...Goddammit, Isaac.” Bill muttered in annoyance. “Fine. I’ll let you go. This time.”

The young man slowly followed Bill’s actions, admittedly somewhat tentative to believe the outlaw.

“You will?”

“Yeah, but like I said, just this once. If Dutch or Micah find you again, I won’t be able to do anythin’ about that.”

Isaac felt a wave of relief wash over him, allowing him to relax a little.

“...Thank you, Bill.” He said sincerely. “You’re a good man. Or at least, a better man than you think.”

Bill didn’t crack his shell just yet, but Isaac could tell there was a sense of appreciation somewhere in him.

“Sure, Isaac.” He turned around and headed for the shack’s door, stopping in his tracks just before he left.

“Listen, there is somethin’ you should know. The truth is, Dutch doesn’t care about findin’ your father. It’s you he’s really after.”

Isaac raised a brow. “Why me?”

“Hell if I know. Dutch mostly shuts me out these days. Only Micah truly knows what he’s up to. Just... be careful around him. There’s no tellin’ what he has planned for the both of you. Especially after all the hell you’ve raised.”

The boy gave him a nod. “I’ll remember that. Oh, and Williamson?”

Bill looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“...Thank you again. I won’t forget this.”

The grumpy outlaw stepped back out into the snow, pulling his scarf over his nose as the night slowly came to an end.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #bill williamson #dutch van der linde #micah bell #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

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team-free-will-oneshots · 5 years

Text

"Screw people.”

Title: “Screw People.” Requests: Could you please do a shy hunter reader that’s a bookworm and doesn’t talk much with both him and the reader starting to get crushes on each other - @hford0311 and also; Dean request, if you want. In a bar/club, protecting the reader from jackasses, goes wrong when Dean gets kicked out, expects reader to go back into bar. Reader leaves with Dean? If you want to that is :) - @brokencasbutt67-writer Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: alcohol mentions, cursing, canon-typical violence, sexual harassment Word Count: 3.5k

note; i loved both of these requests and saw them fitting well together, hope u guys enjoy !! (also i was listening to this version of ‘iris’ by the goo goo dolls while writing the ending in the Impala, could be cool to listen to while reading if u want!)

alsoooo sorry this has taken so long to get up, thank you so much to the people who requested this for their patience!!!! xxxx

Masterlist

Finally, you were alone.

The mood was set, scented candles wafting lavender smoke into the air as you settled back onto the bed, a coy smile carving your expression as you turned down the fresh sheets. A blissful sigh fell through your parted lips as you stretched out your arm, fingers grasping and searching until finally, they found it - the object that had been at the back of your mind all day, tinging every thought, spurring every movement...

You pulled the hardcover edition of your favourite book into your lap, a grin splitting your face as you snuggled beneath your duvet and ardently threw open the novel to the page you had marked all-too-long ago. The tantalising rustling of pages paired with the familiar musk of a well-loved book served to eagerly drag you into the story’s depths, and suddenly you felt like a child again; tucked beneath your blankets well after bedtime, eyes straining in the dim light as you hungrily devoured a new story, pages flying as you frantically read, drinking in the fresh plot and bubbling with excitement over the adventures of the characters as you escaped into a fantasy world all your own, if only for a few hours.

The hunting life allowed little time for the simple pleasures of life - between the constantly switching monster of the week, paired with the looming threats that always overshadowed those associated with the Winchester brothers, you’d barely had a moment to yourself in weeks. And so, the moment the boys declared it was time for a break, you were snatching your favourite book from where it had been gathering dust on your shelf, bracing yourself to forget the outside world and the troubles it held, to escape into a world where a happy ending was guaranteed, where you weren’t destined to lose all those you cared for.

That was the beauty of books, you reasoned. You near always knew what to expect. Heroes meeting and facing adversaries, learning lessons about themselves and their relationships, and by the end of it all, finding some semblance of fulfilment or at the very least, closure. And of course, you weren’t one to complain about a touch of romance thrown in along the way.

Life had no such guidelines, especially the hunting life; no promises of happiness, of even making it past the next week. People were even less predictable; at least books were easy to read. Life’s characters were far less easy to understand. Perhaps that was why you insisted on avoiding them as vehemently as you did - books were your comfort, and all people had given you thus far was grief.

“Hey, Y/N, you busy?”

Well… maybe not all people.

You held up your book wordlessly, nose still buried beneath the pages as you ignored Dean Winchester’s query. He chuckled, leaning against the doorway.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked, peering at the cover as he sauntered into the room. You sighed, keeping your page with your thumb as you let the book fall shut around your fingers.

“Old favourite,” you explained. Dean nodded appreciatively.

“Cool. Well, just wanted to say hey - you did a great job on the hunt today, by the way,” he informed you, flashing you a proud smile that had you fighting to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, the slight acceleration of your heart.

“O-oh. Thanks, but… I don’t think it was anything too spectacular,” you protested weakly, a nervous chuckle escaping you as you fiddled idly with the pages of your book. Dean shrugged.

“Hey, you got the job done - Sam and I woulda been toast without you,” he said. “You should give yourself some credit.”

You allowed a smile. “Thanks,” you tentatively replied, voice small. Dean held your gaze a moment longer, eyes heavy with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, before he cleared his throat and ducked his head.

“Look, uh- Sam and I are headed out tonight. Nothing fancy, just headed to the bar, some celebratory hey-we-killed-a-nest drinks, you know the drill. You can- you can come with us, if you want,” he invited. You laughed dryly.

“Thanks, but… I don’t think that’s really my scene,” you said. “Being surrounded by people? Not my thing.”

Dean shook his head in amusement. “I can’t believe how shy you are - you just took out those vamps like it’s nothing, Y/N. That’s pretty damn impressive,” he commended. “You have nothing to be shy about - you’re a total badass. If anyone has the right to be a cocky son-of-a-bitch, it’s you.”

You hid your smile as you glanced down to the book in your lap, fingertips nervously rubbing over the paper, curling it beneath your touch.

“I think you have enough cockiness for the both of us,” you said, sending him a shy grin. He snorted.

“Yeah, maybe. Well, offer still stands - Sam and I are leaving in fifteen,” he told you, straightening up and casting you once last, lingering glance as he headed towards the door. Your awaiting novel itched in your hands, eager to be read, but you paused as Dean hovered uncertainly for a moment by the doorway, as if locked in an internal debate.

“Hey, Dean?” you asked quietly, the words flying from your lips before you could halt them. That was the thing about Dean - talking to people wasn’t always easy for you, but something about the eldest Winchester set you at ease in a way no one else could ever hope to. He turned around immediately.

“Yeah?”

You tore your gaze from his jade eyes, though you felt the raise of goosebumps along your skin as he kept his soft stare trained on you. You flushed, tucking your hair behind your ear, cold fingers discordant against the heat of your cheeks.

“You ever think… sometimes monsters are easier to deal with than people?”

Dean frowned, ambling over to your bed and perching himself at its edge, only a few feet away from you. He shrugged. “Sometimes, sure - but people… people you can reason with. They have… morals, you know? A code. Means they can be scarier, sure, when they decide not to care - but when they do care, it’s…” Dean’s eyes flickered from yours to the ground, and he licked his lips as he chuckled breathlessly. “When you find someone to care about… I can’t imagine anything better,” he said, his eyes darting up to your own. You found yourself locked under the vice of his gaze, his expression softening with a flicker of vulnerability before he cleared his throat and broke the trance. “Why’d you ask?”

You released a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. “I dunno. I guess, just- what you were saying earlier, about being a good hunter? It’s because monsters are easier. I get monsters - most of them don’t think too hard - all instinct, y’know? But people are… people are manipulative. They judge and they hate and they hurt, I just… with monsters, I know what I’m getting. People are a lot harder to trust,” you explained. Dean nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that, but… ah, you’re probably right. Screw people,” he said with a cheeky grin. “But it’s not like you need to stay in contact with everyone you meet. Sometimes fun can just be… fun. Doesn’t need to be serious,” he told you, though there was a trepidatory edge to his playful tone. “You should come out tonight - let loose for once. You deserve it.”

An amused hum fell vibrated in your throat. “I dunno, I’m an all-in kinda person,” you mumbled, and you saw a small smile tilt the corner of Dean’s lips.

“Yeah. Me too.”

You scoffed. “You, really? Mr Different-Girl-Every-Night? You’re a serial flirt,” you teased, and he smiled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between a fling and actually getting to know someone - I dunno if you’ve noticed, but sometimes it feels like I care a little too much.” His smile died, and he quickly shook his head, throwing up another grinning facade. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your nerdiness.” He cast a pointed glare at your book. “Seeya later.”

Dean left, the bedsprings jumping back into place as he picked himself up from the seat, traipsing through the door and leaving you with sweaty palms and a stomach full of butterflies. You watched as he left, eyes lingering a moment too long on the empty doorway before you turned your attention back to the novel in your lap.

You wanted to read, you really did - but it seemed no matter how hard you tried, the words would blur into an incomprehensible mass that your eyes instinctively skimmed, only for you to reach the end of the page without having understood any of it at all. After a few failed attempts at reading the same few lines over, you sighed in defeat, setting the book aside as you leaned back against the headrest.

Maybe Dean was right - maybe you should give ‘people’ another chance. Maybe it was time to put your incessant shyness and distrust behind you, to ‘let loose’, as Dean had so aptly described it.

Dean…

You thought of the warmth of his smile, the vibrant ringing of his laugh, the coy smiles he’d shoot you when no one else was looking… the idea of going out was sounding more and more appealing.

And so, you decisively marched to the library, where Dean was grabbing Baby’s keys as Sam shrugged on his jacket. The sound of your footsteps had both their eyes jumping towards you, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flicker of hope in Dean’s surprised expression.

“Hey, uh, I was thinking that I might take you up on that offer, Dean,” you said, extending a wry smile. “Mind if I come?”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed silently, before he finally nodded. “I-uh- yeah, of course!” he exclaimed, just as shocked at your decision to step out of your comfort zone as you were. “What changed your mind?”

You shrugged, looking down at your feet as you scuffed the floor with the toe of your boot. “Maybe I should give people a chance - you’re right, I should let loose every now and then,” you said, tone clouded with false certainty. Dean frowned, but let your uncertainty slide as his concerned expression was replaced with an encouraging smile.

“Great, finally a drinking partner who can keep up with me,” he quipped, shooting a glare at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Hey, someone has to drive you home when you’re plastered,” Sam countered. You laughed, the uneasy atmosphere dissipating as the three of you walked to the car. Dean shot you a wolfish grin, and the warm sensation that buzzed in your chest had you certain that you were making the right choice.

What was the worst that could happen?

---

Turned out, the ‘worst’ had a name - it was Brandon. You knew this only because he refused to let you forget it.

“Come on, sweet cheeks, let me buy you a drink,” he coaxed, words stumbling into one another as his hot breath rolled over your face, reeking of beer as he leaned in uncomfortably close on clumsy feet.

“Uh, I’m good, thanks,” you replied, throwing him a distasteful, uncertain glance as you took a step back. Your eyes flitted over to the bar, where Sam was talking to a girl and Dean was grabbing drinks for the both of you. Catching your glance, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as he noticed your company.

‘You okay?’ he mouthed. You managed to give him a tight-lipped smile and a short nod before Brandon was dragging your attention back to him.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, baby,” he slurred, leaning forward so that his face was inches from yours. “It’s just one drink.”

You took another step back. “Like I said, I’m good,” you insisted, though your voice came out small and hesitant. You gritted your teeth as he snorted scornfully, and your hand balled into your fist at your side as he sauntered forwards once more. Though you weren’t necessarily one for confrontation, you had no qualms about putting this asshole in his place. Barely twenty-four hours ago you’d single-handedly taken on three vampires - you were pretty sure you could handle an overeager drunken bastard.

Before you had the chance to put him in his place, however, Brandon was being shoved away from you by a familiar pair of toned arms.

“They’re not interested, jackass,” Dean growled, taking a protective stance over you that you comfortably settled into. The drunk stumbled back, mouth falling open in outrage.

“Who asked you, huh?” he challenged, and Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he ran his tongue along his teeth. You could see his hands curled into white-knuckled fists at his side.

“I think a better question is; why can’t you take no for an answer? They said they’re good, man. Give it a rest,” Dean spat through clenched teeth. Brandon snorted.

“Mind your own fucking business, dick,” he snarled. “You want ‘em all to yourself, huh? Selfish prick.”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head with a grim smile, and for a moment you thought he was going to turn away… until he slammed his fist into your harasser’s jaw with a hard crack that made even you wince.

When Brandon arose, he was nursing a red jaw and a bleeding nose, but the red fluid trickling across his lips and staining his chin did nothing to mask the pure hatred etched into his expression as he lunged at Dean. The eldest Winchester blocked him easily, grabbing his wrist and slamming his face into a nearby booth table. There was a flurry of movement and shouts as Dean landed another punch to the man’s cheek, pressing him into the table with his arms locked behind his back.

“Apologise,” Dean demanded, and Brandon gasped for air.

“I’m sorry, man, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. Dean kneed him, and the man grunted in pain.

“Not to me, idiot. To them,” he hissed, nodding towards where you stood with wide eyes and brow half-cocked in appreciation at Dean’s strength as he held the bulky man down like he weighed nothing.

“I’m sorry! Christ, let me go, please!” he said frantically.

“Dean, what the hell!” Sam’s voice interjected from behind you, and suddenly a bouncer was peeling Dean from his bruised and bloody opponent.

“Time to go,” he said in a gruff voice. Sam stepped forward, and the bouncer shot him a look.

“He with you?”

“Look, we don’t want any trouble-” Sam began, but Dean made a sound of angered amusement.

“Speak for yourself, Sammy,” he muttered, still glaring daggers at Brandon. Dean caught your eye as the bouncer dragged him outside, and the last you saw of him before he was tossed outside was his cocky wink. You chuckled to yourself as Sam quirked an eyebrow.

“What the hell happened?”

You shook your head, walking to a window and watching as Dean paced before finally heading towards the parked Impala.

“Guy was a dick - he deserved it,” you said, watching as Dean wiped his bloody knuckles on his jacket. “Look, I think I’m gonna head off with Dean,” you added, and Sam cast you a concerned expression.

“Do you want me to come?” he asked, though you could hear the reluctance in his tone as he glanced back at the girl he’d been talking with, who was still waiting for him by the bar. You smirked.

“Nah, I’m good - you go have some fun,” you teased, giving Sam a playful smile that he sheepishly returned.

“Alright. Seeya later, Y/N.”

Sam left, and you braved the cool night air as you walked to the Impala. The tail lights were on but the engine was off, the car sitting perfectly still in the parking lot. As you approached, the music from the bar echoed distantly behind you, captured by the walls and bouncing hollowly into the darkness, fading into nothing but a thumping bass and a vague suggestion of guitar and vocals.

You tried the passenger door. Locked. You tapped on the window, and watched as Dean leaned across the seat to unlatch it. The moment it swung open you slipped inside, the familiar scent of leather overruling the pollution and alcoholic odour the car park carried. The door fell shut with a heavy click, blocking any lingering traces of music from your ears.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, hearing only the haggard sounds of one another’s breathing and the light static of the radio. You glanced over at Dean.

“How’s your hand?” you asked. Dean laughed darkly.

“Fine,” he told you, but extended his hand towards you when you raised a quizzical brow. You tenderly took his palm against your own, turning over his fist to look at his knuckles - red and raw and tender, but nothing serious. Instead of releasing him from your grip, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and Dean tentatively raised his gaze to yours.

“I could’ve handled that guy, y’know,” you told him sternly. Dean ducked his head guiltily.

“Yeah, I know, it was just… the way he was treating you…” He trailed off, a weighted sigh heaving from his lips as he shook his head to himself. “You didn’t deserve that. No one does, but… especially not you. I… got angry.”

You smiled wryly. “Bit of an understatement,” you said, and he laughed, genuinely this time.

“Yeah, maybe,” he allowed. “Look, I don’t think I’m welcome here tonight - I’m gonna head home. Just… give me a call when you wanna be picked up.”

“Nah, I’m ready to call it a night, too,” you said, leaning back into the seat. Dean looked at you in surprise.

“What? What happened to getting loose, giving people a chance, all that crap? Seriously, I don’t think you need to worry about that jackass - I doubt that dickhead will ever approach another person in his life,” he said seriously, and you laughed.

“Yeah, I doubt it - but I don’t think I’m really in the mood to let my hair down,” you replied, amused.

“Wait, what? But we were having such a good time!” he countered, and you met his eyes again, nodding.

“Yeah - we were. Screw other people, Dean. I thought I needed to act like someone I’m not to be happy - someone I thought I should be. But… partying? Being around a whole bunch of strangers? That’s not me, Dean. I… I don’t need to surround myself with people to be happy, it’s not in my nature. I just need… a few people I really care about,” you said, giving him a tiny smile and a pointed look.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he murmured. “Y/N… sweetheart, you never need to make yourself uncomfortable because you feel like that’s how you ‘should be.’ You… damn, Y/N, you might be shy, but it’s frickin’ adorable,” he said playfully, and you laughed, elbowing him gently as you ducked your head in embarrassment, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I mean it, Y/N - you’re… you’re fucking amazing,” Dean breathed, and your laughter died as his eyes found yours again. He held your gaze, and you felt his eyes burning into your soul, piercing through your quiet front and seeing you for you in a way that no one else ever had.

And suddenly, he was kissing you.

His breath was warm as it blended with yours, and he tasted of whiskey and moonshine as his large hand found your cheek, cradling it as though you were something easily broken. His chapped lips bit into your own and your leg cramped up as you twisted to press closer to him, but none of that seemed to matter as you lost yourself in the bliss of kissing Dean Winchester.

You pulled away, catching your breath and taking a moment to soothe your racing heart as you ran your hand along his jaw, his stubble grazing your fingertips as he closed his eyes beneath your loving touch.

“So… you’re sure you don’t wanna go back in?” he checked, and you giggled, shaking your head.

“Definitely not,” you breathed, your breath fanning over his lips as you leaned your forehead against his. Dean melted against you, his arms looping around your waist and bringing you close to his chest.

“Good,” he murmured, “because I don’t think I can let you go until I get another kiss…” he said, raising a cocky eyebrow. You grinned.

“I think that could be arranged…” you purred, sealing your mouth against his.

Screw people, you thought as you lost yourself once again in Dean’s reverent touch. You had all you needed right here.

__________

Forever tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme @kina666 @liviaolivia @simplyxparker @helpmeluci @demonsofhunting @bee-happy-buzz-on @lilulo-12 @amandatar-06

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#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fluff #spn #spn imagine #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic

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moved-glowfaery · 4 years

Text

Them Brooklyn boys is big (Rewrite)

Era: Canon

Prompt: Spot but not how we know him.

Words: 1958

Notes: once upon a time I wrote this, and i decided i wanted to rewrite it. Also im incredibly bad at proofreading so i hope its readable.

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

For the first time in the seventeen years Davey had roamed around on this earth, he had crossed the Brooklyn bridge. It seemed odd to him, how it had taken him so long. but everything he needed was in lower Manhattan. He had never before needed to leave the small island for anything. But here he was, entering in Brooklyn domain. Davey was not a scared kid. He had a little brother and a sister to look after. He had no time to be scared. But when earlier today the group of Newsies had looked terrified of the mere idea to enter Brooklyn. It scared him. The newsies weren't afraid of a fight, he had seen that. He had figured they weren't afraid of anything. Yet the idea of Brooklyn settled fear into their hearts. Even Race, who sold in Brooklyn daily, had avoided going to Brooklyn. Maybe it was not just Brooklyn. Maybe it was the idea of having to propose this idea of a strike to the leader of Brooklyn. Spot Conlon. Davey did not know what to except for him. He must be a tough man to make the newsies scared.

It did not help Davey’s nerves when he noticed the small group of boys following them on a safe distance once they stepped foot in Brooklyn.

"Jack," he muttered, tugging on the boy’s sleeve. The Manhattan leader grunted but did not respond. Les was walking in front of them, almost skipping of excitement. The boy had looked like he won the lottery when Jack had promised to take him along. If Jack hadn't offered, Les would most likely have caused a scene, his little brother could be quite dramatic when he wanted to.

"I can't wait to tell papa about this!" Les bragged. Jack led them to the docks. The further they went from the bridge, the more kids showed up, sitting on boxes, or walking around, every eye on the three Manhattan newsies.

"We're almost there" Jack muttered softly towards Davey. The path they were on ended on one of the platforms of the docks. Surrounded by wooden boxes.

"Jack Kelly," a sugar-coated voice sounded. Davey's eye fell on the girl. She was seated on one of the boxes. Her hands rested next to her, her legs crossed. The girl tilted her head as the looked at the trio, dark brown curls dancing around her face as she moved.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" The accent was heavy but did not make her voice any less sweet.

"We kinda needs ya help," Jack started. Davey raised his eyebrow, just slightly. This girl would probably bring them to Spot,

"Well I is assuming it is bad news," she twirled a curl around her finger as she talked, playing with the piece of hair. "Otherwise ma second woulda come,"

Jack rolled up his sleeves, exposing his sunkissed lower arms.

"I still don't understand why Elmer has to sell in Manhattan," he complained.

"Racer sells in Brooklyn all the time. It's only fairs that one of mines can sell in your borough," "Wait, you're Spot Conlon?" Davey asked. The words escaped from his lips before he could stop it. The girl's gaze moved towards Davey. She lifted her chin up a bit as she ran her gaze over him, observing him front from head to toe. She pressed her lips together for a second before her gaze moved back to Jack.

"Who is the new kid?" she asked.

"This is Davey," Jack sighed, the boy clearly did not want to waste his time here.

Spot jumped down from the box she had sat on. Her black skirt moved around her as she walked towards Davey.

She rolled up her dark red sleeves before she spat in her hand, holding her hand out to Davey.

"Nice to meet ya, Davey," she smiled, a soft sweet smile. It reminded Davey of the girls in his class.

Now that she stood in front of him, he noticed how tiny she was. She was at least a head smaller then he was and her body was so petite he wondered if someone could break her in half by a simple hug.

Davey swallowed the lump in his throat, before he spat in his hand, shaking hers. "Nice to meet you," he said, trying not to frown in disgust.

"Ya don’t belong on the streets, do ya?" she turned her attention to Les and Davey saw the opportunity to wipe his hand on his pants. "Y'all look to clean to be on the streets," she crouched down in front of Les, although she barely had to with her height. "Aren't you a Minchin," she smiled towards the boy. Davey could see the excited beaming of his little brother. "If ya ever get tired of Manhattan and those boring lads, we can find ya a nice place here in Brooklyn,"

Davy placed his hand on Les' shoulder. He fought the urge to push the boy behind him, back into safety.

"We don't have all day, Spot," Jack grunted.

"Of course, Kelly. Always in a hurry aren't ya?"Spot walked back, now leaning against the box she sat on earlier. "So, what ya need my help for?" she played with a curl again, her eyes roaming around the boys watching them from the boxes and back to Jack.

"We are on a strike," Jack started.

"So I've heard," she interrupted him, Jack sighed behind him.

"We send boys around every borough, but we's all know that at the end of the day they all listen to ya," This brought a smile on Spot's face. No not just a smile, more of a confident smirk.

"Whatcha plan?"

"We stop the wagons from delivering to the city, this way no one can sell, not even scabs,"

"That is all?" The curl dropped from between Spot's fingers, the girl now folding her hands together.

"We’ve got a reporter willing to write about it. She is at the square tomorrow, promised us a headline," Davey added, their hope was settled on the headline. Without a headline, there was no news.

"A reportah? A female reportah?" Don’t get me wrong, boys. I'm all for working girls. But I don't recall no female reportah writing headlines. The men on top are far too afraid of us to allow that,"

"Our story will convince them," Jack spoke, his voice beaming with confidence.

"I got a few problems with ya plan," Spot started. The confident smile dropped off Jack's face.

"First, scabs will sell. Even if you stop the wagons, they will find ways to let scabs sell. That’s why them is scabs.”

“We convince-” Davey started, but Spot did not let him finish.

"Only way to stop scabs is with a good ole soakin'"

"We can't beat up other kids," Davey stated. She did not send him a sweet smile this time. She only stared at Davey for a second before returning her gaze to Jack, ignoring Davey’s comment.

"Second, no matter how good ya reporter is, do ya really think the papes will write a headline about kids refusing to sell the papes?"

"it's about competition," Davey explained before Jack could. "If we stop the World from selling, the Sun will want to write about it. And without the World, more people will buy the Sun. So more people will know about the strike."

"Where did ya pick this kid up? Ya plucked him out of his school seat?" There was nothing left of the sweet flirting girl from a few minutes ago. The gaze in her eyes was cold and she sounded annoyed.

"He knows what he is talking about," Jack defended the kid next to him.

"Then explain this to me, Davey," she crossed her arms. "Why should I lose a day of sale, will the kids selling the Sun, get all my customers. Yes, the new prices suck, but we've got mouths to feed,"

“It’s not about us against the kids selling the Sun. It’s about the World bringing back their pricing,” Davey tried to turn the conversation back to their point. His palms were sweaty as he tried to figure ways to talk him out of this. Jack’s entire posture was tense. His brow was furrowed and Davey could see the muscle’s in Jack’s arm tense up as Spot started talking again.

"Davey, have you ever had to look after a borough full of kids? Six-year-olds starving cause they made a bad sale that day? You can come in here, talking like the posh schoolboy you are, but I guess that at the end of the day you go home to your family and get a nice meal. We have to go to bed hungry cause we were on a strike. I will not let any kid of mine starve for your stupid games," Spot walked towards Davey as she talked, stopping a few centimetres from the boy’s face. He could feel her hot breath against his face. He could count the freckles on her face and see the strike of green in her brown eyes. She ran a finger across his shirt, tracing the plaid pattern.

"Spot-" Jack tried to interrupt her. He grabbed Davey’s sleeve, ready to pull him away if needed.

"We won’t join ya stupid strike," Spot spoke, turning around on her heels, her eyes moving down all the kids on the boxes.

'"Spot we need ya," Jack pleaded. Davey had not before seen that desperate in Jack’s eyes. But it seemed that Spot was immune to that.

“That is my decision, Kelly," she was already on her way back towards her box, climbing back on top of it to sit down.

"No other borough will join us without you,"

"Then so be it," She pressed her lips together for a second, once she sat down. Then her lip curled in a smile like she was amusing herself. Davey was not the one to get angry, but she was smiling while they were practically begging her to join. That did not sit right with him.

“But, if ya make that headline if ya prove this thing can work. We will join ya,”

“You don’t understand-”

“Get your kid under control, Kelly,” Spot hissed. “He may be smart but he is a pain in the ass already.”

“Davey,” Jack muttered under his breath, a soft warning.

“I think it’s time for you go back to Manhattan,” Spot crossed her legs, sprawling out her skirt.

“But-,” Davey started again, Jack softly hissed at him, urging him to be quiet.

“I said, it’s time for you to go back to Manhattan,” she tossed her hair over her shoulder, shooting him a cold look.

Jack pulled on Davey’s sleeve, a silent command. The Manhattan leader then grabbed a hold of Les’ shoulders and turned the boy around, away from Spot.

“Oh, tell Racer I said Hey, we missed him today,” The sweet voice was back, almost like the conversation hadn’t happened.

Jack didn’t respond to it. Another tug on Davey’s sleeve, urging him to keep walking. He could hear the cuss words rolling over Jack’s lips, as soft as possible so not even Les could hear them by accident.

“What do we do now, boss?” Skittery asked. The boy was the first to jump off the box he was seated on, his eyes on the Brooklyn leader.

“We tell the other newsies the same when they come and asks. We won’t join no strike before they have proven themselves,” Spot stated, her eyes were still on the direction the boys had left in, even when they were out of sight.

“Anything else?”

“Get everyone back to work. We’ve got papes to sell!”

#Newsies #Newsies fic #writing #my writing #newsies fanfic #newsies prompt #spot conlon #jack kelly #davey jacobs

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thedaveandkimmershow · 3 years

Photo

We woke up this morning, for the second time this trip, in the back of a rented Nissan Armada SUV. It was a pretty good night’s sleep, too, because of the cushions and mattress topper Kimmer found a coupla nights ago at Home Depot and Walmart. :-)

For posterity, the winning prescription goes like this: on the bottom, yoga mats we picked up at the Medford GoodWill; on top of those, the two sets of seat cushion pairs from Home Depot; on top of those, the thick foam mattress topper from Walmart and then one of our sleeping bags inside up, then us, then a wool blanket, then our other sleeping bag inside down, and finally... our duvet cover from home. Icing on a pretty layered cake, as it were.

It was all super comfy.

And warm.

A good night sleep was definitely had by us both.

By morning, the clouds and wind that rolled in last night were finally gone... well, at least the clouds cleared away.

Eventually.

Which made for a sun that was definitely cookiin’... at the same time the continued breezes cooled it all down.

It was a heckuva balancing act of temperature control. :-)

So sun, wind, waves. Yeah.

We’re off to a lazy morning start.

By the way, I legitimately forgot what day it is today. Both the day and the date. That’s how far off our normal life schedule we’ve wandered.

Now earlier we talked a little about the solar panel set-up Kimmer’s cousin employs. He actually uses two: a larger one powering his teardrop trailer and a smaller one that’s mobile.

So far, though, Kimmer’s used the power, WiFi, and plentiful outdoor tables ‘n benches under quite lovely palm trees at the local shopping center for her Zoom meetings. Today, though, she’s thinking about using the domed tent her cousin set up along the west end of camp.

So I set up table, chair, and equipment in there... she takes a seat to make sure she’ll be comfortable in there (which she is)... and thus the plan’s set.

Except.

A coupla minutes before her first meeting she discovers to her horror that her laptop’s nearly out of juice. Jumping to her rescue, her cousin does this:

He grabs his smaller, mobile solar panel set up, moves it to the west side of the tent, snakes a cord into the tent and into a power bank he places at the foot of her desk into which I plug her laptop.

This was Kimmer’s aha! moment, by the way. Proof of concept. The one in which she realizes how working on the road could work. Could actually work.

She’s also sold on the idea of buying a WiFi hot spot while we’re down here because she’s well aware of how completely dependent we are on everyone else’s WiFi: Fred Meyer, Lowe’s, Moro Campground. In fact, our first attempt to do what we usually do on these trips, Starbucks, was a complete failure this time because what we usually do is snag a table for an hour or two for WiFi and recharging. So taking care of some of the business that followed us on this road trip has been, to say the least, a brain teasing, logistical challenge.

So it’s settled. Tomorrow, we’ll be passing by the Spectrum Center in Irvine where there’s a T-Mobile store. T-Mobile’s our cellular service provider... so we figure that’s where we’ll start.

By the way, I called Oregon Light Truck & RV to see if it’d be okay for us to leave the Rialta with them one more day than planned... and here’s what the rep said:

“No problem. It’s only costing you $284 per day.”

That was a little joke, by the way. We’re totally good for another day. Plus, we ended the call wishing each other a Happy Easter.

Wow.

Tomorrow’s actually Easter.

Okay so the story so far’s that Kimmer’s completely set with her Zoom meetings in her cousin’s tent with her laptop powered by the California sun.

In the morning, I while away the hours writing about our adventures thus far. Man, those first few days were brutal.

After lunch, I head out into the Laguna/Newport wilds gathering the different supplies and groceries here ‘n there of which we’re in need. Trader Joe’s, less than a mile from camp, was first on my route, of course. Picked up some lunch here and I swear if boy scout camping was more convenient like this I woulda totally been more into it.

Later I was at a nearby Starbucks sitting outside in the shade, partaking of both an iced chai tea latte and a little bit of peace.

Remember that?

Peace?

Seriously. It’s the best.

I highly recommend it.

In my case, the critical ingredients were a disconnect from my usual daily routine... and the time to experience what’s actually there when I’m not being a perpetual motion machine.

After Kimmer’s last meeting of the day, we’re out for a walk again on the beach. These walks, by the way, are substituting for the ones we take along South Lake Union only way, way better.

I guess you’ll just have to trust me on that one.

Today’s walk was our longest walk while we were here, with the sun dropping ever lower and the tide creeping higher this time around.

We walked all the way to the other end below the Shake Shack high on the cliffs above. Also to the very end of those beach cottages that’re either being torn down or remodeled.

This end of the beach, especially, was hoppin’ with teens and families and couples and boogie boarders enjoying every last moment of the day.

On our return walk, I became fascinating by these four little birds with long necks and super narrow beaks. They seemed to be playing in the surf as well. Because as the surf receded, they chased after it. As it came back in again, they ran away from it. As in

Run away! Run away!

I’m guessing they were feeding on something right there at the leading edge of the moving surf. Tiny things that their beaks could snatch even with the surf racing away. But not when that surf was coming after them. In fact, whenever the surf raced too quickly for these birds, they’d take to the air... then set down immediately nearby.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Most of the time the four birds acted in sync. One time, though, three took to the air going left while the other broke right. Immediately realizing its predicament, the last one did a mid-air pivot... and throttled up until rejoining the rest.

And I suppose the reason I’m telling you about this tiny scene is that it really did feel like young friends hanging out. Doing stuff together. Joining and rejoining. All while being very young.

Back at camp, it was full blown night as we joined the camp fire with family, enjoying each other’s company in conversation, joking around, and laughing.

It was a reminder how there are different ways for Peace to manifest in our lives. And for Joy to enter in.

Sitting alone at Starbucks. Walking a sunset beach together. Experiencing it even around a campfire.

We ended our day, once again, in the back of our SUV rental, this time partaking of a streaming episode of “Hot In Cleveland” on ParamountPlus.

Because, you know...

Camping.

#California road trip #Rialta #SUV bedroom #Nissan Armada #solar panels #WiFi #power bank #Crystal Cove Shopping Center #Moro Campground #Pacific Coast Highway #beachwalking #sunset #Peace #Joy #laughter #friendship #family #camping

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years

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June Visitation - Father’s Day

Note: Since it was pointed out to me by a friend that visitation falls on Father’s Day, I’ve used that as a starting point for this month. It isn’t the main focus of the piece, but it does serve as a starting point for discussion of bullying. With that in mind, it will be under a read-more.

Yancy has been one step away from getting into big trouble all day. Something has put him in foul mood. If he’s going to open up to anyone and talk about what’s bothering him, it’s you.

Word Count: 1,547

As usual on Visitation Day, you entered reception, followed the necessary procedures regarding giving contact details and going through security, and sat on a chair in the waiting room. You had your headphones in so you could listen to that song that’s been in your head lately as you zoned out. Suddenly, there was a firm tap on your shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten ya.” You sharply tugged your headphones out, bewildered as to why the Warden was standing in front of you. Once he knew you had recovered from your fright, he adjusted his jacket. “Now I know you’re here to see Yancy, but I was lookin’ for a favour. We’ve had someone alert th’ guards that Yancy’s in peculiar form. Somethin’s been eatin’ at th’ boy, but he’s not willin’ to talk to anyone about it. I was hopin’ you might be able to get him to open up so we can figure out if there’s a way we can help.” Concerned for Yancy, you agree. “Excellent! Just be careful - he’s in pretty foul humour today. We’ll be takin’ precautions so he don’t hurt anyone. Don’t be alarmed when you see him. If you need any help for keepin’ him in line, you just let me know.” He gives you a firm nod, before turning and walking off. It wasn’t long after that before you were called into the visitation room to take your usual seat.

In the many months you’ve been coming here, you had never once seen Yancy in handcuffs until today. He was grumbling under his breath and shot a glare at the guard who had escorted him to you. A vague memory of being told how Yancy was a ‘problematic’ prisoner at times crossed your mind. You had dismissed it at the time, but now you couldn’t help but wonder what he must be like on normal days.

“Oh, don’t gimme that look.” Yancy’s snap dropped you back in the present moment. Even with the handcuffs, his body language was so closed off compared to what it would be normally. It was like he wanted to see you, but didn’t want to be here. Your concern on why he was in handcuffs was met with a scoff. “Oh, yeah, sure. Like the Warden hasn’t told youse I’m a ‘brawl risk’ today an’ that I’m only allowed to see youse ‘cause I didn’t start nothing today.” You never considered yourself anything particularly wonderful when it came to Yancy’s moods, but right now you couldn’t help but feel like you were a minor burden of some sort. If anything, you were almost seen as an enemy. You forced yourself to relax and uncross your arms so you could try and explain to Yancy that you are here because you missed him and you wanted to see how he was doing.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, yeah, sure! So then youse can go snitch to th’ Warden ‘bout me so he finally has an excuse to throw me in Solitary for a week. I’m not an idiot. I know they’s got youse on their side to dig under my skin an’ really piss me off. So why don’t youse do me a favour an’ fuck off?”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you could feel a surge of emotion welling inside. You wanted to cry, you wanted to argue, you wanted to slap him hard. But instead, you rose to your feet and excused yourself for a moment. Yancy’s anger dropped to horror as he realised what he had said, but it was too late. The fear amplified when you returned a few moments later with a guard following you. Already, the familiar panic began to set in his stomach. You had reported him, and now he was going to be punished for that.

Instead, the guard pulled Yancy onto his feet as you announced you both were going outside.

The two of you sat on the bench in the smaller, enclosed rec yard. The guard stood to the side: far enough away to allow the courtesy of a private conversation, but close enough to intercept should Yancy try anything. Several long minutes ticked past as you sat in silence. Yancy was hunched over as he intently stared at the handcuffs like the metal would melt if he didn’t break eye contact. You couldn’t think of anything to lift the mood as you kept your eyes on a cloud passing overhead.

“Look… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean none of what I said.” Yancy’s mumbling finally brought an end to the awkwardness as he lifted his head to look at you. Guilt was clear as day on his face, you realised. “It’s… It’s been a shitty few days. I’ve had an asshole trying to get me to snap an’ blame me for something I didn’t do.” You placed a hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to speak, but only if he wanted to. At first, he said nothing, but a quick shake of his head followed this.

“Today would’ve been my pa’s birthday. It don’t happen too often, but it sometimes falls on Father’s Day. It’s pretty easy for me to block out the dates, but…” He gave such a heavy sigh that his shoulders slumped. “There’s this guy. We call him the Rat. Seen as one of them ‘model prisoners’ by the guards and the Warden, but he’s a piece of shit. When he gets bored, he decides he wants to start a brawl. But he never does it himself. He picks someone an’ whittles ‘em down until they snap. Then they gets in trouble, an’ the Rat gets the brownie points for warning the guards ‘bout it. So guess who is his newest target?” You winced in sympathy. Already, you could see where this was going.

“In a place like this, people get to know why long-term prisoners are here. My crimes ain’t a secret. So last week, Rat comes up to me, an’ starts talkin’ bullshit ‘bout his kids at home. Now, I’ve been in here long enough. I know how he works. So I don’t engage none, like youse told me. I ignored him and let whatever he was saying go past. But ‘cause he wasn’t impressed that I didn’t take the bait, he upped th’ ante. Every time he passed me, he’d drop some fuckin’ comment. Somethin’ ‘bout Father’s Day, or braggin’ to his cronies ‘bout how great it must be to get a care package from a father that cares. I tried. I swear, I tried. But as th’ week went on, it started eatin’ away at me. The gang noticed and did try to help keep him away, an’ it worked - until today. Rat managed to pull me aside after breakfast an’ started this whole fuckin’ rant about how much of a piece of shit I am, an’ how he would’ve preferred my ol’ man killing me instead. Said how my pa might’ve gotten a medal of honour for it too or some shit like that.” Your hand squeezed his shoulder as he spoke. After all this time, the topic of his parents - particularly his father - was one that still provoked him.

“Youse woulda been proud of me. I didn’t do nothing. I wanted to punch him in that smug face and break his damn jaw, but I didn’t. I did like youse said - I balled my hands into fists and counted to ten before going back to my cell. But by th’ time I got there, two guards were there an’ put these handcuffs on me.” His hands moved just enough to make the chain rattle. Then, he gave a hoarse chuckle. “So then I had th’ guards on my back all mornin’ like they was waiting for an excuse to pounce me an’ drag me off as well as Rat an’ his cronies tryin’ to poke at me. An’ then… Just before I was brought into see youse, Rat told me he saw youse talkin’ to the Warden. So then when youse started sayin’ all that stuff earlier… I thought youse was against me too.”

The final confession was enough for you to pull Yancy into a tight hug. You promised you weren’t trying to get Yancy in trouble, and the Warden only spoke to you to warn you that Yancy was in a bad mood. But above all, you were proud of Yancy for staying on higher ground and keeping his temper in check, even if others were trying to egg him on to start a fight. You knew it would likely be a bad idea, but you suggested telling the Warden. He might help diffuse tensions, or at the least, try and keep the pair separated. Yancy’s head dropped to rest on your shoulder with a sigh.

“Yeah, youse is right. I’ll see if I can talk to him when we go back… Can we stay here? Youse managed to get us out here an’ I ain’t ready to go back inside yet.” Not wanting to rush the quiet time either, you agreed with a kiss to his hair. Both of you relaxed into another silence, one that was more tranquil than before.

#writersofmark #visitation day #yancy the prisoner #yancy #x reader #yancy x reader #tw bullying #bullying cw #(if there are any other warning tags I need to add; let me know!)#dramatic prisoner (Yancy)#(Ash tries writing a little angst)#(scheduled post)#(that's right - I actually finished this too early and could schedule it to appear later in the day my time :D )

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takadasaiko · 4 years

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Aftermath (a Veronica Mars one shot)

FFN II AO3

Part of my Spanning Years, Continents series

Notes: I know these one shots were supposed to be movie to the beginning of S4, but this idea popped into my head a while back and I wasn't able to shake it, so here we go. It does take place after the S4 finale, but with the exception of Logan getting to live because I'm not a monster.

Summary: In the aftermath of Epner's last bomb, Logan struggles with recovery and what it cost him.

Aftermath

It wasn't that the waves were much louder on the ground floor than the third, but in the early hours of the morning when the rest of the world was silent, they sounded like they were. It was just one of the many things that Veronica had had to get used to in the new apartment over the course of the last few months. They'd been lucky, she knew, to catch an empty unit a few sections down from their own and on the ground floor so that Logan didn't have to struggle up three flights freshly home from the hospital. He would have given it the same stubborn effort that he'd given everything since the bomb had gone off, leaving him clinging to life without great odds at pulling through. He had, though. Stubbornly. Just like he had stubbornly pushed through surgeries and rehab. She had no doubt that he would have been willing to climb the stairs if that's what had needed to happen, but she hadn't wanted him to.

Anyway, this unit had a washer and dryer, she'd told him when he'd rolled his eyes at her from the hospital bed. It all worked out.

It had nothing to do with the overwhelming fear and guilt she had felt at seeing him lying on the street below their old unit or the fact that every time she risked a glance out their bedroom window she saw it happen all over again. The glass cutting her face and the pressure from the bomb sending her stumbling back. It had sent him flying too, but instead of a bed to catch his fall, he'd been tossed like a ragdoll into the building itself. The collision with the unyielding wall had broken bones and given him a bad concussion while shrapnel had done the rest of the damage. Nearly six months later he still wasn't back up to speed and the doctor warned him that there was a good chance he never would be.

Not that Logan listened to him. That could be for better or worse. The doctors had also told Veronica to make sure her new husband's affairs were in order and he'd proved them wrong there.

Veronica pulled in a deep breath, the sound of the waves doing nothing to lull her back to sleep with those thoughts rattling around in her brain. She turned in the bed, hoping that holding onto him and feeling his steady heartbeat would help ease her nerves, but found only empty space and rumpled sheets on his side. She sat up ramrod straight in the bed they shared, looking around the room still drenched in pre-dawn shadows. "Logan?"

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the bathroom door now connected to their bedroom and, for the first time, she saw the light peeking out from under it. It opened and Logan shot her a curious look. "Hey. You okay?"

Veronica squinted against the fluorescent light shining into the bedroom and Logan seemed to notice as he reached back to switch it off. She watched - noting the very subtle limp that still worked its way into his step some mornings - as he made his way back to the bed and eased himself down. "You okay?" he had asked again, his brows drawn together with the question.

"Yeah. Yes. Just —" Just what? Thought he was really gone? Thought that the last six, nearly seven months had been a kinder dream to replace a realty her mind couldn't accept? It all sounded silly now that she was actually awake, so she forced a smile and rocked forward onto her knees. Her fingers teased at his hairline and the burn scars there, gently guiding him in until he met her halfway for a kiss. She leaned into it, feeling one of his hands against the side of her face and she tilted them both over so that he landed on his back, Veronica leaned over him with an impish smile. There was one way to banish those recurring fears. "I love you," she said firmly.

His thin lips quirked up into that lazy, amused smile she loved and he brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I love you too, but I need to finish getting ready if I'm going to make it down to base by seven."

Her pre-caffeinated brain spun trying to figure out why he needed to be down at the base at all that day before it slammed head first onto the answer. "You have your physical today."

"Yep," he answered, kissing the tip of her nose and his tone a lot cheerier than she would have expected. His last physical had not gone as well as the Navy doctor - or Logan - had hoped. After about a day of moping around the apartment Logan had very pointedly brushed it off as still healing and buckled down to work even harder than before. Wanting it - needing it - had been what had gotten him through ROTC, through OCS, and continuing through one of the toughest military training programs there was, but it might not be enough to keep it now. Veronica had heard his physical therapist remind him the last time she'd picked him up that sometimes there was just no bouncing back to before an injury.

"You want me to go with you?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't read too much into the offer.

"Aren't you working a case?"

He rolled a little and she slid off of him, letting him up. "Yeah, but I can make time if you want me there."

"I'll be okay," he promised, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "How about you make reservations and we'll celebrate good news at dinner tonight?"

"Logan —"

"It's fine. I've got this."

She watched him carefully, and damn it if he hadn't convinced himself of it. She just hoped he was right.

Slowly she unfolded and stood on the bed, stepping to the edge so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and look down on him, her fingers teasing his short hair. She took a breath and went in with him. "Yeah you do. We'll celebrate good news."

"You keep looking at me like that, Mrs Echolls and I'm not gonna make it to base," he muttered, mischief dancing through his eyes.

Veronica snorted and released him. "Then go get 'em, Mr Mars."

And on the heels of a joke they'd held onto throughout his recovery, he turned to finish getting ready to drive down to San Diego.

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

She knew the moment she saw him walk through the office door that the news had been less than he'd hoped for. They canceled the reservations and went home with takeout and a bottle of wine. He didn't talk. No quips, no brushoffs, not even an honest opinion or an explanation of exactly what the doctor had said or what it meant. Veronica didn't know if they were forcing him into retirement - or was it discharging him? She wasn't entirely sure - or if they'd pushed the decision down the line. His squad had already been deployed without him two months earlier - this time for a longer tour - and while she hated the idea of him shipping out to join them, the idea of him losing the job he loved so much - because of hers, the pesky thought tried to push its way to the forefront - wasn't any better. Sure, he'd be safer, but he loved what he did. He'd tried to describe the way it felt to fly his jet to her one time. The rush of an aerial dogfight, the thrill of hitting supersonic, and the way he could trust that his Wizzo Dave Riley had his back, both literally and figuratively. Even when his duties had shifted in the last couple of years and he found himself with boots on the ground from time to time, the people he trusted were right there with him. "They're family," he'd explained one time and she knew what that meant to him.

Now she was afraid that he'd lost that and she had no idea what to say. She'd never been particularly good at finding the right words to fill the awkward silence following a disaster she couldn't fix. She was good in a fight. She was good on a case. Something winnable. This…. she couldn't do anything for him besides be there and support him, but that never felt like enough. Too often she brushed past, opting instead to focus on anything tangible, but not here. She couldn't do that to him here.

Logan had barely touched the slice of pizza sitting in front of him, but his wine glass was almost empty. Veronica reached over to the bottle and poured the same amount she tended to reserve for his impromptu deployments: up to the lip of the glass. He shot her a look at that and she shrugged, finally pulling a mirthless snort that was close to a chuckle as he was capable of giving her in that moment. He reached over and she took his hand readily, feeling his fingers close around hers, his wedding band cool against her skin. He heaved a sigh, squaring his shoulders a little as he started to speak. "You know, right after I woke up in the hospital my first thought was shit, I bet that explosion just fucked my hearing. Woulda grounded me instantly."

"You got cleared on that three visits ago," Veronica murmured.

"Right? Didn't lose a limb, didn't damage my eyes or ears. I was lucky. I know I was lucky." She shifted on the bar stool and reached up tentatively, her freehand resting on his thigh. He tried for a smile and failed miserably. "I just couldn't pass the physical."

The words were like a knife to the gut and Veronica tightened her hold with both hands, feeling his own fingers around hers and he squeezed his eyes shut. He was done. They were taking his wings. They were taking the thing from him that had helped him find purpose in and that he'd devoted his adult life to.

She had taken it.

Veronica scooted off the stool and wrapped her arms around him, her forehead pressed against his arm as hot tears streaked down her cheeks. She felt as much as she heard him choke back a sob as he reached to hold onto her arm, his entire body trembling under the strain of it all. He'd fought so hard, but even he couldn't fight hard enough to win this one.

"I'm so sorry," she heard herself say, the words tumbling out again and again, faster and more desperate each time until he turned on his seat and suddenly he was standing there, his arms around her too and pulling her in.

He didn't say anything and her apologies eventually dwindled to get swallowed up by the sobs that still shook her. She felt his hand tangled in her hair, though, stroking it gently and he had her pulled close in that way that had always been meant to comfort. Even now, even after being responsible for this, he was trying to comfort her in whatever way he could manage. It wasn't fair.

She felt him pull in an unsteady breath and kiss the side of her head before leaning back. His eyes were rimmed red, the lines in his face a little deeper than usual with the strain of trying to hold himself together. "Veronica," he said firmly, even if his voice was rough. He waited until she met his gaze. "This is not your fault."

"Bullshit," she managed and swallowed hard, determined not to let another wave of sobs break free. "He was after me and he nearly killed you. I knew. Back in college I knew how dangerous this was. It's why I left. It's why I didn't come back until…"

"Till I asked you to."

"I knew this job was dangerous. Not just for me, but for everyone around me. Everyone I love. I went back to it anyway. I could have used my degree at a firm in San Diego or LA and lived here, but I was….so selfish. I knew I was putting everyone -" No, that's not right, Mars. If you're going to start, you better damn well own it."That I was putting you in danger. I did it anyway. I did this."

"No," he choked out, fresh tears building in his brown eyes and she hated that even now he was trying to defend her.

"This is my fault!" she shouted and lost the battle with her own will as she folded forward, unable to drag in enough air to satisfy her lungs.

He pulled her back in and held her close. "Don't ever apologize to me for being who you are. You're good at what you do and I…. I wish it weren't as dangerous as it is. You know I wish it wasn't, but that's for you. What happened to me is Epner's fault, not yours." She felt his finger under her chin, guiding her to look at him again. "You hear me?"

"Yeah," she said smally.

"You believe me?"

"I want to."

That pulled the tiniest of smiles from him and he leaned forward, kissing her forehead. "I love you. The Navy was everything once, but you…. I love you. I've loved you over half my life."

Veronica sniffed hard. "What now?"

He leaned down, catching her lips with his like that was his answer, and the moment she kissed him back he was lifting her off the floor. Veronica wrapped her legs around him and she could taste their tears in the kiss as he carried her back to the bedroom. He wasn't going to magically be okay with losing his career just like she wasn't going to instantly be able to - appropriately or not - redistribute the guilt she was feeling onto Penn Epner, but she could be there for him. And maybe, in time, she'd find a way to be a little better at that.

---------

The world didn't stop just because Logan felt like it should have. There were things to do, papers to sign, and - worst of all - a call he dreaded making. Thankfully he managed to hold it together on the Skype call with his squad, even if Riley of all people looked on the verge of breaking down. Riles wasn't the only one that reminded him that just because he didn't ship out with them didn't make him any less their family or them his.

Veronica spent the first few days after he got the news close by. She didn't ask him to talk about it, but listened when he wanted to . Even that couldn't go on forever, though, and eventually she started slipping out to the office. The bombing case had put Mars Investigation on the map even outside of Neptune and calls were coming in from all of the country. She wasn't taking anything out of town just yet, but Keith wasn't able to carry to load himself, even with the adjustment to his medication that had helped his memory issues. It was fine. Probably better than fine. Hopefully it meant that she was starting to accept that this really wasn't her fault.

Logan wasn't sure how long a person was supposed to take to mourn the loss of their career, but he was pretty sure he was due at least a few more days of moping. Dick hadn't agreed with him on that and had shown up on his doorstep with a surfboard and a chest full of beer that morning to drag him out to the beach. Well, it had always helped him clear his head when he was younger.

It was bordering on noon when he and Dick trudged their way back to where they'd left their things to find Veronica had brought her own beach towel and was stretched out with a magazine on cameras. She flashed him a bright smile. "Hiya, handsome."

"Always knew you had a thing for me, Ronnie," Dick chirped at his side and Logan rolled his eyes, elbowing the other man in the ribs.

"Hey. You calling it a day already? Careful, or someone's going to accuse you of keeping '09er hours."

"Well, I did marry one," she answered him with a wink.

Dick snorted and Logan elbowed him again before he had a chance to add to his earlier comment. He feigned injury. "That's what I get for trying to cheer you up, man."

Logan's lips stretched into an almost-smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Dick turned his attention back to Veronica. "You got him?"

"I do indeed," she answered cheerfully and popped to her feet. "You -" she directed at Logan this time - "go hop through the shower, then I'm kidnapping you."

"What for?"

"You'll see."

He glanced at Dick, looking for any hint he might give, and the blond shrugged.

"You think I'm dumb enough to give him details?" his wife laughed. "C'mon. We're on the clock."

Logan gave up trying to figure it out and did as he was told. Twenty minutes later he was showered and dressed, being ushered out to the convertible he'd bought four months before when he'd been cleared to drive again and it became clear that Veronica couldn't continue giving up her car or all of her time to make sure he made all of his doctors' appointments. He tried to swipe the keys from her, but she just smirked as she hopped into the driver's seat. "You don't know where we're going."

"Would if you'd tell me."

"Where's the fun in that?"

They worked their way through the back roads and he could tell she was trying to throw him off, but he knew the town too well and recognized the roundabout path she was taking to the private airport on the edge of town that Duncan's family used to fly their private plane out of. He didn't bother asking why, but settled into the passenger seat a little deeper and tried to push back the twinge of pain that the roar of a Gulfstream climbing overhead stirred in him.

"Veronica…" he started, suddenly finding himself utterly sapped of energy and wanting nothing more than to go home. They had come out here over the years and watched the planes coming and going. Veronica didn't get nearly as much out of it as he did, but he had loved to go on and on about them, always teasing her that he was going to buy some little single engine one day. She had rolled her eyes at him and told him not to even try it. He'd come close a couple of times, but the judgement would have been strong if he had.

"Trust me?"

He sighed, giving her a sharp nod.

They pulled around towards the hanger and parked off to the side. Veronica kept glancing at him, like she was constantly trying to gauge his mood. He could have saved her some time if she'd just asked: worse by the minute. "I'm really not in the mood to watch them."

"Good, because I thought you might want to fly one." She motioned to where a late 90's model Bonanza sat out on the runway. "You said that you can still fly, just not like the Navy needs you to be able to. I did some research and talked to Riley to make sure I understood everything correctly. He said you had gotten certified in a Bonanza several years ago and all you'd need to do to… re-certify?"

"Get current," he corrected and she nodded.

"Right, that's what he called it."

"Yeah, I just have to do what they call touch-and-goes. Three take offs and landings."

"Super easy, right?"

"Yeah." He felt his lips quirk upward despite his best efforts. "How long do we have her?"

"Unless Riley lied to me and you don't really love this model…. as long as you want?"

Logan stared at her. "You bought me a plane?"

"Well, technically, you bought you a plane, but apparently that marriage certificate means that your finance guy was willing to listen to the crazy idea and set everything up." The beautiful blue gaze of her latched onto him and Logan felt his heart stutter in his chest. "I know it's not a Hornet and I know it won't go mach… whatever, but you'll be in the air." He wasn't sure what his face was doing, but apparently it caught her by surprise. "Shit… do you hate? Is it too soon? I just -"

He leaned in, the kiss cutting off whatever she was going to say and he lifted her up off the ground and spun her a little before letting her feet drop back down and begrudgingly releasing her. Oh. That's it, he realized as he blinked through blurred vision. Tears could definitely give the wrong impression. "I love it," he swore. "It's perfect."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No. You wanna go up?"

She flashed him a bright smile. "See you fly first hand? Absolutely. I think we have to talk to the guy in the office before we just take off in it though."

"Probably so," Logan chuckled and caught her hand in his, pulling it up to press a quick kiss to her knuckles before starting into the hanger. The aftermath of the bombing, recovery, and his eventual medical discharge had been more than he could have ever handled alone, but he had her. Through all of it and for whatever came next. They'd figure it out together.

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

Notes: So, fun fact: my dad has been a pilot all my life and when I was little (and it didn't break the bank to do it) he used to rent Bonanzas to fly us to different places. I have some very early and very fond memories of those flights, so when I needed a single engine for Logan to be certified in, that was my go-to.

#Veronica Mars #Logan Echolls #VM fix it fic #veronica mars fanfic

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deaddovecoterie · 3 years

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thanks for letting me vent. so I've had a lot going on and I don't know how much I'll actually end up saying. this past week has seen me on cloud nine absolutely euphoric while simultaneously being super stressed about school. I found my first love and my favorite person. It was the best of times. the person then figured out a bit about themselves and that realization made us not work. first love and first heartbreak 6 days apart. who woulda guessed? I was sad that it was over, but we were on good terms and still planned on being friends. I took a lot of time that day to process my thoughts. I had just painted my nails for them earlier that day and was loving it. then it came down gently. the person was upset with themselves about it, said they felt terrible for the way things went, but I wasn't upset. I couldn't be, I loved this person and planned on telling them such soon. I wasn't upset, but they seemed to blame themselves nonetheless. they had been having a bad day that day. I fear it only made things worse. I wasn't upset with them in any way, especially because they said we would remain friends. I wasn't that sad because its not like I lost someone, we were still gonna be friends. I put a lot of effort into determining how I felt over the next several hours, and between that and the school stress I was exhausted, so I turned in for the night a few hours earlier than normal, and posted that I was doing as such because "today was a lot for me and I just want it to end" and then when I woke up they had blocked me. I'm worried it was my fault. I think they thought they had upset me or something, or they thought I was trying to guilt them, or that they felt bad about it like they had done something wrong. but they didn't do anything wrong, I don't blame them for what happened, I'm not upset about anything. but now I'm kinda hurt because they said we would be friends and now they have me blocked. I guess I just want to know if they're okay and I want to make sure I didn't do anything wrong. I'm sure they had a valid reason, but I can't help but think that I must've done something wrong. I miss them and I at the very least want to assure them that I don't blame them and that they did nothing wrong and that none of this was their fault. thanks for letting me vent. sorry that this got so long. I will let you post this if you feel you want to respond, or don't. its honestly your call. you might even have a good idea as to who I am, and thats okay. you can address me if you feel you want to, feel free to let this just chill or even delete if you want to.

i originally wasn’t gonna answer this cause there’s just to much to unpack, but that’s also exactly why i’m responding to this

to be honest i do have some idea who this is and you’re obviously on anon for a reason so i won’t bother trying to follow up with who this is. that being said, because i think i know, i’m aware of the situation so hopefully you’ll read this and realize a few things

let’s start from the beginning i guess? first of all, i personally don’t think it’s possible to fall in love with someone in 6 days, especially someone you met on the internet. by the sounds of it you have no prior relationship experience which is likely why this didn’t work out for you but i’ll get to that later. your first mistake (from what i know) was that you were too clingy. it sounds like you smothered them and let them have little to no breathing room which, undoubtedly, make them feel trapped and pushed into a corner when you guys weren’t even official. it sounds like there was miscommunication on your end since they seemed to try and express where they stood (but they didn’t feel heard). this is the tricky part for me to get into because how i feel about this is clearly different than how you feel but that’s cause i’m not an emotional person when it comes to these things. i don’t want to invalidate your feelings because that would be unfair of me but i’m saying this as more of a reality check for you so here it is:

you guys weren’t even official. you were talking for 6 days and hadn’t even began to start dating. it sounds like you need to check yourself and your emotions because if this is how you deal with “heartbreak” after 6 days of only talking then you’re in trouble if you ever get dumped after being in a long term relationship. you need to learn how to respect boundaries and stop contacting their friends when they’ve made it obvious they no longer with to interact with you (i.e. literally blocking you)

anyway, to continue- though i can’t speak for them directly i know that this person doesn’t really blame themselves 😐 they knew boundaries had been pushed that they weren’t okay with and knew it was coming to an end for multiple reasons. you were moving way too fast and didn’t seem to understand that telling someone you l*ve them that soon is unbelievably abnormal and not something you say that early on. you were blocked because you apparently didn’t know how to handle something as insignificant as this and lingered on it and seemed to be partaking in a multi-day-long pity party instead of moving on. your heart was in the right place trying to support them but you were being overbearing and not letting them have any breathing room. they don’t blame themselves cause they didn’t do anything wrong from my pov to be completely honest. it’s hard to be friends with someone after that when they can’t seem to let go and move on. so that’s why

hope this gave u some clarity and shed some light on it for you (pls like this so i know you’ve seen it and can delete it)

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twinklecheeks · 5 years

Text

Friends With Benefits (Jeff Wittek Imagine) Part 2

Summary: Jeff and Y/N have been hooking up for a while. The whole vlog squad assumes they’re dating and Y/N does too but Jeff doesn’t like labels. He eventually starts to express interest in Natalie.

Note: Planning on making this a multiple part series, depending on how good it does. You’re 21 & Latina in this (maybe) series. Also, I’d like to apologize for the typos, if there is any. I’m just illiterate lmao.

Warnings! pregnancy, abortion? mentions of sex.

Part 1

Word Count: 2.4k

Y/n doesn’t know what to do. A million scenarios were going on in your head. “What if I tell him and he doesn’t want it? What if I never tell him and I get an abortion? I mean my body, my choice, right? What if I leave youtube, pull off a Kylie Jenner and reveal it to the world when it’s born? What if I put it up for adoption? Would I choose a closed adoption or an open adoption?” As all these scenarios are running through your head, the doctor asks if you want pictures. “Ummm yeah sure.” This just feels like a nightmare to y/n. The doctor is ready to discharge you and you take an uber home. You feel a buzz in your pocket and it was a text from David. “Hey you should come over and film tonight. We’re messing around with helium and stuff that messes with your voice.” You were about to say yes until you remembered that you were with child. Helium is probably not the best for pregnancy…. “Sorry I can’t come today. Not feeling too well.” “Damn maybe tomorrow. I pulled a prank of Jason’s new tesla and I need some reactions.” “Sure, I’ll be there.” You finally arrive home and you just feel super overwhelmed. Your anxiety already fucks with you at random times and now add the pregnancy hormones, that just sounds like a recipe for disaster. You decide to text Carly and Erin in y’alls gc. They have basically been you best friends since you’ve been a part of the vlog squad but you don’t know if they’ll be pissed once you reveal your secret relationship w/ Jeff. “Heyy, can you guys come over rn? I have to tell you guys a secret and you’re the only people I can trust at the moment.” Erin: “Sure. Well be there in like an hour or so. Carly and I are filming a bit with David. Probably won’t take long.” “Okay great. See you later.” Carly reads the messages from her phone and whispers “sounds serious, what do you think she’s gonna tell us?” “I don’t know. Just hope she isn’t dying or something.”

You say to yourself, “Since Carly and Erin are gonna be here in an hour, I should get pregnancy tests from the store. Just hope no fans recognize me.” You try to dress incognito and you remembered you had some expensive ass wigs in you closet (you’re a boujee ass college student lol) Once you glue the wig on, you get in your tesla (like the tesla Carly has) and you head to target. You have your hood up and sunglasses on like you’re some sort of fbi agent or something. You head to the aisle the pregnancy tests are in and see the condoms right by there and you mumble to yourself “if you woulda just taken the time to come to target and buy those, you wouldn’t be in this mess you dumb bitch.” You grab a couple of the electronic pregnancy tests cause like my bio says “i radiate dumb bitch energy.” You get home, take off the wig and read the text that says they’re 5 minutes away.

*Carly and Erin pov*

“How much you wanna bet that she has a thing for someone in the squad.” “CARLY.”

*Y/n pov*

You hear a knock at the door “heyyy” you say in an awkward tone. Erin sees the hospital bracelets on your wrist. “Oh god you are dying” Y/n: “ERIN WHAT THE- NO ARE YOU CRAZY” All of you head to the couch and you have a hard time telling them so you say it really fast “SooooIjustfoundouti’mpregantandyou’regonnabeauntsmaybe.” Carly didn’t catch any of that but all Erin heard were the two big words. Both of them start screaming out stuff like “YOU’RE PREGNANT” “WHAT” “WHO’S IS IT.” Y/n: “Okay okay okay. I’m gonna tell you guys everything.” So you ended up telling them the saga of you and Jeff’s relationship. Carly: “ITS. JEFF’S.” Y/n:“That’s all you have to say?” Erin: “You have to take another test. This can’t be right.” You go to the bathroom and 5 minutes later, the test says ‘pregnant.’ Erin: “ummm how about you go to a doctor so they can run some tests.” Y/n:“I already got a blood test done in the ER. Nothing is more accurate than a blood test.” Carly: “when are you due.” Y/n:“Early April I think.” Erin:“So you’re not gonna make it to my wedding?” Y/n:“Oh shit you get married in April. Dammit.” Carly: “So what are you gonna do?” Y/n:“I honestly have no idea. I just feel like he’s gonna deny everything and say its not his. He’s the only guy I’ve been sleeping w/ since New Years.” Erin: “well, whatever you decide, we’ll support you. Hopefully I’ll have a newborn baby to be my ring bearer or flower girl.” You smiled just thinking about that. Before you knew it, It started to get dark and both of them left. You didn’t want to be alone tonight, so you decided to facetime one of your other best friends. Y/n:“Hey Stass. You wanna have a girl’s night? Stassie: Sorry, I’m already having a girl’s night at Kylie’s house. You hear Kylie yell in the background “YOU CAN COME TO MY HOUSE.” Y/n: “Thanks, I’ll be there in a bit.” Two years ago, you would’ve never thought that you’d be friends with Kylie Jenner. You two hit it off when she invited the vlog squad to a roller rink to celebrate her becoming a billionaire.

You arrived at her mansion, finding both of them upstairs sitting on the floor in the nursery, playing with Stormi. You’re thinking about telling Kylie and ask her for advice. She’d completely understand; she had a baby at 20 and the whole world had eyes on her not knowing whether she was or wasn’t pregnant. You don’t mind if Stass knows because she helped keep Kylie’s pregnancy a secret, so you know she won’t tell anyone. Y/n:“I have to talk to you guys about something.” Kylie: “Sure. About what?” Y/n:“I’m pregnant.” Kylie and Stass: “YOU’RE WHAT.” Y/n:“Why is it so surprising that I’m pregnant.” Kylie: “who’s is it.” Stass: “it’s probably Jeff’s.” Your eyes go wide as she said that, Stass: “and just by the look on your face, you just confirmed it.” Kylie: “is Jeff the fit one with the New York accent?” “Yeah.” Kylie: “Ooooo he’s hot. So what about pregnancy did you wanna talk about?” Before you ask about pregnancy, you had to tell the whole saga for the second time today. Y/n:“I just don’t know what I should do. How did you feel when you found out?” Kylie: “well, I was shocked at first but then I got excited. Did I plan on getting pregnant so young? No. But I know I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Yeah, motherhood came earlier than expected but I honestly can’t imagine my life without Stormi. Hiding it from the public wasn’t easy but I’m lucky that I had people I could trust to hide my secret. And if Jeff doesn’t accept the baby as his, then screw him. He’ll look like the asshole for leaving. So what do you want to do?” Y/n:“I think I want to keep it a secret but that gonna be really hard because 1. I’m a youtuber and people are gonna see me gain weight, 2. I’m a college student and I have to go on campus for classes. Stass: “Can you look and see if they’re offering online courses for the classes you need to take?” Y/n:“Probably but I don’t want to die of boredom and stay in my house all the time.” Kylie: “I didn’t stay in my house all the time. I just had a lot of security around me 24/7. I bought more cars and switched between them all the time so the paparazzi would be confused. I made sure to wear baggy clothes all the time. I really didn’t start to show that much until I was almost 5 months pregnant.” Y/n:“I’d be 5 months by the time the semester ends for winter break. Should I risk it? Kylie: “I don’t know. Every body is different.” Y/n:“Thanks for the advice Ky.” Kylie: “No problem. You can always come to me for baby advice. I can help you prep. Stormi might not be right baby to start off practicing with but you’re lucky Kim just had a baby in May.” Y/n:“Are you sure she’d be okay with you borrowing Psalm to teach me how to be a mom?” Kylie: “Are you kidding. She’d love it. She has 4 kids under 6 years old. She needs a break. Oh and when it’s time to find out the gender, you HAVE to let me plan the gender reveal and baby shower.” Y/n:“haha okay.” Kylie then takes a vid of y’all playing with Stormi and posts it on her insta story captioning it ‘girls night❤️’

You wake up the next morning not feeling great at all. Kylie: “Drink ginger ale or really bitter lemonade. It helped me with my morning sickness.” Y/n:“Thanks. I should get going. I have to get to class in a couple of hours. I’ll text you later.” Kylie & Stass: “call us as soon as you figure out what you’re gonna do” Y/n:“k, bye”

Y/n talking to herself while driving home:

It probably wasn’t the best decision telling 4 people that I’m pregnant cause I’m not past the 1st trimester yet but I just couldn’t keep it in. I had to vent to someone! I’m scared of telling Jeff but I’m 1000x times more scared of telling my parents. When should I tell them? I mean, I’m flying to Seattle next month for a couple days for my moms birthday…. is that a bad time to tell them both?? I mean, my mom has been begging for grandchildren for the past couple of years. There was one time in high school where I was typing an essay in my room and my mom randomly comes in and says “mija, cuando tu tienes un hijo, nombrarlo después de mí” like who tf says that to a 17 year old? What was I gonna do today? I have class later but- Oh shit. I said I was going to David’s today to film a prank reaction. I hope I don’t have to be in the same clip as Jeff. Luckily your class is only an hour long and so you got home, quickly showered and went to class.

As you got out of class, you hear a ding from your phone. David: “Are you on you way?” Y/n:“Yeah I’m like 30 minutes away.” As you’re driving down David’s street, you see 4 people. David, Jason’s mom, Erin and?.... Of course it would be Jeff. You get out of your tesla and David is getting the camera ready. He opens the gate and you see Jason dressed as Carmelita, showing his genitals all over the car. Everybody is screaming. “NOOOOO OH MY GOD” Jeff: “HOW CAN YOU SHOW THAT TO HIS MOTHER?” Jason’s mom is laughing hysterically. After a couple of minutes, he stopped recording and invited us all in. You haven’t been to David’s house since the incident with Jeff but you were acting as if nothing happened. You were just acting really quiet around Jeff because you’re literally pregnant with his child and have no idea how to tell him. Jeff: “Hey y/n haven’t seen you around lately” all you said was ‘hey” while looking at your phone. Jeff: “What you’re not even gonna look at me? You think cause you’re hanging out with Kylie Jenner, you’re too good for us?” Y/n: “Us? You’re literally making no fucking sense rn, I’ve talked and hung out with everyone except you. Plus why would you care? You kicked me to the curb like I was a piece of trash. Not sorry that I wanna be treated right.” Jeff pulls you to the backyard. Y/n:“Get the fuck off me” Jeff: “why the fuck are you acting like this?” Y/n:“like what? A person who’s finally standing up for herself? I don’t need you and why would you care what i’m doing? Last thing I remember is that you’re with Natalie. I hope you treating her like an actual person, unlike how you treated me. Playing around and fucking me like I was you’re toy.” Jeff: “You consented.” Y/n:“Yeah but now I realize I was dumb as fuck saying yes so many times.” At this moment, you were contemplating whether you should just tell him. You were about to tell him until the last sentence he said left you livid. Jeff: “You said yes cause you were desperate sweetheart. You fucked like a whore. I probably wasn’t the only one you were sleeping with.�� At this point, you just wanted to run him over with a car. You didn’t want to be the stereotypical raging Latina so all you said as you were walking away was “Goodbye Jeff.” You didn’t even turn around. Everybody in the house from David, Jason’s mom and Erin heard every single word. On the drive home you made your decision. You’re not telling Jeff it’s his and you’re raising this baby alone. Since you’re still in the first trimester, you’ll keep it to yourself just a little bit longer before you tell the rest of the vlog squad.

*One Month later*

Y/n is officially past the 1st trimester. I’m now 13 weeks. You look in the mirror and see a tiny little bump forming. You telling your parents last week wasn’t the best… Your mom was excited but disappointed; your dad couldn’t even look at you. Your older siblings stuck by you. But now that you have the biggest obstacle out of the way, you have to tell the vlog squad... I wonder how this will go...

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

I’m surprised at how many people liked chapter 1! It was confusing for me switching back from saying you & y/n but I think I did better in this part. Oh and I’m not sure if I’ll be writing as much as I am in the future. I think the minimum will be 1k words but I’ll probably write more than that.

Oh and just a heads up, I’m starting school at the end of the month! I’ll try to release as many chapters as I can write in the next 3 weeks.

Taglist: @elvlogsquad @siemprestan @zavidzobrik @irisindigonightmare

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anistarrose · 5 years

Text

Stan and Ford Vs. The Future - Chapter 3

Summary: Tensions rise between the young and old twins as they’re tried for their time travel crimes, but Stan has a plan to fix everything.

Warnings: none this chapter

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/17353937/chapters/53190085

…Well, that sure was quite a hiatus, wasn’t it? Oops! Let’s just not think about that too much and hop right back into the story. (Or reread the previous chapters either on AO3 or in my “safvtf au” tag on Tumblr, because I can see why a refresher might be useful.)

But anyways, this is for @stanuary Week 3: AU!

***

Stan’s hands are cuffed in front of him, and he stays close by Ford’s side as they’re marched into the arena with time cops flanking them. Their older selves lag behind at the end of the procession, refusing to make eye contact with each other, and young Stan’s not sure if that makes him feel better or worse than the glares the elder twins were exchanging earlier.

Their expressions are hard to read. The older Ford looks like he can’t make up his mind between feeling furious and feeling guilty, and the older Stan looks like he’s concentrating extremely hard on not letting his emotions show on his face at all.

At least the younger Ford, for his part, seems less and less upset by the minute. He’s staring at the matches ongoing in the arena with starry eyes, not so much captivated by the violence itself as much as the holographic weapons and alien monsters that the combatants are doing battle with. (And Stan has to admit, the laser guns do look pretty cool.)

“Halt, time criminals!” one of the time cops barks as they approach the stands. The older Ford is so lost in thought that he keeps walking and nearly bumps into young Stan in front of him, but the time cop sticks out a baton to stop him. “You will now await trial!”

“We’re awaiting trial, but we’re already criminals?” the younger Ford asks, and the older Ford snaps back to awareness, giving his young self an approving nod. “What happened until innocent until proven guilty?”

“You’re guilty until proven innocent in the future times!” another cop shouts with inexplicable enthusiasm. “There are also wars raging, species going extinct every day, and powerful politicians committing crimes without facing any significant consequences! Isn’t it fantastic?”

“So, what year is it now?” the younger Stan asks. “Wait, no, lemme guess. 2020?”

“You couldn’t be more wrong — it’s 207̃012! We’re approaching the bisñentennial anniversary of our supreme overlord Time Baby’s ascension to the high chair!”

The older Ford sighs. “I was never especially optimistic about the state of the justice system in the future, but this is worse than I’d feared.”

“I feel like we really glossed over that ‘supreme overlord Time Baby’ thing,” the older Stan says. “What the hell is a Time Baby?”

The audience begins to roar with excitement, and a column of neon purple light illuminates in front of them. A massive silhouette materializes within, and as the light fades, the figure becomes visible — a colossal infant with a glowing green hourglass symbol on his head, floating in a metallic seat equipped with proportionally sized teething toys.

“That, I’m assuming, is a Time Baby,” says the older Ford.

Older Stan groans. “Gee, you REALLY THINK SO?! I sure am glad I have my GENIUS BROTHER here with me, ‘cause I don’t know how dumb ol’ Stanley EVER woulda figured that one out for himself!!”

Young Ford scoots a little closer to his brother — the one his age, not the one he barely recognizes. Still clinging to optimism, he whispers: “Maybe that big baby will help us fix whatever got messed up in the timeline to make us turn out like this?”

“Maybe,” Stan whispers back. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”

Time Baby burps, drenching several dozen unfortunate audience members, and fixes his eyes on the younger twins.

“YOU TWO ARE ANOMALIES DISTORTING THE TIMELINE AND THREATENING TO UPSET YOUR CORRECT FUTURES,” he booms. “MY RULING IS AS FOLLOWS: YOUR MINDS WILL BE WIPED AND YOU WILL BE SENT BACK TO YOUR CORRECT CENTURY. THEN, WITH NO MEMORY OF THESE EVENTS, YOU WILL FOLLOW THE PRE-EXISTING TIME STREAM TO BECOME THE FUTURE SELVES STANDING BEHIND YOU TODAY.”

Time Baby doesn’t say so, but all young Stan hears is you’ll become a person who wants nothing to do with your brother.

The older Stan gestures between himself and the older Ford. “But hey, at least we’ll be free to go, right?” he asks in a tone that suggests he knows it won’t be that simple.

“OF COURSE NOT. WE CAN IMPRISON THE TWO OF YOU —” Time Baby points at the older twins, “— WITHOUT CREATING A PARADOX, SO YOU WILL SERVE PENANCE FOR YOUR CRIMES BOTH PAST AND PRESENT! SPECIFICALLY —”

He begins to count one by one using his fingers. “ONE — TWO — THREE — FOUR — FIVE LIFE SENTENCES EACH!”

“But that’s not fair!” young Stan shouts. “We weren’t trying to cause any paradoxes, I swear! You think — you think I wanted to come to the future and see me and my brother shouting about how much we hate each other? You think I wanted to know that’s all I have waiting for me when I grow up?”

“Stanley…” the older Ford interrupts, but young Stan ignores him.

“I hate this future! I never would’ve come here if I knew what I was doing!” He’s getting a little teary-eyed, and he hopes he can blame it on the arena’s bright neon lights if anyone asks.

“And if I didn’t have to grow up,” he adds softly, “I never would.”

“It’s going to be okay, Stan,” young Ford whispers. Still constrained by handcuffs, he awkwardly rummages through his pockets. “Look, I have an idea…”

He manages to retrieve the broken time tape, the source of all their troubles, and holds it as high as he can for Time Baby to see. “Look at this! We only got into this mess in the first place because we unintentionally stumbled across this thing — and it’s got your hourglass symbol on it, just like tapes that the officers who arrested us wear!”

A hush falls over the arena, and Ford crosses his arms as best he can in the handcuffs, smiling smugly. “Esteemed Supreme Ruler Time Baby, if your incompetent employees hadn’t lost this tape where two innocent, oblivious twelve-year-old kids could find it, none of this would’ve happened. So why don’t you throw them in jail instead of us? And maybe also erase their memories instead of ours, just for good measure?”

A blue-green tractor beam extends from the hourglass on Time Baby’s forehead, levitating the time tape out of Ford’s hands and into the air. The portrait of an officer is holographically displayed, depicting him wearing goggles and smiling uncomfortably.

“BLENDIN BLENJAMIN BLANDIN, OWNER OF THIS TAPE, WILL BE DISCHARGED FROM DUTY,” Time Baby announces. “BUT MY RULING FOR THE FOUR OF YOU STILL STANDS. NOW STOP WITH THESE APPEALS SO I CAN GET TO MY NAP, OR I MIGHT GET VERY CRANKY.”

“What?” young Ford cries. “How can you say that? Stan meant what he said — we didn’t know we were messing with a time machine! We only —”

“What about trial by combat?” old Ford interrupts, prompting his fellow prisoners to gasp as the audience chatters excitedly. “You do offer trial by combat here, correct?”

For the first time since his arrival, Time Baby smiles.

“Whoever invokes Globnar upon a competitor of their choosing shall not be denied!” one of the time cops recites. “The winner will be granted a Time Wish — the power to alter time free of paradoxes — and will also get to choose the loser’s fate!”

“It’s usually total erasure from existence via painful vaporization,” another cop chimes in.

“But be warned,” the first cop continues, “many games of Globnar have no winner at all because no one survives! The time trials will be fierce, thrilling, and often deadly! But you may select any opponent or opponents you desire from any moment in history, as long as you can explain why they’ve wronged you — so if you don’t fear complete existential obliteration, then have at it and name your challenger!”

Old Stan grabs his brother by the shoulders. “Are you seriously thinking about challenging our kid selves to a death match?”

“Obviously I wouldn’t be challenging the kids!” old Ford shoots back. “There are a million more strategically viable choices, for one thing —”

As the older twins continue to squabble, young Stan and young Ford exchange a look.

“Ford, do you trust me?” Stan asks.

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s the craziest idea you’ve ever had,” Ford replies. “But of course I trust you. I’d follow you to the end of time itself.”

“Then let’s do this.” Stan grabs Ford’s hand, and with his free arm, points to their older selves. “Hey, older me! Older Ford! We invoke Globnar on you!”

The audience goes wild with feral roars and deafening applause.

“What?!” old Stan gasped. “Why us? Why not Crampelter, or any of your math teachers? How have we wronged you?”

“By ruining my friendship with my brother, you jerk!” young Stan shouts back. “I’m not you, and I’m never gonna become anything like you, ‘cause when I get that Time Wish I’m gonna make sure my Ford and I never grow up!”

The older Ford stares at his young self in shock. “You can’t possibly be okay with this, can you, Stanford?”

Young Ford scowls. “You would’ve erased my mind, and set me down the same path as you took all those years ago! I don’t know what mistakes you made with your life, but you clearly messed up somewhere — and if not growing up means I won’t make those mistakes for myself, then you know what? I think I’m alright with that!”

The old Ford flinches. He opens his mouth to reply, but can’t put a single counterargument into words.

“ONE GLOBNAR IS INVOKED, IT CANNOT BE TAKEN BACK! ARGUING IS FUTILE!” Time Baby declares. “BOTH TEAMS WILL HAVE ONE MINUTE TO DISCUSS STRATEGY. THAT TIME STARTS NOW!”

***

The young and old twins are separated as walls out of the floor, surrounding each pair. The arena’s screen displays a countdown clock accurate to the microsecond, and the crowd claps and shouts in sync with the flashing numbers. Their intensity grows as the timer falls, and more and more people join in the chant.

“So, when we win that time wish, are you still gonna be singing the praises of memory erasing?” the old Stan asks, shouting in order to make himself heard over the roar of the crowd. “Or have you got a different plan?”

Slumping against one of the walls, Ford groans — or at least, Stan assumes from his expression that he’s groaning. The pregame cheering has grown deafening.

“I — look, I don’t know! Probably not, if we don’t have to worry about time paradoxes at all! I need to ask for more clarification about how that works — but right now, the both of us should be more concerned with making sure those kids don’t win eternal youth and possibly erase us from existence altogether!”

“You really think we’d do that?!”

“You saw yourself!” Ford shouts back, expression grim. “You hated our future!”

“I still hate what happened to the two of us,” Stan blurts out before he can stop himself, but Ford doesn’t seem to hear, cupping a hand to his ear and squinting at Stan in confusion.

Before Stan can decide whether it’s a blessing or a curse, the countdown reaches zero and a shrill alarm bell begins to ring. The walls retract back into the floor, everyone’s handcuffs shatter, and an eerie silence fills the stadium for just a second, though the spectators remain tense with anticipation.

Then, Time Baby breaks that silence and bellows:

“LET GLOBNAR BEGIN!”

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #time baby #safvtf au #stanuary #rosalia writes fic

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 019 [Coming Clean]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,638

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“If I could just control my mind, I wouldn’t need to run and hide. If I could show you all inside, then you would know what hell is like.” Nevertel, “Down”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“I really have gotten weaker. Back in my heyday, five hits woulda been enough to knock that guy out.” Toshi stood tall, his fist held against his chest. “But today, it took more than three-hundred mighty blows.” He paused, turning toward the remaining two villains. “You’ve been bested, villains. Surrender! We all want to get this over with quickly.”

Toshi, you’re running out of time, aren’t you? No, you’re already out of time. It’s faint, hidden by the dust, but I can see the smoke rising from his body. He’s pushing himself to the absolute limit.

“He… cheated…”

“What’s wrong?” Toshi taunted. “Not attacking me? Didn’t you say you were gonna clear this level earlier? Well, come and get me! If you dare.”

You’re bluffing out your ass, Tosh. I stepped forward, but a jolt of pain shot through my ribs. I can only use a little bit of power or I’m gonna risk losing control. Toshi’s body is shot… It’s taking everything he has to maintain that form right now. He’s pushing himself so hard, so goddamn hard to protect everyone, to keep true to the title of ‘symbol of peace’, but I can barely use my fucking power without risking everything. This is such bullshit.

My hand clenched around the handle of the dagger. Gramps… if you were here, what would you say? What would you do? Would you be proud of me? Disappointed? Angry? No… you were the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever known. You would take me into your arms and tell me how proud you are because I did my best, right? But…

I’m not doing my best. I’m holding back because I’m scared. I’m so goddamn scared, Gramps.

“Man, this is… intense.”

“As I expected, there’s no reason for us to fight now, he’ll handle this.”

“Come on, Midoriya! We should regroup with the other guys! The last thing we wanna do is get taken hostage or get in his way.”

“You too, bitch. You’re hurt.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Izuku. He knows. He knows that Toshi is at his limit. He’s gonna do something stupid again.

“What, are you scared?” Toshi kept provoking them.

Tomura started to scratch frantically at his throat. “If only Nomu were here, he’d rush you right now. Pound you into the ground without giving it a second thought!”

Kurogiri leaned toward him, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. The once unconscious villains are starting to wake up, too. Shit.

“I think All Might can hold his own against those two main guys. Let’s make sure these dudes don’t hurt anybody else!” Red declared, taking a fighting stance.

“Will you two be joining us?” Peppermint asked.

Just then, Tomura rushed at Toshi. “Consider this revenge for what you did to Nomu!”

My blood started to boil and I pushed myself forward, letting out a scream of pain and frustration as flames engulfed my entire body, propelling me forward. It hurts so goddamn bad. It’s too hot, I can’t control the temperature anymore! It’s all or nothing… there’s no going back!

There was a flash of green to my left. “Don’t you touch All Might, you stupid villain!”

A warp opened in front of him, Tomura’s hand reaching out for his face.

I can’t… control it anymore, but I… I…

“Dragon…” I felt the tattoo on my back come to life, shifting as its claws dug into my shoulder blades. I have to do this quickly. The flames around my body grew as I cocked my arm back, my fist colliding with the palm of his hand. His fingers clenched around my fist, the skin starting to flake off as he used his quirk.

“Young Jen, don’t!”

“…Unleash!!” A large blast of power shot from my hand, followed by a loud roar that shook the dome. The flames exploded, shoving everyone away from me as they morphed and molded into a flaming dragon. It slammed Tomura against the ground, splitting the concrete. “Pepper… mint…”

Darkness claimed my mind.

I blinked, finding myself standing in darkness. There was nothing around me, nothing but an inky blackness that stretched on and on. My skin felt hot, but my chest felt like ice. The pendant…

I tugged it from my shirt. It was glowing a soft white and felt like ice against my palm. What the fuck is happening? Where am I?

“That is the question, isn’t it.” A male voice echoed through the darkness.

I narrowed my eyes, turning in circles as I scanned my surroundings, but I couldn’t see anything. “Who the fuck are you?”

“You lost control of yourself.”

“Che. What the fuck do you know?”

“I know everything about you, little Winchester.”

“Care to fucking enlighten me?” I growled, my eyes snapping around.

“I’m afraid you’re not yet strong enough.” He paused. “I am unable to show myself to you unless you have full control over your power. Time is running out, little Winchester.”

“The fuck does that even mean?”

“You must get stronger and inherit the burden of your family. Only you have the power to stop Onodero’s return.”

“Hah? The fuck is an Onodero? And what fucking burden? Oi, answer me!”

But the silence rung in my ears. He didn’t answer me.

それ以上に上昇 ☆ Third Person

Todoroki’s eyes widened as her strained voice reached his ears, but he and the other boys were frozen in place at the flaming dragon that hovered above her body, roaring angrily as it set the world ablaze around it. Her body was covered in black flames, burning her skin and eating through her jeans.

She was no longer in control of her quirk.

Toshi cursed, his fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t have the strength to stop her and with Aizawa out of the picture… he didn’t know how to handle this situation.

Todoroki bit his lip as he remembered her haunting words, ‘If I lose control of my quirk… you gotta freeze my body, understand?’ He didn’t like the idea, but he saw no other option. His fists clenched as he stepped forward. Ice surged forward from his right foot, approaching her body at an alarming speed. The dragon noticed, breathing fire at the ice and beating its wings quickly, the gust of wind making him stumble backward.

His eyes narrowed as he lowered his body to the ground. ‘Sorry about this, Winchester…’ His hand swept around his body, sending a wall of ice barreling toward her. The dragon roared loudly, flipping in the air before dive-bombing straight into her body. She screamed in pain as the flames absorbed into her. The sound of glass breaking reached his ears as the shattered pieces of her tank top appeared around her, slowly molding together on her body.

Her body was smoking, skin bright red as she fell to the ground.

Tomura’s right arm was badly burnt. When he tried to stand, he was shot once in each of his limbs. The pros had arrived, but even they couldn’t prevent the warp gate from fleeing the scene with Tomura.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

My whole body is numb and I can’t move.

My eyes fluttered open, a barely audible groan passing my lips as light filled my vision.

“Take it easy, kid.”

That’s Snipe’s voice. I’m on his back?

His hands squeezed my thighs softly, a comforting gesture on his part. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get you to Recovery Girl. You’ll be fine.”

I took in a few short gasps of breath, my body jolting from the pain in my ribs. “Is… everyone okay?”

“All of the students are fine, with the exception of Izuku Midoriya. He’s being taken to Recovery Girl with All Might.” He paused a moment. “Eraserhead and Thirteen are in more serious condition and have been rushed to the hospital.”

It took some serious coaxing on my part, but I finally managed to lift my arms to wrap around the front of his neck, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry… for not being stronger…”

He squeezed my thighs again. “It’s not your fault, kiddo.”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Well, I guess I won’t scold you for him being back here since it wasn’t your fault.” Granny sat at her desk, her voice soft as she looked over the three of us.

“I’m not sure yet, but I think I shortened my time limit again with that fight.” Toshi was laying in the bed closest to her desk, his legs too long to fit the bed properly. “I hope I can at least still hold the form for an hour.”

“I’m so sorry…” Izuku was in the bed beside him, right under the window. An I.V. was connected to his arm, the soft dripping filling the room.

“Well, no use worrying.” Toshi sat up. “These things happen.”

I was lying in the bed across from Midoriya, the curtains drawn over the window. To be honest, I’m not really sure how I’m feeling right now. Helpless, maybe? No, that’s not quite it. I feel… confused as all hell. And I feel bad for Toshi. And Aizawa and Thirteen. Those three took the most damage because I wasn’t strong enough to help them. And then I lost control… I’m fucking lucky no one got hurt because of me.

The door slid open and a man in a trenchcoat entered, removing his fedora as he closed the door behind him. “Excuse me. Hi, All Might. Been a while.”

“What the hell?” Toshi spit up blood in surprise. “I didn’t know that you were investigating.”

“Woah, All Might! It’s okay he’s seeing you like this?” Izuku panicked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it’s fine. This guy’s alright. Naomasa Tsukauchi. My best friend on the police force, he’s legit. I trust him.”

“Haha, that’s quite an introduction. Sorry to cut to the chase, but we could really use any information you might have.”

“Hold on, before all that. Tell me all the students are okay! And Aizawa – er, Eraserhead. And Thirteen.”

I pushed myself up, also eager for that answer.

“Not counting these two,” He waved his head toward me and Izuku. “The only student injuries were scrapes and both of the teachers are in stable condition right now. Relax.”

We all breathed a sigh of relief at the news. Zawa… I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.

“That’s good to hear,” Toshi responded.

“If you heroes hadn’t risked your lives, the students never would have made it. You three saved that entire class of kids today.”

My eye twitched in annoyance. Ex-fucking-cuse me? What the fuck are me and Izuku, fucking chop liver? I mean sure, we didn’t do much, but at the very least we acted as damn good distractions. I think I did a good job acting as a punching bag in place of those kids. At least give us credit for that, you bastard!

“You’re not seeing the whole picture, Tsukauchi. Those students also risked their lives. They fought as hard as us.”

“Thank you, All Might…”

“Yeah, thanks for rememberin’ us peasants!” I grinned, giving him a thumbs up. Izuku smiled at that, which was a nice change from the sad expression he’s had since he woke up.

Toshi smiled at us. “I don’t think there’s ever been a group of first-years who experienced a real fight like this so early in their training. They not only survived, they learned what it means to be a pro. Those villains made a mistake attacking them. This class is strong. They’re filled with courage and drive.”

Pride swelled within me at his words. Man, you can be so cool sometimes, Tosh! I exchanged a look with Granny and she sent me an encouraging smile, nodding her head.

“Mark my words; they’ll become great heroes.” Toshi gave us both a proud smile, giving us a thumbs up.

I couldn’t hold back the bright smile spreading across my face as I fell back onto the bed, hands folded behind my head. No matter what, I’ll keep getting stronger and pushing myself to my limit and beyond.

For you Gramps, and… for you, Toshinori.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

I glanced at Toshi as he pushed open the door to Aizawa’s hospital room. He was lying in bed, both arms covered with thick bandages. His face was also covered, leaving slits for his eyes and nostrils. He glanced at us with tired, half-lidded eyes when we entered.

I smiled softly, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “You look like hell, Zawa.”

“I don’t even have the energy to glare at you right now.” He spoke, his voice muffled by the bandages. Toshi sat in the chair beside the bed, while I sat on the side of the bed, bringing my knee up and turning my body so I could face both of them. They were giving me their undivided attention.

I cleared my throat, focusing my attention on a loose piece of thread on my jeans. “During the Quirk Assessment test, I freaked out. I told you that I didn’t know why or what happened, but that was a lie. Dark Shadow, Fumikage’s quirk… he looks a lot like that damn warp gate, Kurogiri. The day that I arrived in this world… I had returned home to find Gramps on the floor, dead. Stabbed to death. There were two men there that day. That fucking dickbag Gravedigger, the one that looks like Golem that I fought – he’s the one that killed Gramps -, and Kurogiri.”

My hands balled into fists and Toshi reached forward, resting a bony hand over my own.

I took a deep breath. Damn it feels nice to be able to breathe without pain. “Kurogiri’s body filled the living room, it was all I could see as he warped me away from my home. When Shadow surprised me that day, something in me just… snapped. I saw the darkness again, and Gramps’ lifeless body flashing in my mind and I just… I dunno, I blacked out for a minute or somethin’. It sounds pretty stupid now, kinda childish…” I scratched my cheek. “Sorry for lying to you guys.”

“It’s not stupid, young Jen. It was a traumatic event, it makes sense that you wouldn’t want to relive it by talking about it.”

“I guess,” I leaned my head back to stare at the white ceiling. “He knew my name… Kurogiri. Said he came to take me back home. I have a feeling that I wasn’t meant to land in front of you, Tosh. I broke out of the warp, no fucking idea how. And during the fight at the USJ, when he scattered the students across the facility, he dropped me right in front of Tomura. The bastard said I look just like Alissa, said it in a real creepy way too. And then he said I may look like her but I don’t have her personality. Like, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Bastard. He was also adamant that Gravedigger not kill me.”

The two exchanged a look and Aizawa sighed deeply.

“They were gonna take me, weren’t they?”

“Most likely, yes…” Toshi lowered his head.

“Why did he want me alive, though? You can’t get revenge on someone that’s dead. They went out of their way to find me in a different fucking world and bring me back here, but why? Just to kill me? That seems like a bit of a stretch.”

Toshi’s hands formed fists around his baggy pants.

“Tell her,” Aizawa grunted, closing his eyes.

I watched Toshi, but he refused to meet my gaze as he spoke up. “I wasn’t… completely honest about your mother.”

A drop of sweat rolled down my cheek. Oh, fuck me…

“While it is true that Alissa was a pro hero… she wasn’t always one. She… was a villain for most of her life.”

“A… villain?”

Bitch, huh!?

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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inkblotsonmyhands · 5 years

Text

A Second Chance

This idea came to me in a dream and I thought, why not post it to tumblr. Really more so I don’t lose the story, having all my work nearly organised in a blog seems like a good idea. If anyone actually reads this-I apologize for all the clichés .

Wordcount: 2.6k

Here we go.

A Second Chance

When you step outside close to midnight for an angsty stroll, you don’t expect the primary source of said angst to appear right in front of you.

Yet there she is. Carrie Miller is walking down the road, accompanied by Sam Bennett. Towards me. I can already predict this isn’t going to go well. Every time I even attempt to talk to her, I end up stumbling over all my words and sounding like a complete loser. Sam’s presence is only going to make things worse.

“Ash!”

Sam knows my name? Wow. Who knew. I guess it’s too late to hide now. I make my way towards them.

Sam slaps my arm in greeting. I will never truly understand this element of bro-culture. “Didn’t expect to see you again today. How’s it hangin’, man?”

Again? I guess we saw each other at school, but is it really called ‘seeing’ someone if you pass them in the hallway while they keep their head down and avoid eye contact?

Oh, crap, I’m supposed to be replying to him. “I’m alri—“

A thud sounds somewhere. We all turn to stare at the hedge next to us. It seemed to have come from there.

Sam looks at both of us. “I’m not the only one who heard that, am I?”

We shake our heads. He shivers, rather exaggeratedly. “I’m just real spooked tonight. Everything feels creepy. Anyway,” he turns to Carrie, “Do you know Ash here?”

“You sit next to me in Geography, don’t you?”

The amount of joy I get at my crush knowing I exist is testament to how terrible I am at interacting with her on a daily basis.

“Uh, yeah, I do.”

There we go, that wasn’t completely horrible.

She smiles. Maybe she can tell how nervous I am. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

Sam looks between me and Carrie before suddenly lighting up with a huge grin. Oh no. I’m not that obvious, he can’t possibly know, oh god, what’s he gonna do?

“Well, my curfew’s at midnight and my dad would kill me if I was even a second late, sooo… I gotta get going.” He smirks at me. “See ya later, kids.” He gives a friendly wave before heading off. I weakly wave back. I didn’t expect the school jock to be that… nice. Huh.

Carrie has started walking again, back the way I came. I hasten to join her. A loud rustling noise comes from that hedge near us, and we exchange a vaguely concerned glance.

“So, how do you know Sam Bennett?” Make casual conversation, Ash. You can do this.

“I don’t really know him at all, to be honest.” She fiddles with the bracelets on her wrists. “I just ran into him a while ago, and we were going in the same direction so we started walking together. How do you know him? You don’t seem like the type to know Sam.”

I frown. Not the type to know Sam? So she knows I’m a massive loser. Well. Isn’t that nice to hear.

“I actually-“

She cuts me off, talking rapidly. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, that didn’t come out right. It’s not that you’re boring or anything, just,” she lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head and chuckling derisively. “You know, Sam is popular and all and, oh god, I’m making this worse for myself. I’m sorry. I’ll just stop talking.”

I can’t help but smile a little.

“I get it, I’m not the most popular guy,” biggest understatement of the year, “You wouldn’t expect me to know the ‘cool kids’.” I do finger quotes around the words.

“No!” She exclaims. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just-“

“Oh, come off it.” I grin, with a burst of confidence. “You totally meant it like that.”

She shoves my arm. “Shut up!”

This must be the best conversation I’ve ever had with her. I might have even actually managed to flirt a little. And, was I dreaming, or did she flirt back?

There’s something magical about this night. Crickets are chirping, the full moon is shining in the sky. The atmosphere is rather romantic. I glance at her. We’ve descended into a companionable silence as we walk. Maybe now is when I can finally tell her how I feel. It feels easier here, at night, with no one around to see me and judge me for all my failures.

“Carrie,” I gently touch her arm. I can do this. “I wanted to tell you something.”

She looks up at me, expectant.

Distantly, a clock starts chiming somewhere. It’s midnight.

“Oh!” Her head snaps away suddenly. “I didn’t realize how late it was!” She looks apologetic. “Tell me tomorrow, in geography, yeah?” And then she’s crossing the street and walking away, before I can really register what happened. She rounds a corner and that’s it. She’s gone.

And I’m alone in the middle of the street.

So much for romantic.

I kick a rock on the ground and watch it roll away. “Good job there, Ash.” I mutter. I turn around and start walking away from my house again. So much for releasing any of that angst, now I’m feeling almost worse than when I started. Why didn’t I stop her there? If only, when she turned, I had said no, stop, wait. I need to say this, now.

“But I didn’t, did I?” I whisper under my breath. “Ash Cornell, failure extraordinaire. Always needs more time. Always needs a second chance.” I look up at the moon and stars. They’re very bright tonight. “I just need a second chance.”

A wave of nausea hits me. I stumble, halting in my tracks. I feel dizzy. Everything seems to be spinning. My ears are ringing. What’s happening? The world is spinning so fast that the only thing I can really see is the moon above me. The ringing is getting louder. What the hell? I’m losing it. That must be it. I’m completely losing it.

And then, as suddenly as that burst of dizziness hit, it’s gone, and I’m standing on the same empty street. It seems almost... noisier than it was before though. Maybe the ringing in my ears hasn’t completely faded away. I feel disoriented.

A car comes zooming down the road, and I hastily jump out of the way, stumbling onto the sidewalk.

“Watch it, kid!” the driver yells.

I shake my head, snapping back to reality. Boy, was that a wakeup call. Okay. I had stepped out for a walk, and I intend to finish that walk. I stride briskly down the road, doing my best to just forget what happened so far tonight. It’s alright. Just take a turn around the Center and then head back home. You didn’t meet Carrie at all. That was just a bad dream.

Up ahead is what we call ‘The Center’, basically a mall and a cinema. I actually live quite close to it, which would be useful if I had any social life at all.

I keep my head down as I walk. I don’t want to run into anyone else tonight. One awkward conversation is enough, thank you very much.

Of course the instant I think that, I slam into someone and nearly fall over.

An arm grabs me and pulls me up before I butt-plant into the concrete.

“Whoa, you okay there, dude? Sorry ‘bout that.” Sam Bennett is looking down at me.

“Uh, it’s okay, no worries.” I manage to stammer out.

“Hey, you go to Pioneer High, don’t you?” he asks. “Austin, is it?”

Didn’t he know my name like twenty minutes ago? This is weird.

“Ashton, actually. Or just Ash.”

“Ah, got ya. You going to see the new Dr. Sleep movie, bro?” he pushes his blonde curls off his forehead. “Man, it was terrifying. I was real pissed at my dad for not letting me go to the midnight show with my basketball team, but man,” he chuckles. “It’s probably better they weren’t there with me, I screamed like a girl at some parts.”

I laugh along with him, because it seems like the polite thing to do, but something in his story throws me off.

“Didn’t let you see the midnight show? Isn’t it like, past midnight?”

“Woah, I would hope not!” He pulls out his phone, glances at the screen, and shows it to me. 11:17 pm. “My dad woulda whooped me if it were past midnight, that’s my curfew.”

His phone says it’s 11:17, and there’s no reason for that to be wrong. But… I’m pretty certain I left home around 11:30, and the clock chimed 12 not too long ago, and didn’t Sam say he had to run because it was nearly midnight when I last met him?

My confusion must be showing on my face. Sam lightly slaps my arm to get my attention.

“You seem to have messed up the time there, pal. How could you think it’s past midnight? You’re like an hour off.”

I shrug, still rather puzzled. He laughs again.

“I’d better get going, then. You said you’re headed to see the movie?”

Oh, I just realized I never really answered his question.

“No, just taking a walk.”

“Ah, enjoy your walk, then. That movie fucked me up, I’m almost afraid to walk home in the dark now.” He chuckles, and I join him, again, because it feels polite. He raises an arm in farewell before walking away.

My mind is reeling though. I was thinking it was a little past midnight, but it’s actually a little past 11 pm. And what had Sam said? ‘You’re like an hour off.’

An hour off.

Did I- no, that isn’t possible.

But then… what was that strange nausea I felt earlier? Something isn’t right. It seems preposterous, but it feels like…like I…

Went back in time?

No. No way.

But… maybe?

I turn around. I can still see Sam’s retreating figure.

Well. Only one way to find out.

I follow him.

Following someone isn’t as exciting or stealthy as I expected it to be. Really, I’m just… trailing after him while maintaining a decent distance so he won’t hear my footsteps. He puts in some earphones, which only makes my job easier. I’ve gotten quite relaxed when Carrie emerges out of an alley between me and Sam.

Naturally my instinctual reaction to seeing her is diving behind a trash can, making it rattle loudly. Sam jumps and turns abruptly. I desperately hope I’m well hidden else this is going to be very embarrassing.

I can hear their voices. They’re talking to each other. I seize the opportunity to risk peeking out from my hiding place. They’re not facing me anymore. I need to be closer to hear them.

I begin to inch forward, pushing the bin in front of me. I briefly pause to reflect on the fact that I am literally crouched behind a trash can, attempting to sneakily spy on a conversation. Well Ash, there’s the exciting stealth you were hoping for.

“…walking with me, if you’re going this way?” I can make out Sam’s voice. “I feel like this night is noisier than usual and I am fucking terrified.”

Carrie laughs. She has a nice laugh. “Sure, no problem. My parents would probably feel better about me being out so late if they know someone walked me home.”

I can hear their footsteps now, getting fainter as they walk away. I wait until I think they’re far enough, before slowly getting up and beginning to follow them again.

Alright, Ash. This is where all those hours of Assassin’s Creed pay off.

I follow them carefully, pressing up against walls as far as possible. I move a little closer so I can vaguely hear them. They seem to be chatting about school.

It’s been a weird enough night. I’m not entirely sure whether or not I actually went back in time though, or if this was just some crazy flight of imagination. I wouldn’t put it past myself. I do do weird things in an attempt to make my life more interesting. Exhibit A, sneaking behind two of my classmates when I could probably just go over and talk to them.

That’s when I see what’s undoubtedly the strangest thing I’ve seen tonight. Scratch that, this is the strangest thing I’ve seen ever.

It’s me.

Walking towards Carrie and Sam.

I dive behind the elaborate hedge along the front of somebody’s house. Hopefully the homeowners aren’t awake to see the teenaged guy jumping behind their hedge to hide from two other teenagers... and himself.

This move, however, places me almost right next to Carrie, Sam, and… me. We’re just separated by a hedge. God, this is weird. I can hear us quite clearly.

“…not the only one that heard that, am I?” That’s Sam’s voice. Oh, right, the mysterious thud we heard. What the hell, that thud was me, diving behind a hedge? Looks like I definitely time travelled then, somehow. I give up trying to figure out what is actually happening here.

Sam’s speaking again. “I’m just real spooked tonight. Everything feels creepy. Anyway, do you know Ash here?”

Right, he asked that to Carrie.

“You sit next to me in Geography, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah, I do.”

And there’s me. Wow, I couldn’t possibly sound any more insecure.

I mostly tune out the rest of their conversation and try my best to remain quiet. At one point I lean too heavily on and nearly fall through the hedge. I know how this goes. Sam leaves after saying he has to get home before curfew. Carrie and I make awkward small talk. I attempt to confess how I feel, and fail completely. She walks away. I wish for a second chance.

A second chance.

My eyes widen. That’s what all this is, isn’t it? A second chance.

I can’t hear us very clearly anymore. Carrie and I have walked some distance away. We’re still talking. I peek above the bushes to watch. I can see myself lightly touch Carrie’s arm. This is it. I’m going to attempt to do it.

The clock strikes midnight. Carrie apologizes before turning to leave and crossing the road. I watch carefully as the other me slowly fades away, until there’s no one there.

Now is my moment. You can do this, Ashton Cornell.

I spring up from behind the bushes and rush onto the street.

“Carrie!”

She turns around, looking at me with a puzzled expression. I walk up to her and take her hands in mine. I look at my feet and take a deep breath.

“This can’t really wait till geography class,” I glance at her. She has an encouraging smile on her face. I breathe in again.

“Carrie, I-I like you. I have for a while now.”

I risk a glance at her again. She’s smiling even wider.

“I know.”

“You know?!”

She laughs. “You aren’t the most subtle, Ash.”

Wow. I guess it’s time to go die of embarrassment, then.

She prods my foot with her toe, making me look at her again.

“Don’t you want to ask me something, then?”

Ask her something? What would I want to ask her? I already told her how I feel; the only thing left to ask is-oh. Oh.

I look at her with wide eyes. She nods gently.

“Uhm, Carrie,” I stand up straighter, squeezing her hands. “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

She reaches up and kisses my cheek. I just stare at her in shock.

“I’d love to.”

I smile widely, and I can’t help but laugh, and then she’s laughing too, and then we’re just a boy and a girl, holding hands and laughing under a full moon.

I look up at the sky, still grinning. The stars seem to wink down at me. I wink back. I don’t really know what happened, but I’ll keep their secret.

#romance #midnight #writing #story #fiction #time travel #oneshot #oc #moon #cute #longpost #dream #cliché

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pokeshippingflashfic · 6 years

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I have another one!!! Ash receives a text from Misty Ash....I'm pregnant This can go in three ways 1. Futuristic amml 2. April fools day 3. Or Misty's sisters kidnapped her phone and texted Ash

(Forgive me, I’m a bit sleep deprived due to real life responsibilities so this may come out sounding rough. Also I decided to go all three routes instead of just the one.)

“Where is it?!” Misty, seventeen year old gym trainer, shrieked aloud as she tore apart her room. Pillows ripped from their resting places, the duvet draped over the lower right corner of the mattress, her desk drawers askew and clothing littering the carpet with a splatter of multi-color.

She didn’t understand. She’d left her phone alone all of twenty minutes while she ran to shower and come back to… nothing. She was so very sure that the stupid device had been resting face-down on her bed! Not today, she groaned, ruffling a hand through her still damp fringe, this couldn’t happen today!

The first of the month and the fifteenth of the month were highlighted on her calendar and here she was without a method of communication. When she and Ash had opted for a long-term relationship so that they both could play mature, responsible ‘adults’ and focus simultaneously on their career paths, Misty had made Ash swear to be available on these two dates at a reasonable hour so that they could video-chat with each other.

She’d already had to babysit and nag him enough just to get him to remember that much! The last thing she could afford to do now was give him reason to prod at her for not following through on her own end of the compromise!

“Daisy, Lily, Violet! Have any of you three seen my phone?” Misty shouted as she frantically swung open her bedroom door and stared haphazardly down the hallway towards her sisters’ rooms in nothing more than a plush bath towel.

“I totally haven’t!” came her eldest sibling’s voice in reply. “Maybe you should, like, check downstairs? I think Lily said she saw it in the kitchen earlier!”

The redhead slammed her door hurriedly shut, throwing her towel aside and scurrying to pick up a myriad of clean clothes from the floor of her trashed room that she could get away with walking around in. She had only ten minutes to put herself together, find her phone, and be available for Ash’s call.

She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten it downstairs! Hopefully its charge would hold for their entire conversation…

However, eight minutes later, she was back where she started. There was no cellphone in the living room, nor the kitchen, nor the downstairs bathroom. She remembered grabbing a snack from the pantry but couldn’t find it there either.

Defeated, the redhead slowly ambled back upstairs to her room, despondently shutting the door and kicking the clothes on the floor around to create a path to her bed, stretching and grasping the duvet, pulling it back up just when…

Fwump!

Blinking in apprehensive wonder, the gym leader craned her neck around the foot of her bed once more and saw her phone laying there.

“Wait, how’d I miss that…?” she asked herself but shook her head, allowing the relief to settle over everything and snatching it up, flipping onto her back on the mattress and catching her breath after her minor panic attack as she unlocked it.

No missed calls. No missed texts. The battery was at seventy or so percent, which was enough for her video-chat with Ash. And, speaking of, it would be starting any second now…

She stared avidly at her mobile device, willing it to ring, even as she combed the fingers on her free hand through her hair, hoping it didn’t look too atrocious.

Still nothing.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Ash Ketchum was late to call her and he always made up for it in the end. Part of her considered calling him but she immediately shrugged the thought away. She had decided it was a good opportunity to teach him some initiative in their relationship to have him be the one dialing the number about almost six months ago. If she gave up on him this easily just because he was two or three minutes late…

But time and silence continued to pass as Misty felt a familiar flush of fire welling up within her. Five minutes late, she knew she could excuse but… but fifteen? Twenty? What could be holding Ash up? Was it a battle? Had Team Rocket attacked again? (And she couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the very real possibility that Team Dunce would of course pop up just as Ash Ketchum was getting ready to call his girlfriend…)

Or maybe it was something serious… Maybe one of his Pokemon had been hurt? She could easily accept taking a backseat in a situation like that.

A half-an-hour ticked by while she contemplated her reaction to potentially being blown off. She was five seconds from caving and sending an angry text when, finally, her phone began to ring and she hurriedly unlocked it, automatically accepting the video-call.

“Ash, where have you been? I’ve been waiting forever!” the redhead seethed, hoping her tone sounded equally frustrated and understanding to the possibility of a consequential interruption.

“I, uh… Sorry, Mist… I was caught up with… um, things? I dunno,” was his initial response, and she stared suspiciously into her camera as she watched him flutter in and out of focus.

“Ash, is something wrong with the phone?”

The jittery video stilled almost too quickly, and her boyfriend’s strained, concerned, flushed face appeared more stable and centered. Nevertheless, the young man was obviously troubled over something.

“No, sorry, that was probably me. I just… Sorry I’m late calling. I didn’t… really know what to say earlier so I thought I might have to skip out tonight. But then I thought leaving you empty-handed would be worse so…” he finished with a noncommittal shrug, still refusing to look her in the eye.

“Wait, you were gonna just… not call? What happened? What do you mean by leaving me empty-handed?” she replied in a somewhat furious exclamation.

“W - well, y’know, earlier today… that text… I mean, I didn’t know what to say to that. I - we’re not… we haven’t… So I just never woulda expected to hear something like that from you… and I guess… we need to talk about it, considering it’s obviously not mine?”

“What’s not yours?! What text?!” she shrieked in stupefaction, both hands on her phone and grip brittle enough to almost crack it in two. And, before he could respond, she exited back to her main screen, watching the video box itself into the upper right-hand corner, and opened up her messaging app to try and figure out where Ash was coming from.

There was a timestamp from something sent to him roughly ninety minutes ago, which aligned with when she was showering… She clicked the thread repeatedly with abandon to open it quick as possible, eyes widening at the message within.

Ash, this may be unexpected but I needed to tell you that I’m pregnant.

That was all there was.

“What the he–?!”

“–Happy April Fools Day!” three simpering, giggling voices chimed in unison as her bedroom door burst open, the redhead scrambling to a sitting position against the wall her bed sat against as her mind raced at the intrusion.

“Wha… You three…” Misty muttered venomously, eyes squinting as they went black in fury. She immediately dropped her phone on the bed as she lunged forward out of it to tackle her sisters, though they dodged her attack and ran down the hall in screeching laughter.

Ash, left abandoned on the other end of the call, inhaled a relieved breath. He had next-to-no idea what was going on either but he’d at least figured out that her sisters were playing some kinda prank and Misty was thankfully not pregnant.

It was probably best to hang up and let her sort her siblings out and, should the redhead not end up arrested, he could only assume that it would be her turn to make it up to him later. ;-)

(Misty’s sisters were under the impression that Ash and Misty were sexually active, which was why they felt their joke was appropriate, btw.)

#inuyashaeienni #pokeshipping #flash fic #fanfiction #aaml #ash ketchum x misty waterflower #ash x misty #requests #word count: 1309

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