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softinkshadows · 3 years

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Hot spring tales (Hisoka x female reader)

A Hisoka x female reader one-shot, with a sprinkle of Chrollo.

Situated in the HxH universe with canon timeline.

Disclaimer: nsfw, contains smut and explicit sex (but we know you're here for that)

Word count: 5000++ (wow did i just write 5000 words of smutty smut)

----

Pale, slender fingers tap against the phone screen. He finds the contact he is looking for and dials the number, raising the phone to his ear. Around him, dusk settles over the ragged terrain of the Gordeau desert. The wind gains in strength, almost pushing his combed black hair free. The phone rings for a few seconds before the person on the other end picks up.

“Did you figure it out already?”

“Probably,” he says, his grey eyes catching the last wisps of fading light to the west. “The nen exorcist may very well be on Greed Island, which is East of York New. It seems you will need to enter the game as well.”

“Shall I procure one of Battera’s? He did buy all of the ones auctioned this time round.”

“No, that risks complicating things. What we need is a game privately owned by someone who is easily contactable, allows us to stay untraceable, preferably one who we wouldn’t have to kill and is reasonable towards helping…” he trails off, realizing that there is indeed someone who matches the conditions, someone who he would very much like to avoid for the time being… The irony of fate, he thinks, grimacing in irritation.

“It seems we will need to pay a visit to her.”

“Her?”

“I will send the address over to you. It’ll take me at least a day to get there, so you should start moving first. It would be better if you were the one handling negotiations this time round. And avoid mentioning my name, or the troupe’s.”

“Oh?” the voice on the other end piques with curiosity.

“We have… history. I’ll trust that you can strike a deal by the time I’m there?”

“Of course. After all, the chance to fight you is on the line.” He can almost hear the other man smirking gleefully through the phone.

“It’ll be dangerous, so try your best to be good, or our deal is off. Consider this a warning, Hisoka.”

----

You find yourself back at your quarters after dinner, alone in the large dressing room. Looking in the mirror, you arrange your hair neatly around your bun, making sure to tidy it for the next wave of customers tonight.

The underground auction has recently ended, and more people are flocking to your establishment. Kurohasu Onsen (Black Lotus Onsen) is renowned as the gathering-place for anybody who is somebody: a bathhouse that functions as neutral ground for politicians, powerful members of the mafia and hunters who have ties to the underworld to carry out business negotiations. A safe haven for murderers and thieves. All are welcome, although at a hefty price. The exorbitant entry fee is itself a gatekeeper of accessibility, and many have brought treasures and precious artefacts in the hope of gaining your favour. As weapons are allowed for protection, fights inevitably break out, but rarely do they erupt into something serious. All staff at the onsen are strong nen-users who pay close watch to customer behaviour. They have nen-restrainers on hand to subdue feisty ability users, and if not, there’s you, whose mysterious yet formidable presence is enough to elicit compliance. It is not uncommon to see off customers with missing limbs and near-fatal injuries, a warning punishment for breaking the establishment’s regulations. Furthermore, it is the iron-clad rule that the onsen is the one place where truce is enforced, upheld, respected. And you, the infamous proprietor, the black lotus of Kurohasu Onsen, are not someone to be crossed. Your customers are well aware of this.

You get up, ready to leave, when you turn to look at the mirror again. Your black onyx hairpin fits in and across your bun, easily reachable within seconds. Your eyes travel down to look at the black shimmering contours of your silk robe with its ornate floral embroidery, opening at two slits that end above the knee, the garment tied fittingly at the waist with a scarlet obi sash. Presentable, you hum in approval, before walking out the door.

Your secretary Esa is already waiting. “Give me updates,” You demand.

She follows you briskly down the corridor as you make your rounds to greet notable clients. Esa does this every three hours, reciting the list of new guests checked in since the last report, the rooms they booked, the meetings they have arrived for, and the fees paid. You remember everything, noting the ones who offer presents not entirely up to standard, or troublesome ones with a sketchy behavioural record.

“A while ago, a Hisoka Morow checked into the deluxe room. 50,000 Jenny a night for 2 nights, with a possible extension.”

The name catches you slightly off guard. You have never met the man, but from your intel he’s one of the most sought-after fighters at Heaven’s Arena. And a dangerous murderer too. But as far as you know, the man works alone and doesn’t get involved with politics. Why would someone like him be here?

“He has a meeting?” you turn to Esa.

“If he had, he did not say. Most likely for leisure, though. The onsen is famous for its baths too,” replied your attendant matter-of-factly.

You pause for a while to think, before calling over a male security staff with a wave of a finger. “Keep tabs on Hisoka. Let me know if he’s up to anything.” The staff bows and immediately embarks on fulfilling your order. You return to your duties for now, but the seed of suspicion and uneasiness does not go away.

---

“Ahh… now this is not bad,” Hisoka smiles to himself as he climbs into the water. He rests his head against the smooth stone edge of the outdoor bath, watching the steam lift gently from the softly rippling surface. When Chrollo told him about this place, he expected it to be dim and grimy, trawling with underworld scum. Instead, what greeted him was the pure luxury of mineral-rich baths, large clean rooms and 1000 thread-count sheets. He could get used to this. Not to mention…

His eyes wander over the bath, taking stock of the situation. Being quite late at night, most guests have retired to respective meeting rooms for drinks and negotiations, with only a smattering of visitors, mostly individuals or pairs, left lounging in the outdoor section. The only other people are the ever-present security staff, including one particularly persistent male staff standing at the private viewing balcony above. At least the nen users here are stronger than usual. A slight tremor of pleasure runs through his body, and he runs his fingers through his wet hair to shake the feeling before it builds into bloodlust. It’s been a while since he killed. He is still riled up from two days ago, thanks to the blond runt. And Chrollo, that damn bastard.

He observes the nen-users with half-closed eyes. 75… 80… 85… He evaluates. Not too shabby. Then he senses it. 97!! He feels the sudden presence, an impeccable zetsu with a tinge of icy smoothness and fiery calm toiling beneath its surface. It is enough for him to widen his eyes and sit up straight, a hot tingling sensation travelling down his spine, pleasure surging into his body for a split second, almost goading him into a fight right there and then. Well, what do we have here? He looks to the source of this pressure, golden eyes flashing and meeting yours, as you look down at him from the balcony above.

One look and you know he clearly lives up to his reputation. He is suppressing his power by default, but his presence leaves a slight prickling static in the air which only stronger nen users can detect. He also seems to have noticed you, judging by the slight shift his posture, the electrifying gaze beneath his damp red hair and the sudden tension in the air with his nen flaring, almost breaking its zetsu. Despite the distance, both of you lock eyes for a moment, each one feeling out the other, gauging abilities, locating motives. What the hell is his aim? You face the sheer intensity of his gaze with your own cold, calculating glare, both of you guarding your intentions yet attempting to penetrate through the other’s guise, staring each other down as if in a challenge. No one relents. But you can’t help but feel a rising irritation, that the man sitting naked in the outdoor bath three floors beneath you is getting under your skin, and a distracting kind of warmth creeps in... You look away. You nod to the staff to continue strict monitoring and return to your room.

Hisoka watches you leave, and instinctively his fingers run through his hair again, this time harder than the last. Oh, Chrollo… Don’t tell me that’s her? A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Oh, you were right. This is going to be dangerous.

---

You don’t hear any more concerning updates on Hisoka until later the next day. Besides using the baths for extended periods of time, and mild complaints from other guests of his lengthy and uncomfortable stares, he hasn’t caused any trouble. He hasn’t physically contacted anyone either.

“Come again?” you stop abruptly, mid-way through scanning the paper records of this month’s taxes and bills, glancing up at your secretary.

Esa clears her throat and speaks again. “Madam, Hisoka Morow has requested for a meeting with you today.”

Hmph. You scoff a little, your eyes narrowing to ponder the next course of action. You had expected something like this. There is no way someone like him would travel all the way here just to use the baths, let alone without engaging anyone. If his aim is to negotiate matters with you, it must be something quite serious, given that neither of you have gone out of your way to meet with each other previously.

“Shall I cancel?” Esa asks, ready to deliver the order and reject the fool that had the nerve to request a meeting with you on such short notice.

“No. Make it tonight at eleven, after I complete my usual rounds.”

“Understood.”

---

It is night, and the onsen quietens for the day. Only the soft rushes of spring water from the outdoor baths and the muffled sounds of late-night negotiations drift by. You find yourself finally seated across from him in one of your private meeting rooms, both of you silent but never once taking your eyes off each other, quietly assessing one another.

Now up close and clothed in a blue yukata, accentuating the red hair that falls close to his shoulders, you can’t help but find him just a little more attractive than you imagined. His golden eyes are calm, steady, even confident, a rarity for anyone for finds them in a room alone with you. Most people would have bowed their head in submission long ago. You keep your own icy composure. But the force of his nen suppressed under zetsu, his incredibly toned body beneath his yukata and that arrogant way he looks at you make your body feel warmer than usual.

When he sees you for the first time that night, seated on the far end of the room, he feels it again. That powerful presence that keeps goading him, that sends electrifying jolts through his body. You’re seated comfortably on the floor, almost reclining, yet the hard, murderous edge of your gaze shows you are constantly on guard. Simply exquisite. He almost licks his lips but controls himself. A fine opponent… to kill? No, no, much too soon… that would be a waste. Chrollo comes first.

The meeting hall is much too large for two people, spanning over 24 tatami in size. On both sides, paper screen doors open out into an elegant view of the autumn trees in the estate, shedding its red delicately in the wind. A long, low black lacquer table in the center of the room separates you and him, each of you seated on either end. Silence continues to hang in the air. A staff gracefully pours a luxurious blend of sencha into the cups, before she places the tea pot and tray on the floor, bows, and takes her leave quickly. You notice Esa hovering by the doorway to the room.

“Esa, you may go.”

“But Madam-” your secretary protests but stops as you give her a glare. She of all people would understand you’re probably the last person in the establishment who needs any form of protection. As her footsteps recede down the hallway outside, you turn back to the man in front of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you today?”

“It has come to my knowledge,” Hisoka finally speaks, and the slow, sly curl of his tone lights another fire in you, “that you are in possession of one of the most sought-after items in the world of late. I have a pressing need for it and would like to negotiate a deal.”

“I’m a collector of the rarest treasures, so you’re going to have to be more specific,” you scoff, taking a sip of your tea.

“I’m talking about a certain game.”

“Ah, Greed Island,” you retort indifferently, although inwardly puzzled. Why would he go to such lengths just for a game? Didn’t seem like the type. “What makes you think I’ll agree to your request? What is in it for me?”

Hisoka pauses, contemplating something before pushing onwards with a slight smirk. “I’m not sure if you know of a certain man by the name of… Chrollo Lucilfer?”

He waits for the intended effect and sure enough, you react. Immediately, at the mention of the name you’re hit with an unpleasant sensation that makes you grit your teeth, and your eyes blaze with a hint of fury. Without realizing, a cracking sound fills the room as the cast iron tea pot on the floor dents with the force of your nen.

Hisoka looks at the pot quietly before he smiles, lifting the tea cup to his lips, his eyes only growing darker as he trains his gaze on you. Interesting. “May I know, if it’s not too much to ask, the reason for your disdain of the man?”

“I’ve known him for a long time. He tried to kill me twice, once on purpose and the second time by accident. Clearly, he did not succeed,” you say, finishing your tea.

Beautifully exquisite. Another thrill runs through his spine, almost making him tremble with excitement. Perhaps it would be safe to suggest…

“I’m looking for Chrollo. He’s been running from me for a while now, and last I heard he has been spotted hiding out in the game. I would very much like to settle our score soon. Of course, perhaps to your advantage I fully intend on killing him, with pleasure,” Hisoka continues, waving his hand in the air with dismissive complacency.

“If only it were so simple,” you retort, knowing the full potential of Chrollo’s abilities. “And how can I take you for your word?”

“You can’t.”

You look up in mild distaste at Hisoka. What a bastard. You could slit his throat right now, with that cocky expression of his. And yet, your body feels a little hot when he’s looking at you, his gaze ruthlessly penetrating and his nen just on the edge of flaring.

“Name your offer, Hisoka.” You say his name for the first time, aware of how his gaze hardens when you do so, and your body burns with a strange desire which you suppress under the guise of irritation.

“I’m not offering.”

“What?”

“Allow me to use the game, or I will go on to kill everyone in this establishment, including your precious secretary and all your guests. It’s been a while since I had fun and I won’t stop when I do.”

The audacity. You slam your cup on the table and glare at him, your nen bristling beneath the surface. It was a mistake to let him into the bathhouse. And the worst part is that he is right. He could take out everyone except you here with ease, and you’d lose your manpower, your reputation, your business. Everything you worked hard for since leaving meteor city years ago. Perhaps it’ll be wise to dispose of him right here, right now.

In a split second, you draw the long onyx pin from your hair, leaping across the length of the table with such grace and speed that the tea in Hisoka’s cup barely ripples, as you aim for this throat, slicing the air in front of you. He dodges at the last moment, his eyes wild with a feral look as you nick of a few strands of his hair and the sharp edge of your hairpin draws a faint red line along his throat. He grins. He’s clearly enjoying this. He moves to land a counter-attack but you jump away. You’ve put distance between the two of you again; you grip your hair pin, calm and poised for another strike, while he similarly crouches, one hand reaching to stroke the mark you made on his throat.

“Now you’re just getting me excited,” his voice drops to a low purr.

Here you are, seconds after nearly killing him, and you feel your body reacting to his voice and his unapologetic desire. You know you have the power to end him, yet a tingling sensation creeps over the lower half of your body. You can feel sweat starting to gather around your stomach, while another warm wetness pools further below, between your legs. It’s been so long since anyone made you feel this way. Not since… Your thoughts are interrupted as he appears behind you, aiming for your head.

“Pay attention, darling.”

There’s barely any sound in the meeting room as you and Hisoka continue to spar in near complete zetsu, restraining nen to avoid alerting the attention of other guests and the security staff. His eyes gleam more with your every strike, his moves maintain its strength but do not get more forceful, and neither do yours. You feel the exhilaration of the near-misses, of your bodies brushing against one another before pulling away, the light friction of fabric against fabric, as if locked in a graceful dance that neither of you want to end. Moonlight cascades through the open balcony, and there’s a glint in Hisoka’s eyes.

“Let’s stop pretending we’re serious about killing each other, shall we?” he quips with a smirk.

His words register, and you halt. You weren’t noticing it before, but he is right. You weren't trying. You falter for a moment too long. Then he rushes you, pinning your body down onto the floor with his own weight, brute force mixed with excitement to the point that his nails dig into the straw of the tatami below, ripping it slightly. He raises a hand, about to spill your blood, when your control slips. Before, your brief exchanges saw your body feeling hotter, winding tighter as it did more cautious. But now, with him pressing down onto you from above, not pulling away, gripping with a strength that few possess and with a wicked look in his eyes, you can’t keep it down anymore. You let out a throaty moan as his holds you hard, feeling your underwear getting more soaked with every passing second. His eyes widen in surprise, and he pauses. You and him remain quiet like this for a while, the wind from outside gently caressing both your bodies, teasing out an answer.

Then, as if on instinct, both your mouths crash together. Neither of you are ashamed at the pure lust that erupts between the two of you, bloodlust still not completely abating which spurs you and him on even more. His tongue slips into you mouth, determined on stealing your breath, your hand clasped around your hair pin still trapped within his, his ferocious strength barely just surpassing your own as you do not back down, struggling against the restraint. It is still a fight, after all. Yet his other free hand trails down your silk robe, slithering between the open slits to your thighs before raising one of your legs to wrap around his torso. You moan into his kiss and move against his clothed body, desperate for friction.

"Patience, my dear." He pauses, giving you a sadistic grin.

You’re not going to let him keep staying in control. In a surge of strength you topple and roll over him in a flash, slamming him to the floor and stabbing the pin right into the tatami next to his head, at which Hisoka lets out a loud groan. You press and rub yourself against him, leaving small bites along his neck, your hair starting to come loose and fall to the side of your face from the exertion. The warmth between your legs grows, and it’s not just you. Hisoka is only wearing underwear beneath the yukata, and you feel his erection, hot and hard beneath your rolling hips. You feel your own slick starting to run down your inner thigh, and you ache to be filled.

You pull away and gaze down at Hisoka, who’s just starting to get a little breathless with desire, his eyes clouded with lust. You pull the hairpin from the floor and aim it at his throat. You command, your voice cold and edged with arrogance.

“Stop wasting my time and just fuck me already.”

At this, Hisoka lets out a low growl, flipping you on your back, almost tearing the obi around your waist to shreds with his hands. His mouth latches onto your neck and you cry out, as his hands reach under your bra to free your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, alternating between gentle strokes and forceful pinches. Your body shakes with pleasure and you grind against him, your hands fumbling to move his yukata out of the way. You cover your palm over his bulge, which is already straining hard against his underwear. He bites a little harder on your skin as you do, goading you on. You reach beneath the fabric, stroking his most sensitive spot, and you feel him shudder against you. Oh, to have such a powerful man like him at your mercy.

Before you have time to think, your pleasure increases ten-fold, white-hot and surging through your body as his fingers find their way to your slit, obscenely slick with your honey.

“Oh? This wet for me already?” he murmurs into your ear, sending shivers down your arms and making you moan.

He sits back a little, his piercing gaze boring into you as he lifts his fingers to his lips, licking it clean. “So sweet,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving you, almost taunting your state of helplessness before him, and you twitch with pleasure.

“Shut u-” you demand, stopping short with a intake of breath as his tongue circles your nipple and he thrusts two fingers into your aching slit, expertly thrusting, stroking, caressing, hitting all the right spots as you can’t help but moan and fist his soft, red locks. His thumb finds your bud and rubs, with increasing pressure, matching the circling motions of his tongue. Hisoka pulls away and looks down at you, panting and wriggling beneath his touch, your words incoherent but eyes still fierce with power and control, and he finds himself growing harder, unbearably hungry. You feel his desire through his nen, bristling with lust, fingers coaxing you to bliss and eyes ravishing you unabashedly for everything you are and you feel yourself pushed nearer to the edge.

“I’m close,” you gasp, and you see Hisoka smirk dangerously as he pulls his fingers out of you. The pleasure that builds now cuts short, tapering off.

“Kisama,” you mutter in annoyance as you ram his body against the side of the lacquer dining table, pushing him into an upright, sitting position. He chuckles at your urgency and vexation yet remains turned on as you clutch your hairpin over his throat as a warning. His golden eyes are glazed over and quivering, a sign he is properly riled up, his hair now a mess, and his breathing is slightly heavier than before. You pull his large erection free from his underwear.

“You bastard. I’m not going to give you any time.” You growl, and his eyes grow more piercing.

You lower your soaking, aching pussy onto him. The stretch makes both of you groan in unison, and you almost come immediately from his entrance. He is huge in both girth and length, and it takes a while before you’re accustomed to his size. It was so long since you had proper sex with anyone. After he is buried in you to the hilt, you pause, glaring at him with a look aggressive with lust and a need for control. He moans in pleasure and you feel his grip on you tighten considerably. Then you move, slowly first, then quickening your pace, rolling and rubbing against him so his cock enters you at the best angles. His hands reach up to grab your hips, steadying you while he snaps up into you, pounding with such speed it makes your mind go blank with pleasure.

“Ahh-h—h!” you moan, louder this time, shaking with the mounting pleasure as he enters you fast, viciously, more than you can keep up with. You get wetter with each of his thrusts, squelching and slapping sounds filling empty room as he pulls out and fills you completely again with each punishing stroke. You feel yourself nearing your climax, your body swaying and jiggling with the rhythm as your bounce on Hisoka's cock, pressing your fingers harder around his body.

He senses it too, and growls, refusing to take his eyes from yours. You feel his nails rake your hips, grabbing your ass, pain and pleasure intermingling as your near your end. Waves of white-hot pleasure wash over you as you moan into your orgasm, your eyes closed in bliss as you tremble violently, clenching tightly around Hisoka, muttering curses as you come completely undone.

Before you have time to come down from your high, Hisoka pulls out, his rock-hard cock dripping with your honey, before grabbing you and laying you down on the table, towering over you once more. Then he fully sheaths himself inside you in one go, making you cry out at the jolt of oversensitivity as he pushes towards his own end. Using the slick from your orgasm, he goes even faster now, relentless, his hands holding your legs wide apart so he can have unfettered access to you while he slams into you without restraint.

"You like this, don't you? You like being punished like this?" He purrs with forcefulness, a sign he is close, lustful gaze boring into yours while he pummels into you.

You can't help but shudder at his words, but you spit out through gritted teeth. "Don't get cocky. And don't you dare finish inside, or I'll kill you before you are even done."

His control snaps. You feel his cock twitch inside of you. Then he pulls out and comes, moaning with deep satisfaction in your ear, his warm load spilling onto your stomach. After he finishes, you both gaze as each other for a while, barely out of breath, sweat glistening against skin. Your clothes are both in a mess and disarray, his hands are still spreading you wide and bare torso pressed against you as you both bask in the afterglow, sharing a moment to take in the surreal pleasure of what was an extremely unplanned but steaming hot round of sex.

"So with this, do we have a deal?" He breaks the silence with a devious smile.

"I'm not that cheap if you think once is enough." You retort as you clean up, pulling your clothes back on. "At least three more times, with an additional fee of 300,000 Jenny."

"Aren't you a greedy one," Hisoka smirks, tying his yukata back in place. "Alright. It's a deal, not like I'm complaining. I might deliver more than you ask for." His golden eyes travel across your body once more before meeting yours, and you can still see a faint glimmer of lust, ready to be reignited.

"Enjoying yourself?" An icy voice comes from the darkened doorway.

You don't even need to look to know who it is, recognizing the voice immediately. Cold grey eyes gaze at you from a figure leaning against the entryway.

"Chrollo," you almost spit out.

"Ah," says Hisoka naturally, "you're finally here."

You turn to scowl at Hisoka, realizing his blatant lie from earlier. You wonder for a moment how Chrollo even got in to the onsen without your notice, given that him and the troupe remain high up on your guest blacklist. Then you sense his nen, or rather his lack of it, a blur void except for the vague tinge of someone else’s foreign nen around his chest. A contract, then. He's harmless now.

Chrollo steps into the room, dressed elegantly in a black yukata, his hair let down comfortably. "Seems like you taste in men hasn't changed. I took a gamble on that." His steely grey gaze, piercing, calculating and formidable in confidence, still make you tremble a little, despite knowing him for years.

You take a while to understand and chuckle, looking from Chrollo to Hisoka. "Seems like we both got played."

The latter narrows his eyes at Chrollo before running his hand through his hair, sighing. "Well, as expected of him. Again, not like I'm complaining."

"Hisoka, leave us for a moment," you order.

"As you wish." You feel him step out but loiter along the corridor, waiting to pick up on the following conversation. Now it's just you and Chrollo left in the room. He doesn't move closer to you.

"It's been long. Too... long." Chrollo speaks, his voice calm but you detect a tinge of nostalgia, affection, regret and caution all entangled in one.

You know what he means. You can even see it now, the times he drove you wild, nearly killing you with nen. You can see all the times his lips met yours, growing a steady fire with a kiss, his fingers grazing your skin and making you moan and whimper while you grasp his hair tight in your hands, your mind blanking and feeling the universe come apart and stitch right back together...

"You won't be able to handle me now, in your current state. I would break you. It wont be pleasurable for any of us," you reply coolly. You catch the sound of a stifled laugh from the hallway outside. "Once you get your nen back, I just might reconsider."

You stand up, letting your silk robes fall gracefully past your knees once more. You arrange your bun and slip the onyx pin back into your hair.

"You can use the game tomorrow. I'll have it prepared. Tonight, I'll be busy receiving my payment. In full." You pause a little next to him, giving him one last, long look, before walking out the room and towards your quarters, Hisoka trailing behind.

Alone, Chrollo's eyes are deep and unreadable. Unconsciously, his hands are balled into tight fists by his sides. Then he breathes deeply, chuckling to himself.

What a woman. "Hisoka, you'd better get the job done. Fast."

---

Notes: omg this took way longer than i expected to!!! I’m quite proud of this one ;) I got inspired by a mobage card of hisoka, chrollo and the phantom troupe at an onsen and decided to do this imagine piece! Hope you enjoyed my fellow hisoka simps, it was so fun to write ;)

#hisoka morow x reader #hisoka morow #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #adultrio #adultrio x reader #hxh #hxh imagines #hunter x hunter #one shot

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dreamlover31 · 4 years

Text

Broken Promises

Hello my dearies, thank you for all of your comments and support throughout this comeback of mine lol

And now here's the third and final installment of my mini drama...my apologies since this took me a while to post this

Tagging: @madpanda75 @dreila03 @laceybellerain @melsquared79 @southern-magnolia @glimmerglittergirl @xemopeachx @misssirenlove @tropes-and-tales @thatesqcrush @sweetsummertime99 @imjustreallynosy @amirightcounselor @rampantmuses @youreverycolor

Two pink lines...what should have been caused for great joy, instead has brought upon nothing but anguish and despair. After the incident at the apartment, you had packed up your belongings and moved into your sister’s place in Soho; leaving behind the man who had all but decimated your heart. Though the time was brief, being held hostage by your fiance’s mistress was a real wake up call, the wool that had been pulled over your eyes that day; and it revealed a very ugly truth, that Rafael Barba was nothing more than a vile creature who had taken your love for granted and threw it back in your face, however, when you revealed the pregnancy it was merely a ploy to get Sophie to drop her guard so that he could take the opportunity to take her out of the equation.

A few days after the incident, you had started feeling nauseous and had some weird cravings for pickles and garlic knots, and that was when the gears turned in your head; so one day when your sister was at work, you trekked down to the bodega down the street from her apartment where you had purchased 3 different types of pregnancy tests. Upon your return, you anxiously awaited the results as you sat on the edge of the tub, after a few minutes, you peered down at the stick and your heart dropped.

Later that day, your sister Rebecca returned home from work where she found you on the couch curled up in a blanket; eyes shrink wrapped in tears. She set her things on the coffee table and wrapped an arm around you, she rubbed your shoulder soothingly until your tears had subsided and that was when you revealed the reason for your distress.

Meanwhile, Rafael painstakingly went about his life, despite protests from Liv and the others, in his mind it made sense to keep himself busy, that way he wouldn’t have to deal with the reality that he had lost the love of his life...and her confession of becoming an expectant mother. After the Sophie fiasco, Rafael was desperately trying to contact Charlotte, he had lost track of the many phone calls and text messages he sent her; although he couldn’t blame her...he had violated her trust in an unforgivable manner and as much as he wanted to just make everything that happened disappear, there was no way that he could reclaim the life he once had.

Rafael was sitting in his office reviewing one of his case files when his phone beeped, his emerald irises widened when he saw the message… it was the last person he expected to hear from...Charlotte.

We need to talk...meet me at the coffee shop down the street from my OB’s office

Alright...I’m on my way

Charlotte scheduled an appointment with her doctor once she had time to collect her thoughts, as she was sitting on top of the examination table, her mind drifted back to the conversation she had with Rebecca the night before...as hard as it would be, if it turned out that she was indeed pregnant, she would have to notify Rafael. At that moment, her doctor entered the room with the test results in hand, with a soft smile, she confirmed what Charlotte already knew and now it was time to have an unpleasant conversation with the man who betrayed her; as she exited the building, Charlotte texted Rafael and began making her way to the coffee shop. The front door chimed as Rafael stepped inside the establishment, his eyes scanned the enclosure for Charlotte until he saw her in the back corner, slowly, he padded towards the table where she had a coffee already waiting for him. They barely looked at one another as the world around them continued to function in its normal capacity, the tension surrounding them was so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Charlotte lightly tapped her fingers on the container housing her chamomile tea as she thought of the best way to approach the subject...finally, it was Rafael who ultimately broke the awkward silence.

“I would ask how you are doing but…”

“Then don’t” Charlotte snapped all the while maintaining her composure without breaking down into tears again, she breathed through her nose and exhaled a deep breath then blurted out:

“It’s official...I’m pregnant and your the father”

Rafael blinked as he took a moment to process the huge bombshell that was just dropped on him, although he had his suspicions, receiving actual confirmation made everything all the more real. While his first instincts were to reach out and hold Charlotte’s hand and comfort her, he knew that she would rebuff his advances, with a heavy sigh, he continued:

“Charlotte...I know there’s nothing I can say or do to make up for everything that has happened, but I just want you to know that whatever you decide...I will respect your wishes”

Charlotte replied, "Well look at you...the great Rafael Barba playing the martyr"

The venom in her voice caused Rafael to inwardly cringe while on the outside his face took on a wounded appearance.

Charlotte sighed, "I'm sorry Rafael...that was unfair of me"

"It was well deserved believe me"

She looked out the window for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts while Rafael looked on, carefully gauging her mood. Finally, she spoke:

“Look...I don’t know where we go from here...all I know is that I do want you to be a part of our child’s life and we’ll figure it out as we go along with regards to visitation and support”

Her words were like a dagger to Rafael’s heart, granted that she was willing to let him see their child, a part of him hoped that she would consider the possibility of raising their little bundle of joy together; and yet the more realistic side of him understood that once a trust has been breached, it could take a long time to rebuild or worst case scenario, one can never regain that trust. He frowned but nodded his head in agreement, upon exiting the coffee shop, they both decided that Charlotte would update Rafael on the baby’s development and went their separate ways.

6 months later…

Charlotte stares idly at the monitor as the doctor ran the ultrasound wand along her abdomen, waiting to catch a glimpse of the tiny life growing inside her, today was the day that she would find out the gender of her baby. The doctor adjusted the image on the screen to where a little grey jelly bean came into view, as she pointed out how the baby was developing on schedule, Charlotte became overwhelmed with emotion; tears began to prick in her eyes as she sniffled.

“Charlotte..are you ready to know what you are having”

“Yes, please”

The doctor clicked a few more buttons and a more clearer picture came into focus

“Congratulations Charlotte...you’re having a healthy baby girl”

The floodgates opened as tears streamed down her face, the amount of joy and love that she felt for the tiny human being inside her was astounding; at that point the doctor excused herself so she could print out the ultrasound pictures. During this moment of solitude, Charlotte’s happiness was quickly foreshadowed by the fact that this beautiful child was created out of the love that she once shared with Rafael, the man that she was set to wed before it was revealed that he had been unfaithful to her but as much as she wanted to hate him for the rest of her life...there was a part of her that still loved him and missed him very much. She quickly wiped her eyes as the doctor re-entered the room, she was handed the ultrasound pictures before gathering her belongings and leaving the examination room. She was then escorted down the hall to the reception desk, as she was finishing up with the receptionist, a familiar figure was sitting patiently in the waiting room. Upon entering, Charlotte was greeted with a smiling tall, sandy haired gentleman.

“You ready to go Charlotte”

“Ready when you are Sonny”

Sonny smiled as the two of them made their way out of the building, he helped her into his car that was parked along the sidewalk and as soon as he was in the driver’s seat; he started the ignition and drove off. A few months prior, Sonny had ran into you while grocery shopping at the local market, the two of you exchanged pleasantries and even agreed to meet up for lunch later on that week and ever since then, Sonny was like a Godsend. Whenever you were feeling overwhelmed or you just needed someone to talk to, he would always be there. He even invited you over to his place a couple of times where he would share with you the many culinary delights from mama Carisi and cuddle up on the couch and binge watched on various movies involving tragic romances. Sonny meandered down the streets of downtown Manhattan while Charlotte looked out the passenger window watching the buildings pass by, her mind a jumbled mess with everything that has happened, she finds herself in one hell of a moral dilemma. It was almost as if Sonny could read her mind because when they came to traffic light, he looked over to her and asked:

“Is everything ok?”

With a heavy sigh, Charlotte replied, “I don’t know Sonny...how can you miss someone who dismantled everything you once knew to be true...who you gave your heart and soul to, only to have it torn apart…”

He frowned as he put the car in gear and continued driving towards her apartment, “I know what Barba did was inexcusable…but I’ve seen him in the office and he puts up a good front but deep down I know he misses you terribly and would give his soul to be with you again”

Charlotte smiled softly, knowing that Rafael still cared for her brought some comfort, but the underlying question was that if she reunited with Rafael...how does she know that she can trust him again. The car came to a stop outside her apartment building, and they began their ascent up the elevator then as they reached her floor, they strolled down the hall towards her door; Charlotte settled down on the couch while Carisi prepared dinner. The aroma of cooked pasta and oregano filled the room, after chowing down on their exquisite feast, Charlotte and Carisi planted themselves on the couch and browsed through Netflix until they decided on a romantic comedy with Jude Law and Julia Roberts.

They were well into the movie when there was a knock at the door, Sonny got up and looked through the peephole and then opened the door a crack where in his line of sight he was welcomed by his colleague in a three piece suit; the well rounded and sassy ADA known as Rafael Barba. The two men nodded at one another upon entry, Charlotte carefully sat up and stood in the middle of the living room, there was a moment of awkward silence before Sonny spoke:

“Well I’m going to run down to the store real quick, we ran out of milk”

And with that, Sonny grabbed his coat and left, Rafael and Charlotte looked at each other with weariness in each other’s eyes, not knowing what to say or do. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Rafael broke the ice:

“How are you feeling?”

“For the most part, I feel tired and gross”

Rafael snorted, “If you don’t mind me saying...I think you are still the most beautiful woman to ever walk this Earth”

Charlotte blushed at his words, she forgot that he could be pretty charming when he wanted to be, she fiddled with her fingers as she sat back down on the couch. Rafael soon joined her but kept his distance.

“Listen...the reason I came over was to tell you that I’m happy for you and Carisi”

Charlotte furrowed her brows, “Excuse me”

“He’s a good man...and I know that he’ll take care of you the way you deserve to be...and I think we can make this whole co-parenting situation work as long as there is an open communication with one another”

Charlotte grinned and began giggling, at the same time, Rafael looked on with puzzlement.

“Did I miss something?”

Once she sobered up, she replied, “Rafael...I’m not dating Sonny, we’re just friends”

“But everyone at the precinct has been saying how close you both have gotten and that it was only a matter of time before…”

“Look Rafael...these last six months have been hard and as much as I want to hate you with every fiber of my being, I’ve come to realize that I still love you and I miss you so much”

Rafael gazed upon Charlotte’s face, slowly he brought up his hand and cradled her face, his thumb caressed her cheek as she leaned into his touch. He pulled himself closer to her until their faces were inches apart, he gave her a hesitant kiss on her lips but from there it gained momentum. All those months apart, the longing and need spilled out into the fiery, passionate kisses but then they reluctantly broke the kiss in need for air; their eyes connected for a brief moment until Rafael spoke again:

“I love you Charlotte...and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you...if you’ll have me”

Charlotte desperately wanted to believe him, and while she was unsure as to what the future held for them, all she knew was that she couldn't imagine a life without Rafael in it.

“We have some work to do, but I am willing to give us another try”

#rafael barba x reader #reconciliation #I'm so sorry this took forever for me to get posted #hopefully you all enjoy

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esthyradler · 4 years

Text

I am Dungeon anon, djdjdjf. I hope submit is OK to use. But I didn't want be creative in attempting to fit everything in one post or in several posts. That might have the misfortune of being eating by the blob that lives inside all post boxes.

So here's the vague I'd I've had for a while now. Ok, not this one, this one only sprung to life by with that other anons writing story ask.

I have lots of IZ OC's only 3 are flushed, however, and only 1 is Irken and would work in accidentally finding Dr.Zam.

So, my Irken OC used to be a Elite Invader top in his smeet class, not as a whole, but among his smeet siblings. Since, I'm not sure of Zams age, but given my own Irkens timeline and what I gathered of Zams timeline. Either mine is a smeet group before, two groups above or actually during Zams time. (Still haven't decided if smeets are born in categorized classes. Like Invader smeets to one smeetary and science needs to another.) So, unsure if their actually smeet siblings, if the same age, again.

Anyway, during my Irkens invader life he was pretty vicious, even partook in the irken gladiator arena for sport between Invading worlds. On one mission he even turned off the air support on a whole planet and felt smug that he'd outsmarted n hid in fake skin never to be discovered, as he watched them all suffocate. He was true green Irken Nationalist - you know - more power to my people above all else, kinda Irken. Belief in Irken ideals that they were superior to organic lifeforms and all other races were inferior to the Irken Empire, that by enslaving n killing other interior lifeforms the Irken empire was in fact helping them. (Yeah brainwashed zombie.)

Anyway, karma is cruel n teaches us many things, like your whole way of life has been a lie and your no more important to the empire you pleadged to give your life to then other species you enslave n murder.

He was sent on his fifth invading planet right after being honoured and gifted a new ship for his last invade. When he was captured by the planet and headed over to their leading scientist. Dubbed 'insanity' A creature so devoid of apathy n emotions he experiments on his own people without blinking, just for shits n giggles.

He tore my irken apart. Broke him down mentally and physically. But it wasn't the torture or experiments that got my irken. It was the fact The Empire had been sending their leading invaders to their planet for years without a single success. Never to hear from a single one, or ever giving warning to future invaders of its danger. Because they meant nothing, once a toy was broken it was thrown away like garbage.

In the end my Invader wouldn't break. Wouldn't spill The Empires secrets. So he was given a virus in his PAK that would create a back door into The Control system n decimate the mem frame, wrack it from the iniade out, why giving the locations to every Irken whose PAK was still connected to Irk. N even has fellow irkens eye implanted in with a camera to watch the show.

But, what the alien scientist didn't know was. My irken may not of broke for him. He broke at very idea of returning to Irk and what The Massive and control brains would do to him if they learner he'd been defeated n let go. That he was a defected irken now, because he felt wrong. Complete mental breakdown ended up running from Irken space and has never looked back since. Especially, after finding out what was done to his PAK. He may hate what The Empire stands for, but he still believes in his people n what they could accomplish as free beings.

Dxhtrxtxxu, sorry, I figured that needed to be said to understand why everything happened.

My irken has killed a fellow smeet Invader Irken who accidentally ended sucked throw a black whole to his neck of the woods n he aligns himself in The Empires eyes just by knowing n speaking to other aliens aligned with The Resistance n The Resisty. Not mention defected, a traitor, still alive and so in. Lots of racked up reasons to be an enemy now.

I figure my aquatic Bounty Hunter working for The Sub branch The Resisty. Ends up way in over their head n leading several Irken towards my Irken. Or they are together my bounty hunter n irken possibly inspecting a new planet for the plant life (my irken is now a space green witch. They deal in the healing art of plants n such. They are very sick - ill explain that only if asked.) n their scanners on their ships don't pick up an training party of irken. Ooor they were already on the planet when the party shows up.

My Irken knows he's got a better chance of being kept alive n either escaping himself or being rescued tyab an inferior alien with ties to The Resisty who more then likely be killed right away.. Not mention he doesn't have the best self esteem anymore n if he dies it's no big deal. But the bounty hunter is his friend, their more then a friend, their the glue that holds my irken together.

So they cause a distraction or fight through all they fear to allow the bounty hunter to get away. N the irkens are more invested in traitors irken then some backwater planet alien.

In order to be kept alive longest my irken tells them in exchange for life imprisonment he'll tell The Empire all they want to know about their Enemies.. of course he's not involved with the Resisty.. knows nothing.. but he know how to be an Invader. He knows how lie n bullshit n work the system at the same time. (He knows they'll kill him after they get what they want. But he has a backup for that too.) He knows even the highest ranking irken can't make this decision alone.. so they gave no choice but to return him to Irken space to contact Irk.. because let's say the Massive doesn't exist anymore.. thank you florpis n Zim.

However, when get to Irk or radio in when close he lays down n the new tallest say simply to strip him of pak n download the info. He smiles n says he's been implanted with a virus any attempt to mess with his pak will infect every online system n destroy them. (He's bluffing.. as far as he knows. But they Don't know that.) Everyone's freaking out now n what to do with him. He's worth so much more alive than dead but he's also a danger.. so the tallest is like. The dungeons.. put him in the dungeons. Their old n there's no tech down there.. no way to infect the rest if irks whole gride system hundred if feet below the surface of irk.. untill they can figure out how to either exstrack the info without him or until they can get it out if him willing as before n just leave him down there to rot after.

At some point either my irken gets out n starts snooping around for a back exist or he just so happens to be stuck in same room as zams prison box.

Also, I figured out a way to keep Zam alive for so long without food or water or nutrient.. Irkens n their PAKs can go into a hibernation like the Wolly Bear Caterpillars.. Who freeze in winter, zero body functions, meaning they are essential dead n not using any resources.. He could be down there for eons without actual death.

I figure the smallest PAK function would be scan the area for other PAKs.. So Zam can one day escape. N his PAK senses my Irkens PAK n - that's as far as I have thought.

Just know Zam is going have to deal with my Irkens PTSD n emotional moments.. Being back in a dungeon all over.. being on irk around other irkens.. woo so many triggers. There might be even moments Zam will halve to talk my irken down from attempted murder as zones n blacks out from bounty of animalistic fear. (But, l figured he's not all stupid n excited puppy scientist. He's got lots of sides to him, especially, if he's going to be able to take care of Zim. So, he should do fine with this.)

I think I covered everything. Sorry about mistakes, I'm super nervous, hard writing this on a phone n I didn't write everything down. If there are more questions about the story or my Irken or any concerns in general, please ask. Oh, utccitcut n my OC Irkens name is Kravis or Krais as an Elite Invader it was SIVARK or SIARK (Still unsure about the missing irken letters in their language.)

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

This sounds interesting so far(i have a different idea for the whole zam au thing, but I'll allow anyone to make up scenarios with my oc, its sounds cool)

#submission #dr.zam #an au for an au which is about an oc #sounds coolXD

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criminalrambling · 3 years

Text

Checkers and Coffee

Pairing: spencer reid x reader

Rating: G , fluffy! Some mention of a stalker, typical unsub stuff but story does not take place during a case. Enjoy the cute!

__________________________________________

The Charleston sun was still rising, not yet heating the air to sweltering, and the morning smelled of coffee and salt water. Most people would have been asleep at their vacation homes at this time of day, but you happened to be seated in a cozy booth at the local diner across from a certain tall, tousle-haired Doctor. The rest of his team had left earlier that morning on their jet, but unrelated to their recent case, they were transporting two Marines back to DC and two people needed to wait for a later commercial flight… you’d all drawn straws, and the lucky agents to stay behind were yourself and one Dr. Spencer Reid.

You’d checked out of the hotel, but hadn’t wanted to go to the airport just yet. So you’d convinced Spencer to join you at one of your favorite places for a few cups of coffee and breakfast. It must have been the lack of sleep combined with lack of coffee that caused you to challenge someone with an eidetic memory to a strategy game.

“You really think you can beat me?” His brown eyes glinted as he raised his left brow and smirked.

You rolled your eyes and nudged the round crimson game piece one space forward. “It’s checkers, Spencer. Not chess.”

“True,” he responded, scooting forward a black piece of his own. “But there’s still a significant amount of strategy involved. Did you know that versions of checkers were played as far back as 3,000 BCE? Archaeologists found evidence of a similar game in the Iraq city of Ur, and there have been other versions played throughout history. Though I’m not sure any of those versions involved a fabric board…”

His sentence was cut off by a grey-haired waitress who took your breakfast orders with military precision and a smile. You didn’t place a dainty order either. If Spencer thought you were a gluttonous cow, then so be it… breakfast was the best meal of the day, and you didn’t make it to Fleetwood Diner nearly often enough. You were pleased that Spencer took your suggestion of pancakes as part of his order, though his were plain and not the blueberry ones you preferred.

“Playing checkers at the Fleetwood Diner is tradition in these parts. At least, in my family it is.” You countered, jumping one of his pieces and trying not to gloat as you snatched it off the board. “Your turn.”

“Well, if it’s a tradition in the Y/L/N family then I’m happy to partake.” he shrugged, and gulped down more coffee out of the stout, thick handled cup. “Is it just me, or does coffee taste better when it’s served in this kind of mug?”

You grinned and looked over your shoulder to see where your waitress was. “Not just you - I love diner mugs. In fact, a couple of Fleetwood ones may have mysteriously made their way into my kitchen cabinet.”

“A federal agent, admitting to thievery!” Spencer laughed. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through your body at the sound of his laughter and the way his wide grin made his eyes crinkle. You hadn’t heard that laugh in several days, maybe even a week? Despite the busy workload in the intelligence department of the FBI, you’d taken off for South Carolina as soon as your sister had called asking for your help. The BAU had come down a couple of days later after you’d phoned JJ, the panic and emotion in your voice convincing her to bring the team to your hometown to help. The fact that everything had worked out… well, the fact that you were even able to smile was truly something to be thankful for.

Your sister’s 6 year old son James had gone missing from the University day-care that he attended after his half day of kindergarten. It turned out that one of her former students, now going by a new name, had targeted her. He was jaded since she’d turned him down shortly before her wedding 7 years ago and coveted the life she’d built. After 3 days of dedicated work on the geographical profile, James was found in an abandoned warehouse. He had been unharmed but was very dehydrated. The UnSub was located a few hours later as he was en route to the University, where he would have… well, done something terrible to your sister.

“I owe you one,” you smiled back, moving another piece. “And not just for keeping my diner mug secret. There’s no way I could have handled this one out without you and your team. It means the world- thank you.”

“Oh, I’m sure…” he started to brush off the commend, looking a tad sheepish before you cut him off with a look and placed your hand on top of his, squeezing gently. He gulped. “You’re welcome.”

You withdrew your hand awkwardly, hoping to whatever higher power there was that your cheeks weren’t changing colors. The two of you continued moving your checkers pieces, and you downed the last sip of your coffee before reaching for the pot the waitress had left on the table.

“The only flaw of these mugs… they aren’t nearly large enough.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

The corners of Spencer’s mouth turned up slightly. “I was debating doing some research through the biomedical engineering program at Johns Hopkins… There has to be a way to inject coffee straight into the bloodstream.”

“Might even earn yourself another PhD, smarty pants.” you played along, teasing him. You loved the way he lit up at the banter as you went back and forth.

“One can never have too many PhDs.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“No PhDs, and yet you’re winning at checkers.”

“Are you letting me?”

“No. Do you want me to?”

“No!” You gasped. “I like to win fair and square.”

“Oh, that’s too bad…” He smirked, and double jumped your pieces. “I might just have to make a comeback.”

“You son of a…”

“Pancakes!” chimed your waitress, swooping them down to your table. They looked perfect, as always, and your mouth watered. You knew they would taste even better. “And the blueberry, with extra crispy bacon. Syrup is on the table, anything else I can get you?”

“More coffee?” You and Spencer said in unison, looking at each other in embarrassment when you realized it had happened.

“That would be amazing, thank you.” You told the waitress as she took the empty pot from your table and said she’d be back momentarily.

You ate in silence for a few minutes - both due to the delicious food and also to take in what you were feeling. Of course, you felt relieved that your family was healthy and safe. Genuinely thankful for the smarts and skills of the BAU, especially those of the man across from you. You also felt… nervous? Oh dear, were those butterflies?

Of course, you knew Spencer prior to his arrival in Charleston to help with the case. You both worked at the Bureau and everyone knew the BAU team. You’d been with Spencer at a couple of functions (not together, just… there at the same time), and had gotten to know a few other members of the team over the years. Your department frequently passed cases their way, so you worked with JJ and Penelope most often. You’d always found Spencer handsome, but figured he was either already seeing someone, well out of your league or just… not interested.

But now, after spending the last several days in close quarters and under emotional stress, you felt that something had changed. The entire team was great, but Spencer in particular had been sweet, supportive and focused on helping you and your family. And when your nephew had finally been found, he'd been the one to talk to him, probing for details that would help in the UnSub’s capture. He'd pulled a magic trick to make James laugh, and you could immediately see how much he loved kids. Something about that combined with the extra time together… well, now that you weren't so anxious about your family, your attraction to him was ramping up into a desire for more than just the casual acquaintance you had before.

But did he feel the same?

The coffee arrived and you finished your last piece of bacon.

"So, uh.." Spencer started, fiddling with a sugar packet. "What time is our flight?"

"10:30.” you replied, sipping your coffee. It was just after 7:00. “So we should probably be there around 8:45 or so and it takes 45 minutes to get there…we can grab our checks if you want to leave a little extra time to grab our luggage from the hotel.”

“Okay, yeah. That would be good.” He flagged down the waitress quietly. “Can I get the check? Thank you so much.”

She handed over the seafoam green order slip, to which was paper clipped a crisp white receipt. He scanned the total briefly and handed it back with his card tucked inside faster than you could even move to pull out your wallet. You pulled it out anyway, feeling a bit flustered.

“What do I owe ya, Doc?” you joked, flipping through the cash in your wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” he responded, the pitch of his voice rising ever so slightly. “My treat, Y.N. Besides, isn’t it normal for a gentleman to… well, not that this is a… um, never mind.” He looked back to your now-forgotten checkers board, his lips narrowed together in concentration.

You grinned, hoping that you had heard him right. “I love a breakfast date. Even better than a coffee date, really.”

His tongue brushed over his lower lip and he looked back up at you before responding.

“What about dinner and… well, it’s not a movie, but I happen to have an extra ticket to a poetry reading on Thursday if you’d like to join me and…”

“I’d love to.” You smiled at him, feeling absolutely giddy at the prospect of a romantic date later in the week.“We can figure it out while we wait at the airport.”

His whole face lit up, and he followed you out of the restaurant. A couple of hours later, your head would come to rest on his shoulder while you napped on the flight home, and Spencer would feel very pleased indeed that he’d switched straws with Morgan to get this extra time with you

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fanfiction #fluff #criminal rambling #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #creative writing

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

Promised

**Series Warnings!! ** ABO dynamics! Smut, unprotected smut, knotting, claiming, mating, heat, rut, language, overly protective Jensen, age gap! 19-year-old reader, 41-year-old Jensen, virgin reader, loss of virginity, sort of an arranged marriage, hint at possible mob type settings.

Story Description:

In a world where your presentation can be a blessing or a curse, a newly presented Omega will come face to face with the harsh reality of Alphas, Omegas, and pack alliances that are expected to be upheld with the union of your two families…

A/N: Pt.5!!! Please don’t copy my stuff! Feedback is welcomed! If you want to be added to the series tag list, or just my tag list in general let me know! Cross-posted on Wattpad! Hope you enjoy it!! This is my first ABO series so be nice lmao!

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 2362

You had been at the hotel with your Alpha for two days, well awake anyway, really you had been there around four.

In those two days, Jensen had been taking care of you while you recovered from what he said was the worst fever he ever has seen an Omega undergo during her heat.

He still hadn’t tried to have sex with you again, and no matter how much you try and convince yourself that he’s just trying to make sure you’re well, and fully recovered it’s something that’s constantly gnawing at you in the back of your mind.

It’s not like he’d been avoiding you. Every night when you went to bed he’d wrap his strong arms around you, and pull you as tight to his chest as humanly possible. Tangling your legs together and holding onto you like if he let go even a little you would disappear.

He spent the last to days pretty much attached to your hip while you were awake. Pulling you into his lap while on the couch watching movies, making sure you ate, making sure you were comfortable.

That did make you believe the cares.

Waking up this his arms was quickly becoming your favorite thing. That was for sure.

Jensen was currently sitting with his laptop on his lap, and alternating between texting, and typing away on his keyboard in front of him. He hadn’t told you what he was doing, and honestly, you didn’t know whether it was okay to ask it.

You found yourself constantly craving his touch, but you didn’t know if it was okay that you approach him; or were you supposed to wait for him to come to you?

You thought your parents taught you everything you needed to know about Alphas, Omegas, and their relationships together, but you found out quickly that you knew nothing. So you kept your distance, watching him type away out of the corner of your eye.

After what felt like an eternity he looked up from his work and smirked at you over the laptop screen.

“I can literally feel you staring you know?” he says, his voice light and teasing.

You knew he wasn’t angry, but for some reason, the very sound of his voice was enough to make you shake in skin... In a good way…

“Sorry,” you mumble, picking up your coffee cup, and trying to concentrate on the show playing in front of you on the TV.

“Come here,” he said.

It wasn’t a request, you knew that. So you put down your cup on the table next to you and walked over to your Alpha, who had closed his laptop and set it on the couch next to him.

When you got close to him, he reached out and pulled you into his lap. You immediately laid your head on his shoulder, letting his scent and his touch calm you. This was what you were craving. His touch. Him scent... Him…

“Seems like your feeling better today than you were yesterday,” he said, playing with your hair, while you absentmindedly played with the button that was open a little lower on his shirt than was probably necessary; but you didn’t complain. I mean the man was gorgeous.

“Yeah, I feel more like myself today,” you mumbled, not sure what answer he really wanted out of you. You wanted more than anything to please and not anger him. You didn’t know this man hardly at all though, and you didn’t want to ruin your relationship with him before you even got started.

Being claimed in the states meant that you were not only bound to the person for eternity, or until the bond was broken and rejected, but that you were also legally married as well.

“I was sending off our paperwork to the clerk of courts office, you should get your new Social Security Card, and ID in the mail in a few weeks, along with our marriage license ...” he said, letting the sentence trail off at the end like was lost in his own thoughts.

You didn’t even think about that. You felt like such a child around him most of the time.

Which you guess that in a way you were. You were homeschooled, you were never allowed to leave the house, your only friends were family, you had never realized just how sheltered you were until you were tied to someone who you had never known, and expected to function.

Jensen had traveled all over the globe with his job. He’d seen and meet people of every variety and flavor. You had trouble making an order on the phone for food, and you weren’t even face to face with people.

Jensen swore that he’d teach you, that it was okay, not to worry about it. That it was your family's fault.

In a way, you had started to wonder if all those years, your whole life really, if you had been abused?

As if on cue Jensen cleared his throat bring you back to the present, his fingers dancing lightly over the sink of your back where he’d moved his hand under your shirt.

“Since your feeling better I think it might be best to go home today. We can use my friend’s private jet and be back in Austin within the hour. I had a moving company come in and collect your clothes and belongings that your parents had packed up for you. So you don’t have to go back there. Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t think you should go back there ...”

Your blood ran cold. This was one thing you had feared about being tied to an Alpha, the control. You stiffened before you could stop yourself. The thought of not being around your family had your heart-shattering. Yes, they were more than likely abusive and the cause of your anxiety, and inability to function in a and around normal circumstances, but they were all you had ever known.

Putting a finger under your chin Jensen lifted your face slightly to look at him. His green eyes searching yours. His face calm and unraveling.

“You didn’t like that I can tell,” he said, his voice soft, but you could hear a little concern.

The statement confused you though.

“What… How… How did you know I didn’t like it?” you asked.

When he started to chuckle it surprised you. If you would have questioned an Alpha in your family, you probably would have found your ass on the ground. He thought it was funny?

“Y/N, we’re bonded. I can literally feel the anxiety rolling off of you right now, and the fact that you're afraid of me. I can tell you what your feeling probably better than you can.”

You sat there on his lap staring at him there like a deer caught in the headlights, which made him laugh harder. His laugh was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, and you realized you had never heard it until this point.

Once he got his features under control, licking those perfect lips that you wanted more than anything to kiss right now, but you shoved that thought down for later. One feat at a time.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to have feelings and opinions. I’m not going to beat the shit out of you just because you disagree with me. I’m not going to snap. I can control my temper. I don’t know what you’ve been subjected to in your life, but I can guess by the way you act around me like you’re constantly walking on glass that it wasn’t a good upbringing, at least not a healthy one..” Taking a deep breath he brushed a stray piece of hair behind ear that had fallen in front of your face.

“I tell you what, sweetheart, let's go home and get you settled. Then let's just take some time learning each other a little. We will figure out what to do about your family later.”

It made you feel a lot better that he did take your feelings into consideration. It was more than you would have thought possible alone.

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

Three hours later, faster than you would have honestly thought possible, but again here you are; you were walking through Austin-Bergstrom International Airport.

Jensen’s arm was firmly wrapped around your waist as you made your way through the airport with your bags thrown over his shoulder. Both of you only basically had a duffle bag a piece in the hotel room.

Jensen had said your stuff was already delivered to your new home. Jensen’s eyes scanned the airport cautiously, scanning faces of passers-by as they went. A few people did seem to recognize Jensen. You could tell by the gaggle of girls that seemed to be drooling over him in the corner by the little sitting area when you passed, but the look on Jensen’s face screamed back off, and no one made a move to approach the two of you.

Once you were both safely in your uber Jensen gave the driver the address. Leaning over and taking his jacket off and placing it over your shoulders before pulling you close as possible in the back of the SUV.

“You okay so far?” he mumbled low enough that the driver couldn’t really hear the conversation going on between the two of you.

You nodded your head, pulling his jacket around you tighter, letting his lingering scent wash over you, calming you.

“I didn’t see any cameras, but I’m sure someone caught pictures of us. At least they didn’t approach. I really am not ready to share you just yet Omega.” he said, his voice dropping a whole octave, and his teeth grazing over the shell of your ear; causing a shiver to rip through your whole being.

That was the first time he had touched you like that since the night that he claimed you.

Finally, the car pulled up outside of the house. It was surprisingly closer to the road than you would have thought it would be. Not in a gated community. There were neighbors. That was something you hadn’t expected either. Your parent's house was something like a compound of sorts. Way over walled and way overdone. There was barely even a fence blocking the front door?

Jensen got out of the car, then helped you out, walking to the door with your hand wrapped tightly in his.

The house was impressive from the outside the closer you got to it. Two levels, maybe more. The outside painted a light gray. A wood lacquer type fence around some parts of the house. A well-manicured lawn.

Everything was clean. Everything was… Normal… No grand driveways, nothing like that. It was strange. You felt so out in the open. Jensen unlocked the door, then turned to you without warning sweeping you up bridal style into his arms.

You squealed in surprise, clinging onto his neck.

Closing the door with his foot he walked you through the house like you weighed nothing at all. Jensen stopped in the hallway outside of a door reaching down he opened the door to a beautiful bedroom. Clean, sleek. Everything looked expensive and modern.

Walking over to the bed he laid you down gently before jumping on the bed hovering over you playfully. A side of him you hadn’t seen yet. Though you did like it. He seemed really glad to be back into his own space.

Leaning down he licked at your claiming mark lightly, purring over you.

“So what do you think of the house so far? Satisfactory?”

You laughed a little at him as he nipped at your jawline leaving little open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Scenting you deeply at your claiming mark.

“I don’t know. All I’ve really seen so far is the bedroom,” you try and play back to him.

He was in such a good mood you didn’t want to break it. You liked him being playful. It’s like he morphed into a different person as soon as the car pulled up at his house.

“Well, baby that is the most important room in the house,” he smirked at you.

Getting a spurt of confidence you lean and brush your lips over his. Jensen takes over at once like it was the permission he’d been waiting for you to give him for days, he connected his lips to yours. Kissing you deeper than he ever had. Stealing your breath away. Your heart pounding like you had just ran a marathon.

His tongues slipped past your lips and teeth. Gliding over your tongue with ease, pulling a little moan from your lips past your own defenses.

Purring against you he pressed his weight on top of you a little more, letting you feel him against you for the first time. His scent was coming off of him in waves. His hand trailing up the inside of your thigh. Fingers tracing over hips lightly, making their way to the button on your jeans. Popping the button loose he slid his hand inside your jeans. Just as his fingers made their way inside your panties, sliding one of his thick digits through your soaking folds…. The front door closed loudly.

A growl ripped through Jensen’s chest, he jumped off of you like someone had shot him.

“Jay? You guys home? Gen sent you guys some dinner for tonight!” you heard the voice of another man yell through the house, making his way closer to your bedroom as you hurried to fix your close.

Jensen hovering over you, his head in the bend of your neck. A deep groan leaving his lips.

“Remind me to change the locks,” he said before getting off the bed.

“Who is it Alpha?”

You couldn’t help the whine that left your lips. He chuckles slightly coming back over to kiss you softly before moving to go meet your interrupter in the living room.

“Jared, he’s a good friend of mine. We will pick up where we left off when he leaves Omega,” he said, brushing your lips with his thumb lightly before walking out of the bedroom.

You didn’t know who this Jared is, but you did make a mental note to teach him how to knock.

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If you missed the previous chapter read it here!!

Promised Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns

Series Tag List:

@spnfamily-j2 @onethirstyunicorn @stoneyggirl @bloo-moon-freak @musiclovinchic93

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k-writer1998 · 4 years

Text

Black, White, Grey (3/3)

Having Bang Chan as your best friend is great cause he’s literally the best but not so much when you’ve had a crush on him for a majority of the friendship.

Angst

w.c: 2.1k

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Depending on the reaction on this last part, I may or may not make an extension/alternate ending thing but don’t get your hopes up 😅

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

It’s been a week and I’ve just been swamped trying to finish up my schedules while my manager finalized the details on the new project. Because of this I hadn’t had any time to see or talk to any of the boys much, but without a doubt Chan has just been super weird all week. He’s been checking in more often and has been more attentive to my responses than normal, what's with him lately? I shook the thought from my mind as my manager pulled up to the JYP building. Don’t dwell on it. If the weird vibe is still there when you stop by then you can worry, if not then you’re over thinking.

“After this last photo shoot you’ll have a few days off to pack. We could be there as long as half a year so make sure you have everything. You sign a few papers on my desk then you get some free time while I get everything organized and faxed over okay? ”

“Got it, I should be around the dance practice rooms but if not I’ll text you.”

“The plane ticket is already settled. Once it gets closer to the date I’ll send you the full details but it should be an evening flight.”

“Okay we can go over it later, let’s go in first.”

As we turned to the building my feet froze in place as my eyes connected with Minho’s. Shit, no one was supposed to find out. My manager looked between the two of us before telling me that he would meet me inside. Minho’s eyes narrowed at me as he came up. I avoided his gaze, instead taking notice of the drinks in his hand and tried to deflect.

“Did you lose a game and have to go buy everyone drinks?” I smiled.

“Yeah, but what was that about? Where are you going?”

“... do I have the option to withhold that information?”

“I mean you can, I’ll just ask Chan-hyung.”

“Wait, don’t! I kinda… didn’t tell him either…”

“Okay now you have to spill if not even your best friend knows. Does it have to do with Chan-hyung?”

“No, I’m not that dramatic,” I rolled my eyes, “I’ve actually been planning this for a while and I finally got the opportunity to do it. I’ve never brought it up because nothing was set in stone yet.”

“Well how long have you known?”

“Since last week…”

“A week? So you’re going overseas for six months for whatever and you didn’t plan on telling any of us?”

“I mean I’ve had to finish a lot of things and we both were so busy-”

“Were you going to tell us today?”

He knew it was all excuses and he was calling me out on my bullshit. I wasn’t planning on telling then until probably the day before the flight because I can’t do goodbyes. I knew they would all be happy for me, even encourage me, but there was something about all of that that made it harder for me to go. I was already dealing with a heavy heart about Chan, I didn’t need another thing weighing me down when I’m barely functioning as it. It was selfish I know but I needed at least some mental stability intact if I was going to be doing this.

“I wasn’t… but I have my reasons okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he scoffed as he turned to the door.

“Minho wait,” I called as I grabbed his arm, “I’m sorry okay? A lot has happened in such a short period of time and I’m trying to deal with it all but my brain can’t catch up and I don’t know how to put everything into words right now. I’ll tell the others on my own terms but please keep this a secret for now.”

I saw his jaw tense as he kept his eyes closed for a moment before he turned to glare at me. His eyes scanned my face for a moment before he sighed and I relaxed a bit.

“Fine. But you better hurry up about it. I’m not keeping it for long.”

“Thanks Minho, I will. I’ll meet you at the studio in a bit okay?”

He shooed me away and I gave his arm a brief hug before meeting my manager inside so I could sign what he needed then left to go meet the boys. Hanging out was pretty normal minus a bit of extra attitude from Minho and Chan being less weird but still not himself. The next two days were filled with me figuring out what to pack while fighting the little voice in my head that wanted me to just stay in bed and never leave. I’m currently staring at my phone, living room strewn with things that need to be packed, as I tried to figure out how to text the boys I’m leaving without everyone getting mad… especially a certain someone. As I erased yet another failed attempt at trying to tell them, my door chimed as my door code was being inputted. Before I could think of who it was, Chan bursted in and I got up to meet him halfway. He was breathing heavily, looking quite the mess but the troubling factor was his eyes. They were red and filled with confusion, betrayal, pain… God damn it Minho couldn’t you have given me more time?

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? What happened to no secrets? Why is it that I had to find out from Minho?!"

“Chan calm down… I was about to tell everyone, no one was supposed to know before. Minho only knows because he overheard it while I was talking with my manager. He wasn't supposed to say anything though..."

"Why? Did you just want to disappear before I could say anything?"

"I didn’t mean to keep a secret okay? I have my reasons for hiding it just like you have your reasons for hiding whatever has been making you so weird lately," I countered.

I wasn’t the only one who was going to be confronted. I mean his reaction was a bit extreme just for an overseas trip, even if it was an unannounced one, but if we’ve already reached this point might as well get some answers.

“What are your reasons then? And I haven’t been weird.”

“I’ll tell you once you tell me because we both know that you aren’t being yourself. You’re treating me like glass, as if anything you do will hurt me,” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I'm not, I just don't know how to act when- It's just when Minho-" he ran a frustrated hand through his hair before he asked, barely above a whisper, "Are… are you leaving because of me?"

"What? Chan, why would you-"

My heart stopped. As the pieces fell in place, the color drained from my face. It makes sense. Why he’s been so weird lately and that nagging feeling that I’ve been having that something was wrong…

"How long?"

“I-”

“Chan don’t act like you don’t know what I’m asking.”

"Since a week and a half ago..."

A week and a half ago? The only time I would have talked about it where he could catch it was…

“… you weren’t asleep were you?”

“I was! But I woke up because of Minho and I was trying to go back to sleep when…”

Panic flushed his face as he explained himself and I just numbly nodded in understanding. I couldn’t help but sigh at what was unraveling right now. I’ve been getting away with it for so long that I wasn’t careful. That’s on me.

“Can we just go back to normal, please? This whole treating me like I’m porcelain, being super careful about what you do and the constant glances,I hate it.”

“I- I just… I don’t know how to act. You’re my best friend and I love you but-”

I cut him off before he finished. The pure confusion written all over his face reminds me why I’ve hidden this for years. The frustration at myself boils beneath my skin, I’m trying not to let Chan’s actions get to me… but it does. It fuels my anger more, I don’t need pity and I don’t need protection.

"Chan, there is no option where I’m not hurt in some way. Would you leave Eunhye to be with me, break two hearts at the price of one? Or would you just not date anyone to protect my feelings at the price of your own? Do you think I’d be happy or even okay with you doing that?!” I snapped.

He was shocked at my sudden fire of questions. He stayed silent, trying to find an answer but the growing conflict that spread across his face was the only answer I needed. I let out a sigh, so much has happened. Him finding a girl he likes, me getting that overseas audition, him finding out about my feelings… it’s overwhelming. I take a moment to collect myself before I speak again.

“Sorry… I just… I hoped to never have this conversation.”

The lost look in his eyes broke my heart because I know that look. He’s nearly perfected hiding his feelings from his facial expressions, but his eyes always betrayed him. They held fear and slight panic as they darted around my face, trying to figure out my next move.

“I’m okay Chan,” I offered him a weak smile, “We’ve known each other for far too long and that’s how I know I was never an option. If there was a chance for an “us” I of all people would have caught it, don’t you think?”

He averted his gaze, the guilt washing over him as he shrank back and started to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie sleeve. I took a step forward, placing my hands on the sides of his face and gently brought him to look back at me. I’ve done this countless times when I found him in one of his lows, where doubt and uncertainty had found its way into his heart. Something so intimate that belonged to us, at this moment, was yet another grey area that was finally finding clarity. I know that after this things will change and neither Chan or me want that… but we’ll have to learn to live with it.

“Your heart's too big Chan, and I can't blame you. It's one of the reasons I fell for you, but you know what's in your heart. It’s obvious you really like her and that’s okay-”

“But I’m hurting you…”

“Deep down I’ve always prepared myself for this. Even if it hurts now, it won’t hurt forever and I’m wholeheartedly overjoyed that you found someone that makes you happy. So let’s stop this already okay?”

“Then why are you crying… stupid…” Chan questioned with a soft voice.

Damn it… I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. Chan removed my hands from his face as he drew me in for a hug. I rested my forehead on his shoulder, taking in his scent as his warmth encased me. I couldn’t stop myself so I succumbed to the wave of tears that spilled from my eyes, his hoodie balling in my hands as I clung to him. It was a while before my tears stopped but Chan still rubbed circles on my back like he always did whenever I broke down. Once the tears dried and I took a moment for myself to remember this feeling… the feeling of him… I pulled away.

“I wasn’t running away from you. I got a call for a Hollywood film I auditioned for… I have to go to LA for a call back and if it works out I stay. I didn’t want to tell anyone yet in case I don’t end up landing the role you know?”

“Oh my gosh that's amazing," he responded excitedly before the remorse set in, "I’m sorry. This was a big step for you and I made it about myself… I may have thought a bit too much when I found out,” he awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You and Minho both. I’m not that dramatic to run away because of a broken heart. Do you not know me Chan?” I tease.

“My bad,” he smiled, “but we are good still… right?”

“Yes and since you’re here did you want to stay and help me pack?” I asked, poking his side and returning the smile.

“I mean I kind of just bolted out of the dorm so why not, I’m getting in trouble anyways.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan angst #my writing

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willowistic22 · 4 years

Note

"He urgently needs soup" for Ikeshot?

I got that school project done yayy which means I am back to writing my heart out in newsies fanfics JAHFJNFJKSNJSDF. i wrote this from start to finish for like 3-4 hours straight lol i wish i was this productive every day. one of my favorite and very underrated ship btw so i was soo excited to write it. and also might be a little too long than my other drabble request but hey ive been saying that for almost all of my drabble requests so im sorry not sorry ✌🤪

requests are still closed for now till i have the motivation to reblog another prompt list but that also just applies to requests in general lol. till then, enjoy this and my next drabble request still in the works.

He lets the cool night breeze be his company, sitting on the outdoor table of the restaurant his date told him to meet him at. Hotshot didn’t want to order till his date arrive, despite the loud grumbling coming from his stomach. Hotshot isn’t sure how long he has before starvation gets the best of him. Because it’s been well over an hour and a half, and his date hasn’t arrived yet.

He bounces his leg frantically, the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach worsens with every passing moment of not knowing. Hotshot puts all his energy and focus on the small details around him, ruffling his dark brown hair, fidgeting his fingers together. Doing all that just to distract his brain from what’s most likely happening right now.

This can’t actually be happening, can it? Why would Hotshot get stood up on the third date? The one where his date had chosen what to do and promised to pay for it? Besides, it seemed that his date was showing genuine interest in him. Or did Hotshot just got too excited and read it all wrong? Is this suppose to be some sort of sign he needs to decipher?

God, he hated those intrusive thoughts. It gave him a sudden headache, forcing him to pull away his focus from the tiny lights the restaurant had hanged for decorations. Putting his elbow on the table, Hotshot uses his palm to support his heavy head.

“Are you ready to order now?” The same waitress came back to ask the same question for the seventh time, or is this the eight? Hotshot can only shake his head, the same answer he’s been providing every time that question is thrown at him, turning his face away just to avoid seeing the pity the waitress showed.

Hotshot still wants to hope for the best outcome, but him and every other people noticing his loneliness knows what’s happening. Still, he pulls out his phone to see if his date had responded to his text or he had missed a call. Nothing. Hotshot moves to text his friend Spot, asking him for a second opinion on what to do.

It fucking sucks because I really like him. Hotshot had texted. He has to have a proper explanation for being this late, right?

He waits for the texting bubbles from Spot to turn into readable text, which didn’t took too long.

You call two hours late? Look, I’m sorry I have to say this but he stood you up!

Hotshot doesn’t respond for a moment because he doesn’t want to believe what his friend said. More texting bubbles starts to appear. He places his phone on the table to wait what more Spot has to say.

I’m saying this because you’re my friend, Hotshot. Come over and we’ll talk about it

That offer looks tempting in Hotshot’s eyes. Before he could reply, the screen of his phone switches to the call display. The name on it confuses him, seeing that he had been ignoring Hotshot for the whole night.

Hotshot was hesitant to answer it at first, but maybe it’s worth to listen what kind of sorry excuse he had for his lateness. That is, if this still counts as being late.

“Hello?” Hotshot hesitantly spoke as he put his phone up to his ear.

“Hey, uhh... a-are you still waiting at the restaurant?” The voice asked, tone nervously shaking. Hotshot could pick up some background noises from the callers end, it’s quite loud but it sounds like there’s too many things happening there to the point he can’t really tell what is what.

“Yeah, yeah I am. Where are you?”

There was a little pause for a second before he finally responded again, “So... remember I told you that I have a twin brother?”

“Yes?”

“And how I exaggerated about him being a total dumbass and an overall useless human being?” He continued on with a little awkward laughter following after, “Well, you’ll never believe what just happened and where I’m at right now”

Ike’s in the hospital. The emergency room to be exact. Ike’s brother, Mike, had gotten himself into a drunken accident while he was at a bar. Ike didn’t fully explain what happened because he has no idea what happened there himself.

Hotshot thought Ike genuinely felt bad for leaving him hanging like that. He wanted to tell him but he was just too caught up with what’s happening at the moment. Things had just calmed down on his end, which is why it took him two hours to call Hotshot.

He told Hotshot to come see him at the emergency room and get takeout for them to enjoy, plus a little something for Mike. Hotshot briefly explained to Spot what was really happening before he head to the hospital to make sure he doesn’t leave his friend hanging.

The ER is packed with people. Whether they’re there as a patient or as a health worker in the middle of doing their night shift. A strong smell of latex and other medical scents filled his nostrils as soon as he stepped through the automatic doors. The lights are nearly blinding, but it didn’t took long for him to adjust to it.

He scanned the place to look for a small specific boy in the midst of the rush. He finally spotted a familiar face in the far back, hunched over a hospital bed. Hotshot caught his attention with a wave of his hand, which made him stand up from his seat to walk over to him.

Hotshot makes his own way to him and they meet in the middle of their path. He bends down a little to give Ike a hug once they’ve gotten close enough, but Ike parted with an awkward smile, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t planned on having a date at the ER!”

To which they both laughed as they make their way to Mike’s hospital bed.

“What did you get?” Ike asked, finally noticing the takeaway bag Hotshot was carrying.

“Nothing more than what you suggested on getting” Hotshot replied. Ike had suggested on getting the seafood dishes because that’s their specialty. But he specifically directs Hotshot on what to get for Mike.

“That means you ordered something for Mike?” He asked, and got a simple nod as a reply, “Good. ‘Cause from what I can tell with his current condition...”

He moves the hospital curtain to reveal an identical figure lying helplessly on the bed, a cast on the left arm and another cast wrapped around his head. Ike leans his weight against the bed railings with his hands before adding on, “... he urgently needs soup”

“Is this the guy that keeps on kidnapping you from me to go on corny dates?” The boy on the bed managed to speak up. He looks a little disoriented but his consciousness is present.

“Mike, we’ve only been on two dates”

“And he’s gonna keep on doing it, is he?!”

Hotshot laughed at the brotherly interaction before Ike finally pulled a second chair for him. Mike gets his soup, despite still not being able to function properly, while Hotshot and Ike gets to have their third date. The two eat their respective dishes accompanied with a small chat but mostly getting entertained with Mike who’s either still under the influence of anesthesia or the alcohol. Maybe they’re lucky and got both.

“I’m so sorry our dinner date had to turn into... ‘this’...” Ike put down his wooden spoon in the small food container to gesture his hands towards his brother, “And I’m sorry that it looked like I stood you up”

“It’s okay. I mean, at least this isn’t another corny date like what he said”

To which, Ike responded with a small laugh.

“I should step up my game and get my friend to third wheel us on another ER date next time” Hotshot joked, earning a laugh from Ike, “Taking you on corny dates would piss your brother off”

“Mike’s an idiot but he’s harmless” Ike explained after he stopped his laughing, “And... I don’t mind the corny dates. I just enjoy going out with you in general!”

Hotshot smiles at him sweetly and Ike returns the favor, ignoring the reality of where they actually are. It made him feel warm to know Ike felt the same way about hanging out with him. Because Hotshot clearly likes him. A lot.

“Jesus, guys! Get a room!” Mike called out. He might still be a little dysfunctional but he’s sober enough to realize the tension between them, “Don’t gotta make me and my soup feel single while you two make out in public!”

Hotshot looks down to his food to hide his laugh, whilst Ike gives his brother the stink eye but manages out a laugh. He face Hotshot again, “I swear, this isn’t how I wanted you two to meet”

#Newsies #drabble requests #ikeshot #ikeshot newsies #ike newsies #hotshot newsies #tw mentions of alcohol #tw alcohol #tw drunk #tw hospital #tw cursing #tw casts #is that a tw?

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

Text

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word count: 2K+ Warnings: Swearing, that’s really the only one for this chapter, I’ll change the warnings as necessary for each part.

*Disclaimer, I really don’t know anything about the world of computer hacking and such, but I tried my best!

Chapter one: Finding yourself

Well hello there! Look, I’m embarrassed and ashamed to admit this, but it’s taken me up until this past weekend to finally getting around to watching 6 Underground.

Now let me tell you, that shit was intense, hilarious, amazing, and my golly gosh, Ben Hardy has stolen my heart once again! There I was, thinking that he couldn’t get any more attractive after playing Roger, but no! I was oh so very wrong!

So basically, I fell down a rabbit hole of Four x Reader fics, and then while I was driving to work the other morning, I had an idea of my own for a story, and now here we are! I’ll let you all know now, this first chapter is basically just introducing Eight, but as of chapter 2 (Which will likely either be out tonight or at the very least by the end of this week), we will begin to get into the actual plot, and lets be honest, the smut. (We all want it, don’t pretend you don’t!)

I’m hoping you all enjoy this, and I would love to hear from you if you do!

@everything-isfucked, my sister from another mister, this goes out to you (You had better like it!)

Anyways, on with the show!!!

⫷⫷⫸⫸

Chapter one: Finding yourself

When your friends had asked you to join them for a night out on Friday, you had lied and said you had already made other plans. It wasn’t entirely a lie, however to most people, by saying you had plans, one would think they would involve you going out, and interacting with other people. This however, was not the case. To an extent you were interacting with people, actually no, let’s rephrase that, you were interacting with other people’s money.

Technology was your forte, everyone knew this, whether they understood the extent of your knowledge in the field, that was another question entirely. During school, all your subjects revolved around computer sciences, and it was to no one’s surprise when you had selected a degree in this exact field. Though you quickly found your assignments to be mundane and repetitive, designing a fully functioning website? You did that in your free time when you were seventeen! Create an app which allowed users to stream Netflix onto two screens at the same time? You had one upped that assignment with ease, your app allowed people to stream Netflix on one screen, YouTube on another screen, Or you could split screen, and have both playing at the same time on the same screen. Needless to say, while you professors were impressed with your abilities, your classmates were often found to be leering at you, snarky comments about how ‘because of you getting such a high grade, everyone else’s got dropped lower because they couldn’t compete.’ To you though, this wasn’t a competition, it was just something you loved to do! Of course, after years of doing the same sort of thing, your interests inevitably began to change. You knew the ins and outs of most apps and websites by now, you had studied them relentlessly when in the process of developing your own. So really, how hard would it be to use their coding against them, wreak a little havoc from the inside?

You had started off innocently enough, getting into your friend’s social media accounts, tweaking things in their settings just to get on their nerves. Slowly you built up to larger scale hacking, such as remotely logging into your professor’s laptop, not only finding the answers to the next five tests your class had, (Which you promptly made several copies of, selling them to your classmates online for $100 each) but also retrieving a few passwords that could have been far stronger than they were, (There’s a reason why most websites tell you if your password is weak, it’s to try and stop people like you from figuring it out!) With the passwords at hand, you were able to grant yourself access to anything you wanted in relation to your professor. His bank account details? You had them. The password to access his bank account? Well that just so happened to be the same password he used for his emails, which, oh look, you had that too! You had the ability to transfer all of his money from his account and into yours, something which you found yourself unable to do, despite his flawed internet security, you had no issue with the Professor, and although your moral compass was severely lacking by now, it was still strong enough to sway you away from robbing the man.

Your moral compass could only last for so long though, bills were piling up, your tuition fee was astronomical, add on top of that, your rent for the small apartment you had decided to stay in, to both escape your parents, and to avoid student housing, well the landlord had just upped the cost by $150 per week. You had a part time job, but the shifts had been dwindling as of late, and your savings account had reached dangerously low levels. Anyone else in your situation would do the same if they knew how, you told yourself as you found yourself diving deeper into a list of names you had found after weeks of searching. The list played host to the names of multi-millionaires who were so called, ‘off the grid’. The people who were in hiding for one reason or another, the people who even the government didn’t know about, and definitely the kind of people that you, a broke student, should have nothing to do with, or know they exist.

All you had to do was select a name, just any name, then came the hard part, snoop around and find everything you need to grant yourself access to their bank. It was one thing to find the details needed when it was your Professor, but a totally other thing when it came the people on this list. These were the kind of people who had passwords to protect their passwords, passwords! Your eyes scan over the list one final time, before stopping on a somewhat familiar name. “What are you doing here?” You hum out, cocking your head to the side as you make up your mind, this is the person.

It took close to three weeks before you had retrieved all the information you required, and in that time, your savings were now obsolete, but that didn’t matter, it was Friday night, and you were about to make yourself filthy rich! “Sorry mate, it’s either this or I move back home.” You smirk, spinning back and forth on the black leather computer chair, your eyes sparkling as you look over the enormous number which was the balance of this strangers account. You knew what you were doing with this part, quickly you entered in the necessary details, answering each and every security question with ease, before it finally came time to transfer the money to your account. “Just a bit to start with.” You decide, removing a few of the 0’s you had added for the amount you would transfer, “Can’t have the banks getting suspicious.”

********

The man stared at his phone, eyes narrowing into slits as he glared at the ever-changing bank balance. He hadn’t noticed it at first, I mean there was always so much money in there, how was he supposed to remember exactly how much he had? But the balance was dropping rapidly now, not by enough to cause him any concern, but surely enough to get on his nerves. There was nothing he could do to stop this though; he could hardly walk into his bank and demand they track down whoever had somehow gained access to his account.

No, he would have to solve this problem himself, surely it couldn’t be that hard to track them down, right?

********

Hacking was one hell of a slippery slope. One minute you were stealing someone’s money, and the next, you were assisting a group thieves who were robbing an exhibition which had come to the City’s largest museum. The exhibition was a collection of Georgian era clothes, and jewellery, which had been travelling across the globe, displaying some of the most exquisite pieces of fashion the world had ever seen. So far, the collection had made it three quarters of the way through its journey, and it was set to remain in your city for two months, before being packed up and moving on once again.

You don’t know whose idea it was for you all to use walkie talkies to communicate, but you felt like a child playing spies when you were handed yours that night. You didn’t give yourself the chance to think about that for too long though, as you quickly logged on to your set up, having situated yourself in a hotel which stood right across from the museum. Usually it was packed with tourists, though after offering to pay triple the price for a room with a view of the museum for the night, miraculously the staff had found you an empty room. You had spent the entire afternoon lugging your bags up to the room, all your computer components securely housed in each bag. None of the hotel staff had paid you any mind as you brought up you twelfth and final bag, simply turning a blind eye to the oddity of the situation.

“Okay, I have eyes on the security guards.” You announce through your walkie talkie, eyes trained on one of the monitors which mirrored what the security cameras inside the museum saw. “Foxtrot, you need to go left up ahead. Romeo, stand still, don’t move until I say so, there’s a guard right near you. Lima, you are getting way too close to a camera up ahead, either turn right now and go another way, or wait a few moments for it to pan back the way it came.”

This situation was stressful as hell, but the adrenaline which pumped through your veins kept you going, igniting a fire within you which begged for more. The trio in the museum listened to your every word, obeying each command as they crept closer to their target. An oval room near the far left of the museum, in this room there sat twenty pedestals, each playing host to necklaces, earrings, rings, and bracelets. Glass boxes encasing each item to keep them safe and protected. Not for much longer. “I can hear footsteps Quebec.” Lima whispers to you, and you frown, looking back to your monitors, scanning for anyone who may be approaching. At first you missed it, your eyes moving on to the next screen, but quickly they dart back, landing on a guard who had been up until a few minutes ago, permanently positioned near the bathrooms.

“Fuck, yes I see him. Foxtrot, Romeo, your path is clear for the rest of the way, but stop when you get to the doors of the oval room, don’t go in until I say so.” You watch the two figures nod their heads in understanding, before making their way as instructed. “Lima, go back the way you came, see if you can get into the storage closet at the end of the hall, I’ll tell you when to come out.”

“Quebec, we’re here and ready to go in.” Foxtrot announces, as you watch Lima close the closet door behind him, the guard who had been closing in on him none the wiser.

“Okay, here’s where it’s going to get loud.” You announce, turning to a new computer, fingers gliding across the keyboard at lighting speed. Delving deep into the security system for the museum, you finally stop when a window pops open, requesting an override password. You had three chances to get this right, and you had four theories of what the password was. ‘Incorrect password’ the window reads, before you enter your second attempt. You hold your breath, waiting for the same message to appear, though this time it doesn’t. “Thank fuck.” You mumble, typing in the code needed for your distraction.

The fire alarms blares to life, a loud siren sounding throughout the entire museum. The security guards do just as you had expected, they all leave their posts and make their way to the front desk, all trying to find out what had caused the alarm to begin. It wouldn’t take them long to come to the conclusion that the alarm had tripped itself, but it would give your team long enough to smash and grab what they could. The sound of three hammers simultaneously smashing glass in the oval room is obscured by the alarm, and you watch as your masked teammates snatch up jewellery left, right and centre, shoving the items into their backpacks “That’s the last of it.” Foxtrot informs you, throwing the bag back over his shoulder.

“Okay, this is where we go blind, I’m cutting the cameras now, anyone who looks through them will see you arrive, but will never see you leave.” This is the tricky part, not only for your team who have to navigate their way out of the museum through the back entrance without your eyes to guide them. But also for you, who must now cut the security cameras for the entire museum, and then for the street cameras from the buildings out the back of the museum. You don’t have to do all the cameras outside, just enough to give your team room to make a clean getaway, leaving no trace of them to be found. You swipe your phone unlocked, resting it on the desk beside you, hitting shuffle on your playlist, Nutbush city limits playing at full volume. Smiling, you get to work, the song adding to the exhilaration of what you had just done. Sure, not many people would be proud of robbing priceless artefacts from a museum, but hey, each to their own.

As you finish with the last building, its cameras shut off, your music drowns out the sound of the hotel door clicking shut softly. “Alright, you have a camera free street ahead of you. I’ll see you back at the rendezvous point for my cut.” You sign off on the walkie talkie, switching it off, after hearing an affirmative from your team on the ground. “Fuck yeah!” You cry happily, clapping your hands together three times, taking a moment to congratulate yourself on pulling off something that was this large scale.

“I wouldn’t say fuck yeah, in fact, I was leaning more towards fuck you.” Comes a voice from behind you, causing you to leap to your feet in surprise, spinning on the spot to face the stranger in your room.

“Who the hell are you?” You shriek, hands grabbing blindly at the desk behind you, searching for something you could use to defend yourself with.

“I’m the man you’ve been robbing for the past few months. I’m also the man who is going to kill you for doing so.”

Your fingers wrap around a solid object, and you lift it before you, holding it up in self-defence. You realise too late, that the hotel provided paper weight you were wielding, was nothing against the gun that was pointed directly at your chest.

Chapter Two My Masterlist

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gale-dragon-writer · 3 years

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Miraculous Adventure of Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Canis (Disabled but Abled AU) Chapter Sneak Peek: Dark Cupid

Max sighed as he waited in Miss Bustier's class for the teachers to return, thinking about how bad this Valentine's Day has been. All of Markov's scanning programs were scheduled for today; the debugging, defragging, anti-spy program, and general program system checks. Markov had to have all his docks present for all those programs to work at the function, so he couldn't accompany Max to school today. His phone was still updating its systems, which began roughly 3 HOURS AGO, so he couldn't use his phone for anything. He couldn't even record today's literature class. And lastly, someone thought it would be funny to steal his pack from his locker when his class had PE. The teachers were currently looking for his missing pack while the principle was making a few calls.

Max sighed again as he wondered why anyone would want to steal anything from him. All his electronics had specific locks on them that only he could unlock, all his notes for all his classes were on his phone (that he always kept on his person) as audio recordings, and his lunch. Either way, this caused the school staff to put a rush on the maintenance work for the school and a rush for the installation of the security cameras, both of which were supposed to be put in place next month but now they are expected to be installed over this weekend. 'At least something good is coming from this bad day,' Max thought with another sigh before he wondered why all these things were happening on a day that was supposed to be all about love.

That was when Max's phone made a ding. The blind teen smiled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the device. Finally! The phone was done updating! The first thing to do was to check his alerts.

That was when Max finally became aware of the Akuma attacking Paris.

"Shit! Ladybug and Chat Noire must be wondering where Canis is!" Max said to Barkk, who was hiding in the pocket of his new jacket (that he got just so she and the Miraculous could be hidden easier).

Barrk looked up at Max when she said, "You better transform and find the Akuma! But I'm a little worried about-"

That was when a sound of someone entering got their attention. Barkk quickly went quiet and buried herself into the pocket to hide from whoever entered as Max turned an ear to the sound. "Who's there?" the blind teen asked, hoping it was one of the teachers.

"Just me, Max," said the voice of someone very familiar to the blind teen.

Max immediately relaxed when he smiled and said, "Kim, you scared me. Did you get the Akuma Alert?" He knew he couldn't transform now, he had to wait until Kim was in a safe place before he could.

"Yeah, I did. I'd figure that I'd look for you since the Akuma is shooting people with arrows," Kim said in an oddly calm tone. That was when he asked, "But the Akuma Alert went out a good half hour ago, have you been here the whole time?"

Max sighed when he said, "I just got it since my phone decided that it wanted to take it's time updating its system. I wasn't able to record Miss Bustier's examination of the Sleeping Beauty story. It just finished a minute ago."

Kim was quiet for a bit before he asked, "That long, huh? Well, I guess that's why you haven't been taking my calls."

"You've been calling me?" Max asked in surprised before he added with a small smile, "I guess you were worried because of the Akuma running around. I'm sorry for putting you through that."

That was when Max heard a strange noise that sounded like something straining against a string when Kim said, "Oh, that's nothing compared to that other thing you missed."

Now Max was confused, "What are you talking about? And what was that sound?"

Barkk managed to peak out of the pocket she was hiding in just enough to stay hidden while managing to see what was happening. What she saw made her little heart stop cold. Standing in the same room as her chosen was an Akuma (Dark Cupid Canon appearance), aiming his bow & arrow right at Max with a smirk on his face. 'Oh No! Kim must've gotten Akumatized!' the dog Kwami thought in fear. She had to warn Max, who wasn’t even aware that his friend has been Akumatized, but if she did then the Akuma would see her!

"Oh, I'm just stretching," Kim, the Akuma, stated as a matter-of-fact before he said, "You know Max, playing dumb isn't something I'd expect you to do."

Max's confusion only grew when he said, "Kim, I'm not "playing dumb", whatever that means. I don't know what you're talking about. What else did I miss?"

Dark Cupid frowned angrily when he snapped, "You know damn well what I'm talking about!"

The sudden tone of anger frightened Max when he got out as he took a step back, "No, I really don't know what you're talking about!" Now he was starting to sense something wrong when he asked, "Kim, what do you think I missed?"

Dark Cupid pulled the arrow back on the bow a little more when he said, trying to keep his voice as calm as can be despite his anger, "Our little meet-up at the Eiffel Tower to get cones from Andre during lunch, remember?"

Max tilted his head to the side in confusion when he said, "When did you tell me this?"

Dark Cupid's face contorted into a rage-filled look as the arrow was pulled back as far as it could go on the bow. Barkk was now terrified! She needed to act!

Just as Dark Cupid was about to let the arrow go, Max said as he tried to remember when he last talked to Kim before now, "Wait, did you tell me about this meet before or after my pack was taken?"

Dark Cupid paused his actions completely at this. His face was now confused when he asked, "When was your pack taken?" Now he was waiting and watching for Max's reactions

Max replied, "I'm sure it was sometime during our PE class because it was missing from my locker when I went to get it after PE concluded. Weren't you there when I alerted Mr D'Argencourt that it was missing?" He asked that last part in confusion because as far as he knew, everyone from Miss Bustier's class was in the locker room when he made that discovery. But then again... He wasn't paying attention to anyone but Mr D'Argencourt...

Dark Cupid lowered the bow and relaxed his pull on the arrow when he asked, "So you didn't have the chance to go through it after Mr D'Argencourt's class finished?"

Max shook his head when he said, "No, I haven't. I don't know who took it, but the teachers are looking for it now. They told me to wait here until they came back." That was when Max asked in confusion, "Kim, why are you acting strange?" For some reason, the blind teen wasn't liking what was going on. There was something he was missing in all this, not just this meet-up thing that Kim was talking about.

The seconds ticked by slowly in silence before Max cautiously asked in a soft tone, "Kim? What's wrong?"

That was when Max heard Kim hiss under his breath, "That bitch!"

"Kim?" Max asked again, now having a mixture of confusion and caution vibrating through his system. Who was Kim referring to?

"Stay here, Max. I need to give a certain "expert" a piece of my mind," Dark Cupid stated darkly as he placed the arrow back into the quiver and the bow back on its dock.

"Expert?" Max uttered out in confusion before asking his friend in a worried tone, "Kim, what's going on?"

That was when the sound of wings beating and a sudden gust of wind flew throughout the classroom. Max quickly moved to keep his jacket close to prevent Barkk from flying out. When the wind died down, Max called out, "Kim?" When there was no respond, Max called out to his friend again.

Barkk flew out of her hiding spot when she told Max, "Kim was Akumatized the whole time!"

"What?" Max exclaimed before asking in shock, "But how? And why?"

Barkk replied, "I think he got upset about you missing your date with him, but it seems like something else is going on here. Transform and find the others, maybe they'll know what's going on with Kim."

Max nodded before he called out his transformation phrase.

~}i{~

Until the chaper~.

#Disabled but Abled AU #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous AU #Max kante #le chien kim #alix kubdel #alix malka

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nanakyun0j0 · 4 years

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Runaway / Lee Jeno /

AN: HI!! I have another story :)))) I’d like to give a huge thank you to my buddy pal @aplo7619 for the prompt!!! I had a lot of fun with it >< Thanks for your help! <3

Prompt - Jeno: “Your cat runs away and you look all over the city for it until you end up in the park and see your cat in the arms of a cute boy with glasses and a face mask on and even though he gives your cat back to you (after having to convince him its yours) he demands weekly visits.”

This also has lots of swearing so sorry if you're uncomfortable with that!

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Right now, the entire world feels like it’s spinning around you dangerously with each wheezing breath you take. Your shoes quietly skid against the pavements as you turn another corner with the force of a thousand suns, your lungs burning as you open your mouth and scream once again for your cat.

You were both chilling and basking in the evening breeze when your feline friendo had been spooked by a loud sound from the garage of your apartment complex and bolted off your balcony. It scared the shit out of you, and you’d damn near leapt over the railing to save him from his fall before you realised that firstly; you live on the first floor. Secondly, even though he’s a lazy shit, your cat’s not really that old, which means he wouldn’t have died.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard a disgruntled hiss below you. As you called for him, he’d let fear get the better of him and sprinted through the gates. You swore really loudly at that moment, luckily too dumbstruck at your cat running away from you to notice the flabbergasted expression of your next-door neighbour who’d come out to check what all the ruckus was about.

So now you were running through Seoul at ass ’o’ clock in the morning to find your dumbass cat. You’d tried to be systematic about your approach in the beginning. Checking his usual hiding places in the park near your complex, or the night market stalls, etc. When you couldn’t find him there, you’d started to panic a little but managed to keep a cool enough head to try looking in one area at a time, furiously cursing yourself for not charging your phone earlier because you still didn’t know the city well and the maps were your only hope.

But surprise surprise, you still hadn’t found him. Which you have to say, is incredible in its own right. Like, he hadn’t even run away for that long, where the fuck did he go?

As you round another corner and peer nervously into an alley that looks more like the abyss, your legs give out a little and you crash haphazardly into the stone wall in front of you. Your hunched figure leans fully onto it as you try to catch your breath and regain feeling in your legs. The breeze wasn’t feeling so enjoyable anymore and you really regretted not wearing thicker clothes.

After a few blinks and gulping breaths that are so erratic they could pass as a trap beat, you feel yourself losing confidence and really let the panic settle in your veins. The thoughts of what could happen to your cat throb deeply in you like the pulsing blood around your body and your mouth curls down in fear. Your eyes begin to water and you softly choke out a whimper, hunching further and half falling into a squat while resting a hand on the wall. Your free hand pinches the bridge of your nose and you bite your lip harshly, the area now feeling sensitive and raw. You try calming yourself down but it’s not working.

You’ve been running around the city for a while now and your phone’s dead. Night life in Seoul is always bustling and there hasn’t been a street where you haven’t seen cars racing past or people chattering. Some had even asked what you were running so desperately for, offering their help when you told them about your cat. You’d really appreciated that, always in awe at the kindness others could show a mere stranger, but you didn’t want to bother anyone. Which in retrospect was a stupid idea. Then again, you were full of those.

So as you squat in the middle of a fairly well-lit street near a convenience store, trying as hard as you can to start breathing properly, you force yourself to take a step back from the rushing thoughts in your head and think about everything again. Easier said than done, but you’re feeling pretty determined to get that damn cat back. He’s too precious to you for you not to care. Also, the amount of money you spent on him was fucking ridiculous.

A few more moments of reflection lead you to conjure something out of your ass/brain, which causes you to believe that your cat had gone to the park after all. But you must’ve narrowly missed him. He’d always loved the little playground there, and you are willing to bet your kidney that he is there after all. And even if you’re wrong, don’t you need only one functioning kidney anyway? So with that stellar reasoning, you slowly rise from your position and stretch your aching legs, taking a few more breaths for good luck. Then you turn back the way you think you came (fingers crossed), and run like hell to the park.

When you get there you give yourself a pat on the back for remembering the right directions for once, and you’re also really glad the park’s still brightly lit up. The lamps almost blindingly stare back at you when you venture past the entrance. After a few familiar turns you spy the playground and scan the area. A lone figure catches your attention and your guard goes up, before you hear a soft but familiar meow coming from the bench the stranger is sitting on. A flood of relief encompasses your senses before you realise something.

Shit.

Leave it to your cat to get picked up by a fucking stranger at like, 3 in the damn morning.

A stranger who looks pretty well-built, if you look closely. Oh God, what if he’s a weirdo?? A muscular weirdo?

The thought won’t leave your head and you try to shove the fear down. Deep down though, you know you’re screwed. And you are, just not in the way you think.

You steel your nerves and approach the bench as carefully as you can from behind, but all is for naught because the man’s head whips around and you halt in your steps, anxiety at an all time high, despite the pretty face of the man in front of you. His styled blonde hair and round glasses do nothing to lower your guard. You notice he’s wearing a mask but ignore it for the main part. It’s just common practice in Eastern Asia.

You both have a staring match for a while, before his voice slices through the veil of silence.

“Hello?” His voice is somewhat gravelly, but still kind. He looks kind of suspicious of you, and you shove down the urge to say, ‘Me too, pal.’ Instead, you stand stiffly and wave shyly. Damn his beautiful voice, it’s made you a different kind of nervous.

“H-hello. Um, That cat you’re holding? I’ve actually been looking everywhere for him. I’d like to take him back home now, because he kinda ran away earlier.” The words tumble out quickly, not allowing a moment’s hesitation.

The man perks up slightly at your words but deflates again when you mention he ran away. He stands up and faces you fully now, and boy is he tall. But you can think of his legs later. Your cat takes first priority.

“I’m sorry but I don’t think I should give him back to you if he ran away.” The man starts off warily. His expression is cautious but at the same time apologetic.

Yikes. He thinks you abused him. His excessive care for your fluff ball would usually be appreciated, and you still are thankful he’s being careful, but you’ve just had a really stressful few hours, and all you want is to collapse on your bed and die for a bit. So since your emotions are a bit jumbled, your next words are sharper than you’d usually speak out.

“Look guy, it’s real nice that you’re looking out for my cat but I haven’t abused him. He ran away because of a loud sound in my apartment complex and I’ve been practically tearing this whole fucking city down trying to find him.” You take a deep breath,

“So, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like my fucking cat back. Now” You grit out.

The pretty blonde man looks surprised at your outburst at first, and then guilty. Which makes you feel horrible because he looks like a sad Samoyed. But before you can apologise for being a moody bitch (rightfully so but still), he approaches you and holds out your cat, unwilling to meet your eyes.

You gently take him from the man’s arms, giving the little squirt an unimpressed look but snuggling him closer to you before focusing your attention on the blonde man. A few minutes of trying to make eye contact later, you clear your throat dramatically.

That finally seems to snap him out of his guilty stupor, and you allow a small grin to creep onto your face when he shyly stares into your eyes. You notice his glasses have slightly slid down. He looks really adorable, is the next thought that pops into your head.

“Thanks for finding my cat. I’m sorry for being so rude earlier, I was just so stressed, you know?” You mumble. He quickly shakes his head and hands in front of his face, animatedly telling you that ‘no, I should be the one apologising. I just jumped to conclusions even though I didn’t know the full story!’

It makes your smile wider and you just tell him you both did something stupid so you’re even. He finally breaks into a smile at that, and you find yourself beaming with as much force as him. His smile does wonders to your heart and you feel it bloom in joy.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re asking him what he’s even doing at the park at this hour. To that he sheepishly replies, “I just like taking quiet walks at this time.” Which you find kinda strange but, as long as he’s not gonna murder you you don’t really care.

You then notice that you’ve made your way to the benches and move to sit down, asking for his name.

“I’m Jeno” He replies.

“What’s yours?”

You tell him and he lights up, telling you it’s a great name. You only shrug, replying that it’s nothing special.

After that the conversation flows and Jeno and you have been chatting for so long, the tendrils of dawn peak through the horizon. You didn’t even realise how early in the morning it must be and you feel guilty for keeping Jeno for so long. He feels equal guilt and asks if he can walk you home. You crinkle your nose at his suggestion, not liking what he’s implying but knowing he has a point. Besides, you liked talking to him and you want to chat longer, so you agree and tell him your address. He does a double take then and, while giggling, tells you that he lives in the same complex. You smile at that and ask him to visit sometime, and he agrees,

“Do you mind if I come over every week? I just. I just really like your cat.” He asks quietly and a little lovestruck as he stares at your squishy ball of fluff. At your raised eyebrows, he nervously stutters out that, of course, he’s really fond of you too.

Your smile morphs into a lop-sided grin and you stay quiet about how red his ears have gone. With that you both stand up and exit the park together, sniggering and chatting in the early morning light.

#lee jeno #nct dream #nct #nct jeno #quiet times #im not sure what to tag #is this any good?#i hope you like this #nct dream scenarios #nct scenarios #cats #jeno and cats #best combo #i couldn't think of a name for the cat #i almost called him chestnut #do you guys know chowder the tv show #i nearly named him chestnut from chowder #chestnut from chowder sounds pretty funny if you say it really fast

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amour-de-tous · 4 years

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Finally, the update on my health

TW: lots and lots and lots of talk about health, and bad health, in particular, below. So I know I never really updated everyone on What Was (is) Going On With My Health. It’s been a huge mess, and I run out of spoons every day just trying to eat meals at the right times to take my meds. Shortest version possible (believe it or not): at the end of May last year, 2019, pretty much all my joints and extremities swelled up unbelievably. Like I couldn’t put my feet on the floor because they were so swollen it felt like the skin would split open. I had to sit in a chair all day with my feet elevated on a stool and pillows just to keep them from continuing to swell, and I had to sleep with pillows under my feet to keep them from swelling more during the night. I say “sleep” loosely, because I was getting about an hour to two hours of very interrupted sleep every night. The swelling was so bad that just to leave my chair where my feet were elevated, and go sit at the table to eat meals, my feet would swell so bad it was hard for me to walk from the table back to my chair. Then my hands started going numb and tingly, but not in a “my hands are asleep” kind of way, but more an “this is excruciatingly painful but I still can’t feel my hands” kind of way. I couldn’t close my hands into a fist, and I couldn’t open my hands either, they were frozen in a sort of half curled position. There were several weeks where I couldn’t hold a fork or spoon to feed myself. There were months upon months were I couldn’t brush or wash my hair by myself. I spent months with my hands/wrists/feet/ankles packed in ice every 20 minutes to try to control the swelling. I also had this awful brain fog situation where I couldn’t focus on anything. Even if I had been able to hold a book, tablet, or phone (which I couldn’t, because my hands were so bad), I couldn’t read because I had absolutely zero concentration or focus or comprehension. Even watching TV was almost impossible because I would zone out and come back to awareness and so much time had passed I’d have no idea what was going on. I literally spent three or four months just sitting in that chair in pain, staring at the ceiling, crying on and off. So, so much more below the cut.

I could barely attend my niece and nephews baptism. We were there for as long as it took for the actual service to happen, and while I tried to stay for the meal and gifts and such, I was in such excruciating pain--and using a cane to even be able to walk--that we had to leave early. My niece’s 4th birthday was a few weeks later, in late June, and again I was there with a cane and in excruciating pain. I’m my niece’s favourite person and having to tell her Auntie couldn’t get down and play with her, or hold her, was terrible. By the end of June, my PCP had run enough tests to be outside his area of knowledge and referred me out to a rheumatologist. The earliest the one I wanted to see could see me was January. This was the first week of July. So I looked around for whoever could see me first and chose them. The soonest someone could see me was, unfortunately, on my birthday last year, July 15th. So I spent my birthday seeing the rheumatologist, being diagnosed with carpal tunnel, tendinitis, and what he suspected was rheumatoid arthritis. Once I left his office, I spent my birthday getting bloodwork (8 vials, yikes, which continued monthly for the remainder of 2019), and then getting fitted for a set of wrist braces that I would have to sleep in for maybe the rest of my life, and wear during the day when the pain was so bad. The rheumatologist literally said to me “well, none of your labwork confirms this and we don’t really know, but we’re gonna treat you as if you had rheumatoid arthritis”. Although he kept running tests to try to confirm the RA, he didn’t look anywhere else to try and figure out what I actually have. So they started me on medication(s), and referred me to occupational therapy and physical therapy. I was so bad when I started going that my PT consisted of sitting in a chair and (trying) to flex my ankles in different directions, and then a lymph massage to try to reduce swelling. My occupational therapy, when I started, consisted of trying to pick up pieces of sponges and put them in a cup. I was so bad that was actually almost impossible for me. They also referred me out to have a nerve conduction test, where they stuck needles all through my arms and electrified them. It was the worst thing ever, let me tell you. Then I got referred to a hand surgeon (who is lovely, actually) for surgery. He decided to hold off on surgery and see if steroid shots would help (they did, to an extent, and I am so grateful for that). Fast forwards through months and months of testing and bloodwork and physical and occupational therapies and medications, and the swelling had reduced enough that I could stand up or walk to the bathroom or eat dinner without swelling up so bad anymore. Being at PT and OT still meant I came home and had to pack my feet and wrists in ice and elevate to take care of the extra swelling, but it was better. Not good, not right, but better. Fast forward more, still, and it’s December. At that point I could stand long enough to help cook dinner, or even run an errand or two before I was in too much pain and had to sit and elevate again. In mid-March they released me from PT and OT. Not because I was better--I still couldn’t (and can’t, now) bend my wrists at all--but because the prescription had run out. I’d basically used all the allotted amount I had. This ended up being alright in the long run, since aside from one trip to the lab for bloodwork, I haven’t left my house since my last day of OT on March 13th, due to Covid. Turns out having an auto-immune disease and being on immunosuppresants makes you REAL high risk for Covid, and I’m just not playing that game. At the beginning of April, I finally got to see the rheumatologist I WANTED to see all along (via video visit! Didn’t even have to leave my house and be exposed!). She’s awesome and is really set on finding an ACTUAL diagnosis for me and not just saying “we don’t know”. Had 9 vials taken from me in her first round of bloodwork, and then she said it looked like it could be Lupus and did more tests. She’s now pretty certain I DON’T have Lupus OR rheumatoid arthritis. I had an appointment with her at the very end of July (video, again), and it turns out she thinks I have something called sarcoidosis. This is going to require a CT scan, for my lungs and heart, to see if the disease is in them. Evidently with this particular auto-immune disease, your body overreacts and encapsulates what it thinks are dangerous foreign bodies (but really are just part of your own immune system) and creates “granulomas” around them. Basically think of an oyster creating a pearl around an invading body, except in this case instead of pearls, I have lumps of stuff that hurts me. Horrifying to know I have to walk into a hospital at this point in time, of my own free will. Like I said before, aside from one set of bloodwork, I haven’t been exposed or been out where I could be exposed at ALL. All that goes out the window once I walk into a hospital for a CT scan. :\ After the CT scan, depending on the results, there’s other tests I’ll need. Chest x-rays, EKGs, pulmonary function tests, lung biopsies (YIKES) and others. She seems fairly confident that this is the correct diagnosis for me, but wants confirmation and also to see progression of disease. At any rate, she’ll be changing my medication. Which sucks for so many reasons, not the least of which is I just picked up 360 tablets of it that I now won’t be taking. :| Also the fact that now I get to try a new medication and do the “am I having side effects or am I just anxious” song and dance. She’s also talking about needing to put me on steroids which I am REALLY unhappy about. I suppose it’s better to go on steroids than to die, but I’m still really unhappy about it. In other, related news, I’ve developed hypercalcemia. Which means there’s too much calcium in my blood, which can cause a HOST of other problems. So I’ve been put on a no-dairy, low calcium diet. Do you know how many items have calcium in them? Almost everything, that’s what. Also, they fortify all the non-dairy “milk” products with calcium. They all have as much or MORE calcium than dairy milk. It’s been a NIGHTMARE, to the point where I’m actually afraid of food now. I’m obsessively reading labels and doing research online. “How much calcium is in 81 grams of kiwi, after all?”. Nightmare. Dairy was my #1 love and foodgroup, and having to suddenly figure out all new things to eat and ways to cook while simultaneously being in pain and *exhausted* 24/7 because auto-immune is not. fun. at. all. It’s already all my energy every day to help make, eat, and clean up a meal. I literally have to sit in my chair after a meal with my feet elevated to recover. Now having to spend all this energy on a whole new diet plan is a nightmare. Basically this whole thing has been a MESS. It’s been 15 months, I’ve been being treated for the wrong disease for 14 months, the news I’m getting now is worse than the news that flattened my emotional response all those months ago, I still can’t function, and I can’t work. Oh, yeah. I haven’t played an instrument since May 2019. My whole life revolved around my music, and now I can’t even play to make myself feel better, because my hands don’t work. I’ve also been out of work since then, too: my last concert was April 2019. I haven’t made any money since. But I have had co-pays out the wazoo! Which reminds me that they raised the price on two of my meds, because of course they did. Thanks, congress. This has been really, really hard. My anxiety has skyrocketed through this, and my depression isn’t doing much better. Although physically I’m not as bad as I was, I’m nowhere near normal, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to my normal again, either. The best I’m hoping for at this point is to be able to eat calcium again someday, to not have my organs eaten up by this disease, and to continue existing. It’s been exhausting. It really, really has. That’s not to mention the added stress and anxiety over Covid, and the fact that neither mom nor I can even go to a grocery store because of my high-risk status. We’re averaging getting groceries about once a month right now. It’s super fun now because I have to read the label on EVERYTHING but Aldi doesn’t post their nutrition labels online and!!! That means I have to either guess or not get things! Great! All this to say that I miss being on tumblr. I miss all my friends here. I miss talking to you all and being able to laugh with you and geek out. Things have been really hard for me (and there are multitudes I haven’t included in here; even if my hands would allow that much typing, I’d probably hit a character limit. Just: I miss you all. I love you. I’ve been a wreck, but I think of you all often. <3

#health stuff #diagnosis #health talk #medication talk #eating talk #uhhhh what else #needles talk #blood talk #disability talk #I'M A MESS Y'ALL #i love you and miss you #ponderings and musings #asa health stuff

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swordarkeereon · 3 years

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Tech Review for Writers: reMarkable2

I got myself a piece of interesting tech this year in hopes it would get me from out in front of a computer screen more often. Meet the reMarkable2, a distraction free (i.e. it’s not connected to the entirety of the internet) e-ink tablet workhorse that’s easy on the eyes.

The reMarkable2 Tablet

First things first. The reMarkable2 tablet is not for everyone and your average person probably won’t find it the least bit useful. So let’s talk about why you don’t want this tablet first.

reMarkable 2 is not for you if:

– You want an eReader. eReaders have a VERY DIFFERENT function than the reMarkable2. Yes, you can read PDFs on a reMarkable, but it’s more for *marking up* a PDF and commenting in the margins of a PDF. Not just reading. eReaders like Kindles and Nooks often have built in dictionaries, ways to bookmark pages or passages of text, etc… that the reMarkable2 doesn’t have. You can search your documents for specific phrases and words and also highlight things in a light gray, but if you’re just looking for an eReader, I suggest a Kindle.

– You want a full functioning tablet that you can put apps on and surf the web with- If you’re looking for a full functioning tablet, you’ve missed the whole point of the reMarkable2. The main point behind reMarkable2 is so you can go to your creative place (wherever that may be) and brainstorm, free from ALL distractions. You can’t stop to surf FB or your Twitter feed on a reMarkable2, thus making it more likely you’ll stay on task and get more done.

– You want something with color so you can highlight because what you really want is a fully functioning ebook reader or tablet. This tablet is really more of a no frills brainstorming and note-taking tool for entrepreneurs, professionals, academics, and creatives (including engineers, writers, musicians, possibly artists if they like to sketch in black and white) who use a lot of black pens and plain paper.

I bought the tablet for the following reasons (which I wrote down BEFORE I received the device):

– I wanted an electronic notebook (not a tablet). I’m one of those people who goes through 3 packs of sticky notes every month, and countless notebooks every year. I am constantly jotting stuff down to keep myself focused and on track while running my own business and helping out at the family business. My notes can be anything from putting together presentations, classes, and meetings, to extensive to-do lists for the day. Sometimes it’s just me keeping track of sales figures. As a result, my desk is always filled with papers and notebooks and I’m constantly searching for shit. The electronic notebook cleans up all this clutter and helps me organize my brain. (Have you seen my brain!? It’s a mess in there.)

– I like to write freehand, especially when I’m plotting the next book or writing a blurb, or even writing a chapter – and it must be distraction free. This is something only fellow authors will understand. The fact that the reMarkable2 can convert handwritten notes to text sent via email has me excited because, if I’m lucky and it works, I won’t have to go through and transcribe all my handwritten notes. It basically saves me time by eliminating a step. I can copy/paste the note from my email into the appropriate file on my laptop. This will also save me the clutter and weight of carrying countless notebooks.

– I am involved with projects that require me to sketch out ideas for marketing and/or artwork. I do have tablets that can do this, but nothing that does it *well*. The closest is my Surface tablet, which can do a lot of things, but it still doesn’t feel like paper or allow me the fine detail paper allows. I’m hoping this tablet is a bit more responsive in this area. – I am forever printing out rough drafts of manuscripts for markup – wasting a ton of paper and toner in the process. All because I can’t edit on a backlit screen. My eyes get tired and I miss too many errors. If I can transfer my PDF drafts to the reMarkable and mark them up there with minimal errors left over, I could save some $$. I am actually estimating that I could easily save the cost of the reMarkable2 in 6 months to 1 year’s time by not having to purchase the paper, pens, and toner I usually go through in that time frame. Plus, these marked up manuscripts often end up in a stack on my office floor for 6 months to a year after publication.

– I am forever having to read PDFs of laws and regulations for the family business, and while I usually use them on the computer, I sit in front of a computer 8-13 hours a day. I need a non-backlit screen for reading in the evenings just to give my eyes a break. Yes, I imagine I could do the same with a Kindle paperwhite, but I may just want to jot some notes in the same way I’d mark up a paper copy. I’m still a pen and paper girl. I’m really hoping the reMarkable is my replacement for that (most of the time anyway).

reMarkable2 test to sample the pen styles.

Some considerations I took into account before purchasing:

A lot of customers complained that it took too long to receive the reMarkable or to get support. From all of the research I did, and in reading their website, it’s clear to me that this company caters to academia and businesses. I ordered my reMarkable2 on January 16, 2021, and had it in my hands by January 25, 2021. 9 days. I also ordered it and paid for it through my business. I don’t know if that’s actually why I got mine so fast, but I wouldn’t be surprised. That said, I do think the company should work a little harder to increase their customer service efficiency.

With regard to customer support – the website clearly states it can take up to 10 business days for support to get back to you. And a lot of the things people seem to be complaining about have troubleshooting instructions on the website. Clearly people weren’t going to the website to try to look up their issue through the support FAQs, which likely would have helped them out sooner. They were just contacting support immediately, and angry when they weren’t getting a response after 3 days, when it’s clearly stated on the website that it can take up to 10 days due to the fact that reMarkable is a small company. But like I said earlier – they would be smart to increase their customer service team.

reMarkable’s folios are a custom fit and really pretty, but a bit pricey. I made the tablet more affordable by skipping the upgrade on the pen, because a friend of mine got the eraser feature and she wasn’t digging it initially (she loves it now), and I purchased a relatively nice folio from Amazon for under $30 (with no magnets – research told me magnets can cause dead spots in the screen of the reMarkable2). You can also just buy a 10″-11″ tablet sleeve and it would work much the same. There are also universal tablet folios that will fit 10″-11″ tablets that are free of magnets and will likely work just fine. All for under $20 bucks — even a few in faux leather. Remember that a case should protect your investment, not just make it *look* sharp.

Right out of the Box.

Right out of the box I set the reMarkable up and started using it for brainstorming. Here were my first impressions:

1. It really is pretty damn close to writing on paper.

2. You can rest your damn hand on the screen and it won’t fuck things up or make it wobble as with traditional tablets.

3. My handwriting actually looks like my handwriting and you have almost the same control with this as you would with real pen and paper.

4. The interface is simple and intuitive and anyone who uses computers and tablets day and in day out will have no issues figuring this out.

Now some thoughts on the features:

Handwriting to Text: As an author who likes to occasionally spend time writing the old fashioned way, one of the things that attracted me to this tablet was its ability to translate handwriting to text. No writer wants to have to transcribe their written notes and waste all of that time. So of course I tested it with my horrific handwriting, vs purposefully trying to be neat, and the reMarkable2 was able to convert my chicken scratch into actual text that I could read. I was able to turn the handwritten notes into a PDF, but I was also able to send the handwriting converted to typed text as the body of an email, where I was able to cut and paste it into any program I wanted. I took it further and wrote 1000 words (about 8.2 pages) longhand. It converted all the pages to text in one swoop and I was able to copy/paste it into my manuscript. While there was a little formatting and editing involved — it was a lot faster than retyping handwritten notes. WIN!

Handwriting for conversion test.

Conversion successful

PDF Transfer, Markup, and Signature: Transferring PDFs to the reMarkable is easy. You simply download the app on your phone and your desktop, and you can take any pdf from either device and import it onto your reMarkable, which you can then markup. I sent myself a slew of PDFs that I had to read and markup. It’s amazing how much more focused I am on a screen like this. I really got the same experience with editing on a digital PDF as I did with editing on a paper copy. My only caveat is that I don’t have more space to make notes since the margins are a bit small on the screen and there’s no “back of the page” to carry notes over to. I can likely manage. Despite that – what a great experience. Goodbye manuscripts all over my office floor! Hello being able to drag editing work with me wherever I go!

You can also transfer your PDFs that don’t have an electronic signature option to the device, sign them, and send them back. Talk about HANDY since I do that a few times a month by default. This just eliminates the print/sign/scan. Now I just have to transfer it to the device, sign the document, and email it straight back to whoever sent it.

Digital Planners may be something I look into for 2022 because reMarkable actually makes them feasible. I tried a tester digital planner, courtesy a friend, on my reMarkable and I have to say – it offers just as much satisfaction as a paper planner. Plus, you can SEARCH large pdfs. It won’t find search terms in your handwriting, but it will find it in your PDF. That’s definitely a handy feature when you’re working with 500 page PDFs. That said, the tablet saves your place (last page you visited) as you’re navigating a PDF, so no need to search for the place you left off. However, there is no way to bookmark multiple pages.

ePub Reading: suppose I could sideload books as ePubs, but I really have no use for this feature. If I want to read ebooks, I use my kindle or the Kindle App on my tablet or phone. Unless I start doing editing of ePubs or want to check out an ePub format for something? I didn’t buy this as an eReader, and it is terribly lacking as an eReader. Where the reMarkable excels is as a tool for marking up documents. So my guess is it would be great for that if you have a lot of files in ePub format that you have to go over. You also can’t change font sizes for easier reading. You can zoom in and zoom back out to regular size. That’s it. (And this is another reason this is not an eReader.)

Storage: Storage is a little over 6GB (you do not pay for the reMarkable website cloud-sync). But even with about 15 PDFs (some of them really long) on my reMarkable at any given time, I was only at .38 GB.

reMarkable2 Storage

File System: Like I said earlier – the system is highly intuitive and easy to use. I made folders for my most common notebook uses, then I moved the appropriate PDFs to those folders, and created any notebooks I needed for those folders.

Exporting: You can export as .PNG, .SVG, and PDF. Handwriting to text can only be sent as text via the body of an email. This is actually great for writing because then you just have to copy/paste from your email into your Word Doc, Google Doc, or Scrivener.

Importing: Imports PDFs and ePubs.

Templates: The templates are great. I generally only use graph paper, plain, and lined paper myself. But I could see how a lot of these would be useful to people. The to-do list is a crappy template just because it requires you to hide your menu to use it (you can’t tick the the checkboxes until you do this). To hide the menu tap the circle in the upper left top of the menu bar. So if you want a partial page to-do list, you can easily make your own checkbox lists using the graph paper option. There are also dot pages for the folks into bullet journaling.

A small sampling of reMarkable2 Templates

Search Feature: You can search within a PDF, but not through your own handwritten text. You must be in the PDF to search it, otherwise you can only search for file names. You can not search across documents for a phrase or word. So if you’re looking for something with the same search capabilities as a laptop or possibly a tablet, you won’t find it here.

Zooming: You can zoom in on PDF documents and write on them while zoomed. However, you cannot change font sizes to make reading easier.

Battery Life: On days where I used it heavily (about 4-5 hours), I was using around 15% power in a day because I didn’t put it in airplane mode. Three days of 4-5 hours a day use drained my battery to 50%. So me, as a heavy user, not in airplane mode, will likely get 6-7 days out of a single charge. Possibly more since clearly not every day will be a heavy use day. The device does go to sleep after 10 minutes of inactivity.

Pen:The pens are a bit pricey. I did not buy the expensive pen with the eraser and I’m okay with that. But $60 for a pen is still a bit — ouch.

Pen Nib: I am expecting I will be one of those poor unfortunate souls who will be replacing pen tips every 3-4 weeks during heavy use. Luckily the pen itself doesn’t use batteries. The pen nibs seem reasonable in price, just be sure to order a new pack with your device and when you start that pack, order another as shipping times on those can take a week or two depending where you are and how efficient your mail service is. You don’t want to accidently run out and find yourself without a pen. Yikes.

Security: You can add a password to your reMarkable to keep prying eyes out. But if you’re like me and self-employed, that’s not really an issue. Your remarkable has Wi-Fi, yes, but you can put it in airplane mode to cut the connection. Plus, it only syncs to your cloud storage. There really aren’t any entry points for viruses or people hacking into your device. But then I’m also not a tech person. Let’s just say I highly doubt security will be a huge issue on this thing. Besides, anyone who wants to take a peek at my tablet would likely find themselves bored stiff, unless they like reading really rough first drafts of speculative fiction. LOL

Backup/Download: You can easily transfer your files back to your computer by opening the app and simply exporting your finished documents, etc… to your computer, backup drive or cloud drive. You can also just email yourself a copy to make it super easy.

My Wishlist:

1. I wish I could add or append new, handwritten pages to an existing PDF. That would definitely solve the space issue. Now, I just make notes in a different file and jog back and forth between the PDF and the notes, which is a little annoying, but doable. One way to solve this issue would be to save all your PDFs to double spaced. It might make markup a little easier. I’ll try that with the next books to go under the editorial knife.

2. I wish there were cheaper alternative covers. My $17 cover looks great and protects my tablet. reMarkable could easily come up with a few additional low-cost choices here. The ultra professionals are still going to buy nice leather folios.

(I may add to this list in the coming weeks, but right now these are the two main things jumping out at me.)

Overall Review Summary

For writers, reMarkable2 truly is a remarkable distraction free device that can help improve your concentration and organization, give you the freedom to write out longhand and convert it to text without the tedious re-typing, and help you mark up drafts with ease. This would probably serve prolific and professional writers more liberally than the writer who takes a few years to pen a book. Plus, it will probably save you a lot of printer paper, toner, pens and notebooks. For business owners/users – reMarkable will likely save you pounds of sticky notes and legal pads, and hours of time transcribing your notes. Plus, it’s a great on-the-go working tool for content creators and people who review a lot of PDFs.

Have some thoughts on the reMarkable2? Feel free to leave a comment below!

#distraction-free #not sponsored content #reMarkable2 #tablets #technology reviews

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heartofsnark · 4 years

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This Is Love (Chapter One): Welcome to Hope County

Notes: Soooo, I’ve been talking about this for a bit and it’s time to just take the jump and start publishing my Far Cry 5 fic. I hope you enjoy. Also, i have like a series warning for this that will be on every chapter cause it needs it.

Summary: Dahlia Hale is the youngest person working at the Hope County Sheriff’s Department. Hailing from a small town in Louisiana, it’s going to take her some time to fully acclimate to the new environment and living on her own. Developing friendships takes time even for the most functional of people and for disasters like Dahlia it takes even longer. She gets along with her coworkers and there’s some religious family who’s taken a shine to her, for some reason. It seems like she’s on her way to getting the kind of friends she’s only ever dreamed about, even if it’s going to take some more time.

Then everything goes to shit.

Halfway through her six-month probationary hire and that nice religious family has kicked off a holy war with her becoming enemy number one.

To one side she’s a hero.

To the other she’s a monster. She’s not sure which is right.

Word Count: 9,290

Series Warning: I usually do not like to spoil endgame pairings in my fics, but this warrants being up front. This series is polyseed and involves heavy, recurrent themes of at times romanticized noncon, dubcon, large age differences, and stockholm syndrome that develops into a romantic relationship. The relationship between my oc and the Seeds is extremely unhealthy, toxic, and should never be replicated or sought out in real life. No matter how things progress or how they are portrayed at different points, this fact remains the same. i am comfortable exploring and enjoying these themes in fiction, not everyone is. If you are uncomfortable with or triggered by any of these things, please skip this and take the precautions you feel necessary to avoid this material. If you are an individual who struggles with separating reality and fiction; please do not read this. Otherwise, if you’re comfortable with and enjoy that kind of content, please enjoy.

Chapter Warnings: Bliss flowers, hallucinations, threats of violence (really not bad compared to whats to come)

A shiver rolls down Dahlia’s spine, the chill of the Montana night settling into her bones. A sign welcomes her to Hope County, her motorcycle tire spinning dirt at it as she passes. The moon shines bright in the sky, cascading silver light down on everything. It’s beautiful despite the cold, light reflecting off the lakes and streams that pass through the county.

It’s mostly woods and forests, fields of big white flowers and animals wandering through. The entire county is begging to be put on a postcard, from the animals, to the fields, to the…giant cement statue of a guy with a manbun…

Her tires squeal as she comes to a stop on the thankfully vacant road, she pushes the visor of her helmet up, as if the tint could cause her to see something like this. Sure enough, the white hunk of stone is still there. It’s of a man with his hair pulled back in a small bun, in one hand he holds a book and the other gestures outward.

Hair raises on the back of her neck and goosebumps collect across her skin, the statue is…eerie. It looms across the entire region, a creeping specter. Unnerving doesn’t even begin to describe it, her body has started to lean towards it, almost drawn to it.

Maybe it’s a historical figure for the county? People do that right, build monuments to founders or something. The clothes of the figure seem old fashioned, but she’s not sure about how far back the manbun goes.

She shakes her head and slaps her visor back down, she needs sleep. It shouldn’t be much further to her hotel. Dahlia revs her engine and rushes off that way, finally finding the large wooden hotel with its red roof. There’s a large wooden sign welcoming her to the King’s Hot Spring Hotel, the parking lot is decidedly vacant, and she comes to a stop by the smaller stone black sign that sits close to the larger wooden one, easy to overlook if someone wasn’t looking close enough.

“King’s Hot Spring Hotel

On May 12th, 1902 a 7.6 earthquake struck the mountain south of the hotel. It created a 10 million ton landslide that sliced a deep crevice in the earth and destroyed half the King’s hotel. 16 people were killed in the landslide, their bodies never recovered. To this day, their ghosts are said to haunt the site of the rebuilt hotel.

Built 1866.”

So, from a dirty cockroach motel to a haunted hotel, certainly a step up. She doesn’t really believe in ghosts, they’re cool as all hell, she loves creepy shit. But she doesn’t think any of it is real and if she’s wrong, maybe the ghosts will be nice enough to kill her. She parks her bike and shuts off the engine, unclipping her storage bag from it and making her way to the door.

The inside feels warm and welcoming, rustic. A large stone fireplace with a bear skin rug in front of it, wooden stairs leading to the upper floors. Her eyes scan the room and she finds a registration desk where a woman sits, reading from a white book. She stands out slightly in the old styled hotel, tattoos covering her arms. The woman’s light, almost milky, green eyes, look up to see Dahlia as she makes her way to the desk.

“I called ahead and reserved a room for tonight.”

“Hale, right?” The girl flashes a soft smile as she slides the registration forms across the desk and Dahlia finds herself looking down at the receptionist’s arms, SLOTH and ENVY with strikes through them; half tattooed and half scarred in the woman’s skin. Heavy-handed work.

“Yeah, that’s me, how’d you know?”

“Oh, not many folks check in here anymore, between the ghost tales and the new management.”

“Management?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow as she finishes scribbling in her info and handing her card over.

“Here,” the woman hands Dahlia’s card back along with a room key and a map, “I’m sure you’ll find the path.”

“Uhh…thanks…”

She shakes her head as she leaves the desk, doing a double take at the worker, who’s now back to reading the large white tome with a soft smile on her face. Dahlia is entirely too tired to deal with weird cryptic people, maybe she’s trying to play up the creepy factor of the supposedly haunted hotel. Probably intrigues the tourists or some shit. She takes her phone from her pocket, ringing Lloyd as she walks to her room.

“Hey, Stray,” He greets her with the nickname he gave her and she already feels a little better despite the chill and exhaustion.

“Hey,” Dahlia unlocks her room and strides in, there’s a deer head mounted on the wall and a vase of those white flowers on the bedside drawer, “just wanted to let you know that I am officially in Hope County.”

She tosses her luggage, along with the gunk the receptionist gave her onto the bed and does a fist bump for no one’s benefit but her own.

“That’s good, your interview is tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, hopefully it’ll go well, if not it might be another year of me eating cheese puffs on your couch.”

“You make it sound like you’re some sort of bum.”

“I mean…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m gonna be a mess when you go.”

“If I go, still gotta get the job.”

“You’re gonna nail it, I know it, me and Earl were friends way back. He’s not dumb enough to let you go. And if he is, well, I’ll be having some words with him.”

“You can’t fight someone for not wanting to hire me.”

“I mean, I can, uh, yeah, sweetie it’s stray, I was kinda, oh Caroline wants-“

“Stray, did you throw your fucking phone away?” Caroline, Lloyd’s wife, is on the phone in a second, worriedly yelling.

“I talked to you when I stopped off in Denver.”

“Yeah, in a dingy nasty motel and then we didn’t hear a word from you for over twelve fucking hours!”

“I’m pretty sure I could handle myself,” Dahlia laughs and rolls her eyes, the concern is appreciated but unneeded. She’s a cop and despite her short stature, she’s got muscles and knows how to protect her. Maybe it’s cocky and arrogant, but at this point in her life, she’s not afraid of anything hurting her physically, mentally and emotionally is a whole other ballpark.

“Still, what if you were in an accident. Have you ate? Do you know where you’re eating tonight?”

She ate back in Denver and her stomach is growling now, but she mostly just wants a shower and sleep. She’d rather just grab room service for breakfast.

“I’m fine, I’ve ate and I will eat. Stop worrying, now I’m gonna get settled in for the night, I’ll call you after the interview.”

“Wait, ha-”

“Goodbye, mon cher,” Dahlia ends the call after her casual term of endearment, cher and mon cher as normal to her as bud or pal. Maybe it’s just a Cajun French Louisiana thing, or it’s one of the many things she picked up from her dad. She instinctively plays with the ring that hangs from a chain around her neck, he was always so proud of where he came from, teaching her Cajun French from the moment she could talk. Would he be upset with her leaving the state?

She shakes the thought from her head, she can’t concern herself with the opinions of people who aren’t here, as much as they’d mean to her. Dahlia finally has the tools to be independent and make her own way in this world, she needs to seize any and every opportunity. She double checks that her door is locked, before stripping out of her clothes.

Dahlia sets her phone to play music as she takes a shower, singing along to it as hot water eases her aching muscles. Once she’s cleaned, she dries off and starts to make her way to the bed where her luggage is.

The large white blooms on the table between the bed and window, draw her eye, her suspicion confirmed that they’re the same as the fields of flowers she saw on her way here. They must be a common flower here. She’s not a plant person, but she can appreciate pretty flowers when she sees them. The petals are soft against her finger and she pulls out one of the fresh flowers, sniffing at it. It tickles her nose, the soft scent pleasant, but it makes her want to sneeze. She tucks it back in the vase and scrubs at her nose.

Her vision swims for a moment, suddenly light-headed. She hasn’t slept much and has been driving a lot, her eyes must be tired as well.

Dahlia digs some comfy sleeping clothes from her bag to change into. Content in her shorts and tee, the hotel much warmer than the outside chill. She pushes her luggage off her bed and takes a look at the Hope County map.

Her vision is still swimming but she reaffirms where she needs to be tomorrow for her interview. It’s over in Fall’s End at the Sheriff’s Department. Dahlia fishes a marker out of her discarded jacket pocket and then starts to write directions down on her right forearm before tucking the map away.

She rifles a cigarette from her quickly emptying pack, most places don’t like their hotel rooms stinking like nicotine.

Cool air rushes in as she opens the window, she leans against the windowsill, appreciating the view of the moonlight reflecting in the pool of spring water. Montana really is beautiful.

She lights her cigarette, looking away for a second to ignite it.

“Ooooh ooooh~” A soft melodic voice drifts in, piercing the quiet, and Dahlia’s head snaps back to the window.

In the grass, a woman surrounded by green mist spins and dances, singing softly into the night. She’s young, but still older than Dahlia with dirty blonde hair that falls past her shoulders. A white lace dress with flowers across the waist and skirt. Illuminated by moonlight, a heavenly glow, angelic but singing a siren’s song.

Who would be out there at this time of night?

Dahlia’s the only one in the hotel and she doubts the staff indulges in nightly dance sessions.

When did Dahlia start leaning further out the window?

Every fiber of her being screams at her to run to the woman. To jump out the window if she has to, anything to get closer to the hauntingly beautiful woman dancing along the decks before the spring.

Dahlia slams the window shut, quick and hard enough to rattle it. It’s late, she’s exhausted, she’s ridden her bike almost twenty-eight hours straight. Only stopping for a late night in a shitty hotel in Denver before getting back on the road at eight am this morning.

Between ghost stories and exhaustion her brain is fucking with her.

The woman’s singing is still there.

Softer now but still present, still beckoning.

Every muscle in her body is tense, prepared to bolt in order to go find that woman.

She smashes her fist against the side of her head, the impact of her knuckles rattling her skull as she literally tries to knock sense into herself. Her visions seem to clear a bit and she can’t hear the singing anymore, but she also might have concussed herself.

Her cigarette is stamped out before she’s even halfway through it and she’s setting her phone alarm before jumping into the bed.

She buries her face in the pillow, no matter what she hears or thinks she’ll see, she’s not going anywhere until the morning. This interview is the most stressful thing she’s dealt with in years, so much rides on it, and she can’t be exhausted tomorrow from chasing fairy ghosts or what the fuck ever.

Her mind is just playing tricks on her, it’s an asshole, it does that.

She’s not certain exactly when she fell asleep, but the next thing she knows her alarm is going off. Dahlia groans and forces herself out of bed, she hates waking up. Her interview isn’t even late, but god, fuck waking up.

Her head is clearer now, no swimming in her vision and no singing or sirens. She forces her way out of bed, groggily trying to go about her day.

She’s running late, she’s always running late, time isn’t real.

After taking her sweet sleepy time to get herself put together and inhaling a room service breakfast, Dahlia is running down the hotel stairs and scrubbing syrup off her chin. Why does she do this to herself? The receptionist calls out something and she waves her off.

Helmet slapped on and engine revving, she guns it out of the parking lot and makes her way to towards the Valley. She comes to a bridge and pulls her arm from her jacket to read her scribbled directions, remembering too late that she can’t read her own handwriting.

She squints trying to decipher what the hell she wrote, her chicken scratch leaving a lot to be desired. It looks like it might say she’s going to Holland Valley or Halland Volley or Hallard, something to that effect by crossing the Honne…Benne…Rover….Dridge… Why does she do this to herself?

She’s probably on the right track, probably. Dahlia readjusts her jacket, confirming that her mess of directions won’t be getting any clearer the longer she stares at it and makes her way over the bridge. More signs hang from the inner framework of the bridge, half of them bearing a cross symbol with what looks like sunbeams coming from the center, the other half states The Power Of YES; Take The Leap.

Heebie jeebies nest in her gut, those goosebumps from earlier coming back. Religion…

Maybe it was too optimistic, but she had hoped further up North she’d see less of…that. She did searches online and was told based on some statistical thing that Montana was less religious than Louisiana. But apparently religion isn’t completely avoidable in the United States.

The crisp smell of apples manages to break through her helmet as she leaves the bridge. Apple trees as far as the eye can see, bright red fruit gleaming under sunlight, a giant orchard surrounds the road. People mill about the apple trees; couples holding hands and parents hefting their children up on their shoulders to pick the highest apples their little hands can reach. A few people look at her as she rides past, the rev of her engine and the music pounding from her helmet drawing attention. Some looks are judgmental, others unconcerned, a small kid waves at her as she passes by and she waves back, smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. There’s a constructed Apple Statue in the orchard, noting that she’s riding through the Gardenview Orchard.

Over the horizon, built into the hills of the Holland Valley is a giant Hollywood style sign that says ‘YES’. It’s infinitely less creepy than the weird man statue, but far cheesier. Whether that’s better or worse? Who knows, but Hope County is definitely…weirder than she anticipated.

She passes through the orchard and coming up on the left apple trees are replaced with pumpkins on the ground. Fields growing them, some clearly bigger and further along in the growing process, none fully ripe, however. A house is built among the fields, one fence with a sign that says Rae-Rae’s Pumpkin Farm.

There’s a couple walking around, holding hands, but more importantly there’s a dog. A mottled coat of black, white, and blue gray with a bandana around their neck. The dog’s head raises at the rev of Dahlia’s motorcycle engine passing by on the road, tail wagging but he doesn’t run out, a well-trained doggo.

She’s running late.

She doesn’t have time.

One pet can’t hurt.

Dahlia comes to a screeching halt, tires squealing and bracing herself against her handlebars of her bike so she doesn’t fly across the farm. The couple taken aback, staring wide-eyed at her as she kills her music and yanks off her helmet. The doggie is still wagging its tail, eager to meet their new friend.

“Can I pet your dog?”

The couple is older, by Dahlia standards, so probably around their thirties…or forties…or twenties…ages confuse her. A woman with short sandy hair and a man with a knit hat over his head, the woman’s dropped jaw becomes a soft smile, her eyes gentle.

“Of course,” a thick southern accent tints her voice, “Boomer’s doesn’t know a stranger.”

Dahlia stays outside the wooden fence, not wanting to step on crops or something, but she leans over it. Boomer’s big brown eyes landing on her, so cute, she already loves him. A few coos and he’s already rushing over, standing to put his paws at the top of the fence so he can get some much-deserved love. She pets the top of his head, scratching behind his ears and around his neck. He eagerly leans into scritch and pet, licking her.

“Awww, such a good boy, yes you are,” she praises and laughs, soaking it in. Even if she’s running late, this is more than worth it.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The woman asks.

“Nah, here for a job interview,” Dahlia answers, hugging around Boomer’s neck as she snuggles him.

“Where you interviewing at?”

“Sheriff’s department.”

“You’re kind of young for a cop, ain’tcha?”

“I’m an adult,” she says, shrugging her shoulders through the hug. She is a young adult and that’s all that needs to be said on that.

“They finally trying to fill that deputy position?”

“Seems like it.”

“Sorry, to brush you off so soon, but we have to go pick up some equipment before noon and we’re already cutting it close.”

Shit, right, time. She’s running late too, but the dog was worth it.

“No problem, have a good one, you keep being a good boy, Boomer.”

She gives a final scratch to his head, then slides her helmet back on, waving off the couple as she hops back on her bike. Her nerves have eased slightly at having gotten some time with a dog and even if she’s late, she doesn’t regret it.

Her engine revs and she’s back to traveling down the quiet Montana roads. The sheriff’s department is in Fall’s End. A water tower baring the town’s name lets her know she’s arrived in the right area. It’s not a huge town. Along the main road, there’s the sheriff’s department, a general store, a bar, a church. There’s little streets and roadways showing that beyond those there’s houses and an apartment complex. Not huge, but certainly bigger than where she’s from, which…isn’t saying much.

Dahlia parks her motorcycle outside the sheriff’s department, all those initially dissipated nerves are bubbling back to the surface. Her stomach in absolute knots and her muscles tense with anxiety. She shuts off her bike and pockets her keys then pulls off her helmet, fiddling with her hair. A deep breath, before she finally steels herself to step into the building.

There’s a desk to Dahlia’s right when she enters the building, an older woman with a layered bob of red hair.

“There something I can help you with, darling?” Her southern accented voice asks.

“I have an interview with the sheriff.”

“Really,” the woman’s eyes scan Dahlia up and down, eyebrows furrowed in judgement, “can I get your name?”

“Hale,” she murmurs, once again fiddling with her messy strands of dark hair. She knows she doesn’t exactly look the most professional right now. But professional clothes and motorcycles don’t truly mix. The woman, her desk tag says N. McClure, shuffles through some documents and reads over something.

“Okay, just take a seat and I’ll let Earl know you’re here.”

Dahlia plops down in one of the reception area’s chairs, fiddling with the cat ears on her motorcycle helmet. Her leg bounces up and down, shaking out excess energy as the woman at the desk starts to call back, asking for Whitehorse. It’ll be fine, Dahlia reassures herself, Lloyd and Caroline have been talking her up to their old friend. All she needs to do is be herself, maybe, probably not. She’s kind of a mess.

The clock hand ticks slowly, Dahlia feeling like she’s about to go crazy waiting for her interview to start. Finally, the woman hangs up the phone she was calling back to Whitehorse on, a soft smile on her face that pulls at the wrinkles around her eyes.

“Earl’s ready to talk to you, come on back.”

The older woman steps out and helps show Dahlia to the office door, passing through a bullpen style office area to get there, Sheriff Whitehorse is scrawled on a plaque by the door. Dahlia knocks and he tells her to come on in, she slowly opens the door and steps in. There’s a modest sized quaint office with only a few personal touches. She’s only seen old photos Lloyd had of himself and Whitehorse, from way back in police academy. The man before her is much older than he was in those photos, weathered with wrinkled skin. He looks like an old sheriff pulled directly from a movie; green uniform, cowboy hat, scraggly brown hair, and a mustache.

“You’re Lloyd and Caroline’s Stray, right?” He says, standing up from his desk to shake her hand over it. He’s over a foot taller than her, probably close to a foot and a half. His hand swallows her own whole, it’s probably bigger than her face.

“Holy shit, you’re tall.”

That’s not a good way to start an interview, but he seems to be laughing and smiling. So, maybe it’s fine. Lloyd once said she has a charm about her despite her lack of tact or decorum. She’s still trying to figure out what that charm is, but still.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” he says, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. She follows suit, leg still bouncing like it was in the waiting room. Whitehorse puts a manilla folder down on the desk, the little tab labeled D. Hale. It’s surprisingly thick for someone who’s never met her in person.

“Lloyd and Caroline talk highly of you, hell the whole town does.”

“The whole town…?” She raises an eyebrow, what’s that supposed to mean? Reinette, Louisiana is a small town, it’s police department has about six people in total and everyone knows everyone. But certainly, they wouldn’t call up Whitehorse to talk about her.

“I swear Lloyd must have handed out the stations number to everyone down there, we’ve been getting two, three calls a day of people who can’t say enough good things about you.”

“Oh god.” Heat flushes up Dahlia’s cheeks, god damn it, Lloyd.

“You’ve left quite an impression on the place.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Dahlia pushes some hair off her face, fidgeting with the locks.

“And you haven’t been working there long, have you?”

“Not counting training, about a year and a half, I know I don’t have much experience.”

“Still making such an impact in a short amount of time, says something.”

“Thanks.” His words soothe her nerves and embarrassment a bit, maybe this will go well.

“But, there’s the issue of your record…”

“My record…?” She shouldn’t have a record, he opens the manilla folder and she feels bile raise in the back of her throat.

“Between what’s on the books and what everyone was saying, I was starting to wonder if there were two of you, Hale. Runaways, break in, fights, attempted grand theft auto, and petty thefts, the list goes on. Doesn’t exactly scream future cop.”

“I thought records got expunged at eighteen.”

“If you request it.”

“Oh…well then…”

“I know this all happened when you were a minor and you’ve been clear for the past two or so years, but…”

“It still looks bad, I know, I know. I’m not going to try to tell you some bullshit excuse or sob story. I did a lot of shit I shouldn’t have for a lot of reasons. I regret most of it, not all of it, but most of it. Lloyd and Caroline helped me get my life back on track, I know two years doesn’t seem like a long time, but I’m not the same kid I was when I did that shit.”

That what she tells him, but she’s not sure how much she believes it. It feels more like her situation’s changed than she’s changed, but if she just said that she’s no longer a delinquent because she doesn’t need to be, well, it wouldn’t sound as good or employable.

“What made you wanna be a cop?”

“Wanted to help people,” she answers with a shrug, it’s not really anything more complicated than that. Whitehorse huffs out what sounds like a laugh, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay, I gotta ask, why here? Lloyd and the whole town loves you. It’s a hell of a move and the pay raise ain’t much.”

“Look,” she sighs and folds her hands on top of her motorcycle helmet, calming her body down, “I love Reinette, I love Lloyd and I love Caroline. I owe them and the whole town a debt that I’ll never pay back. But, I’m twenty years old. I’m not their kid and even if I was it’d be time for me to go, I’ve taken enough of their time, money, and everything. Reinette, bless the town’s heart, it’s...dying. There’s more cows than people, our station has more cars than officers. It won’t be long before they do away with the town’s department and just do everything through the Parish. And the parish’s department doesn’t need any more officers.”

Her throat constricts as bile raises in the back of it, her stomach churning. After everything that town and its people have done for her, she’s leaving them. A traitor, betrayer.

“You figure any of those officers will even find work in the parish, at all?” He asks with a knowing, soft look in his eye. If he keeps in contact with Lloyd, he’s already well aware of the trouble in Reinette.

“I doubt it, town’s a sinking ship. Lloyd…he’s willing to go down with it,” her eyes sting and she clenches her jaw, containing herself, “I can’t do that. As much as they all mean to me, I can’t. Lloyd’s gonna retire when it goes under, I’m twenty, the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m trying to help people; I’m trying to make a difference. But my hands keep getting tied because of money, resources, anything and everything. Lloyd and Caroline gave me the means and the tools to make something of myself, I’m not gonna piss that away because some fucker decided we weren’t worth investing in, I…”

She’s clenching her fists and nearly smacking her helmet, anger and frustration welling up inside of her, a geyser of emotions threatening to break through. This is an interview, she can’t do this, can’t be emotional. She needs to stop this, a deep breath before she starts to speak again.

“I can do more here, I know no place is perfect, but I can do more here.”

“Well, no one can say you’re not passionate.” Whitehorse lets out another chuckle, seemingly amused.

“Sorry, certain shit, just winds me up.” She massages the back of her neck, why is she such a fucking idiot? No one wants to hire a cop who can’t keep their cool and throws a fit. She was supposed to tone down her dumbassery, not ramp it up.

“There’s nothing wrong with caring about what you’re doing.”

“Yeah…” She half-heartedly agrees, Whitehorse is trying to make her feel better. Her interview has become him trying to console her, absolutely pathetic. She might as well call Lloyd and Caroline now and tell them she blew it.

“You got any questions for me?”

“Uh…”

Did she just fuck this up as bad as she thinks she did?

“Not really, I just wanna get to work.” That earns her another chuckle from Whitehorse, even if he doesn’t think she’s competent, at least she’s entertaining it seems.

“Full of piss and vinegar, ain’t ya?”

“To say the least.” She lets out a dry laugh, but there’s no mirth of joy behind it. Not a shred of happiness as she thinks about what a fucking idiot she is.

“Well, if that’s all,” Whitehorse stands up from his desk, “I’ll go ahead and show you out.”

Dahlia stands up, the sheriff places a large hand on her back as they leave his office, finding their way back into the reception area.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Hale.”

“Same, thanks for taking the time to talk to me.” She’s sure that he’d rather be doing literally anything else, especially after that beyond trash interview.

“It’s no problem at all, I-”

The doors to the department open, a man and a woman in green deputy uniforms coming in. Another giant, the man is barely an inch of two shorter than Whitehorse, with shaggy dark hair and hazel eyes. More importantly, the woman while taller doesn’t absolutely tower over Dahlia, her long black hair is braided over her shoulder and her olive skin makes her hunter green eyes stand out all the more.

Dahlia’s throat feels tight and her heart race is a little faster. So…that’s a thing.

“We running a daycare, now?” The guy asks, looking down his nose at Dahlia, though that might just be because of the height difference. Either way, she glares at him, he’s been around her a grand total of five seconds and he’s being a dick.

“Pratt…” The woman, her name tag says J. Hudson, rolls her eyes at him. Her voice is warm and rich; why is Dahlia’s face so hot? Is she sick? Has the Montana weather already kicked her ass, what is this?

“This is one of the interviewees. Hale, these are my deputies.”

“Nice to meet you.” Hudson flashes a soft smile and what is Dahlia’s heart doing? It’s like someone’s squeezing it and filled her gut with bugs while they were at it. She fucks up an interview and now she needs a doctor, great.

“Same, I was, uh, just on my way out actually.” She needs to go sleep off whatever the fuck has just hit her.

“Good luck,” the taller woman gives a friendly tap to Dahlia’s bicep, “hopefully we’ll be seeing more of you around here.”

Dahlia is dying.

That’s the only explanation. She fucked up an interview and now she has the heart plague or some shit, hell of a day.

“Uh, yeah, I, um, ‘preciate it.” She’s avoiding eye contact and she doesn’t know why she's stumbling over her words and she doesn’t know why.

“Pssh,” Pratt scoffs, “she’s gonna need it.”

Suddenly, she can talk again. Weird. Hudson and Whitehorse shake their heads, clearly use to his bullshit

“Sorry about Pratt, he’s, well he’s Pratt.”

“Eh, every station has at least one cop who’s just trying to make up for his tiny dick.”

“I assure you, I-”

“Enough,” Whitehorse cuts him off, talking like he’s breaking up a child’s squabbling. Doesn’t really help make her look any more mature or competent, way to steer into the skid, Dahlia.

“For the millionth time, no one wants to hear about your dick, Pratt.” Hudson rolls her eyes, why is that being said for the millionth time?

“Well, that’s certainly my cue to go, have a good one.”

Dahlia quickly waves off the sheriff and deputies, making her escape. She takes the couple steps to her motorcycle with quick rigid movement, making sure she’s away from windows or the glass door, not wanting any of them to see her.

She lets out a low guttural groan muffled by how tightly her jaw is clenched jaw and knocks her knuckles against the back of her head.

Idiot, she fucked everything up by going on some huge ass fucking rant.

Despite the distance, this was a phenomenal opportunity the best she’s had. It’s not like she hasn’t looked into place in Louisiana, but something is always wrong. She’s never made it as far as the interview. Either she never gets a call back, maybe they’d seen her records the same way Whitehorse did and didn’t even bother giving her that chance. Or she’d learn the town, parish, city, whatever was no better off than Reinette. One of the sheriffs she talked to on the phone knew her stepfather and recognized her name, nearly making her puke before she hung up.

This was beyond a shadow of a doubt the best chance she’s had. Whitehorse has the Lloyd seal of approval which is as good as gold. And as much as the distance is guilt inducing…, the fear of betrayal and abandoning people who mean so much to her. But, she needs somewhere far away.

As many good memories as Lloyd, Caroline, and the people of Reinette have given her. There are still too many bad ones, too many people figuring out where she came from, one too many bad memories trying to be more than just that. As much as it may eat her up to leave, it’ll eat her up even more to stay. Between the impending unemployment and her own past, every good moment there has a shadow looming over it.

When she gets back to Reinette she’ll start working to get her record taken care of. Once that’s settled, it’s back to job hunting. A bump in the road, a moment of frustration, but she’ll come out the other end. She always does.

Her stomach growls, burning through a pack of cigarettes and stress binge eating sound like a great way to deal with this. She’ll find some place to stuff her face and call Lloyd once she gets back to the hotel.

There’s a general store, she doesn’t know if the bar lets minors in, so it’s probably her best place to grab some quick snack. She plops her helmet on and makes the short drive to the store, parking her bike outside and pulling her helmet back off to light a cigarette by the dumpsters. Her stressed brain is desperately craving nicotine.

She rips open her pack of cigarettes and lights one up, bringing it to her lips. Smoke pools in her lungs, clawing to her insides and easing her nerves if only for a second. Holding it there for a moment before breathing it out into the air. Her eyes are drawn to the neon sign of The Spread Eagle bar, even bright in the daylight. It also seems to have some activity despite the early hour. Well, early for a bar. A white truck pulls up in front of the building, a man with long grungy hair climbing out of the passenger seat.

Those odd pains in her chest and churns in her stomach fade as she inhales the smoke, looking up at the clear blue sky. A soft breeze blows through, carrying the gray trails away with it. Montana really is beautiful…

“Get back here!” A woman yells out, door to the bar swinging open violent as the man with long hair comes rushing back out, arms piled high with crates of alcohol.

Dahlia drops her cigarette and helmet, bolting towards the bar, as the thief tries to scramble into the back of the pickup truck. He gets the crates set down, but she’s grabbed the back of his shirt before he can climb in. A harsh yank, pulling the tall man back into her and away from the truck. She encircles her arms under his armpits and locks her hands behind his neck, grappling into a full nelson hold that keeps him from running off. The odd angle of these heights and the way he was yanked from the back of the truck leaves him on his knees in his grasp.

“Someone call the sheriff’s department!” She yells out, she doesn’t have any jurisdiction here or cuffs to actually arrest the guy.

He tries to fight back against the hold, attempting to break free, but all he manages to do is writhe and squirm. The door of the truck swings open, the driver jumping out, his feet hitting the ground with a heavy sound. Another man easily a foot or more taller than her.

“Help me, brother Theodore,” the man in her hold struggles to beg for help.

“We have strict orders from John Seed to confiscate this liquor.”

“Don’t know or care who that is, mon cher.”

“Someone like you doesn’t deserve to know him,” the guy tells her, sneering and she sees his finger twitch, brushing over the gun in his belt holster. She can’t have firearms going off in a residential area.

“All you’ll do is end up shootin’ your friend, don’t be stupid. Liquor ain’t worth bloodshed.”

He lets out a sigh and his hand relax, something clicking in his mind. The man, Theodore, chews his lip, eyes flickering as she nearly sees the gears turning in his head.

“What’s going on here?” A familiar rough voice asks over Dahlia’s shoulder, she doesn’t need to look to know Whitehorse has come to investigate. Even if she did, she wouldn’t dare look away from the man in front of her, not until she’s sure he won’t try to shoot.

“These pieces of shit peggies were trying to steal my liquor stash,” a woman explains, somewhere behind Dahlia.

“Liquors still in the back of the truck,” Dahlia tells them, none of it seemed to break, so hopefully it won’t hurt the bar too much.

“If it wasn’t for her, they would have cost me a month’s worth of sales.”

“Pratt, Hudson,” Whitehorse calls the names of his deputies.

“I got it here,” Hudson taps on Dahlia arm, cuffs in hand, and that weird heart thing is happening again.

“Um, yeah, o-of course.” She maneuvers away from the guy, she’s never stumbled over her words like that before. Hudson cuffs the guy and starts reading his rights off.

“Keep your hands where I can see ‘em,” Pratt barks out at the Theodore guy who's surprisingly obedient as he lets the deputy cuff him.

Dahlia scratches at her nose, watching the scene unfold. She’s finally gotten a good look at the woman who was being robbed.

And, not only is everyone here tall, they’re also apparently beautiful. The woman is than both Dahlia and Hudson, with honey blonde hair tucked up into a bun and soft blue eyes. Her features are soft, cherubic almost, with freckles over the bridge of her nose.

Have women always been this pretty?

When did women start being this pretty?

The fuck is her heart doing?

“Looks like it’s a good thing you were here,” Whitehorse tells her, a soft smile tugging at his lips, “you managed to get Mary May’s liquor back and stopped it from escalating.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.”

“Someone you know, sheriff?” The blonde, Mary May asks. His smile gets wider and he squeezes Dahlia’s shoulder, a comforting touch.

“This is my new Junior Deputy.”

“I am?”

He’s not serious, there’s no way, he has to be fucking with her.

“Unless you changed your mind?”

“Hell no,” she shakes her head, “I am the new Junior Deputy, wait, Junior?”

“You’ll start with a six-month probationary hire, paid of course, manage that and we’ll take you on permanently.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“You’ll start next, c’mon down to the station Mary, we’ll book ‘em and get your report in.”

“See you around, stranger,” Mary May tells her as she follows after Whitehorse, Hudson and Pratt forcing the thieves along. Theodore shooting a glare Dahlia’s way.

“Look forward to working with you, Rookie.”

“Pfft, I give her a week, tops.”

And with that, Dahlia is left alone on the road of Falls End…with a new job.

She got the job.

She’s got to get through the probationary hire, but she got the job. Holy shit. Holy shit. And she starts in a week. She needs to call Lloyd and Caroline, she needs to find somewhere to live, there’s so much to do.

Dahlia is practically skipping back over to her helmet and bike. She’s gotta start getting her ducks in a row.

She speeds her way back through Hope County, making her way back to the hotel. She has so many fucking calls to make and shit to go through. Before she knows it she’s back in the Kings Spring Hotel parking lot, fumbling to get her phone. As silly as it may be, she’d rather call Lloyd and Caroline in a less populated area. She’s grinning ear to ear, enough to hurt her cheeks, she looks like a dork and that’s not going to get any better. Helmet under her arm, she dials Lloyd as she paces in the isolated parking lot.

“How’d it go?” Lloyd is asking before she even says hi.

“Six months, probationary hire, then we’ll go from there.”

‘So, you got the job?”

“That was the bummer way of saying I got the job, yeah.”

“I can hear you smiling!”

“Shut it!”

“Caroline! She got the job, yeah!”

“I,” she rubs a hand down her face, “I thought for sure I blew it.”

“What changed?”

“Some bar across the street got robbed right after my interview, I stepped in, next thing I know I’m the Junior Deputy.”

“Holy fuck, do you know what that is, Stray?”

“Dumb luck?”

“Fate, Stray, it’s fucking fate! The world telling you that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be!”

“You really are a sap, ain’t ya?”

“What are you doing now?”

“I’m staying another night here, but once I hop off I gotta start looking into where I’m gonna stay. I start in a week, so I gotta start moving, I’ll see you all in two or three days once I make the drive. It’s gonna be tight, but I’ll manage.”

“Man, you’re really leaving.”

“No crying.”

“Seems like yesterday Caroline found you in the barn.”

“No crying.”

“You were so thin, just a little bag of bones…” His voice is choking up.

“I’m hanging up, you cry baby!”

She does just that, smiling up at the sky. It’s happening, it’s really happening. It feels like the start of a new life, a new her. There’s a jump in her step as she makes her way back into the hotel, room service food and she’ll start making phone calls.

“Miss Hale!” The soft lilted voice of the receptionist calls out when she sees Dahlia.

“Oh, hey.” Dahlia walks to the desk, head tilted in question, what could she need?

“A heads up, we’re switching the water in the tank for the shower and bath system to water pumped in from the spring.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“It’s so much more relaxing than regular tap water, be sure to use it tonight.”

“Uh yeah, thanks, by the way can I order some room service?”

“Of course.”

Dahlia goes through her order for room service, being assured the order will be put in and delivered before she knows it. With that she goes back up to her room, she starts digging through the bedside drawer, searching for a phone book for the area. There’s a white book in the top drawer, with that same strange cross like symbol that was on the signs along the bridge. She throws it on the bed, finding a local phone book beneath it, much more important.

She starts rifling through pages. Hope County is mostly a trailer park town, for people who can’t afford to build or buy an actual home and land. There is an apartment complex in Falls End, but the rent is high for pretty small apartments. The prices probably jacked since housing is so limited. She’d rather get a whole trailer to herself for cheaper and just travel further for work.

Hours pass by her making phone calls, seeing about housing and stuffing food in her face when she’s not talking. The Silver Lake Trailer Park that’s nearest the station has no vacancy or trailers available for rent, but they refer her to the Moonflower Trailer Park. It’s some distance, but with how fast she rides her bike, it’s doable. It’s the only place with vacancy, she’ll drop by with a down payment and check out the trailer tomorrow before she heads back to Louisiana to get her stuff and everything tidied up there. The world outside the hotel window has gone dark, moon hanging bright in the sky.

That settled she finishes off her food and collapses back on the bed. She’s still smiling, grinning ear to ear.

“Wooooooo!” She yells out and pumps her fist up at the ceiling, fuck yeah, she’s got this.

She’ll grab one of those spring water showers and then pass out for the night. She grabs her phone and sets it up to play music in the bathroom while she washes up. Her clothes hit the floor, air conditioner chilling her skin as she waits for the water to heat up. It has a soft floral scent and is tinted slightly green, spring water.

She steps in under the hot spray of water, letting it wash away the sweat and dirt of the day. Her muscles relax under the water and steam, as she scrubs the hotel soap into her skin. She blinks her eyes open once she’s done washing her hair, finding her vision clouding, her body feeling heavier and heavier. Must be the exhaustion of the day. Dahlia quickly finishes washing, the last thing she needs is to fall asleep in the shower again.

Her steps are shaky, her body swaying as the world swims around her. Colors distort and shift in prisms before her eyes. It’s like the night before, but times a million. Her movements sluggish as she dries herself and quickly pulls on her sleep clothes. She was feeling ill earlier, maybe it’s catching up to her? But it doesn’t feel the same. Not panicky and nervous. One of her favorite songs starts to play through her phone, though its eerie tones aren’t as welcomed in this moment.

She grips the sink for leverage, steadying herself as she looks into the mirror

All our times have come.

Her dark brown eyes aren’t dark brown, not quite. She tugs at her eyelids, the iris growing milkier and lighter than she’s ever seen it. What the hell is this? A soft melodic laugh echoes through the room, like it’s near.

Here but now they're gone.

She stumbles out of the bathroom, finding her empty bedroom. Nothing unusual.

Seasons don't fear the reaper.

The laugh rings out again, a flash of white passing by her open door. When did it open? She didn’t leave it open.

Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain...

She’s walking out her door before she can give it another thought, looking back and forth across the hall, who’s there?

We can be like they are

Her feet pad down the hallway, steps suddenly sure and confident as she tries to follow the voice. Like her body is being drawn, pulled, following sheer instinct. She needs to find them.

Come on baby... don't fear the reaper

A flash of white, the swish of lace fabric, that laugh again vanishing into one of the rooms. Dahlia is there, trying to wrench open the door. Then it rings out from behind her.

Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper

A woman stands at the end of a long hallway, the one from the tight before. Long sandy hair and beautiful green eyes. A blue butterfly perches itself on her fingers, the woman looking at it in awe. Dahlia takes slow steps forward, she wants to speak, ask who she is and what she’s doing here. But her tongue is heavy, her throat tight, vocal cords numb, not a sound escaping.

Baby I'm your man...

Green eyes flicker from the butterfly to Dahlia, a soft almost mischievous smile tugging at the woman’s lips. She laughs again as Dahlia nears her, then she runs, childish and giggling she runs towards one of the rooms. Dahlia is chasing her even after she vanishes from sight, legs moving without her permission, instinct driving her to reach this woman. She doesn’t know why, but she needs to reach her, touch her. Be closer.

La la la la la

The laughter turns into soft humming, singing echoing through the halls. Somehow the sound is everywhere, all consuming and right in her ear, but also distant the source too far away for her to find. She walks down the halls, taking turns and climbing up stairs, following her instinct that pulls her in each direction she goes.

Valentine is done

Flashes of white fabric, doors closing and shutting. It’s a game of tag that she can’t seem to win, the small hotel has somehow become a labyrinth as she tries to find the humming woman. Short hallways and few rooms have been traded for never ending paths with room lining them.

Here but now they're gone

Sometimes spacious and open, other times claustrophobic, choking, walls scraping the skin of her arms where she has to fear she might become stuck. More halls and more floors than she’s ever seen, winding paths that make her dizzy. But she can’t stop searching for that woman.

Romeo and Juliet

One more turn, the woman is at the end of a hallway. Standing before a door, softly singing to what is now two butterflies balanced on her fingers. Dahlia starts to walk down the hallway, tight, claustrophobic. She keeps her hands on the walls as if it will give her more space, as if she could force the walls to open wider for her.

Are together in eternity...Romeo and Juliet

Her heartbeat races as she walks closer and closer, the walls threatening to crush her between them. She can hardly breathe, every breath ragged and tight. Dying. She feels like she’s dying, air being stolen from her lungs and heart pounding lie it’s trying to escape her chest. It worsens with every step she takes near the woman.

40,000 men and women everyday... Like Romeo and Juliet

Some part of her brain, the small part that doesn’t have a thick haze of fog clinging to it, tells her to run the other way. That with this feeling only growing with every step towards the siren, with her heart pounding harsher, breathing getting raspier, she’ll die if she keeps going. That this truly is a siren luring her to death, but she can’t listen to that part of her. Her body won’t. She needs to reach her.

40,000 men and women everyday... Redefine happiness

She’s getting closer and closer; the woman isn’t running this time. Just calming singly, like she doesn’t even notice Dahlia. She tries to reach out for the woman, her fingers nearly brushing the woman’s dress sleeve.

Another 40,000 coming everyday... We can be like they are

Then the woman walks through the door, Dahlia could curse and cry if her vocal cords would only work. Once again, the woman evading her, being just out of reach. But this hall has no doors along its sides, no turns or twists. The only two options are going back or going through the door after her. It’s not even a choice.

Come on baby... don't fear the reaper

She wrenches the door open and she’s in another world. No more wood walls and floors, her bare feet touching lush grass that tickles her skin. White petals float in the air and scatter across the ground. Trees curl around the area and when she looks out at the horizon, she sees that large statue of that man looming over the area.

Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper

When she looks straight ahead at the middle of the field is the woman, she twirls, short white dress fanning out around her hips. She stops, turning to face Dahlia, she smiles softly. Delicate and angel like, she stretches her hand out. An offer, a beckoning.

We'll be able to fly... don't fear the reaper

The feeling of impending death lifts the very moment she sees the woman. Her heartbeat and her breathing easing, relief and contentment filling her body. She’s smiling and she doesn’t know why she feels alive. Free, like she can do anything. She’s walking closer and closer to the woman, each step making her happier and happier. Her body lighter and lighter. Calm and peace, she’s never known. She’s right where she belongs, she doesn’t need to be anywhere else.

Dahlia reaches out, finally about to touch her, a touch of their hands is so simple, so minor. But it feels like the only thing she wants. All she’s ever want, like every moment in her entire life has been building up to this, being here with her, whoever she is.

Before skin can meet skin, the siren fades to mist.

No, no, no!

She grasps desperately at the air where the woman once was, her heart racing, her lungs stinging like the airs been knocked out of them. The world is crumbling, falling down, everything going out beneath her feet. It’s falling apart and she can’t stop it, she can’t fix it.

Dahlia takes a heavy gasp, desperately sucking in a heavy breath and she blinks, the world around her has completely shifted. Her vision isn’t blurred, no more prisms of color before her eyes.

Cold, goosebumps raising up on her skin, shorts and tee doing nothing to save her from the Montana breeze. She’s outside the hotel, in the world she knows. That damn statue looming still in the distance ahead of her.

Dull.

The landscaped she was so mesmerized by this day, seems so dull now. She feels dull, after so many emotions, so much intensity both in fear and happiness…she feels so numb. Dahlia rubs her fingers together, her craving for the feeling of another’s hand in her own…there’s an ache. She was so close, but now she’s been plunged back into reality.

She stands out in the field outside the hotel, staring at that cement statue, it still seems to call her. Her heart telling her to go towards that looming structure, but her head tells her to go back inside the hotel.

So, she doesn’t move.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, just staring.

“Miss Hale!” A voice pulls her further back into reality, the hotel receptionist walking out towards her with a large blanket.

Dahlia blinks a few times, she no longer feels numb, the very real emotion of shame flooding in. She’s standing out in public, in her pajamas. Did she just wander out of her hotel room in her sleep clothes? She must look ridiculous.

“Hey…”

“Is everything alright? You just walked out of your hotel, looked like you were sleepwalking.”

“Uh…yeah, I guess.”

That makes sense, she must have went to bed and had a weird dream…yeah.

“Here,” the woman wraps the large blanket around Dahlia, “you must be freezing.”

“Thanks, sorry, I, just, weird dream.” She murmurs as they walk back to the hotel, Dahlia giving one last glance at the hotel.

“Dreams are nice, aren’t they? Sometimes you just wanna stay there forever.”

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #john seed #faith seed #jacob seed #deputy oc #This Is Love #Dahlia Hale

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