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shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

Any chances you'll write for Levi again? It's his birthday so i was scrolling and saw your drabble for him.

I missed his birthday FRICK. Well, I have a song that makes me soft and is a vibe while reading this. https://open.spotify.com/track/68XhCrBajUR64h6wv4eYYW?si=M4wxQMwiRnqGrvn2uPlUqw

and happy holidays to everyone lol

(Warnings - NSFW, no penetration, dubcon, gratuitous blowjob scene.

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He’s called for you again.

You fix a cup of tea, just how you know he prefers it, trying to hurry through the motions, pouring the boiling water, steeping the leaves, adding the slightest touch of honey.

When you reach his room, you’re glad you’ve brought the tea. Upon opening the door, you can see that tonight will be rough, full of jealousy and unintended pain.

Levi has thrown things to the floor in anger, books, candles, paper and pen. He hardly ever leaves a mess, is meticulous about cleaning them up as soon as he makes them. It’s unlike his normal demeanor to be so disorderly.

The man is slouched in a chair by the wall, barely raises his head when you enter. He twitches despite the care you take in shutting the door, trying your best to close it quietly.

“Captain Levi? Sir?” You held in your gasp as he lifted his head. The captain looked awful - dark circles hung under his eyes, his posture was hunched and tired, and worst of all, his eyes were red and puffy, as if he’d been crying.

Captain Levi hardly ever cried.

“(Y/N), go sit on the bed.”

Without a word, you did as you were told, placing his cup of tea on the nightstand as you sat. Levi slowly stood, straightening his back out as he did.

“I’m....” He trailed off, stepping towards the bed. His eyes were kept downcast, unable to meet your questioning gaze.

You were aware that something had probably happened on today’s push beyond the wall. Less than half of the group that had gone over had come back, Erwin and Levi grim-faced at the head of the group. Too many deaths.

“Captain… tell me-tell me how to help?” You were used to it by now, pushing aside discomfort and embarrassment to cater to your captain.

He was a harsh man, face always lowered into a disinterested scowl, not hesitant to snap at anyone who irked him or raised his ire. He made crude jokes when he was in a good mood, swearing and letting a cruel smile cross his lips.

The man had a reputation - intimidating, rigid, competent and unwavering. But with you, the menacing Captain Levi was… different.

You weren’t sure when it had started.

All you had wanted to do was provide a small bit of comfort on what had seemed to be an awful day for the Captain, much like today. He had stormed through the mess hall, ignoring the cadets shrinking away at his prescence to march straight to the kitchen. Only higher ranking members could enter the kitchens, other than staff, so it wasn’t busy.

He had grabbed a plate from the cleaned rack of dishes, dished out food, then swiftly headed for the kitchen door again, only to snap at the first staff that got in his way; you.

Feeling awful as he stormed past you, committing nothing more than the crime of standing in his way for more than a mere second, you had tried to make amends.

It was common knowledge that the Captain had an affinity for tea. A nice cup offered to the man would perhaps lift his mood. At the very least, it would soothe your conscious - you felt guilty for worsening his evening.

So that’s what you did.

He had let you in his room with a curt “come in”, and you quickly explained what the tea was for, quick to set it on the small table he was seated at before the Captain could snap at you to leave.

“Drink it if you find it satisfactory, if not, feel free to dump it out the window. Again, so sorry for disturbing you Captain, sir, but I hope your evening goes well.”

And then you had left.

And Levi’s curiosity was piqued. Who were you, to be so bold as to feel entitled to his time? A lowly kitchen staff? You thought of yourself so highly, thought you knew him well enough to know how he took his tea? Pretentious.

But still, he found himself raising the cup to his lips, taking a sip, testing the taste. And admittedly, you didn’t know how he fixed his own tea. You had made it too sweet, with too much honey. The sweetness burned his tongue, scorched his throat far worse than hot water ever could.

He liked it.

Levi found himself seeking you out, finding out from the head cook who the kitchen staff were, who you were. When you worked, which barracks you stayed in, if you were always kind and sweet to rude people you didn’t even know.

You were surprised when the head cook had told you that Levi asked for more tea.

Of course, you brought it to him.

And at first, he never talked to you. He just watched you set down his tea, watched you give a small wave and a friendly, respectful curtsy before leaving.

Then he asked you to bring yourself a cup the next night, to sit with him.

Since it was Captain Levi, you couldn’t refuse.

Of course you were a bit intimidated - had you been doing something wrong? Was he going to fire you? But the man had said few words, just sipped his tea, watched as you blew at your own steaming cup.

It was an uncomfortable affair, at least for you, so it was surprising to you that he kept asking you to sit with him.

You start to see him often, more often than you previously had. He lingers in the mess hall, taking meals at the high ranks tables, and you always feel his eyes on you when you bring out more food to place on the buffet-style tables at the front. You often found him heading for seconds when you were adding food to the table, and he often said hello in his gruff, curt way.

Captain Levi was seen patrolling the area near the staff barracks, checking windows, checking doors, making sure everything was proper and safe. You could feel his presence, see his shadow sometimes when he passed by the window.

Between mealtimes, when you weren’t washing dishes or helping to prepare for the next meal, you were allowed breaks. You spent these breaks reading, or taking short walks along the inside of the garrison walls. It spooked you when you began seeing Levi nearby, apparently deciding to train the cadets near your common reading spots, or sometimes appearing suddenly during one of your walks.

He’d walk with you, not uttering a word, just strolling beside you in silence. You didn’t try to speak - he didn’t seem to be looking for conversation, simply companionship. And his presence, while unsettling, wasn’t entirely unwelcome - you knew that Captain Levi was one of the most capable fighters in the Survey Corps, and no Titan nor human would be able to hurt you unless he allowed it.

Despite his bitter demeanor, it was easy to see how much Levi cared for his underlings well-being. Always trying to make sure they were safe, risking his own life for them, pushing them to the brink and beyond during training so he could ensure that they could defend themselves during an attack.

The awkward tea-time turned into small chats, were Levi asked you about your home, your hobbies, your likes and dislikes.

Surprisingly, Levi didn’t shy away from answering when you yourself asked the same questions.

You became privy to his rough upbringing, the tragedy of his mother, the few friends he had made and lost.

The more the two of you talked, the more you understood his rough exterior, why he was cynical and brusque and mean.

But he became softer with you.

You weren’t sure when comfortable companionship, tentative friendship, had turned into unpleasant touches, quiet confessions, time spent together that you began to loathe and tried to avoid.

But some part of you understood, and felt bad.

Levi had never known someone in an intimate sense. Not like this, not like you. He could force you to submit to him, it could be an ordeal of tears and blood and despair for both of you, but if you went along with his whims willingly, the both of you were spared the pain.

Yes, you experienced discomfort, and unease, and you weren’t entirely happy about some of the things Levi asked of you, but you knew the man was tired, and hurting, and desperate for soft words and kind touches.

The man had wanted simple favors at first. A touch here, a light brush of his hand on your shoulder or a lingering caress of your hand if it rested on the table. Then it was sitting closer together, letting him brush your hair away from your face, his hand finding a home on the plush skin of your thigh as you two talked.

Then it was his late-night confessions, when he kept you past curfew, after the tea cups had long been dry. He told you how he wanted…. You. He wasn’t sure what it was that he needed, but it had to be from you.

He would take it, force it from you, whether it was sex or feelings or some twisted desire. He could, and both of you knew that he had the skills to completely subdue you.

But you caved immediately, feeling like a crumb of bread in the face of a raven.

Satisfied with your answer, the man had taken you that night, slowly peeled off your clothes and laid you on his bed like a lover. He had noticed your trembling, the tears clouding your vision, and he could tell this wasn’t something that you wanted to willingly give to him.

But he took anyway.

He had never allowed himself to be selfish, to want things for himself, to afford thinking thoughts of a loving partner, kindness and gentle treatment with his rude and brash personality.

Levi had made it good for you - he had bedded women before, to sate his physical desires when they so rarely arose. But with you, unlike those other women, he wanted you to stay in his life, be there for him when he craved the sweetness you provided in your tea, in your body, in you. He wanted you to be his constant, the person he could turn to, always.

And so you where.

You were when he pulled you into his quarters at odd hours, just to share heated kisses and let his hands wander across your flesh.

At times when he was frustrated, angry, and needed a rough fuck to find his calm again.

Whenever Levi needed to feel the heat of another’s body, to experience pleasure and love and feelings of warmth and desire, you were the person he turned to.

It’s why he turned to you now.

“I’d like to hold you.” It was more of a command, an order, than a question.

Shuffling on the bed, you scooted back so he could sit down, so he could gently push your shoulders so you fell back onto the pillows. The man crawled closer, flopping down beside you with a tired, wretched sigh, one that made your bones ache in sympathy.

You were so used to the Captain taking what he wanted, you didn’t even cringe when an arm was slung over your chest, grabbing you, pulling you close to him. He buried his face in your neck, throwing a leg over your hip and an arm over your waist, completely plastering himself to your side.

The sounds of your breathing filled the room - your uneasy, disturbed rhythm accompanying his rapid, shuddering breaths.

It was only when wetness smear across your neck, did you realize that the man was crying.

You knew how that could feel, lungs burning, shoulders aching, heart squeezed and deadened in your chest. How you longed for comfort, for someone to hold you and soothe the pain.

So you tentatively drew your own hand around his slim shoulders, your other hand rising to play with a strand of thin hair, drawing him closer to you.

In some twisted, pathetic turn, you felt sorry for the man.

Sorry that he felt such pain, such anguish. Sorry that so much responsibility rested on his shoulders. The responsibility of keeping his soldiers alive, of protecting humanity, of fighting in life-or-death situations where he was forced to watch his comrades be torn to shreds. Sorry that he was stressed, that the world had beaten him down and never allowed him a quiet, easy life.

Most of all, you think you were sorry that he asked things of you that you weren’t comfortable in answering.

How do you tell a killing machine no? How does one go about turning away a sad, lost soul looking for company and warmth? How would you live with yourself if you put your own comfort higher than a man who was so integral to the continuation of humanity’s existence?

You could deal with the gross feelings in order to be of service.

It always surprised you, how a man so interested in cleanliness could make you feel so dirty.

Considerable time passed before Levi’s shaky, silent sobs evolved into normal breathing. He had cried his tears, let his sadness overflow in the safety of your arms.

Now he was content to hold you, to grip your form with such intensity that you were sure you’d have bruises along your waist.

You feel asleep like that, his arms tight around you, trapping your body close to his, making you feel every rise and fall of his chest, every steady beat of his heart.

——-

You woke up to movement.

It was still night, it must be, with the lit candles still burning at the bedside.

Levi was slowly grinding against you, his leg still slung over your hip, hard length rubbing against your stomach. You could feel a tiny hint of wetness seeping through your shirt, meaning Levi must’ve been at this a while to have leaked enough to soak through not only his own pants, but your shirt as well.

“(Y/N)…” He breathed, noticing you had stirred awake. A breathy sigh escaped the man, before his hips stopped moving. “Suck me off.”

Still half-asleep and blinking your eyes, you only managed to look at your captain, dazed.

A slow smile spread across his face as he took in your sleepy expression, but then he nudged your side again, insistent. “Suck me off, you got me all hard and now I’ve ruined my pants.”

As if it were fault that he was like this.

Finally registering his request, you moved down the bed to the man’s crotch, helping him shimmy off his sleep pants and underwear as you did so.

His cock wasn’t girthy, nor particularly long. It was pretty though, with a flushed tip, a pale base, and fat, firm balls underneath.

Without further ado, you set your mouth on him, gathering spit to slicken his length (not that you needed to, not with how much the man had leaked) before slowly making your way down. Drawing back a bit, you sucked at the crown, cringing a bit at how Levi’s entire cock twitched, the man drawing in a sharp inhale.

He was particularly sensitive there, just under the head, so you flicked your tongue against that spot a few times, heard him hiss in pleasure, before slurping back down along his length, taking him as far down your throat as you could manage.

Levi couldn’t help the rocking of his hips, the twitches of his cock. “Touch my balls (Y/N), please.”

You were surprised to hear him say please. He only offered such niceties when he was in a vulnerable, soft mood. His balls were plump, round, full to bursting with sperm. The skin was velvety soft as your rubbed at it, massaging the mounds with your palms, before rubbing over them quickly with the tips of your fingers.

Levi groaned, a hand clutching at the strands of your hair to anchor himself.

It was an uncomfortable feeling. You never liked when he touched you, and you never enjoyed touching him, but you bore it with no complaint, let him do as he pleased without a fight. Submission was easier.

His cock kept pulsing in your mouth, making you gag and choke around his length, which only seemed to draw him more pleasure. Despite the discomfort, you still did your best, hollowing your cheeks out to suck, hard.

Levi’s hips bucked up unexpectedly, hitting the back of your throat so quickly that you almost threw up with the intensity, immediately pulling off of his length with a hacking cough.

You let it rest against your cheek as you regained your breath, feeling it drool and twitch as if it were alive and hungry.

Levi let you rest; he knew you’d take him back into your mouth in a second, always eager to obey him.

And you did, sucking him with renewed vigor. The taste of his cock wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Levi kept himself clean and trimmed, so there was only the slightest hint of natural musk, but that was easily overwhelmed by the bitter taste of soap and the salty taste of sweat and skin.

Then Levi tugged your hair a bit, drawing your attention away from his cock and up to his face. “Slow down, I don’t want to cum too soon.”

He was in the mood to draw this out it seemed. You eased up on the suction of your cheeks, letting your cheeks go with a smacking sound. Apparently that felt good, since Levi sighed, rolling his head back to rest on the pillows.

The picture of relaxed pleasure.

Going slower now, you paused to let his length slip out of your mouth, giving the sides long, sensual licks, digging your tongue into the slit at the top.

You’d suck him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his length, before popping off again, this time going for his well-groomed balls, slathering them with spit as you lapped at the skin.

Eventually, you grew tired, your jaw sore. It’s not like you wanted to do this in the first place, but now you were physically feeling ache-y.

Taking him into your mouth one last time, you dug deep, sucking vigorously at his length, drawing him down your throat, trying to get him to the edge as quick as you could.

And it worked, because the next thing you knew, a spurt of cum hit your tongue.

With a gag at the taste, you whipped your head back, Levi’s cock falling out of your mouth. But with his grip still in your hair, he kept your head close, watching his cum stripe across your face with satisfaction.

Levi was breathing heavily, almost panting as he finished, and you were glad you had closed your eyes - you didn’t want to see the look on his face, eyes filled with an emotion you didn’t want to label.

At least he was kind afterwards, helped you clean it up.

His tea was still sitting on the nightstand, long gone cold. Levi offered you a sip still, and you readily accepted the liquid, soothing your throat

When you settled down again, face now washed and free of cum, Levi once again pulled you close to him. This time, his chin rested atop your head, his hands cradling your head to his chest.

You felt gentle vibrations as he hummed softly, and you internally thanked him for small mercies - not having you strip tonight, not fucking you, not making you feel good.

There was such guilt when he pleasured you. How could something unwanted feel so good? There must be something wrong with you, to get off on his ministrations.

It was easier for you to not dwell on those feelings.

Easier to just lay in Levi’s arms, and listen to the beat of his heart.

#levi ackerman #yandere levi #yandere Levi Ackerman #levi x reader #captain levi #dark levi #levi aot #dark aot #tw Dubcon #yandere #levi heichou #idk tags lol #Yandere aot #yandere attack on titan #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #ackerman

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forbidding-souda · 3 years

Note

nsfw alphabet for gundham please? tysm!

NSFW A-Z with Gundham Tanaka

I got you!!!

Some of them are copy and pasted from past posts bc I’ve done them before

-Mod Souda

A - Aftercare

He has kind hands, ones that can hold you.

His ability to communicate is not the best, but he is willing to take criticism.

Cuddling is still a really weird thing for him. He’s stiff and can’t take the skin on skin contact for more than an hour.

B - Body part

To touch? He likes to run his fingers up and down your naked back. He feels every curve, every muscle, and lets his index finger trace your spine. With each of your breathes, your ribcage expands, his hands following the rhythm.

The pain of his fingernails digging into your shoulders with each of his trusts reminds you of the small red lines you still have from the night before - trailing from your shoulder blades down to the curve of your ass.

C - Cum

Okay let me get this one out of my system. But like,,, overstimulating this fucker?? womp womp womp. You have to wrap his hands up so he won’t try to hold onto you. Just watching him squirm is enough.

But the lewd noises that leave his mouth are all you need to make sure he won’t stop cumming. Even when it’s sensitive, and he’s begging for a break, you won’t stop until he can barely talk anymore.

By the second time you’ve made him cum, over twenty minutes has passed. He can still hold up his fight.

Still call you pet names and bite his lips with an anxious laugh.

But by the fourth, or fifth time, you just smile while listening to his wet ah’s.

D - Dirty secret

He likes smells. Things like slick, cum, sweat, or even your breathe when you pant against his lips.

The smell of you getting home from a run, where the sporty clothes you wear are so easy to peel off.

E - Experience

Zero. None. Nada. Absolutely none.

Doesn’t even like watching porn or other couples kissing.

He’s like ok *walks away*

Not much of a contact person to this day, too.

F - Favorite position

From behind. Yeahhh.

It helps him with the anxiety, since you can’t see him.

He doesn’t have to worry about you judging him. There’s no need to be self conscious from that angle.

G - Goofy

Not very goofy, and if anything, he takes it surprisingly seriously. He doesn’t think of sex as a fun activity, or something to do to spend time.

H - Hair

I think he cares a lot about the hair on his head to not care about his body hair.

I’m also thinking that he probably doesn’t even have that much.

I - Intimacy

He’s very tense, and a little drawn back. Always clenching his fists and biting his lips.

Only when he’s overstimulated does he let go of himself fully, letting his tongue fall out of his mouth as his whole body loses all of its battle.

J - Jack off

He hardly ever. Like, it’s such a rare occasion. But he has to be completely isolated. No background noise. Nothing to distract him from himself.

He makes sure to barricade the door so no one can get in. He likes to masturbate bent over, usually with his shoulders on the bed and the rest of him stiff. With one hand stroking himself, the other hand will grasp the bedsheets in an attempt to release the pleasure somewhere else.

K - Kink

He likes having his hands tied together by his own scarf. To be forced down by something so sentimental to him is almost irresistible.

Humiliation is something that edges him without effort. He gets flustered easily, almost too easily, and it’s something you take advantage of.

L - Location

The guest room, since it does not home his hamsters. He would not want his precious babies watching the lewd actions he does.

M - Motivation

This mf gets turned on just by hearing your shower run. The idea of you being naked, even not in a dirty sense.

He can’t help but let his mind wonder at it.

He just loves showering with you. It’s almost the only thing that keeps him going.

He gets turned on the moment the two of you are isolated, and in the situation where you stand right in front of him, putting your hands on his sides.

The contact is so sexually passive-aggressive. Like you’re holding him in place. Smaller things, like both of your hands on his shoulders, throws him into shock for tiny seconds.

N - No

Any type of animal play. Things like cat ears or the petnames kitten or puppy.

He does not find the idea of animals to be sexy. At all.

O - Oral

Not really a taker or a giver. He doesn’t like the idea of it, and would much prefer using his hands.

With that, he can dig his face into the crook of your neck as he does.

P - Pace

Very rough, even if it’s unintentional. Even his kisses are rather aggressive.

He is just a big hunk of a man.

Q - Quickie

No way. None at all, unless he manages to drink Teruteru’s altered soup again.

R - Risk

.. A little.. he likes risk a little bit. He likes the way it makes his heart increase.

Gives him a high without the touch of others.

Makes him feel a bit empowered whenever the two of you get caught.

S - Stamina

Has a really good stamina, surprisingly. A very powerful man.

Once he starts enjoying himself, it’s hard for him to calm down. He’s obsessed with the way you kiss and the curves of your body. So beautiful to him. All he wants is to grip onto the headboard and kiss all over your collarbones.

T - Toy

Hhhhhhhhhh the first thing that comes to my mind of course is vibrators <3.

Do I think this man is a bottom? Yes.

Okay, wait another idea just came to my head.

Because I don’t think Gundham is a very contact-y sexual person, so what if instead of penetrating his partner himself he just uses a vibrator on them.

Omg I might be on to something there.

U - Unfair

A bright smile comes to his face whenever he hears you whine against his rough kisses. He is such a tease when he feels confident enough. Your noises fuel him more than anything.

V - Volume

He isn’t loud unless you’re the one taking control of him. Usually, when he’s dominant, he is focused on you, and not himself. But the amount of ah’s that fall from his lips when you play with him is infinite.

W - Wild Card

I’m just gonna use this to say why do people think he’s into pet play ya’ll PLEASE- animals are like his escape route from his horrible childhood why would he be sexually attracted to something animal-related I am HORRIFIED.

X - Xray

HEhehherbejhkrbfkjehw

I feel like his shit is long as hell.

He’s packing ngl.

don’t argue with me because you won’t win

Huge titties huge dick

Y - Yearning

Nah, I don’t think he would go out of his way to seek out sexual things. Kisses are even hard for him to get through at times. Is he touch-starved? Yes. Does he want to be touched? Not all of the time.

Z - Zzzz

More breathless than tired.

Will still get up to feed his animals and make sure they are okay - as if they would get worried that he was gone for so long.

#Gundam Tanaka #sdr2 gundham #gundham tanaka x reader #GUNDHAM TANAKA

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rosymorns · 3 years

Text

i’m going to love you as i know how

rosanna x adam (2.5k) -- domestic violence mention cw

They stumble in, giddy, tipsy. Kat doesn’t bother to click on a light, and at the moment, they don’t need one -- they’re not doing much looking, anyway. Kat crowds her against the sofa, lifts her up on the back so Rosanna has to hold onto her to avoid toppling. Her hands are up her skirt, thumbs drifting along the lace panels of her underwear.

The lace is nice, but the fun part’s in back. Straps and things. Uncomfortable for a night out, but worth it for this ideal end to a night out.

Kat’s lips at her neck, and Rosanna lets out a high moan. It’s a little forced, but she’s learned by now that it gets people going. It’s been like holding her breath, these last few months. Denying herself this. Fingers and toys get the job done on a technical level but it is nothing like this -- like having someone starved for you, and being able to serve yourself up to them. Being wanted. Having someone grateful for your presence and everything you do.

And why had she even bothered withholding? Because of something timid and tender and foolish in her, whimpering out that this wasn’t what it wanted? She’d been led astray by that voice before.

Rosanna pulls back, pushes Kat a step away, and then gestures to another sofa, outlined in moonlight. “Sit,” she says. And Kat obeys.

There’s the rush, there’s the flutter. The way Kat’s looking at her: so, so hungry -- so ready for what happens next. This is what she wants.

Rosanna clicks on a little table lamp by the door, finally, and the room is cast in dim creams instead. And then she undresses. Little black velvet mini dress. She tosses it on the floor in a way that is meant to look carefree but is actually quite deliberate. She doesn’t want to have to spend time searching for it when she sneaks out in a few hours. This is an old dance and she knows its steps without thinking about them.

She takes it slow as she makes her way to where Kat’s sitting. Turns in the right way to give her a good view of a very carefully chosen bra-and-pantie ensemble. Then she climbs into her lap, guides her hands to her hips so she can feel the fun bits -- the straps, the lace, the warmth of her skin where it peaks through.

This is what she wants.

Isn’t it?

From the console table by the door where she’d dropped her purse, her phone rings as if on cue. Rosanna straightens. “Let me just make sure that’s nothing important.”

It’s a little awkward, standing in dull silence in a near-stranger’s living room, dressed down to her intimates. The phone stops ringing as she reaches it, and she wakes the screen.

It’s 11:15PM. She has three missed texts and a missed call. All from Adam. And normally she might pull an annoyed face, snort derisively, toss it back into her bag and get back to business. Right now, she just stares at the messages. The last one, the only one the notification shows, reads, “Where are you?”

“Everything okay?” Kat asks, worry and anxiety high notes in her voice.

It isn’t. This isn’t what she wants. She wants it to be. She wants it to be so badly. This love in bite-sized pieces is so easy to swallow. She barely even needs to open her mouth to take it. And she’d been able to subsist on it for so long -- full up on crumbs. Why, now, does the thought of it make her stomach heave?

Rosanna blinks, shakes her head. “It -- I think so, but this does unfortunately need my immediate attention.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really sorry, honey.” She stands between Kat’s knees and tips her chin up to kiss her. “I’m gonna need a rain check.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” And she collects her dress, pulls it back on. In a single motion, she collects her purse with one hand and the heels she’d kicked off by the door with the first too fingers of the other hand, and then she breezes out without so much as a pause.

Wayhaven has largely not changed since she was a teenager. Especially in the dark, where new signage and missing trees are obscured. The smell of cooling concrete and the feel of dewy grass is the same, and the night symphony is the same, and the streetlamps cast the same orange glow. For a while, walking home, she is almost sixteen again. Tender, timid, and foolish.

She’s peeling the seed out of whirlybird when her phone rings again, and she drops the debris into the grass. Answers it with a curt, “What?”

“Rosanna.”

There’s a half-second of tempest in her at the sound of Adam’s voice. Happiness, longing, relief, warmth -- and then disgust, self-hatred, anger. Flickering back and forth, on and off. Puppy-dog joy and repulsion at the fact that she would feel that way about anyone.

She swallows it down, and her voice remains neutral: “What do you want, Adam?”

“Are you safe? Where are you?”

“Walking home.”

“Where?”

She sighs into the receiver. “Uh, approaching the corner of Maple and Church.”

And the line goes dead, so she walks on in silent dread. She wants to see him. She always wants to see him. The world grows a bit quieter when he’s there, everything still and safe. Her heart leaps at the thought of it. Puppy-dog joy. But she’s raw, now. Fragile and red.

She doesn’t think she could take it, being near him. She couldn’t take the drip-drop from the bathtub faucet at Kat’s -- so like hell can she handle a tsunami. Submerged in everything pouring out of him, all that might-be-love, and then grabbed by the scruff of her neck and yanked back up to surface. Might-be -- is-not, could-never-be.

“Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself,” she whispers, and stops walking, stands in the shadow of a streetlamp with a knuckle pressed to her forehead. This is the voice of the mother she wishes she’d had. This is the woman who picked a scared teenager off the kitchen floor and sat her on the toilet seat and leaned close to the mirror to patch a split lip and smear bruise cream on a swelling cheek.

And she lies. This woman lies, and she’s a very good liar. She lied to nurses and doctors in the emergency room about stairs and car doors and clumsy, silly accidents. She lied to police officers, hiccuping sobs and feigning ignorance. And she lies to herself, sometimes, insisting this is what you want. But beneath the lies, this is the woman who keeps herself safe, even when it’s warm and the frogs in Cherry Park across the street are so loud, just like they used to be, just like summer nights before this Rosanna ever had need to exist.

One moment, she is alone, gazing out over the street lamps that dot the pavement trails crisscrossing the park, looking a little like the lonesome stars of a city sky. One of the last poems she’d ever penned, before she’d lost so much feeling in her heart that no blood came out when she tried to squeeze it over paper, had been about the stars in the city. Maudlin, clumsy verse. There are so many more stars in Wayhaven, with no light to drown them out. Out on full display with no shadow to shrink in to.

One moment, she is alone, and the next Adam is there. Falling in step beside her.

“What’s so urgent?” Rosanna says. Her fingers clench where they’re carrying her shoes by the heels, a proxy for a clenched fist. From the corner of her eye, she can see him examining her. She probably smells like alcohol. She wonders if she smells like Kat’s perfume. She wonders what conclusions he’s drawing.

“What’s urgent? Detective, you were missing for hours. No one knew where you were -- you didn’t answer your phone -- we thought something had happened --”

She holds up a hand to stop him and, surprisingly, he does. They walk on in silence for a moments, and then he exhales a tense sigh. “I say ‘we’ -- I mean ‘I’.”

“We don’t have to do this tonight.” She swallows, then laughs, weakly. “I say ‘we’ -- I mean ‘you’.”

“I don’t catch your meaning.”

“I don’t have it in me right now, Adam. I just deal with it, normally, everything you say and take back -- every time you --” She sniffs, hard, and scolds herself: you are not going to fucking cry in front of him. “But I can’t do it tonight, okay? So if you’ve got to follow me home, can you shut up and stay a foot away from me while you do?”

And, surprisingly, he does. The five minutes back to her townhouse are blessedly silent. The front room lights are on, the door left cracked. When she pushes at it experimentally, she finds it has been forced open, the strike plate torn out of the threshold. And she tenses, preparing herself to deal with having been burglarized, before Adam clears his throat: “I will have it fixed.”

“This was you?”

“I thought -- I was worried. Your car was here and you weren’t answering --”

She brushes her finger over the latch, and shakes her head at the unexpected fondness that overcomes her. Novel, to be worried after.

“I apologize, Rosanna.”

“I’m not upset.”

The silence between them is heavy as she stands in the kitchen and mixes herself a drink. Adam wants to leave desperately, she’s sure of it. Part of her wants him to leave desperately, too. She wants to curl up on the sofa and cry, and she can’t do that while he’s here. Because it would make him uncomfortable, and she loves him, and she doesn’t want to do anything that would make him uncomfortable. Because she doesn’t know what it would mean if he wanted to stay -- because she can’t remember the last time a hand that wasn’t hers has brushed tears from her cheeks.

“I admit, I thought you would be angrier.”

“I’m sure I will be in the morning. I’m just a bit lost in memory tonight.”

“Oh?”

The clink of her spoon against the glass slows a little as she leans against the kitchen island. “The first time things got bad with my husband, I locked myself in the bathroom. I thought I could just wait until he cooled off and then we could talk.” She taps the spoon against the edge of the glass to shake the last drops off, then tosses it in the sink. “But he kicked the door in. We never got it fixed. It was still broken when I sold the house. So it’s funny, to have another man I love break another door open -- just this time it’s because he wants to protect me.”

She glides over to the sofa and curls herself up on it, and her eyes settle on Adam, tense, stock-still. Love. Not a word she’d meant to say. It feels cruel, to heap something so heavy on someone who has told her time and time again that he does not want her. So she smiles, a little watery and wavering, and shakes her head in an attempt to be casual and reassuring. “Sorry. I’m talking too much. You don’t have to stay. I’m just going to finish this and go to bed.”

She’s holding on to herself white-knuckle. Vicious dog on a short leash. Please go, she thinks. Don’t make me let you see me like this.

She looks away then, down at the opaque peach of her drink, waiting for his silhouette to disappear from her periphery.

“Would you like to be alone?” Adam asks.

Would she?

Forever?

Does she have a choice?

No one has ever wanted her as more than a thing in lingerie. And being a thing hurts now. Prying open her mannequin mouth to take crumbs and crumbs and crumbs in exchange for being touched, in exchange for touching, hurts. They go down like hot ash.

She wishes she could want the cinders. She could never earn love, but lust was a fine enough substitute. In the dark, for a few minutes, it feels like love.

But she’s hollow, she thinks. If she were to beat on her chest, it would ring like a bell. Cold and empty and of no substance. A few breadcrumbs tumble over each other, down in her feet, when she walks -- but nothing could fill her up. And now that her molars have grown together, nothing will.

Do you want to be alone? She doesn’t. She desperately doesn’t. She wants to be something worth love. She wants to be a cherished trinket, held in a pocket, kissed for good luck. Warm to the touch, for being clasped in a hand so often. Plastic is still cold after you skim your fingers over it.

She flinches when his hand comes into view, pulling the glass cupped between her fingers with strange delicacy for a man so strong. He moves slowly, as if she would startle. Or maybe to give her time to tell him to stop.

She doesn’t. Hands free, her fingertips mere inches from him where he kneels before the sofa.

She’d once sat at the kitchen table with mascara running down her cheeks, hands trembling, as she made plans to bring about her husband’s death. She had thought at the time, fatalistically, that she might as well do it, because it wasn’t as though things could get any worse.

She finds herself thinking the same thoughts again. He doesn’t love her. He would tell anyone who would listen -- he does not love her. She is not a thing deserving of love. But he’s there before her, anyway, inches from her open palms. The worst that could happen, if she reached for him, is that he would pull away. Doesn’t he already always pull away? It isn’t as though things can get any worse.

So she reaches for him. She rests her fingers against the fabric of his shirt, over his shoulders, close to his neck. And she hardly even has to pull him towards her.

She expects the leash to snap, for the cracks in the dam to burst. Instead she finds the blood rushing in her ears goes quiet, and the world goes still, and all she can think for a moment is: this is what you want.

#i'm not sure how i feel about this one other than 'well it certainly is finished'#this is 2.5k words of rosanna being sad. adam is at best a supporting character.#and. again. i didn't edit or do more than a cursory proofread so if you find something that sounds weird. no you didnt ♥#carly.txt #carly writes #carly's ocs #oc: rosanna

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hijackedacademia · 4 years

Text

A Friendly Favor (Tenya Iida x Fem!Reader)

Characters: Reader (Fem), Uraraka, Jiro, Iida, Mina, Midoriya (briefly), Sero (briefly), Kaminari (briefly)

Request: No

Requested by: N/A

Warnings: none? If there are lemme know and I’ll tag them. Also I didn’t edit this.

Words: 2240

A/N: I wrote Iida w/ red eyes because that’s their color in the manga and I’m a sucker for red eyes. Also forgive me, this is my first time writing for him properly so he may be a little bit out of character?

——

Training had been rather rough on you today. Every muscle in your body ached, and your PE uniform was drenched in sweat (and possibly some tears) by the time you’d made it back to the girls locker room to peel it off. You toweled yourself off before throwing your uniform back on. A few of the other girls seemed just as exhausted as you were, while the others were just as chipper as ever.

This is what you got for slacking off to play video games.

Again.

Uraraka was the first to approach you, asking if you wanted to walk with her back to the dorms. She’d pushed back her hair with a plush, pink headband you were 98% sure had belonged to Aoyama at some point, and she was holding out a cooled water bottle that you just couldn’t say no to.

“Sure,” You said, taking the bottle. “Thanks.”

“No problem, (L/N)! You really look like you need it. Is everything okay?” Uraraka tilted her head a bit, her lips pulled back into a caring smile.

“Oh, yeah,” You started. “I’m fine, just feeling a bit behind it all. This is the last time I let Kaminari convince me to stay up till midnight to play Minecraft.”

“Oh did he rope you into helping him build that castle he was going on about?” She asked.

“We played for three and a half hours and we’re still flattening the earth for it.” You grumbled.

“I told him to just use creative mode.” Jiro piped in, coming to stand beside you. “But that idiot wants to do it all the natural way.” Jiro mocked Kaminari, rolling her eyes all the while. You snorted.

“Tell me about it, when I mentioned going into creative mode I thought he’d had an aneurysm.” You took a long sip from the water. The three of you began to exit the locker room. “At this point I’m pretty sure I know more about the durability of a stone pickaxe than I know about the math Ectoplasm is trying to teach us.”

“Are you falling behind on your studies, (L/N)?” You all but jumped out of your skin, turning to face Iida with a flushed face.

Of course it was him who heard you. You smiled up at him.

“Not so much falling behind on studying, more not understanding the work.” You said. “I was never very good at math back in middle school, so the stuff we’re learning now is pretty difficult for me.” You rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes. Uraraka wiggles her eyebrows playfully at you from beside Iida, and you frown at her.

You regret telling her about your crush on the engine-quirked boy.

“Well if you should need any assistance with studying, I would be happy to help you. I plan on working on my math after we finish dinner.” He adjusted his glasses as he spoke, his crimson eyes never leaving your own.

Curse him and his need for eye contact.

“Speaking of dinner,” Jiro said. “Who’s cooking tonight?”

“Sero and Kirishima.” You said, turning away from Iida. “It was supposed to be Sero and Mina, but Kiri owed her a favor.”

“Why didn’t they inform everyone of this? The whole schedule we set up-” Iida started, but you calmly cut him off.

“Iida,” you sighed. “The schedule will be fine. Kiri will help cook this meal, and the next meal he’s assigned to. There’s nothing wrong with a friendly favor.” Before Iida could say something, Midoriya exited the boys locker room, a towel thrown over his shoulders. He smiled when he saw the small group.

“Hey, guys! Heading back to the dorms?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Uraraka confirmed. “Come on, guys! We should get going before Mr. Aizawa yells at us again.” She grabbed your wrist to tug you along, and you let her pull you in the direction of the dorms. Jiro, Midoriya, and Iida followed suit.

The only other people in the dorms when you got back were Mina, Kaminari, and Sero. Sero had set out getting everything together for dinner while he waited for Kirishima. When Mina saw you, Jiro, and Uraraka approaching she ran up, an excited look on her face.

“My parents delivered my Wii console! We can finally play Just Dance together! Whatddya say, wanna play tonight?” You were about to let out a whoop in excitement, when you saw Iida looking at you from his seat at the tables. He was already getting to work. He looked away rather quickly when he noticed your gaze turn in his direction.

“Actually, guys, I uh… I think I’m gonna take tonight to study.” Uraraka’s head snapped in your direction. The mischievous glint in her eyes surprised you momentarily.

“Oooo, you taking Iida up on his offer?” She teased you. Mina squealed, drawing in others' attention. You smacked her arm, but she seemed undeterred.

“Iida,” She said in a harsh whisper. “So is it like, a date-”

“We’re just going to be studying-”

“A study date, then?” Mina seemed more excited about the prospect than you did. You’d been looking for a reason to spend more time with Iida alone, but he always seemed to be busy with school work, or was always around Midoriya and Uraraka.

“No.” You say. “Just two friends studying math.”

“Sure.” Mina continued to tease. You really wished she wouldn’t do this while he was right there, but Iida either didn’t hear what was happening or he wasn’t paying you guys much attention because his eyes were trained on his work. You ignore your friends and go to approach him.

He looked up when you reached the table.

“Hey,” You said.

“Hello, (L/N). How can I help you?”

“So were you… serious, about that offer? To help me with the math?” You wanted to slap yourself. Of course he was serious. When was Iida not serious about something?

“I was,” He nodded. “Like I said, I should be getting to my math after we eat.”

“Awesome.” You nodded. “Thanks again, Iida.” He nodded back before returning to his work. You went up to your room to throw on more comfortable clothes, using a couple of wipes to clean up the oil on your forehead and cheeks. You had been laying on your bed scrolling through the various apps on your phone for around an hour when Tsu came to get you for dinner.

Part of you wanted to shovel down the food - the faster you ate, the faster you could study.

But the other part of you wanted nothing more than to never finish dinner so that you couldn’t possibly embarrass yourself in front of Iida. It was bound to happen, you were sure of it. You would say something stupid with such confidence and then Iida would know just how dumb you really were.

But it smelled so good, and the way your stomach rumbled - surely you couldn’t say anything that stupid.

Right?

Uraraka gave you a quizzical look.

“Are you gonna eat it or are you just gonna drool over it?” She asked. Snapping from your thoughts, on instinct, you wiped at your mouth - she was right. You had been drooling. How embarrassing, you seethed. “Everything alright, (L/N)?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah I’m fine. Just thinking.” Without a second thought you began to stuff your face.

When class 1-A first moved into the dorms, a good chunk of the class sucked at cooking. It was typically Bakugo, Uraraka, or Sato who cooked meals.

That was, until the hot headed gremlin decided enough was enough and there needed to be some kind of proper schedule and some kind of lesson.

“I’m not gonna be cooking for you damned bastards for the rest of school.” He’d said. “Either you learn to cook or you starve.”

The only people who couldn’t be trusted in the kitchen were Mineta, Higakure, and Aoyama.

Those three could burn water without turning the stove on.

Kirishima had become one of the better cooks - so having been paired with Sero, who himself was fairly decent, the meal was amazing. Maybe not Lunch Rush amazing, but enough to make you want seconds.

By the time you’d finish your plate, most of the girls and a handful of the guys had scattered, finished with their meals and prepared to unwind or get to work. You took your plate to the kitchen and then went to your room to wash up. You retrieved your homework, notes, and textbook, and after wiping the sweat off your palms, went to go find Iida.

He sat at one of the tables in the common room alone, surprisingly. Usually after a meal Midoriya and Uraraka would sit with him for a bit before going their separate ways. But not tonight.

Were they both joining in on Mina’s game? Or had you just taken that long to get ready?

“Uh, hey, Iida.” He looked up from his work and gave you a kind smile.

“Ah, (L/N), are you ready to work?” He asked. You nodded quickly and moved to put your stuff down across from him. “Perhaps you should come sit over here. It would make it much easier to show you what to do.”

“Oh. Um, okay.” Your fingers gripped your wares tightly as you came around to sit beside Iida. He had his text book open to the pages you guys had been assigned earlier that day - his paper was already filled with notes. “Well, uh, where do we start?”

Listening to Iida go on about math was much easier than listening to Ectoplasm, in your opinion. Maybe it was the fact that you could listen to Iida talk about anything - he could read you the ingredients off of a candy bar wrapper and you would be entranced.

Or maybe it was because what he was saying actually made sense.

“Mr. Ectoplasm tends to explain things in a lot less detail than he should.” Iida admitted. “But I used to sit with my brother when he did his math homework, so it’s pretty easy for me to figure out.”

“How is he, by the way?” The thought of Iida’s brother had been itching in the back of your mind. Ever since he got hurt you’d never seen Iida more determined. You worried sometimes. When you saw a sad look in Iida’s eyes, a part of you regretted asking. His gaze bore holes into the textbook, but he smiled.

“He is healing. Slowly, but surely.” That was all Iida had to say on the matter. Before you could say anything else about it, he was back to explaining the equation you were working on before.

The two of you worked for an hour and a half, and by the time you’d gotten to the last equation you felt proud of yourself. Usually math took you a lot longer. Sometimes you didn’t bother doing them at all (not that you’d ever tell Iida this).

“How are you feeling? Did you understand everything we went over?” Iida asked, setting aside his pencil.

“I think so.” You smiled. “I definitely understand more than I did this morning.”

“Well, I’m glad.” Iida removed his glasses, and cleaned them with a small cloth that he’d kept folded beside his text book. “I’m about to start on English, if you should need assistance with that as well.”

“No,” you smiled. “I’m actually fairly good in English.” You closed your textbook, piling the homework and notes you’d taken on top along with your pencil and pen. “Thanks again for helping me Iida, I owe you one.” You said as you stood up from the table, a couple of joints popping in the process.

“Like a friendly favor?” The question surprised you, but after the initial shock washed away you smiled.

“Yeah.” You said. “A friendly favor.” You picked up your things, ready to depart.

After a moment's thought and a short rush of confidence, you found yourself giving the class rep a short hug, your free arm wrapped around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. He tensed up for a moment, but instead of pushing you away like you imagined he would, he placed a hand on your arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks again, Iida.” You pulled your arm away and all but skipped out of the common area. When you made it back upstairs to your dorm room, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. After setting your homework back into your bag, you went to read the text.

It was from Iida. You frowned.

Had you forgotten something downstairs?

Unlocking your phone, you open the text.

T. Iida: So

T. Iida: About that favor.

(Y/N): Yeah?

T. Iida: Perhaps you might be willing to join me this Sunday to the nearby café? I was going to go with Midoriya and Uraraka but they are now busy and I would prefer not to go alone.

You flushed a bit. Iida was asking you to go with him to his favorite café (you’d heard him mention how much he loved the place before - the best lattes he’d ever had, if you remembered correctly) with him. Alone.

Just you and Iida.

(Y/N): Count me in. Id love to join you!

T. Iida: Perfect. It’s a date then.

A date.

This boy was going to be the end of you.

#tenya iida #tenya iida x reader #tenya iida x fem!reader #tenya #iida #x reader #reader insert #tenya iida reader insert #fem!reader #mha reader insert #x fem!reader #bnha reader insert #my hero academia #my queue academia

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snifflyjoonie · 4 years

Text

I Think You’re My Soulmate Pt. 2

a/n: Hi guys!! So I know I said I’d be posted parts of this in-between fics, but the Jimin fic is taking me longer than I thought (is anyone surprised at this point lol) so I thought I’d drop part two of this in the meantime.

I’m so excited you guys liked the intro to this!! Your comments were all so sweet and made me smile. I hope you all enjoy this next part as well! Who do you think our protagonist runs into first? lol

Enjoy!~

Namjoon arrived at his new University the next morning feeling extremely worse for wear. His cold had come on fast, leaving him in a bit of a daze and sporting a runny nose. He wanted nothing more than to still be asleep in bed, but with today being his first day back, he knew that wasn’t an option. He had rolled out of bed with a groaning protest, showered, and searched his closet for something warm and comfortable; ultimately deciding on an oversized black sweatshirt, a black face mask in an attempt to keep his cold to himself, and a black beanie. Not his usual choice for a back to school outfit, but since he didn’t really have anyone to impress and because he felt so ill, he didn’t really care.

The man hovered outside of his new school in the crisp winter air, a to-go coffee gripped tightly in one hand. He took a moment to stare up at the large building with slight uncertainty. It was still fairly early, 8am — He wouldn’t have his first class until 9am — but being a new student, and one who had missed the first semester, he had plenty of paperwork to fill out. He blew out a breath, feeling his face mask warm with the exhale before heading to the doors. It was now or never.

The first steps into the main entrance hall made his stomach flip. There were a lot more people present than he had anticipated. For a brief second it reminded him of his first day at school overseas. The same bubbling uncertainty filled his gut and he felt his palms go sweaty. At least this time he’d be able to communicate in his native language. This thought alone helped calm his nerves as he leaned against a nearby wall to finish his coffee.

Namjoon scanned the area as he pulled his mask to his chin, watching students walk by. He caught eyes briefly with a brown-haired young man, probably no older than 20, as he hugged his parents goodbye. Namjoon felt himself smile a little, the fact that the boy’s parents were dropping him off was sweet, and it probably meant it was this boy’s first day, too. He silently hoped the mystery young man would have an easy first day.

Namjoon took the last sip of his coffee before tossing the paper cup into a nearby trash can. The warm drink had done wonders to vanquish the chill he’d caught from outside but the steam had also started to make his nose run. He sniffed hard and scrubbed at his nose for a moment before clicking on his phone to check the time, seeing 8:26am flash back at him. With a sigh, he peeled himself off of the wall he had been slouched against and began to drag himself to student services across the hall.

A small line had started to form behind the help desk and Namjoon filed in obediently. The first thing he needed would be his student ID and a map of the University. He had a vague idea of where his first class was located, he had come to orientation a week prior, but a little confirmation never hurt anyone. The line moved rather quickly and before long Namjoon reached the front. He answered the necessary questions politely and signed where they requested before he was swiftly moved to the photo area. He sat in front of the photographer and gave a tight lipped smile before again being hurried along to card pick-up. The whole process surprisingly took all of ten minutes.

With his newly owned student ID card in hand Namjoon made his way out of the entrance hall, pausing only a moment as he felt his breath begin to hitch before the feeling quickly faded. He shook his head in annoyance and sniffed before heading in the direction of his first class, unaware that the young man from earlier had been hitching along with him in perfect harmony.

Finding his physics lecture hall had been easy, thanks to orientation and his new map. He arrived a bit early, expecting to find the hall empty. Instead however when he pushed open the heavy wooden doors he was slightly shocked to find the classroom half-full. The hall itself was bigger than he anticipated; the seats went at least eight rows back on an upward slope and curved in a semi-circle around the front. He hesitated for just a moment before deciding on a spot at the very back of the classroom towards the left-hand side, closest to the door. The closer to the door he stayed the better chance he had of avoiding the after-class traffic. He had picked up on this quickly from his three years in school abroad.

He made his way up to the desk slowly, the muddy snow that still clung beneath his shoes sloshed along as he stepped. The class began to fill up quickly as he got himself situated and before long there wasn’t a single free seat available, much to Namjoon’s surprise. He didn’t expect to see this many students signed up for physics. He allowed himself a moment to look around and take in the crowd before the professor strolled in.

The man looked on the younger side, probably mid thirties, and wore a well tailored tweed suit. He took a brief moment to introduce himself and the class before jumping immediately into the lesson plan. A few students quietly stood up and made their way to the door, clearly having mistaken this class for another, but other than those few students the class remained full.

The professor had a very confident demeanor, easily commanding the attention of the whole room. Not a single soul seemed to be whispering, and Namjoon assumed they would’ve been able to hear a pin drop amongst the sounds of scribbling pencils and the clacking of keyboards.

He sat quietly taking notes, doing his best to stay awake and pay attention, his eyelids getting heavier with each blink. His coffee from earlier, albeit good, wasn’t doing the best job of waking him up like he had hoped. He was typically a very attentive student, but with the lack of sleep he’d gotten the night prior and the new pounding headache starting to form behind his eyes, focusing just didn’t seem possible.

Namjoon blew out a breath in frustration and sniffled slightly, his nose wrinkling up under his face mask as he felt it began to itch. When he was younger, an itchy nose would always make his stomach flip. The anticipation was almost overwhelming. He used to scan the room for girls he hoped would join along with him, and he’d do almost anything he could to turn an itchy nose into a full blown sneezing fit. He remembered crossing his fingers and toes for good luck, even going as far as trying to keep his eyes open so he could see his soulmate right when it happened. But now that he was older sneezing didn’t phase him, and without thinking twice, he pitched forward in his seat with a small squeak of a sneeze he tried to pinch off as to not interrupt the professor.

Right at the same moment, a booming sneeze echoed through the lecture hall from across the room. Namjoon immediately felt all colour leave his face. He snapped his head up, now fully awake, and followed the gaze of the other students who were equally as surprised as he was, but not for the same reason. It seemed no one else had noticed that Namjoon had sneezed himself simply due to the sheer volume of the other’s.

Typically when others noticed two people sneezing at the same time, the room would fall silent and the quiet, excited murmurs would begin. Namjoon used to wish for that moment; a moment where every one of his peers could see him and his soulmate lock eyes with each other for the first time. But now, it was the exact opposite of what he wanted as his horrified gaze fell upon the culprit: a tan-skinned, black-haired young man.

The young man chuckled sheepishly and bowed his head as the professor jokingly thanked him for waking up any students that may have dozed off. There was a short moment of shared laughter amongst the students as Namjoon felt his cheeks flush red. He had just sneezed in perfect harmony with someone for the first time in his life, and it had been a man. Surely this must have just been a coincidence — Some kind of mistake. He shook his head slightly and squinted hard, trying to see if the boy was maybe someone he knew. An old friend from grade school? A café worker he’d crossed paths with? But alas, nothing. Namjoon had never seen him before in his life.

Clearly this was a mistake, he thought. It had to be. He felt his heart skip a beat but quickly tried to shake the feeling. He’d been dreaming of this moment for years, but this was all wrong. There was absolutely no way.

“When the universe gives you a sign, you listen.”

His father’s words echoed in his brain.

Suddenly, Namjoon felt as if he might throw up. He wanted to be as far away from this man as possible, a deep resentment-like feeling starting to form inside of him. Who was this man, anyway? Why would he take this moment, a moment he had yearned for since he was small, and mock him with it? This was all just a sick joke.

Namjoon hastily began to pack his things, shoving them as fast as he could into his bookbag. He just needed to get out of there. He stood up fast and began to make his way down the row of desks. He could feel the eyes of his peers follow him down the steps, but he didn’t care. The professor’s voice faltered slightly as Namjoon approached the front of the room, but he just muttered something about being in the wrong class and swiftly turned towards the door. He paused in the doorway for only a moment as a sneeze snuck up on him before he quickly exited, trying with all his might to ignore the thunderous sneeze that echoed behind him as the heavy doors swung closed.

“It’s just the way it works, my son.”

#the soulmate au #the first two parts have been on the shorter side I'm soooooooorry #but anyway thank you guys for being so sweet and receptive to this passion project!!#i was a little nervous not going to lie lol #anyway i hope to have the jimin request done soon! It's going to be on the longer side which i'm excited about (and didn't expect!)#but I'm having a lot of fun with it #so I hope you'll enjoy it when it's out #bts sickfic #mine #bts au

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delimeful · 5 years

Text

how easy you are to need (2)

warnings: panic, fear, threats of violence, suicidal thoughts, miscommunication

Chapter 2

Virgil woke up surrounded by warmth and the smell of sugar.

It was nice for the few moments it took him to realize where he was and what had happened to get him there. He peeled his eyes open, ignoring the way his whole face felt like a bruise, and found himself… in a small living room? Propped up by a bunch of pillows and nearly smothered in blankets?

His gaze darted around, uncomprehending. He’d expected a cell, at best. Really, he hadn’t expected to wake up at all. What possible reason could these people have for keeping a shifter around? If they felt bad killing him for whatever reason, they should have just left him to bleed out and return to the soil. That was the terrifying and relentless way nature worked.

(Not that he’d cared about the life cycle when he’d seen Patton injured.)

A low sigh made him freeze, and he slowly turned his head to see that there was, in fact, a human in the room.

Patton was curled up in a cozy armchair, a worn storybook sliding off his lap, and one leg tucked up against him. The other was laid straight out on a footrest, the pant leg rolled up and the skin bandaged thoroughly. Virgil stared.

Were these humans insane? Leaving one of their injured in the same room as a strange wolf-

He abruptly realized which form he was in, looking down at his pale flesh, and all the pieces clicked into place. With a sword like his, Roman was a hunter, and there was only one reason hunters kept monsters alive, as he knew personally. His breath quickened, head becoming foggy with panic.

He had to get out of here.

As though summoned by the rebellious thought, he heard light footsteps from down the hall. He tore out of the blankets, scrambling to his feet and noting with mild hysteria that he was wearing soft, button-up pajamas. Patton blinked blearily, looking up at him with confusion.

“What-” The footsteps sped up at the noise, and Virgil grabbed Patton’s arm, yanking him out of the chair and in front of him as another human appeared in the hall’s threshold. Roman, surprisingly with his sword sheathed. He wouldn’t need it yet, though, would he?

Patton stumbled on his weak leg, and Virgil kept his face stone cold as he shifted his leg to subtly support the man’s weight. “Wha- huh?” Patton asked, and Virgil wrapped an arm loosely around his throat, claws hovering above the skin in lieu of an answer.

“Don’t take another step,” Virgil instructed, trying to keep the shake from his voice as he watched Roman take in the situation, “or I’ll bite him.”

The human’s face darkened instantly, as he expected. Humans never took well to their own being turned. “Let Pat go.”

Virgil barked out a sharp laugh, eyes wild. “Not a chance.”

Patton shifted awkwardly on his foot. “Um, kiddo? You don’t have to-”

“Stop. Talking.” Virgil cut him off, not wanting to hear the fear, disgust, faux-sympathy in his voice. He couldn’t afford to let himself soften. “I’m going to move to the door, and you’re coming with. O- Or else.”

“I, um… I can’t walk on this leg. Sorry, kiddo.” Patton apologized sheepishly, as though he wasn’t being held hostage. Shit. How was he supposed to keep him from injuring his leg further without giving away that he was supporting him?

Virgil froze up for a moment too long, and then Roman took a step forward, and he knew his bluff had failed.

“Look, it’s okay, just-” Roman started, advancing, and was cut off by the click of the door handle as Logan stood in the doorway, firewood in his arms. A way out.

Virgil didn’t waste a second, shoving Patton at Roman(who naturally dove to catch him) before charging at Logan head-on. The man blinked, startled, and then sputtered as Virgil knocked all the wood out of his arms before ducking around him and out the door.

There was shouting behind him, but he was already running, ignoring the burn of his wounds until they went numb. Unfortunately, numbness didn’t make for good sprinting. It felt like barely no time at all before he went sprawling, hitting the ground and his vision briefly blacking out.

Once he reawoke, everything seemed to hurt ten times worse, and it had begun to rain. He forced himself up on hands and knees, crawling to the shelter of the nearest thick tree trunk.

He longed for the warmth and comfort of his wolf form, but he knew better than to shift, not when he hadn’t gotten far enough to truly be safe. Not when they could come to reclaim him at any moment. They could track him down, kill him, but he wouldn’t give them what they wanted.

Time passed, his vision occasionally darkening, and then he blinked, and another human stood a few paces away. He squinted, wondering which one of them was sent to finish him off.

“Salutations.” Logan said, crouching to be eye level with him. Virgil didn’t speak. “You’re going to bleed out if you don’t shift back or get those wounds treated.”

That, at least, got a hoarse chuckle out of him. Nice try, buddy.

Logan stared at him expectantly for a moment longer, and then sighed. “I am going to pick you up, and walk back to the house. I’m aware that you panicked and would like to reassure you that we don’t mean you any harm. Quite the opposite, really.”

Virgil didn’t believe it for a second, and when Logan leaned forwards, he bared his teeth. To his surprise, the human simply ignored the threat, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and the underside of his knees and lifting him in one motion. He twitched, and Logan stopped moving.

“I do not want to drop you. Please don’t move, we’ll be back at the cabin shortly.”

Virgil didn’t respond, too busy staring at Logan’s neck, inches away. The human started moving again, as though he wasn’t holding a monster right next to the most vulnerable point of his body. As though Virgil couldn’t lunge forward and tear out his trachea as easy as he’d attacked that bear.

And he was right, wasn’t he? Because Virgil couldn’t. He should, he really should, even if it took harnessing the spite and fear building within him, as a last act of defiance. Even if just to hurt them the way they were going to hurt him, to vent how unfair it was that he saved them and ended up captured, he should close the gap between them and ruin Logan’s life the way his had been ruined.

But he wouldn’t. Even imagining the act made everything in him recoil, because despite everything, he still wanted his humans to be alive and happy and together. He wanted Logan to see the stars and Patton to see his garden’s first harvest and Roman to finally be satisfied with the composition of his songs. He wanted them safe, even if it meant getting rid of a threat like him.

As Logan approached the clearing, he wondered absently if this was what having a pack felt like. It was certainly a bittersweet feeling.

Patton and Roman were out on the porch, the former sat on the edge of the stairs and the latter wearing a groove into the wood with his pacing. Virgil could see his hand resting on his sword hilt, white-knuckled, and felt an astonishing lack of fear. They both looked up as Logan approached, eyes zeroing in on Virgil.

“Logan!”

“Specs! Is he- ?”

“He’s conscious, but many of his wounds are reopened. We’ll need the first aid kit again- ”

Logan’s voice slipped away along with Virgil’s grasp on consciousness, and he was out again.

When he woke for the second time in the cabin, Roman was there.

He was once again laid out on the couch, with mounds of knit blankets tucked around him. It was startling, how different these humans treated him compared to the last hunter. Maybe they figured they’d get more flies with honey. He shifted, and Roman’s head turned at the movement, looking down at him with a surprisingly neutral expression.

He was sat on a throne-like chair next to the couch, and his sword was laid across his legs. He followed Virgil’s gaze down to it.

“Don’t worry, this is for Patton, not you.” He told him, lips turned up at the edges, and Virgil snapped out of his groggy state as though he’d been hit. Patton? Why would- Oh. Oh no.

He leaned forwards, trying to convey the honesty of his next words.

“I- I didn’t bite him. He’s not turned.” Please don’t kill him.

It was Roman’s turn to reel back, eyebrows raised. “No, no! I- I know, it was… It was just a joke. Patton has been trying to hover over you all day, and he needs to be off his feet to recover. He’s not- I wouldn’t-�� He sighed, holding up a rag that Virgil hadn’t noticed in his other hand. “I’m just cleaning the blade. On my honor.”

Virgil settled back into the couch, injuries stinging. “Oh.” There was a long pause, in which Virgil steadfastly didn’t make eye contact.

“I don’t know how much you remember, but you’ve been sleeping for around three days, not counting your… brief escapade.” Roman said. “How are you feeling?”

Virgil stared at him for a long moment. Was he serious? “... Bad.”

Roman’s face fell, but anything he was going to say was cut off by Logan entering from the hall, holding a tray of empty dishes. He paused, and then nodded at the two of them.

“Good to see you awake.” He said, passing them by to enter what Virgil assumed was a kitchen. “Give me one moment and I will check your injuries. And Roman, please stop indulging in your self-soothing mechanisms. You’re making our guest uneasy.”

Roman grumbled but finished wiping down the blade and sheathed it as light clinking sounded from the kitchen. Logan returned a moment later, small kit in hand. Virgil eyed it warily, already dreading what he knew was to come.

One checkup later, he was left fairly confused. Logan packed the unused bandages and antiseptic back into the small box, saying something about Patton wanting to visit, apparently satisfied with just… tending to Virgil’s wounds. He hadn’t taken anything from him, not blood or hair or teeth. There was no way Logan, who had mentioned complex magical theory several times in the past, didn’t know about the powerful properties of shifter’s bodies. He exhaled heavily, some of the stress leaving him.

They were just in it for the biggest prize then. That was good, better than he’d expected from humans. It meant he had time. It was just after the new moon, so… he had some time before the full moon hit and he was forced to transform.

They’d try to get him to transform earlier, he was sure, since they were probably as unhappy about a shifter in their house as he was unhappy to be captured. Still, he was nothing if not stubborn enough to resist whatever they threw at him.

If they wanted his pelt, they were going to have to wait him out.

#sanders sides #werewolf au #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #writing #my writing #werewolf #heyatn #how easy you are to need #taglist coming soon

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fivescuddles-blog · 5 years

Text

drunken mumbling | five hargreeves

a/n: hiii, hope you enjoy this cute lil five imagine! i’d really appreciate feedback so if you enjoy please comment and reblog! it means the world to me uwu

requested: “hi again, I hope you don’t mind me requesting so soon, but could I have a five hargreeves x reader where she finds him drunk and carries him to his room and when she’s about to leave, his drunk ass asks her to stay with him? thank youu” - @spazclaiire

characters: five hargreeves x fem!reader

word count: 1,278

summary: five is unable to hold his liquor and is a very clingy boi

warnings: swearing, think that’s it lmao

If you’d met Five Hargreeves on a casual day, perhaps you’d assume that he’d be fine with holding his liquor. Due to his immense maturity for his age, most people definitely would have this assumption about him, including yourself for the most part. However, it wasn’t long until you found out the truth.

Three loud knocks was all you gave the front door to the Hargreeves manor as you waited outside, your coat pulled tightly around yourself as the cold wind nipped at your exposed skin. Rain splattered down on the path under you, making you shiver as it bounced off your coat.

You see, you were meant to be hanging out with Five at this time, considering he’d asked you earlier on if you’d like to come over. But the fact that you’d been stuck waiting outside for almost 20 minutes was a dead giveaway that something was wrong.

Sighing, you waddle over to the closest window, wiping off the condensation and droplets of rain with your sleeve and peered through. The first thing you saw was the living room. Everything looked surprisingly normal, considering you’d been expecting some sort of tragic death scene to be taking place since Pogo or Grace hadn’t came to open the door yet.

It wasn’t until you looked closer that you finally caught sight of a curled up, seemingly unconscious, bundle of sarcasm lying haphazardly on the sofa. To say you were confused would be an understatement. Why on Earth would Five be sleeping on the sofa? And with no one else around?

You groaned and banged on the window, your coat sleeve muffling the sound on the glass. It had no effect. Five didn’t even so much as flinch. The rain was increasing in velocity, now coming down much harder and faster than you’d hoped, drenching you and seeping in through your coat. Looking around, you walked back over to the entrance and decided to simply try the doorknob.

Well done, genius. It was open.

The whole time, goddammit! A sound of annoyance escaped past your lips as you swiftly pushed the door open and stumbled in, droplets dripping from your coat all over the carpet.

You shook your head, air drying your hair as best as you could while you walked through the mansion, heading towards the living room. As you entered, you shrugged off your coat, peeling the sodden fabric from your skin and placing it on one of the many hooks that littered the corridor walls.

As you approached the living room, soft snoring reached your ears, getting increasingly louder as you approached. You walk in and are met with the sight of Five, lying on the sofa with an empty vodka bottle clutched to his chest. You roll your eyes at this, stifling a giggle as you take in the sight before you. His hair was a complete mess, sticking up in all directions, and his uniform was in the same situation.

As creepy as it may sound, you couldn’t help but notice how innocent he appeared while he slept. If you’d only known him by this, you would never have guessed his true self, sharp tongued and sarcastic. It was all very ironic.

You walked over to him, pondering whether or not to wake him up. On the one hand, you didn’t particularly want to disturb him from his peaceful slumber, since it was really the only time you’d ever be able to see him like this. But on the other hand…

You really wanted to know what drunk Five was like.

It’d be great blackmail material, not gonna lie.

With that last though, you gently shook the sleeping boy’s shoulder, provoking a groan from him as he swatted you hand away clumsily. You giggled slightly and persisted, flicking the tip of his nose, causing him to sit up in confusion, a glare evident on his face.

Once he caught sight of you, however, his expression relaxed and a smile spread across his mouth.

“Hey, Y/N, what’re you doing here?” He asked innocently, a slight slur to his words.

That gained him a flick to the forehead.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“For leaving me out in the rain for 20 minutes, dumbass!” you retorted, shaking your head at his obliviousness. “Honestly, you knew I was coming, you’re the one who asked me to come over! I got completely soaked for you and you couldn’t even have the common decency to wait up for m-” You stop mid sentence.

Somewhere during your little rant, Five had dropped off again, his eyes closed and slumped back down on the sofa. You were all ready to shake him awake to yell at him some more, but your expression softened as you realised how adorable he looked without a constant sarcastic smirk on his face. You silently cursed under your breath, annoyed at yourself for feeling this way.

It was stupid. You and Five had been friends for god knows how long and yet still, you couldn’t help but hope that maybe one day you could be something more. Even if you knew how unlikely that was.

Considering all the shit that Five had had to go through ever since he was a little kid, you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to disturb him again. You loved seeing him happy, you being one of the only people he’d ever allow to witness his genuine smile. And right now, the small content smile written on his face, only made you fell harder.

Scooping him up into your arms was no easy feat, since you two were about the same height, but you still did so, manoeuvring his body in a way that made it easier for you to carry him. And with that, you set out on your way to his room.

As you heaved Five up the stairs, you couldn’t help but silently complain to yourself. Five’s powers would really come in handy right about now, huh?

It was difficult to get to his room on your own but in the end you were able to do it, feeling proud of your accomplishment. After opening his door (with great difficulty) you placed him as gently as you could onto the soft bed, watching as his body melted into the mattress.

His eyes were still closed as you began to turn around, preparing to leave the large house until your heard a quiet mumble coming from the bed. At first you waved it off as drunken sleep mumbling and continued walking.

“Wait… Y/N,”

Now that got your attention.

You turned around to see that the brunet had opened his eyes and was staring at you with a small smile on his face.

“Stay with me?” He murmurs dreamily, tilting his head to the side (adorably so).

You stifled a laugh at his obvious drunken state and decided to humour him. “Stay? Why?” you asked, genuinely a bit confused about the question.

He replied with a shrug. “I don’t know… I just… I just like you-” He hicupped. “-being here with me. And you’re nice to look at,”

You didn’t know what to say to that, blinking at his outstretched hand. “I-”

A pout appeared on his face. “Please?” He whined, drawing out the middle syllable and looking up at you endearingly.

A sigh left your lips as you finally gave in, unable to refuse his puppy dog eyes. A face of victory soon took the place of his pout as he snuggled back down in the covers and laid his head down on the pillow as you sat down onto the chair next to him.

“Goodnight, Y/N..”

“Yeah… night, Five.”

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banditthewriter · 5 years

Text

Electric Love - Billy Russo

I’m kinda nervous about this one, not gonna lie. Hopefully someone enjoys it though, even if it’s just one person hahaha okay, enough of that.

I’ve also got a few ideas about a sequel if... that’s a thing.

Summary: Includes a powered reader, a fake death, and a creepy guy called the creator.

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif is mine*

Enjoy!

*****

The penthouse apartment was large, with windows that stretched across an entire wall. It looked surprisingly lived in, which for some reason didn’t fit what you knew about it’s occupant. Perhaps once upon a time, when home was a one bedroom apartment with faded and peeling wallpaper in every room, but now?

Books lined one of the bookcases, movies lined the other. You walked in front of them and let your fingers linger over some of the familiar titles.

Somewhere deep inside of your chest, there was a tightness that felt an awful lot like a rubber band being pulled to its breaking point. You pressed your hand over the ache and turned your eyes to the front door. In the distance you could hear the elevator working.

It was now or never. You could still leave, still avoid this. Instead you moved a little from the bookcase and stood your ground. You didn’t want him to think you were hiding when he got there.

Footsteps. You listened to the familiar pattern of his walk, a long stride that compensated for his long legs. And then, at the door, the jangling of keys. Moments later, the locks were undone and the door was pushed open.

He turned with the door to enter in his key code so that the alarm wouldn’t go off. You watched as he shut the door, locking it behind him. Then he turned to head towards the bedroom.

But he didn’t get that far. In a flash he spun around, his gun in hand. It took you a moment to realize the gun was aimed at you.

Slowly you raised your hands and stepped into a piece of moonlight that filtered through one of the large windows. The time it took him to recognize you stretched into silence.

Billy Russo was not used to be caught off guard. He probably wasn’t even too surprised to find someone in his home. No, his surprise fell to exactly who it was that had gotten in. His eyes widened and then narrowed, his gun being aimed a little higher.

“You’re dead.”

It wasn’t a statement of the future, despite how it sounded. No, he was stating a fact of the past. You were dead.

“Didn’t stick,” you offered as you lowered your hands to your sides. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

He shook his head. There was a barely there tremor in his hands as well.

“You’re dead,” he repeated, clinging to the things he considered facts this whole time. “We buried you. There was a funeral.”

“It was a beautiful service. I liked the suit you wore,” you added as you touched the space over your chest, “the handkerchief was a nice touch. My favorite color.”

His hands shook as he lowered the gun, letting it hang from one hand.

“I watched you die.”

He had. Your last memory before you gave in to the darkness were his eyes, his mouth pleading with you to stay with him. You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him, so you had simply closed your eyes and slipped away. So yes, he had watched you die.

“Like I said, it didn’t stick,” you repeated as you turned your head to look around the apartment some more, having to look away from him. “I was brought back.”

“Are you a ghost?”

You smiled as you turned and gave him your back. Partially to put him at ease, but also so that he could see that you weren’t see through.

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Neither are alcoholic private investigators with superhuman strength, but I just saw Jessica Jones two days ago. So forgive me for asking if you’re a fucking ghost.”

Anger. He had gone through disbelief quicker than you had expected. But anger was something you were better at handling with him.

“It’s kind of the same thing,” you offered in truce, turning back to face him, “how she is the way she is and how I’m back here. The man that created me has abilities and one of those is bringing people back from the dead. But we come back different.”

Billy tilted his head a bit before he stuck his gun into the waistband of his pants. He took a few steps towards you and you caught your breath. He looked good like this. Better than you had imagined.

“Different how?”

You raised one hand up to your side, palm up. As you did, all of the lights in the apartment started to flicker. The television came on and off, the channels changing as it did. The stereo started up, flicking between stations. In the kitchen, various appliances were turning on and off.

“I can control electric waves that are in the air.”

You closed your fist around the pulse and everything went silent. There was a light emanating from your fist but you willed it into your skin rather than let it out in a blast. Then, with great difficulty, you looked up at Billy.

You expected fear, but you should have known better. He did look off kilter, but not afraid. Not of you.

“Is that where you’ve been for the last two years?”

Straight to the point. It was why you came to Billy. While you knew that time would have erased whatever feelings he had for you, having buried them as deep as they had buried your empty casket, you knew that you could trust him to be mission minded. And if you were coming out of hiding after two years, there had to be something you needed from him.

“The man that made me is losing grip. Three of the other metas that he created have been killed trying to do jobs for him.” The last one had been recently and it was still sore for you. “I’m supposed to do a job and it’s dangerous.”

Here Billy shifted. You watched as he pulled the soldier out of the closet and slid into the old habits as easily as a favorite jacket. His body fell into parade rest, his hands clasped together. He looked much like you imagined he would at a briefing from a superior.

“And you need my help.”

Not a question. You waited a beat and then nodded your head.

“What’s the job?”

You let out a breath, feeling the tingle up the back of your spine that told you that the creator was looking for you. You still had a short time before you would be found, but you needed to be fast. That in mind, you nodded and explained the situation.

“I’m supposed to break into the Pentagon. Yeah,” you said when Billy’s eyes got wider at that, “exactly. If I get caught, I get killed. If I fail, I get killed by him. If I succeed, at best I’ve betrayed my country and I’m a terrorist.”

“What does he want you to do there, fry their computers?”

You shook your head and looked around. On a desk on the far side of the room was a computer. You pointed two fingers at it and focused. Something visibly jumped between the computer and your fingers and you rubbed your fingers together afterward.

“You really need to update your antivirus if you’re going to be browsing porn,” you said as you wiped your hand on your jeans, giving Billy a bit of a smirk, “and I see that your tastes haven’t changed.”

He opened his mouth and then let out a laugh. It was the first sign that he was relaxing around you and you relished in the sound. God, being apart from him had been hell.

Still was hell. Just because you were here with him now, didn’t mean things were going to be the same. No, you just needed help. That’s all this was.

“So what’s the plan to keep you from stealing from the Pentagon?”

Here you took a deep breath. The tingle was resting at the base of your skull, telling you to get out soon. If you waited much longer, you wouldn’t have a chance.

“I need your help to kill my creator.”

Billy didn’t even blink.

“Name the time and place.”

As easy as that. You felt relief soar through you. Then you cleared your throat and checked the watch on your wrist.

“I have to go or he’ll find me. But I’ll come to you soon and we’ll figure out the plan.”

He gave you a nod to show that that was fine with him. You carefully made your way around him, trying to keep as much space between the two of you as possible while you were lit. It didn’t seem to matter because his hand wrapped around your wrist anyways. You knew he must have felt the shock in his palm, but he didn’t react.

“It’s good to see you,” he said quietly, shaking his head as his eyes moved over your face. “You can’t imagine how good it is to see you again.”

Except you could imagine it. Instead of saying that, you looked at where he was holding your wrist. When he released you, you jerked your fingers to send the building electrical current back under your skin.

“I’ll find you soon.”

And then you slipped out of the penthouse and down the hall to the elevator. It usually didn’t work from the penthouse without a key, but when had that ever stopped you?

------

Lightning flickered in the sky and you frowned. Seconds later a rumble of thunder shook the window next to you. You settled back into your seat and looked around the diner. It was pretty busy for this time of night, but it looked like it was mostly college kids who needed a break from studying.

“Strange place to meet,” a voice said before a body slid into the booth with you.

Billy looked good. Ridiculously good. You couldn’t see him too clearly the night you broke into his home, but here under the lights? He looked good. Slicked back hair, facial hair at just the right length. His leather jacket was open a little at the top and showed that he was wearing a dark sweater under it.

Good enough to eat.

You felt a tingling sensation at the tips of your fingers that had nothing to do with your powers and you reached out for your cup of coffee, steadying yourself.

“It’s better to be in public. Less likely to be followed that way.”

Because the people who would follow you wouldn’t stray into public if they could help it, especially not your creator.

“Not worried about seeing someone that recognizes you from before your untimely death?”

You met Billy’s dark eyes evenly across the table.

“Did you know there are electric waves in the human brain? I’ll admit I don’t understand it completely, was never good with science, but I do know that I have enough control that I can scramble someone’s memory. They could look me in the face and with one twitch of my wrist, they’ll think they hadn’t seen me or anyone else that day.”

You weren’t very good with it and tended to fry the person’s brain if you tried to remove too much at once, but Billy didn’t need to know that.

“Good to know. So we doing this here? Gonna plan to take out your ‘creator’ with half the college population ordering pancakes behind us?”

You shrugged your shoulder and took another sip from your mug.

“You have a better idea?”

He raised his hand, keys dangling from his fingers. You caught sight of something before he jerked his the keys back into his palm and jerked his thumb towards the door.

“Come on, let’s go to the car. We can have some privacy that way.”

After paying for your coffee and leaving a tip, you followed him out to the car. It was expensive and flashy, but nice. He held the door open for you and then shut it carefully. You watched him cross over to the driver’s side. When he got in, he hesitated before he slid the keys into the ignition but didn’t turn it over.

You reached out and let your finger rest on something that hung from a keychain. At first you thought it was a simple silver band, but it rotated and you caught sight of a diamond that was embedded into the band. There was something engraved on the inside of the band, but you couldn’t make it out from the distance.

“This creator, does he have any powers?”

He didn’t pull the ring away from you, but you knew he was drawing your attention from it. You leaned up and gave a nod, but then amended that.

“Yeah, but not something that he can use in a fight. He has the ability to bring people back from the dead, but it doesn’t always even work.”

“You think he’ll be able to bring himself back to life?”

You hadn’t thought about it, but you had watched his process before. It didn’t seem to be possible, but what would you know?

“I guess we’ll see,” you said with a shrug as you looked away from Billy and out of the window. “I can’t do it because of him creating me. He can sense me the same way I can sense him. He’ll go underground if he knows that I’m a danger to him.”

Billy drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment.

“So you lure him out and I’ll do the deed.”

It was the easiest plan. You could call him and have him meet you at your safe house, tell him you were having second thoughts. Once he got there, Billy could do his part and then the two of you could get rid of the evidence.

“And then what? Once he’s dead and you no longer have to do anything for him. What then?”

You hadn’t gotten that far in your thoughts. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought about that apartment the two of you shared a few years ago with its peeling wallpaper and the kitchen sink which dripped all the time.

It was just a dream now.

“Then I’ll be free.”

Free. Whatever that meant anymore.

------

Billy was sitting on the edge of a chair in your safe house. He had seemed surprised that you lived somewhere so empty, but you explained that you didn’t have much anymore.

“It’s easier to pack up and leave when you don’t actually have anything to pack.”

He understood that.

The gun on the table beside him felt like a beacon to you. You couldn’t tear your eyes from it, no matter how hard you tried. And when you were able to look away, you could still feel it there on the table. Waiting.

“I went to your grave every day for a while,” Billy said quietly, leaning back in the chair to observe you.

“Oh?” You looked over at Billy and caught the look in his eyes. “Oh.”

The two of you were silent after that. Billy had missed you, but you had imagined that would be the case. But then you thought about the ring he had hanging from his keychain and wondered just how much he had missed you.

The relationship the two of you had ended with your death, but maybe the feelings hadn’t stopped.

“Do you still love me?”

You looked over at Billy in surprise, mouth working silently as you tried to figure out a response to that.

Before you could give your response much thought, you felt a familiar tingle up the back of your neck. You held your finger to your lips and pointed to the door. Billy grabbed the gun and moved to the closet, hiding behind a partially closed door. He had reluctantly agreed to give you a chance to get the creator to free you before he killed him.

A few moments later, you heard a knock at the door. With a wince, you moved over and unlocked the door.

The creator was a man with such thin skin that it looked almost see-through. Veins laid under the translucent skin like a roadmap. He wore a pair of gloves to keep his skin from coming in contact with anyone, a pair of sunglasses hiding the fact that his eyes were almost completely white.

“You are having second thoughts?”

To say the least. You shut the door as he walked in, locking it. Your chest felt tight as you did it. This would be the end one way or another.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” you explained as you moved to stand on the other side of him, keeping him between you and the closet. “I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be free.”

The creator didn’t say anything, but he lowered his glasses. You watched those eerie eyes move over you with a calculating gaze.

“When I first gave you life, you begged to come back to New York to find that man, Russo. You begged to be able to say goodbye to him. Do you remember that?”

You could feel Billy’s surprise in the closet at that, but you tried not to react.

“Sir,” you began, but he waved you off.

“I gave you life so it belongs to me. I kept you from saying goodbye because he was from your first life and does not belong in this version of you. And you will do as I’ve told you because it is my will.”

Surely at this point, Billy was raising the gun and preparing. It was obvious the creator wasn’t going to let you go, not without a fight. And you were tired of fighting.

The creator moved as if he was looking at something over your shoulder. Then in a flash, faster than you thought him capable of moving, he had his hand around your throat, your back pressed to his chest. The movement was enough to make Billy come out of hiding, his gun raised in your direction.

“I could smell him,” the creator explained as his gloved fingers flexed over your neck. “I felt the moment you found him again, felt your rebellion on the rise. Did you think I was stupid enough to let you come to New York without keeping an eye on your one weakness?”

You raised your hand, pulling electricity to you, but he squeezed and it left you in a wave. It was one of the only things he was able to do besides bring life back; he could somewhat control the powers of those that he created.

“Release her.”

The words were bitten out from Billy’s clenched teeth as he tried to get a clear shot.

“I could say the same to you,” the creator taunted as he dragged you backwards with him, away from the door. “She could have been my greatest creation if she wasn’t tethered to you. Love is weakness, my child, I have told you that from the start.”

His hand tightened on your throat and you reached up to scratch against the leather of the glove, desperate to get a breath.

Billy surged forward, but the creator tilted your head at an unnatural angle and let out a blood chilling laugh.

“Not even I can bring her back a second time, soldier. Stay where you are.”

No, not like this. You refused to die twice. You refused to lose Billy twice. You refused to force Billy watch you die twice.

With a deep breath, you focused the energy in your body. There was very little contact between you and the creator, but you finally found a point. His cheek was pressed just to the tip of your ear with the way he had your head tilted.

That little connection was enough. You met Billy’s eyes and hoped he could see it in your eyes. Your plan. Your love.

It only took a second. You built the surge in your chest and forced it outward. The contact between his cheek and the tip of his ear was just enough to have the electricity force through him. He seized your throat tighter before his hand shot away from you, pushing you away to try to break the contact.

Billy fired off the shot the moment you were free. The creator didn’t have a moment to look shocked; his body fell straight to the ground the instant the bullet tore through his head.

Then Billy was there, his hands reaching out to touch you to check if you were alright. You were choking on lungful after lungful of air, but you tried to shake your head and warn him off. Either he didn’t understand your warning or he didn’t care, because he reached out and touched your cheek and neck with his bare hands.

But nothing happened. Your electricity didn’t go through him, although you could feel it still zipping around under your skin. He leaned in and rested his forehead against yours, more contact, but nothing happened.

It was like your gift recognized Billy as part of you.

“So, about that question I asked you earlier,” he teased as he leaned back, his dark eyes meeting yours easily.

You laughed, unable to help it. You were free.

Free.

With that in mind, you leaned up and let your lips brush across Billy’s. The electricity you felt at that simple touch was less about your gift and more about the chemistry the two of you had always had. It was love.

------

You sat with your hand in Billy’s, admiring the way your nerve endings seemed to light up with his touch. He had told you that he could feel the spark, but that it didn’t hurt.

Besides your death, you were incapable of hurting him.

On your finger sat the ring you had once noticed on his keys. He had given it to you a few days after he had killed your creator, but he told you he had bought it right before you had died. Even though people told him to get rid of it, he hadn’t been able to.

And now he knew why. Because deep down he knew you weren’t gone.

The two of you knew that life was going to be different. Billy was mixed up with things at work that were dangerous, but it didn’t bother you. And now he had a secret weapon: you.

On the inside of the ring was the inscription “Till death do we part” and you had smiled when you had seen it. Not even death could separate you and Billy.

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #my writing

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beepbeeprichiellc · 5 years

Note

Please, please, please, PLEASE tell us what happens in the 74 and 86 promp fill that you did. How is Eddie going to react? Is he going to forgive Richie just like that or will there be angst???????

This took me forever! Sorry…. Part 1, Part 2

Eddie awoke with a painful crick in his neck.

Not that he would ever complain about it, or the fact that his bed had lumps or that his room was always ten degrees colder than the rest of the house. There were a million things that scratched at his skin but he would never ever tell a living soul. Throwing his floral bedspread over his awkward form he reached over and shut off the blaring alarm, groaning into his pillow. At least it was Friday, the mask he wore around school could finally be peeled off and he could sulk in all the things that weighed him down. It was easy enough, fooling the people at school. They ate right out of the palm of his hand, fawning over the new and improved attitude that he had developed over the past six weeks. Even the losers seemed unaware of the torture he was in.

If people knew that he had been kicked out of his home, thrown into the night like some kind of dog that his mother had grown out of they would mourn his so called loss. What they would never know was that he-Sonia’s perfect little Eddiebear-had been the one who initiated it, the one who screamed at the top of his lungs until they were black with hate and vulnerability. He had called his own mother a bitch and a whore like he was some delinquent with a vendetta. It was like he was a puppet who had finally pried the ventriloquists hand out of his own ass and made a break for it. In the end he was put out with the clothes on his back and twenty five dollars in his wallet.

He had made it to the park where he sat until nearly dawn just soaking in what had happened. There was no home anymore, no roof over his head or meals for his stomach. There had been a thought-or rather a person that had popped into his head but his heart hung heavy at the realization that he could no longer go to him-that door had been slammed shut. More than anything he wanted to walk that familiar path, bang on that familiar window and puff his chest out with dignity. Richie would’ve been so proud of him, or at least the memory of Richie would. Eddie had never felt so alone, so lost. With nowhere to go and no one to call he waited for something-anything to do that would keep him alive long enough to see the sunrise.

That something turned out to be a red haired girl who was cutting through the grass, on her way home. Without a word she had sat beside him and pulled him close which shattered the illusion. Somehow she had known, and in that cold morning he had wept for the person who he had been and also for the person he was going forward. Eddie Kasprbak had died on that bench and he was terrified of what was left.

There was a knock at his door, “Wake up Eddie, we are going to be late.”

“Okay!” He yelled back, forcing his body out of bed. Without really thinking about it he went through the motions and made it down the staircase in ten minutes flat. While running his fingers through his messy hair he followed the smell of cooking meat and was surprised to find a full spread on the kitchen table. “What is-”

“Happy Birthday!” The Hanscom family sang, including Beverly who either just got there or had snuck in sometime last night. While Eddie stood there dumbstruck, Mrs. Hanscom came over to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a sideways hug. It was warm and inviting, unlike his mothers which had always seemed greedy and cold.

This woman-Eddie had decided-was some kind of angel. Arlene Hanscom had always wanted a big family but that had been stolen from her the day her husband had come home with a folded flag. Ben mentioned her a few times but Eddie himself had never really met her until Beverly had brought him there from the park. It took literally no convincing-not even a nudge from either Ben or Beverly and before Eddie knew it the spare room was cleared out just for him. Beverly was there nearly every night-seeking comfort after her father had fallen asleep. In that sense, Eddie was jealous. Ben was there-always there for her no matter what shape she was in and never asked for anything in return. It was hard to adjust to but Eddie made sure to do his best not to offend his hosts.

“Don’t tell us you forgot your own birthday!” Mrs. Hanscom cooed, leading Eddie to his chair. “Eighteen! My, what a fun age.”

“You really didn’t have to do all of this.” Eddie said, looking up to the woman.

“Nonsense.” She replied, brushing off his sympathetic look. “A birthday should be celebrated! You are finally an adult Eddie!.” Eddie smiled, it was a thin one that came from somewhere in his chest but it was enough to keep Mrs. Hanscom happy. Turning to the food he felt no hunger, which was more normal than not.

“So, you are finally the big one-eight. How does it feel?” Beverly asked, shoving a partially eaten sausage into her mouth.

“I don’t know, the same I guess.” He shrugged.

“Well we are all going to get together tonight to celebrate.” Beverly shot back, making sure that Ben’s mom was turned away before adding, “Mike’s scoring the beer.”

“I’d really rather not.” Eddie said to his eggs.

“Oh come on.” Ben chimed in, “It’s your birthday.”

Eddie huffed, knowing full well that here was no win in this. The Losers celebrated every birthday the same way since 16, getting secretly shit faced at Mike’s farm and soaking in each others company but that was the thing-Eddie wasn’t really enjoying all the company lately. Things had been shaky between the group, all subtly joining sides after his and Richie’s falling out. Eddie tried not to notice, but the tension was so taught he could play it like a violin. Yet another thing that weighed down on his shoulders.

After finishing breakfast they walked to school, Beverly talking on about their little get together. Eddie zoned out somewhere between what she was going to wear and what she was going to burn in the bonfire. Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin when a pair of hands grabbed his hips from behind-the noise that came from his mouth was less than manly. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a friend but rather Rick, someone who Eddie had been somewhat seeing over the past month. “Jesus don’t do that.” He scorned.

“Sorry Eddie, I was just trying to surprise you!” Rick cooed, moving to the space between him and Beverly. His arm slipped around his shoulder making Eddie’s cheeks flush. “You know if you would just let me drive you, I wouldn’t have to sneak around.”

“Sorry but I can’t let these two walk alone, they would never make it to class.” Eddie’s excuse made Beverly snort. It was a lie, and they all knew it. Only one person had ever driven him to school, it had been a tradition since the trashmouth had turned sixteen and Eddie couldn’t bear to let anyone else take the mantle.

“It’s okay.” Rick assured, smiling over to the couple as they parted at the double doors of the school. “I get it, your friends mean alot to you.”

God why did he have to be so perfect, it just wasn’t fair-Eddie didn’t deserve it. In reality, this thing was just something Eddie was using to busy himself with which was a shame because holy fuck-Rick was so sweet. In another world-another universe Eddie could see himself really falling for him but his heart was still swollen and bitter from the last time Eddie had tried to give a piece of it away.

“Hey Eddie! Happy birthday!” Mike called from just down the hall, ensuring that every person after wished him as well. This made Eddie cringe at the attention.

“Holy shit, it’s your birthday?” Rick asked, sounding disappointed. “Oh man, I’m so horrible! I didn’t know!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie muttered, letting Ricks arm fall so that he could get to his locker. “I forgot myself.”

Rick laughed, the sound something he wished he could substitute for someone else’s. “You forgot your own birthday? Really?” Eddie shrugged, “Okay, how about I make it up to you tonight? I’ll take you out to a movie, your pick.”

“Can’t.” Eddie sighed, “The gang is getting together to celebrate. It’s kind of a tradition.” It was like venom dripping from his tongue, the annoyance clear as day.

“Ah I see.” Rick sounded disappointed, making Eddie’s heart clench. “You know Eddie I wanted to talk to you about something. I think I want to-” The bell rang out, silencing whatever Rick was going to say. Eddie shot him a look of sympathy, making Rick’s mouth snap shut. “Let’s talk later.” Rick said, bend down to place a peck onto Eddie’s cheek. This should make Eddie’s stomach flip but all it did was leave him with a sense of emptiness.

Eddie watched him leave and begged himself to feel something-anything but couldn’t. Giving up he swam through the sea of students to get to this most dreaded period. Without looking around he sat in his seat, right up front. This was the only class he shared with Richie and in the nine weeks following his little slip up they had talked a total of one time and that was just when Eddie was forced to ask him for his notes. It was weird and cold and Eddie vowed to fail before doing it again.

“Hey Eds.”

Eddie choked on the air in his lungs at the sound, the voice sending shivers down his spine. There sitting at the desk beside was Richie Tozier himself, wearing his favorite ripped jeans and the hoodie Bill had gifted him last Christmas. Eddie blinked, unsure that he wasn’t imagining the whole thing. “U-Uh yea?”

“I know we haven’t really talked since well-” His voice trailed off, his hand making a vague geustrue in the air. Clearing his throat he continued. “I just wanted to say happy birthday and to give you this.” Reaching into his bag Richie pulled out a small box gift wrapped in bright colors. He handed it to Eddie-who only starred. “Uh-I got it for you-” Still, Eddie watched, unmoving. “Okay well here ya go.” In slow motion he put the box in front of Eddie, as if afraid that he would scare him away.

Richie disappeared back into the back of the class and the teacher began to lecture. Eddie could only watch the box, the rainbow Happy Birthday mocking him in every way. Despite his better judgment he pulled apart the wrapping and peeled open the box.

It was a music box.

Not just any music box but the one Eddie had fawned over six months ago in that thrift store the group had dragged them to three towns over. As he opened it the ballerina began to dance, the melody floating up towards the sky as if trying to escape the darkness of the world. It was just as beautiful as it had been all that time ago, the porcelain cold and frightening in his hands.

Oh god, he was going to be sick.

Grabbing his backpack he bolted from the room, the sound of his own name following him out into the all. There was no stop, not when he met the double doors or when the crisp wind touched his tear streaked face. Eddie had no idea where he was going but he knew that he had to get there before he completely broke down.

So he kept running.

What a fucking birthday.

#reddie #it #it au #it 2017 #it 2019 #richie tozier #eddie kasprbak #prompt #requested

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paige-from-my-book · 4 years

Text

Sorry for those reading along! I had some internet issues and a crazy weekend. Here is part 5! Warning: This contains sexual assault and talks about PTSD.

"I put my bike away when I got home and went inside. Grace was there with a couple people on the couch, they were all clearly doped up.

“Hailey!” Grace called, getting up.

“Hey, Grace. I’m not hanging out. Work was rough today. I just need to be alone.”

“Hey, dude, come on. Why don’t you ever hang out anymore?” Grace asked. “Is it because I got you arrested?”

I just wanted to go upstairs. But she was blocking the stairs.

“Look, I deserved what I got. I know I did. I’ve just decided I don’t want that life anymore.”

“Oh you think you’re better than the rest of us, huh?” one of the guys still on the couch asked. He had black hair that was shaggy and was a toothpick. Both of them were, which wasn’t surprising given what they were doing.

“What? No, not at all. I just… I can’t live like that anymore. It’s not for me,” I said, trying to duck under her arm. But she sidestepped to still block my path.

“Come on, man. One more time won’t kill you,” she said.

“No, but it could blow my chance at this job I really like. Plus I just don’t even want to feel the way meth makes me feel. I’d rather not, Grace. Please, I just need to be alone. I have a date anyway, and I want to get ready,” I say.

She stood there looking at me for a moment before stepping aside, letting me go upstairs.

I checked my phone. June was asking what time I would be over. I told her to let me shower and then I would be ready.

As I sat on my bed, my door opened. I got ready to yell at Grace that I didn’t want company, but it was one of the guys that had been on the couch. His greasy black hair hung to his shoulders. He was about six feet tall and his baggy shirt hung off of his body.

“You, uh, you have a date?”

“I do. My room is off limits,” I said, discreetly reaching for the knife under my pillow.

“You’re too pretty to be taken.”

“Back off,” I said sternly, my voice raising.

“But… But I just want to talk. Don’t you know any nice guys that just want to talk?”

“I’ve never met a ‘nice guy’ that just wanted to talk. Get out of my room,” I warned. My hand was now under my pillow, my fingers around my knife.

He lunged at me before I could pull it out, though, and knocked me off the bed. Luckily I didn’t lose my grip on it and I sprung it open as we hit the floor.

“Grace told me you don’t like guys,” he huffed, working to pin me. He was surprisingly strong for his physical state, but I knew better than to expect him to be weak.

I struggled against him, but he weighed more than me thanks to his height. I was only 5’4”. He shoved his arms up my shirt to take it off, but when that didn’t work, he ripped it from the front, tearing the buttons off of my work shirt.

When he did that, it freed up my hand, so I did what I knew I had to do. What I desperately didn’t want to. I sunk the metal into his flesh. He cried out, but still tried to undo my bra. So I did it again. And again. And again. I made sure to miss any organs while still causing pain.

Finally he fell off of me. I jumped up and, without looking back, I ran out the door. I didn’t stop to grab my helmet or coat or anything other than my wallet and keys. I hopped on my bike, before anyone could stop me and peeled out of the driveway.

I couldn’t think. I could barely see. The wind against my bare torso hardly registered. Tears flooded my eyes. Memories flooded back. An orange jumpsuit on top of me. My shirt ripped open.

“You’d be prettier if your stomach was flat.”

Her voice haunted me. It sent chills throughout my whole body.

“Struggle if you want. That just makes it more fun for me.”

It had happened over a year and a half ago, but I could hear her voice in my ear as if she was sitting on my motorcycle behind me.

“Your scream is sexy, babe.”

And the guard. The guard just stood there. I could tell he was hard from watching it. He just watched as she took my dignity.

That was the first time since I’d been with a guy that it hurt. God, it had hurt so bad, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t stop even after she’d finished. Not until there was blood.

I tried to blink away the tears. I knew I was driving too fast, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t even focus on where I was going. I could only make sure that I wasn’t driving erratically or breaking any laws other than the speed limit.

“We gotta do this more often.”

I found myself back at the vet office I honestly called home more than my own house. It was only 10 minutes after they closed, I knew Amanda would still be there. I didn’t want to be here like this, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

I turned my bike off and with shaky hands opened the door. But Amanda wasn’t anywhere to be seen, instead, Andrea was there.

She looked up from the desk, clearly ready to tell whoever was coming in that the office was closed. But when she saw me, her mouth hung open and her eyes widened.

“What have you done?” she asked as she stepped out from behind the front desk, horrified, seeing the blood all over me. Her eyes lingered on my stomach and chest, I assumed to stare at where the blood was most concentrated. I could also see a hint of worry and sadness. Why sadness?

“Wh-.. What… Have I… Done?” I asked, barely able to process the question. Then everything snapped. The shock, the pain from the scuffle, the hurt in my heart. I realized I had bruises. The guy at the house must have gotten in a few hits. “What… Have I done????” I repeated.

Andrea held her hands up, as if trying to calm me. “Easy there. I have a gun in the back.”

“What have I done???” I repeated again through tears. I was shaking uncontrollably. I tried to take a step, but instead I fell to the ground. When Andrea saw the tears she started to walk forward slowly, unsure what to make of me.

Just then, Amanda came out of the back room. “Hailey!” she exclaimed before rushing over to me. “What happened??”

“My… My roommate,” I started, right before bursting into more tears.

Amanda pulled me close, letting me cry into her shoulder.

“Her f-fr-friend,” I sobbed. “H-he came up t-t-to my room. He didn’t even let me relax after…. After work.”

I motioned to my clothes. I noticed Andrea hovering at the other edge of the waiting room, not sure if she should come over or not.

“He… He wanted,” I pointed to my shirt. I couldn’t finish, but they both knew what I meant. “I had a knife. I didn’t… I didn’t know what else to do.”

I sobbed more into Amanda’s shoulder. Andrea finally came over, still cautious. Amanda stroked my hair and back and Andrea sat down on the floor next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder

“It wasn’t your fault,” Andrea said quietly in a surprisingly soothing voice. “He made you do that. You didn’t want to. When you’re ready, come into the back room. I’ll make sure you’re cleaned and okay physically.”

Both Amanda and I looked at her, a little surprised by how gentle she was being.

“Then, we’ll go to your house,” Andrea continued. “I’ll see what care he needs. Then I’ll take care of it.”

The coldness in her voice scared me. Her eyes were hollow. I’d never been so afraid of someone as I was of Andrea in that moment, so Amanda and I followed her instructions. Amanda continued to close up the office as Andrea led me to the back room. There was a stiffness and hardness about her movements and her expressions. It was terrifying.

She took a towel and wetted it as she slipped my shirt off. Her hands were so gentle it was soothing. She wiped at the blood on my skin, rinsing the cloth off every few wipes to keep it clean.

It was comforting until she moved behind me.

“How are you feeling?” she murmured into my ear.

Feeling her hands on my bare skin, not having a shirt, and having someone’s voice in my ear while they were behind me caused a flashback from that moment in prison.

“You feel sexy.”

“Stop! Stop!!” I cried, jolting forward. I fell to my knees as I scrambled to get away from her. I whirled around, sitting up to see a shocked and confused look on her face.

“Hailey, I was just cleaning you. It’s okay,” she said softly. She took a small step towards me, holding her hands up, trying to calm me down.

“Sorry, I…. uh… I,” I stammered, trying to figure out a way to explain my reaction.

Andrea looked at me with sympathy. “You have PTSD, don’t you?”

I stared up at her, wondering how she could read me that well when we’d only worked with each other for less than three months.

“I’ve struggled with some hard memories. I know what it looks like,” she explained, walking over to me slowly and kneeling down. “What can I do to not trigger it?”

“It’s, um. It’s just if someone is whispering in my ear or behind me, mostly,” I admitted.

“If I don’t talk can I wipe your back?”

I nodded, letting her walk around to be behind me. I took a deep breath and tried to relax my shoulders.

She touched me a little more firmly, clearly trying to ground me and making sure the touch didn’t feel like the way she’d just touched me.

Finally she was done, coming around in front of me, helped me up, and placed a hand on my upper arm.

“Now, show me where it hurts.”

I pointed to my ribs, realizing there were bruises there now that the blood was gone. She checked my ribs and stomach, making sure everything was okay. After that, she took my forearm gently in her hands, looking at my wrist.

There were bruises on each wrist, but they didn’t hurt as much as my ribs. After checking them a bit, she straightened up and said, “Should we go back to your place now? Are you ready?”

I nodded, wondering if she would actually come back with me to my house. Just the thought of going back caused me to start shaking.

Andrea gently put her hand on my elbow and stepped within just inches of me. “It’s okay. I’ll be there.” Her eyes were so kind. Her voice was so soft. My shivers melted away and for the first time since I’d left my house, my shoulders relaxed.

True to her word, she caught a ride with Amanda to my house. I was embarrassed to show them the neighborhood, and I could tell they were both nervous, but regardless of her fear, Andrea got out, telling Amanda to stay in the car.

I could feel my hands shaking as I opened the door, fighting my fear to do so. Something about Andrea behind me comforted me and gave me the strength to push the door open. Even though I had never been with Andrea outside of the lab, I knew she had my back.

The guy was on the couch again, bloody towels around him.

“What the fuck, Hailey?? Why would you stab Tyler??” Grace asked, turning to me.

“Because he’s an asshole who deserved it,” Andrea said coolly as she walked over with her medical kit. “Move aside, let me look at his cuts.”

“Why would I let you look at my cuts?” Tyler snarled.

“Because I assume you don’t want to go to the hospital with how much shit is in your system. Because I have a doctorate in biology and treat stupid, feral animals every day. Because Hailey happens to be one of my best coworkers and I’ll not have you dying and ruining our work environment,” she snapped, shoving his hands away from his side. “I’m the best chance you have at living right now. So shut up and let me fix this so I can properly threaten you afterwards.”

Everyone in the room, including me, was so shocked they all just let her treat him.

“Yes it seems she missed all of your organs,” Andrea said, sounding pleased.

“I know where to stab someone to cause damage,” I offered, nodding. I had done that on purpose and I wanted her to know it.

Andrea turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like there was a smile playing at the edge of her lips. Her full lips. She stitched him up, not giving him anything for the pain. She seemed to be almost glad he was squirming under her and constantly berated him for making the procedure harder, often looking back at me.

“Now. Hailey told us what led up to you getting injured,” Andrea said after she had dressed the wounds, putting her medical kit away. Her voice was cold again. Hollow. Terrifying.

“She’s a lying bitch!” Tyler started right before screaming because Andrea pushed down hard on one of his stab wounds.

“You need to learn to keep it in your pants. I know you can’t think of any scenario where a woman wouldn’t want that pitiful carcass you call a body, but you need to get used to that. Because if I ever find out that you did anything other than keep those pants zipped I will personally drug you, bring you to my lab while no one is there to hear your screams, and then make sure you are fully conscious while I cut you open and remove every single reproductive organ in your body while you watch,” she said. Her face told every person in the room that she wasn’t just saying that, either.

“Are… are you threatening me?” Tyler asked. He tried to sound tough, but the color was already draining from his face. He was as terrified as I was of her right now.

“I’m promising you,” Andrea answered right before standing up. Then she turned to me. “Can you pack your things?”

I nodded, completely speechless.

As I hurried up the stairs, I heard Andrea ask who was my roommate and tell her to start looking for a new one.

I quickly put all of my work clothes into a bag and all of my essential things, which weren’t much. By the time I got back downstairs, Andrea was waiting by the door. Everyone else looked too scared to speak.

We walked back out and Andrea took my bag from me, putting it in Amanda’s car.

“We talked about it on the way over,” Andrea explained. “You’ll stay with Amanda for as long as you need.”

“I doubt I can afford that.”

“Don’t worry about it. Pay her what you can. We’ve figured out a way to make it work.”

I was speechless. “My… My car,” I started, turning to the garage.

Andrea held out her hand. I handed her the car keys and she strode over to the car, getting in the driver’s seat. Amanda pulled out and we both followed her to her house.

#original work #redhead #lgbtlove #rescue #lesbian love #lesbians #original writing #fiction #f/f romance #f/f fic #gay love #animals #lgbtpride #lgbtq characters #lgbtq #lgbtq representation #loveislove

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fan-wicktion · 5 years

Audio

SPARROW (11)

MASTER LIST

a/n: Sorry for the weird format!!! Trying something new and of course it isn’t the greatest but here we are! Here’s the deal: the beginning of this story has audio. Please press play when you see the word “music” in bold, then stop it when you see in again in bold. Don’t count the pre-story summary or anything like that. Just the actual narrative.

warnings: violence typical of John Wick, bad language

Summary: You are an assassin who stole a kill from John Wick. He shows up in your apartment for revenge, but you managed to escape after some confusing sexual tension. You fled the country pursuing a new contract, but ruffled some feathers along the way. Winston orders John to hunt you down and bring you back to him, and he intends to kill you as punishment for your misstep. John finds you (of course), ties you up and transports you to a secret holding house, and attempts to interrogate you. You get back at him later, mess with him in an airport, and accidentally end up bonding a bit on a flight to LA. Now you’re about to team up and blow off some steam on a good ol’ assassination contract.

————————————————

John glances up from stocking his tactical belt when he hears the music. He rolls his eyes, figuring he’d now be waiting another hour for you to get ready. Women and their—

BAM! The doors to your bedroom fling open, thrust by the powerful sole of your boot. In what looks like slow motion you strut out, a cocky grin smeared across your face. You reach up and smooth your slicked back hair, and then adjust your black tie as John’s mouth falls open in astonishment. Fuck yeah. Head to toe in a sleek black suit that uncannily resembled the one clothing Mr. John Wick, you stride up to him and do a little spin before cutting off the music.

“What do you think? I personally think it’s a bit much, but some people swear by it apparently—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” John glares down at you with what can only be described as seething admiration. You catch his gaze and wink, positively oozing annoying charm.

“Look!” You gesture between the two of you, acting like you just noticed. “We match! How embarrassing.”

“You’re not wearing that.”

“And you aren’t my dad!” You stroll back to your room and begin the long process of strapping various weapons to your person. Today is going to be so fucking fun. Armed to the teeth, you return to him, hands on your hips. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he growls, ignoring the thought screaming in the back of his mind that you looked hot as hell. No distractions.

————————————————

As it happens, the contract the two of you were heading to fill was less than a mile from your hotel. Chester Marlan. He is a despicable cyber criminal with a global agenda, and his desire to cripple the internet had reached a dangerous level. When an anonymous tip had leaked his plans to replace all online fonts with Comic Sans (to undermine any and all legitimate websites), he was thrust into the Underground’s spotlight. Everyone knows assassins are classy, and this threatened their very existence. Oh, and he is capable of procuring any information he wants from any device in the world. Admittedly, that’s much worse.

You and John recoiled with visible disgust reading his bio, and you had to forcibly stop yourself from dry heaving when you read about his Comic Sans plans. This fucker needs to die.

Approaching the surprisingly well-fortified warehouse—Why is it always a warehouse?—you and John exchange glances.

“Now, I trust that you won’t go running off on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, old man.” He rolls his eyes and slips through the side door, and you’re hot on his heels.

Side by side, you make your way through the deserted hall—pistols at the ready. John holds up his hand as signal to halt, and you both pause, listening intently for any sign of movement. Faintly, almost inaudible, you detect the light sounds of breathing just around the corner. An ambush! They must have caught wind of Marlan’s head price and expected us…

Catching John’s eye, you nod and reach a silent agreement. You know your own strengths and he knows his, and one of you is significantly more skilled at killing multiple people at a time. You’d meet up shortly. In the meantime, you peel away and sneak back out the door.

Alright. Looks like I’m climbing this bitch.

You creep up a fire escape to the second floor, then size up the brick of the building. Nice and uneven—great for climbing. This warehouse was three stories tall, and you knew what—who—would be hiding at the top. Unfortunately the fire escape was all rust and dust past the second floor, and you’d be scaling the wall from here on out. Gunfire erupts within as you find a handhold, and even though you know he’s got it handled you can’t help but worry about John.

You reach a point in your climb where you are clinging to the wall next to your target window. Cautiously, you lean over and look inside. Marlan is seated at his desk, furiously typing at a laptop. An enormous guard stands in front of the desk, facing the door. From your vantage point at the window behind him, you can see beads of nervous sweat trickling down his neck. He knows he’s in trouble. Ha! If only he turned around…

Resetting your grip so that you’re perched on the windowsill—left hand holding you up, gun in your right—you lightly tap on the window. Marlan whips around from his hunched position at the computer and looks you dead in the eyes. Perfect. You squeeze the trigger, and the glass between you shatters as a hole rips through his skull. You pounce through the window and roll behind the desk right when his bodyguard opens fire.

In an instant, you’re back on your feet. You bound up onto the desk, releasing a knife to take out the man’s gun hand as you pounce at him. The knife embeds itself in his wrist and he drops his weapon with a yelp, toppling over when your legs wind around his neck. A pistol-whip to the face knocks him out. Easy peasy. A gutteral yell from below makes your blood run cold, and you’re sprinting through the door before you can finish him off. John!

Ignoring the steps, you leap down the flight of stairs and land with a swift tuck-and-roll that brings you to your feet—gun at the ready. John is staggering up off the floor, pulling a large knife out of his shoulder. The ground is littered with bodies and you deduce that he must have run out of ammo. His gun seems to have been flung across the room. Classic.

The man he’s duking it out with hasn’t seen you, and you’re quick to put a bullet in his brain. His body drops with a thud, revealing your silhouette in the doorway. John grins at you, then slumps so he’s sitting with his back against the wall. You rush over, pulling a handkerchief from your suit pocket to help stop the blood running down his chest.

“You dumbass,” you murmur, applying pressure. “How’d you let this happen?”

John chuckles. “I’ve had much worse than this.” He pulls a roll of duct tape from somewhere deep within his many pockets, then uses it to attach the wad of cloth to his skin. “That should hold for a while.”

Sitting back on your heels, you suddenly remember something. Shit! Gotta claim the contract!

“I killed Marlan by the way. You were taking too long,” you smirk at him, standing. “Wait here. I’m gonna go snap a pic.”

He grunts in response and you jog back upstairs.

————————————————

It’s been too long. John stands and brushes himself off, rolling his neck around a bit to ease the ache of combat. It takes 2 seconds to take a picture. Unless she’s being dumb again and setting up some shot…

His brows furrow as he swiftly scales the stairs, worried you’ll somehow worsen your standing with Winston.

As he steps into the room he sees the reason it’s taken so long. You aren’t alone. The bodyguard from earlier had evidently woken up, and caught you by surprise when you returned. He had you choking in a headlock before you could even cry out, and now you were silently turning blue in the crook of his arm. It had been minutes already without air, and your body hung limp. He was trying to kill you.

“Drop. Her.” John growls menacingly, wishing he had his gun. To his credit, the man seems surprised and even a little scared to see the tall, dark man in the doorway. He should have been terrified, but he didn’t know Wick.

John crossed the gap between them in a stride, whipping off his belt at the same time.

CRACK! The body guard takes a stiff blow to the head and stumbles back, releasing you. Your lifeless form crumbles to the floor as John jumps the man, returning the favor with a leather noose. The man fumbles at the belt that encircles his thick neck, but is quickly losing strength. Reaching down, John quickly pulls the guard’s pistol from it’s holster and empties the chamber into his head. Fucking hell.

He kneels next to you as you open your bloodshot eyes, and everything hurts. You wince at the pounding in your brain and the fire raging in your chest, and allow yourself to be lifted off the ground.

“Thank you,” you try to croak, but it hardly even sounds like words.

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

Tag list: @chicksamwitch @mikaneonox @onebatch—twobatch @fandomwritrix @littledeadgirlwalking @minsugagenius @10yz @where-did-the-good-ones-go @catsmieow @xrevoltx @kezzasaurus-rex @homesoutofhuman @lunilate @coolbreezeinkeanureeves @bonky-bornes @lustforfern @so-not-waiting-for-godot @weird-civilian @linwavez

#John Wick #john wick fanfic #sparrow #Keanu Reeves #assassins #belt scene callback #buddy cop #except the opposite of cops #working together aww

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megalony · 5 years

Text

Another guy’s girl- Part 1

This is a new idea I had which I’m hoping to turn into a series which is mainly a Ben and Joe love triangle fic.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction

Summary: Joe and (Y/n) have a daughter together and though they are separated Joe hopes they are going to get back together. That becomes harder when Ben comes on the scene and falls for (Y/n).

Series masterlist

Ben Hardy masterlist

Enjoy.

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

Ben rested his head against his right hand that was propped against the car door. His index finger on his left hand kept tapping out a steady beat against the steering wheel as he couldn't wait to get home. A song was blurring on in the background playing from one of the calming CDs that he put on when he was on an evening drive. He couldn't listen to loud rock music during the night, it messed with his head so he had a few calm and easy listening CDs for the drive home.

He enjoyed driving, it was something that always calmed him down but when he'd had a long day of shooting and then having an hour drive back home it did take its toll.

The good thing about it was that the night sky wasn't pitch black yet. The moon was a dusty, pale yellow with an outer white glow that looked very luminescent and eye-catching. There were a few stars poking through the layer of mist and the sky was a pale navy blue with streaks of purple and tints of red. Ben loved looking at the evening sky because it looked so capturing and interesting.

He used to hate driving on the motorway, it always panicked him because everyone was driving so fast but now it felt normal. It didn't feel like he was getting whiplash when he increased speed, it felt rather slow really now that he had gotten used to it.

Drifting his eyes around the road, Ben rubbed at his temple as he noticed his sliproad was coming up to get him back on the normal roads and not on the motorway anymore. He wasn't too far from home now which was a relief because he couldn't wait to put his feet up and just have a drink. He had tomorrow off work which meant that he didn't have to get up at an ungodly hour in the morning and take the hour drive down to set.

Letting his eyes wander around the road again as he switched lanes, a frown pulled at Ben's lips as he saw two cars up ahead on the left that had their hazard lights on. He slowed down just a little as he noticed that no one else was stopping to help but the two cars seemed to have collided. He didn't know if someone had called the police or an ambulance or if the drivers needed any help.

Ben wanted to go home but he couldn't dare drive past the crash and go home if these people needed help. He bypassed the two cars and pulled into the parking lane a few metres ahead. He got out and locked the car, stuffing the keys into his pocket before he started jogging along the grass to get back to the cars. It looked like the car in front had a burst tyre and the one behind hit it in the panic.

Looking into the window of the first car Ben saw it was a man of around thirty or over, he looked shaken and Ben could only presume the injuries he had but he was on the phone, seemingly calling for help. Ben didn't bother to knock on the window and ask if he needed help because he seemed to be handling himself at the moment.

Shifting his attention to the dark cherry red car behind, Ben headed over and rounded to the driver's side. It took him a few moments to jiggle the door handle so the door finally opened, almost swinging off the hinges when it swung open with a creak.

Turning her head slowly to the right, (Y/n) let out a shuddering breath at the stranger who managed to open the door. She had been sat for around five minutes, possibly longer since she blacked out before the car stopped swerving on the road. A sob burned against the back of her throat that felt like sandpaper as pain bolted through almost every nerve in her body. The blond who had seemingly come to her rescue bent down on his knees, a calming smile on his face but it wasn't helping with her panic.

"Hi there, love. I'm Ben, can you tell me your name?" Ben paced his words to let (Y/n) have a moment to process them and hear how calm and collected he was being.

"(Y/n)... c-can you get me out please?"

(Y/n) didn't know which area of pain to focus on or where exactly the pain was coming from because it was circulating everywhere. But she knew that she didn't want to be in the car anymore. She could feel the smoke drifting around the car seeping into her lungs and making it harder to breathe. She could feel that the right side of the car next to her legs was dented and the bonnet had been crushed and the metal was pushing towards her. She felt like she was becoming boxed into her car.

The seatbelt was cutting rather harshly into her exposed neck and chest near her collar bone and it was grating like a sharp knife slowly tearing through her skin. She wanted to be out of the car to feel a bit more at ease and safer. Sitting in a car wasn't the best if it was stationary and it was still on the road, especially the motorway which was dangerous as it was without her being in a car which was now a hazard.

"I don't think that's a good idea, love. I don't know what injuries you have, it's best to wait for the paramedics, I think the guy in the other car was calling them."

Ben could see she was obviously distressed and didn't want to stay where she was but he didn't want to move her. If she had damaged her spine or her neck or even her head, moving her could disrupt that. If she had any nerve damage he could make it worse or any paralysis. He wasn't qualified in first aid or any medical training so he didn't want to move her and be responsible for her becoming worse.

"Let's get that belt off you." Pushing himself up so he was leaning over instead of on his knees at her side, Ben tried his best not to touch her in case he hurt her. Unsure what injuries she had except for the obvious cuts to her face from the inside of her windscreen shattering and sending shards of glass everywhere. The belt came undone surprisingly easy and Ben slowly pulled it back, seeing how it peeled from her skin revealing a slanted cut along her collar bone that thankfully wasn't deep.

Pulling back a little, Ben started looking over (Y/n) to see what injuries she had and how bad they were. He saw small cuts on her cheeks, one on her neck, her hands looked a bit scraped but when he looked closer he saw her right wrist looked damaged.

"I think you've broken your wrist, love. Try not to move it for me." The complicated joint seemed to jut out on the left and it was beginning to swell too. Pushing the almost deflated airbag out of the way, Ben looked over (Y/n)'s other arm which seemed to have no damage. He locked eyes with her for a brief moment, a smile on his lips to show she was okay and he wasn't going anywhere. He didn't see any blood on her shirt which was a good sign but with the airbag now moved out of the way he saw a thin chunk of metal puncturing into her thigh causing blood to pool around her navy blue leggings.

"Can I?" He questioned, referring to her leg as he didn't really want to leave her bleeding out when he didn't know how long the paramedics were going to take to arrive.

There was a tear in the material so Ben slowly pulled at the material and ripped it further so he could see the damage. He held his breath in his lungs to calm himself down as the metal looked like it was rather deep into her leg and Ben knew better than to even attempt to pull it out. If he moved the metal an inch he could worsen the bleeding or rip a muscle and if he took it out all the way the blood flow would be a lot worse. The blood was seeping from the deep cut like a tap that was continuously spluttering the liquid everywhere. It was soaking into her leggings and creating a mass dampness around the wounded area.

"Okay, love, I need to stop the bleeding. Can you talk to me? Tell me what you were up to today or something about you while I fix this."

Ben needed to stop the bleeding and the best way he could think to do that was to remove his belt and tie it around her leg above the wound. That way the blood would be restricted to her leg because even though the metal was stopping the blood loss from becoming worse it was still pouring out. He knew (Y/n) might become lightheaded and it would hurt so he thought talking might distract her and it would show him she wasn't suddenly going to faint or fall unconscious.

"Why-" (Y/n) cut herself off with a choked moan mixed with a cry when she saw the metal poking out of her thigh a little higher up from her knee. She pressed her head back into the headrest as she felt the urge to scream or try and move because she didn't even realise that had happened. She didn't feel the metal puncture through her leg she simply thought it had gotten bashed and bruised like everywhere else on her body.

"Ssh, it's alright. I'm going to stop the bleeding and then the paramedics will sort this out for you, don't worry. Come on, tell me about yourself or your day." Ben's voice was oddly soothing to (Y/n), he had one of those deep yet rhythmic voices that you could listen to about anything. It was a voice that you would constantly listen to without registering what was being said.

"I... I was dropping my girl off at h-her dads." (Y/n) licked her dry lips, trying to speak clearly though her throat and lips were both dry and felt tight.

The end of Ben's belt snapped free from the loops of his jeans as he held it tightly before crouching back down beside (Y/n). Seeing that someone else had pulled up to help the man in the car in front who must have called an ambulance but even if he didn't Ben guessed the next people would.

"How old is she?" Ben questioned as he very carefully lifted (Y/n)'s thigh just an inch up so he could thread the end of the belt underneath her leg. Trying his hardest not to disturb the metal as he passed the belt under her leg. He eased her leg back down onto the chair before he pulled the belt a little more, making sure it was close to the wound but not directly touching it.

"Four." (Y/n) responded, slowly opening her eyes to see what Ben was doing. Her mind taking a few seconds longer than usual to realise he was going to try and stem the bleeding by cutting off her circulation. When Ben lifted his head to look at her, he winked, the smile still on his lips before he threaded the end of the belt through the buckle. Suddenly pulling it as tight as he could manage. Seeing the belt indent in the skin which caused (Y/n) to cry out as if the belt was around her chest and not her leg.

"It won't hurt for long, love. Come on, tell me about your girl." Ben pressed the pin into the belt to create a new pinhole to make sure the belt didn't loosen any more than that before letting to. Her leg would turn numb soon enough and it would stop both the pain from the tightness and the pain from the wound.

"S-she's called Maddie, redhead, quiet b-but cheeky..." Ben watched the small smile pull at (Y/n)'s lips when she thought about the little girl she had seen only a few hours ago.

Ben ran his hands over (Y/n)'s legs to make sure she had no other cuts or injuries, stopping when she choked on a cry as soon as his hands found her left ankle. He pulled up the end of her leggings and moved her sock out of the way before trying to be gently when grazing his fingertips over the swelling skin. Relieved to feel that the bone wasn't broken or pushing out against the skin, it felt perfectly intact meaning it was either sprained or it was the muscle that was the problem.

"It's not broken, probably sprained... hey, you gotta stay with me, love. Come on, open your eyes." Reaching his hand up, Ben gently brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, trying to get her to talk to him when her eyes closed. He didn't want her passing out on him in case it was a sign that she was still having bloodloss or that there was something else wrong.

(Y/n) tried to open her eyes but her eyelids seemed to be made of gold, they were simply too heavy to lift. She managed to move her left hand, barely remembering that Ben said not to move her right wrist which was broken.

"It hurts." (Y/n) didn't exactly know what she was referring to, whether it was her broken wrist, her bleeding leg, her damaged ankle or her head that was pounding but she felt the need to express how everything hurt. Ben didn't seem to care what she was referring to, he simply understood what she was going through. He moved his right hand and gently took her left hand in his own, interlocking their fingers.

"I know it does, but it won't be for long. Squeeze my hand, help will be here soon."

Ben couldn't give her anything for the pain and he couldn't take it away, all he could do was be some moral support and to try and help her in any way that he could. He darted his eyes down to her leg which was fading in colour meaning that the blood was not getting past the belt so that was a good thing at least.

He felt slight relief when (Y/n) held his hand tightly to show she wasn't asleep just yet. She didn't know what she would have done if Ben hadn't turned up, she wouldn't have known her leg was bleeding or how to stop it, she would have tried to get herself out if she had the energy but she didn't even have any energy now. Her panic died down immensely when he turned up because he seemed to know what he was doing. It wasn't as scary with someone else here with her.

"P-please don't leave."

"Now why would I leave you?" Ben could hear the worry in her voice as she thought he was just going to vanish and head home. He would do that even if he wanted to because it wasn't fair. He had stopped to help and he wasn't finished helping yet because he couldn't leave her alone and afraid.

Ben rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand as (Y/n) continued to squeeze his hand every now and then to show she was still awake. She pushed her chest out to let her spine click into place before settling back against the chair that was feeling incredibly uncomfy right now. (Y/n) felt her mind slipping and her thoughts wandering for a few seconds before Ben's hand suddenly but gently shook her own to bring her back around.

"Cavalry's here, love." As soon as the words passed through his lips (Y/n) could faintly hear the blaring sirens that sounded very distant but she didn't know if they were actually far away or if it was her ears distorting the sounds around her.

Two ambulances and a road traffic car pulled up as Ben suspected they were going to corner this lane off and soon enough stop people coming onto this particular motorway for the night. Two paramedics shuffled by with a stretcher to get to the car in front before the next two came over to where Ben was crouched down beside (Y/n). He could see she was close to falling asleep now but it was alright if she did because the paramedics were here, they would know what to do.

Ben let go of her hand as he stood to his feet, shuffling back so he was leaning against the door. Not wanting to go just yet but he knew he had to be out of the way. He didn't want to head back to his car until he knew she would be alright and was taken care of. He didn't know (Y/n) at all but he still felt like he was somehow responsible for helping her.

"Ben..." (Y/n) managed to open her eyes but soon closed them when all she could see was a rotating picture that was blurring too much to make anything or anyone out. She didn't want him to leave, she wanted to hold his hand, to hear his rather melodic voice telling her she was going to be fine.

"I'm still here." He responded, feeling his heart pang at how she was beginning to panic again. He shook his head when one of the paramedics asked if he was injured, his arms folding over his chest as he bit his lip, watching them assess her and talk about the best way to move her. They couldn't afford to move the metal in her leg but it was easier that the car door was opened and that she wasn't crushed in or in an awkward position. They didn't have to cut her free which was the most important thing.

Ben felt all the sirens and car horns and voices drift away and blur into silence as he watched the paramedics very slowly ease (Y/n) from the seat into their arms. Both making sure her right leg was moved as little as possible as they laid her down onto the stretcher. All three of them wincing when (Y/n) suddenly made a choking sound. Her chest moving like it was convulsing as she moved her left hand to press to her lower chest before blood started to coat her lips.

The paramedics moved the stretcher so (Y/n) was sitting up instead of lying down so she didn't choke. Watching as her eyes looked distant before they closed even though she was still awake. Her eyes were tightly shut as her face contorted into a look of pain or disgust as she tipped her head forward to spit the blood from her lips.

"Can I go with her?"

Ben didn't even think before the words were rushed from his lips earning a nod from one of the paramedics as they both hurried to wheel (Y/n) back to the ambulance. Ben didn't even know her and yet he found himself wondering what her fate would be. If she would need surgery and what for, if she would be okay, who needed to be contacted. If her parents needed to be told, the father of her daughter, what her daughter would be told. All the questions he could possibly have about her and her life rushed through his head as he jogged to keep up with them.

Stopping to tell an officer which one was his car because he would undoubtedly get clamped or some ticket for leaving his car in the parking zone overnight but he didn't care. He was too shaken to drive and he needed to make sure (Y/n) would be okay.

When they were in the ambulance, one of the paramedics held a white plastic tub in front of her so she could cough up the blood which tainted the crystal white colour of the tub into a rather dark crimson. Ben wasn't very well advanced with medical knowledge but he guessed by the way she was spitting blood like she was throwing up that it was something to do with her stomach. She was breathing well so it wasn't her lungs at least.

"I'm still here, love." He mumbled quietly as he reached to take her hand, watching how her features seemed to relax at his voice. Her hand pulling his closer to her chest as she continued to throw up the sticky substance coating her throat and lips.

Ben brushed her slightly knotted hair behind her ear, keeping it from her face as he felt the ambulance beginning to move.

"I won't leave you."

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #borhap #joe mazzello #joe x reader #another guys girl

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splat-dragon · 4 years

Link

It’s a kid.

At least, he thinks it is. It - her? his? they’re still largely in the shadows, curled in on them-self, and he can’t quite tell - their hair is long and tangled, hiding their eyes, but he can just make out the wide eyes of someone young, even wider with alarm and he can easily imagine, if they were to be fed up, a kid's heavy roundness to their face.

As it stood, though, his stomach churns at the way their skin clung to their face. Even from a distance, he could make out the hollows of their cheeks, the dips of their temples, and prays that it’s not as bad as it looks, that the shadows are making it look worse. ‘Christ, please.’

They’re curled up, curled in on them-self, legs tucked against their chest fearfully, and he can barely make out Hosea muttering soothingly beside him, trying to get them to approach, but they’re steadfast in their refusal to move, huddling to the wall though it were an island and the hay beneath them an ocean, the pair naught more than sharks out to feast.

They’re misshapen, he realizes when Hosea’s swaying lantern casts just that bit more light on them than before. Can they even stand? “Hosea,” he mutters and they flinch, those strange legs unfolding to scrabble in the hay, scraping loudly even as Dutch hushes and Hosea mutters soothingly, as though they’re talking to some feral horse and not to a feral kid.

They’re pulling on all their experience with Arthur and John and all the others, and coming up horribly wanting.

They weren’t reaching the kid. They seemed only more and more panicked, scurrying out of the light and huddling against the wall as though trying to become one with it, beginning to make whimpering, gasping sounds that tore at their hearts.

So, though they knew it would at least, at first, make it worse, they opened the stall door and stepped inside. The hay was surprisingly plush beneath their feet, muffling their footsteps and leaving them feeling as if they were wading through a marsh, and with each lurching step the kid flinched as if expecting a blow.

And Dutch damn well wanted to hit something when Hosea’s lamplight finally cast enough light on the kid that they could see them.

Their hands were bound behind them, shoulders looking painful in the way they were hunched, ropes twining up and down in a needlessly intricate display, vanishing into a curved tube that kept them held pretty. And shit, they were gagged, how hadn’t he seen it before? a bridle not unlike a horse’s but seeming to have been made to fit them fastened to their face, holding their mouth shut and - his stomach churned, he saw red - a pair of elk’s horns sprouted up from the top like it were some child’s costume.

From the stream of rather inventive curses behind him, Hosea had seen it, too.

“Easy, easy,” he soothed, barely able to hear Hosea doing the same over the pounding of his heart in his ears, but he could hear the jangling of chains clear as day, and - there they were, attached to the tube that held their arms crossed behind them, to the ring of the bit, leading off somewhere into the shadows, but more glinted in the light of their lanterns and when his eyes followed it -

his mind couldn’t process it and he thought, for a moment, their legs had been grievously broken. Left untreated long enough as to turn gangrenous, because how else could their legs be so discolored, so twisted? But then he caught the seam just beneath their knee at the same time as Hosea did from the sound of the “jesus!” behind him, and jesus indeed they were looking at some sort of elk-leg boot, down to the goddamn hooves.

“Easy,” Hosea muttered, putting the lantern down so he could see without having to wave it around, setting his gun aside in a purposeful gesture. The kid’s breathing was picking up, each breath hitching, and from the looks of their dingy shirt they were hurting or, at least, had been hurting, pretty bad.

“I just want to get those chains off of you, alright kiddo?” he hummed, looking over to Dutch and making a ‘give me’ motion that took him a moment to parse, then oh and he passed over his lock breaker, reaching for the boot and shuddering at the feel of it, it felt like real fur, like any other elk’s leg and

“Shit, Hosea!”

like a panicked horse, the kid kicked him in the chest with hooves that were hard and strong as an elk’s, dropping him, wheezing, into the hay. Hosea was anything if stubborn, though, and had one hell of a bleeding heart even if he’d never admit it, so he shook off Dutch’s hands and stood again, approaching the kid much more slowly.

Their eyes were even wider, if that were even possible, big and blue behind wild brown hair, and their breath escaped them in tiny, rapid whimpers. “It’s fine, kiddo,” well no, it wasn’t, he was pretty sure they’d cracked a rib, “I just want to help you, I want to get that chain off your leg, alright?”

“Hosea…” Dutch cautioned, but Hosea didn’t wait, choreographing his movements as he stretched forward, grabbing the kid’s leg and pulling it into his lap.

If the kid kicked again, Dutch thought, it wouldn’t be his ribs that took the blow.

But the kid seemed to have worn themselves out with that kick, slumping against the wall though even still they rattled and shook like a leaf in a winter gale, staring unblinkingly at Hosea, then him, then back at Hosea as he fumbled with the lock on the chain.

In only a few moments Hosea had the chain dropping to the ground, and the look of utter shock on the kid’s face made it all worth it.

And the kid didn’t struggle at all as he unchained their other ankle, giving them hope.

“There,” Hosea murmured, “that’s better, isn’t it?” and the kid stared at him as though trying to figure out the answer to a very complicated question, finally giving a stuttering nod. “My friend here, his name is Dutch, I’m Hosea, is going to get that off your head while I work on your arms, is that okay with you?”

The kid froze, staring at him with that look again, like he was asking some terribly hard question and the kid was trying to figure out the answer, before lowering their head, offering it to Dutch and that seemed to be the best answer they’d get so Dutch moved to kneel in front of them as Hosea pulled out his knife and went to work trying to loosen the countless knots in the ropes that bound their arms.

“Easy, I’ve got you,” Dutch muttered, frowning when they flinched at the first touch of his hand on their head, sliding his hand down along their jawline to coax their head up so he could access the leather of the bridle, finding that it dug into their flesh.

He, finally, had to draw his knife, soothing the poor kid when they saw it, and spent more time than he was comfortable with sawing through the leather - say what you will, but the damn thing was very well made. He could hear time ticking by in his head, every heartbeat another moment the people who lived in the house could be riding up the road, ready to discover them freeing the kid.

The kid audibly sighed their relief when he finally managed to cut enough of the bridle that he could start to peel it off, working it over their head, murmuring his apologies when the kid winced and flinched and cowered, hesitating before tugging to coax it out of their mouth.

It was a goddamned horse bit, not modified at all. Exactly the same as they’d use for The Count or Silver Dollar - if it weren’t attached to a human-shaped bridle, they’d have been able to shove it in one of their mouths and go. The kid’s tongue darted out to lick painful-looking lips and Dutch was quick to offer them a sip of water from his canteen, carefully tilting it to keep from drowning the poor kid, after throwing the bridle (and christ but it was heavy, those had to be real elk antlers) as far away as he could.

“Slowly, Dutch,” Hosea griped, grunting as he managed to cut through one of the ropes, “Don’t know how long it’s been since they’ve had something to drink, don’t want to make them sick.” and Dutch had done a lot of horrible things in his life, but he felt like a true monster at the sound the kid made when he pulled the canteen away, trying to follow only to be pulled back by the chains attached to the bindings on their arms.

“Finally,” Hosea hissed, allowing the ropes to drop to the ground, reaching for the tube that kept their arms in place before hesitating, “Dutch, I don’t know if I should take this off.”

“Don’t know - Hosea, dammit, why the hell not?!” Dutch snarled, the kid cowering, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and rein in his temper, barely catching Hosea’s hissed,

“Dutch, I don’t know what the hell might be in there, what if I make it worse?” and… oh, that was a valid concern, he hadn’t even put a moments’ thought as to what the kid’s arms might look like, having been in the tube for who knows how long or, his stomach churned, looking at the awkwardly shaped elk leg boots, their legs, their feet.

“Here, kid, can you get up?” Dutch stood, letting Hosea get to his feet on his own time - as much as Hosea refused to admit it, he was getting up there and their sort of life wasn’t conducive to easy aging, and it would take him a moment to get off the ground after so much time spent on it; after the kid slipped, moving to brace their shoulder against the wall he took pity on them, grabbed them by the elbow just above the tube and tugged them to their feet.

“Dutch,” Hosea said once he was on his feet, the other man having taken a moment to water the kid, “put him on Silver Dollar, alright?”

What they were going to do with the kid, well, they didn’t know. But Dutch had a motto - save fellers as need saving, kill fellers as need killing, and feed fellers as need feeding. And this kid needed saving, and needed feeding, and so that's what they'd do.

#raise a glass to freedom something they can never take away

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writinginstardust · 5 years

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Warm Inside

Pairing: Dorian Havilliard x reader

Request: anonymous asked: “Hello darling!May i request a Dorian Havilliard x reader where he sees the reader naked for the first time and it is just so fluffy”

Warnings: nudity and injury

A/N: This took the longest time to get to because I couldn’t decide which idea to go with but I went with this one in the end and I’m glad I did because it’s so soft and I actually kinda love it a bit (except the title but you probably know I’m bad at titles by now).

Word Count: 2229

The muddy water of the stream seemed to freeze my body in an instant as I was thrown into it and submerged in its icy depths. Luckily it was shallow enough for me to stand with ease, unluckily I'd twisted my ankle and wading the short distance to the shore felt like an impossible feat. The wind and rain whipped at my chilled skin as I limped forward, fighting the current that wanted to drag me downstream with every agonising step. Two familiar hands reached out to me as I drew closer to the muddy bank and Dorian pulled me out onto the grass.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), are you okay? Are you hurt?” His worried yell was almost whisked away completely by the howling wind. I nodded, yes to both questions, and pointed to my left ankle and wrist, knowing my voice would never be audible over the storm. I knew he understood when a concerned frown settled on his face. There wasn't time to check how bad I was hurt right then and I knew he hated having to wait but we needed to get out of this storm, to somewhere dry and warm, before either one of us froze.

With seemingly minimal effort, Dorian lifted me onto his horse and climbed up behind. He grabbed the reins of my horse and brought us back to the road before urging the horses into a gallop towards the town nearby. Fortunately we weren't far away and as we stopped by the inn I could only hope the guards whose horses had bolted could find their way easily.

The warmth of the hearths fell over us like a blanket as we entered and I sighed in relief. Raindrops dripped from my clothes and wood creaked beneath my feet with every step across the room. The innkeeper looked up at our approach, a surprisingly friendly smile on his face, before doing a double take as he recognised us beneath our sodden cloaks.

“Your Highness, Lady (Y/N), what an honour.” His voice was low and he did little more than a quick bow of the head so as not to draw attention, obviously noting the lack of guards with us. “Are you in need of a room? They aren’t exactly luxurious but they’re warm and beat being out in this storm.”

“A room would be most welcome and may I request a hot bath as well? (Y/N) ended up in a river... hence the mud.” Dorian gestured at me and I rolled my eyes.

“I think he could work out the mud came from the river himself.”

“Not necessarily my dear, you could have had a bout of madness and decided to roll around on the ground or something.”

“But you already mentioned the river, why would he think anything else?”

“You never know what people might think.”

“You’re impossible.” I turned back to the innkeeper who had been watching our conversation with a faint smile. “Sorry about him.”

“No need to apologise. I assume you’re happy with a double room? It’s our nicest and the only vacant one right now but if i’m misunderstanding I can get someone to change rooms.”

“No need for that, we wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone and we’re perfectly fine sharing. Assuming we can get the river stench off (Y/N) anyway.” He grinned mischievously and I scowled at him.

“Honestly I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes.”

“Maybe because I’m dashingly handsome and actually have a sense of humour unlike most people at court.”

“That’s debatable.”

“You wound me my love.”

As we’d been talking the innkeeper had gestured over a girl around our age and asked her to ready the bath in our room. She smiled at us both, eyes wide with surprise and disappeared upstairs before we’d even finished talking.

“Hopefully our travel companions will show up here sometime, we lost them in the storm. They’re 4 royal guards, 3 men and 1 woman. If they turn up could you let us know? Whatever the hour, I don’t mind being awoken, I’d like to know they’re alright. And if there’s any way you could accommodate them I’d be very grateful.”

“Of course, I’ll find somewhere for them to stay should they arrive.” He smiled and slid a key over to us. “Your room is up the stairs, 1st floor, door at the far end. I hope you’ll sleep well and can I say, you make a very lovely couple.” I felt my cheeks heat at that as Dorian just smiled and thanked him before taking my hand and leading me to the stairs. Our relationship was still fairly new and my first, it was something very few people knew about. Even though I’d been hopelessly in love with Dorian for years I was a bit embarrassed he could tell so easily.

Climbing the stairs took a little longer than it should have as I struggled up with Dorian's help so by the time we made it to the room the bath had already been drawn and was steaming temptingly. The girl from earlier bobbed a curtsey as we entered and asked if we needed anything else. She seemed nervous and Dorian assured her we'd be fine, allowing her to leave which she did with surprising speed. I made a note to thank her before we left. She seemed nice if a little shy. Dorian turned to me once the door was safely locked and pulled off his cloak and jacket, tossing them over a chair with my own. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he spoke.

“Do you...uh...need me to help? With your clothes or anything else? I know this is a rather large step but your wrist...” He trailed off clearly as nervous as I was about the situation. We'd decided to take things slow since it was all new to me and being undressed before him was...a lot. But trying to bathe without the use of one hand didn't seem like an easy task. I'd struggled enough just to shed my cloak and jacket.

“I'm- I think I might need a hand...if-if that's alright?” My cheeks felt like they were on fire and I couldn't look at him as I accepted his offer. He stepped in front of me and cupped my dirty face in his hands, making me look at him as he gave me a reassuring smile.

“It's alright to be nervous but I promise you don't need to worry. Just let me know if it's too much and we'll work something else out.”

I took a deep steadying breath and nodded. He smiled and kissed me quickly before pulling away and walking behind me to untie my hair. After that he worked methodically on removing the rest of my sodden clothes, checking I was okay with every article before peeling it off my soaked form. Every few seconds he dropped a kiss on my cheek or neck or shoulder, murmuring soothing words and little jokes that made me giggle and took some of the awkwardness from the situation.

With the last of my clothes gone a shiver ran through me and I wasn't sure if it was from the slight chill or Dorian's gaze. Before I could start feeling too awkward Dorian pulled me into his arms and just held me until I felt more comfortable, hands stroking soothingly over my back.

“You okay?” I nodded and he took a step back, lightly brushing my hair back and pressing his lips to my forehead. “You’re beautiful (Y/N). Even covered in mud and smelling like a river, you’re so beautiful.” I huffed out a little laugh, thankful for his ability to lighten almost any mood and make me feel at ease.

He took my uninjured hand and helped me into the bath. As the warmth of the water enveloped me I couldn't contain a sigh of pleasure and simply relaxed in the heat for a moment as Dorian discarded his shirt to keep it dry while he helped me.

Dorian’s fingers started carding through my hair, untangling the knots gently before he grabbed the soap nearby and started washing it thoroughly. The feel of him massaging my scalp and smoothing down the length of my hair so carefully was absolute heaven and I let my eyes flutter shut to more fully focus on the calming sensation. Too soon he was done and rinsing the soap out and a little knot of fear formed in my stomach. He was going to have to help me wash - I knew I couldn't do it myself - and it quickly started to feel like too much.

The sudden tenseness in my body didn't go unnoticed by Dorian and he put down the wash cloth he'd reached for, turning to me with worry in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly and twined our fingers together on the edge of the tub.

“I...I just…” I struggled to articulate what I was feeling but he understood immediately what the problem was.

“Darling it's fine if you're not comfortable with this. There's nothing to be worried about but i understand if it's too much.” His free hand came up to cradle my face and the soothing motion of his thumb caressing my cheek started to relax me. He was right, there was nothing to be scared of. I mean this was Dorian, the man I loved and one of the sweetest, most considerate people I'd ever met. I could do this.

“No it's...I'll be okay. I trust you.”

He smiled and leaned in to press a lingering kiss to my lips. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the tub as Dorian picked up the wash cloth and started gently washing the mud from my skin. The whole time he whispered soothing things and little jokes to me as he slowly cleansed and warmed my body.

I felt tingly and light by the time he was done, despite my initial anxiety at the situation it was the most comfortable I'd ever been. With only a little warning Dorian lifted my from the water and set me carefully on my feet. He grabbed a large towel and cocooned me in it before pulling me into his chest and littering my face with little pecks that had giggles bubbling from my lips.

He was the perfect man I decided as he helped me dry off, keeping his eyes on my face as his hands roamed almost shyly. I was lost for words at his efforts to keep me from any discomfort or anxiety even after being naked around him all that time. His proximity and the tenderness pouring out of him might have had something to do with that too.

Leaving me with the towel, he crossed the room to pick up his shirt, walking back to me and sliding it over my head. It was then I realised we had no change of clothes until the guards arrived. The shirt hung to mid thigh and i was thankful for its size as I remembered I'd have nothing to wear with it.

I attempted to dry my hair one-handed and failed miserably before Dorian took over and did his best to get the remaining water from it. It was still damp when we had to stop and admit defeat but hopefully the heat from the hearth wouldn't take long to finish the job. After brushing through my hair as best he could with his fingers, Dorian gently turned my face to his and brushed his lips lightly over my own.

He lifted me with ease and laid me gently on the bed, pulling the covers over me as I curled up on the surprisingly comfy mattress. It didn't take long for him to take his own bath and join me in bed when he was done.

“Let me have a look at that wrist.” Wordlessly I held it out for him to inspect and he took it in both of his, brow furrowing as he concentrated. I hissed and winced occasionally as he moved or prodded it. “Sorry. I think it will be okay but I'll get something to wrap it in for you.”

Before I could protest he’d left the room to see what he could get from the innkeeper. I sighed and snuggled deeper into the warmth of the bed, feeling my eyes drooping with exhaustion more with every passing second. I was almost asleep by the time Dorian returned and, lacking the energy to move much, allowed him to wrap my wrist and ankle without a word. It felt nice to have him taking care of me and the gentle brushes of his fingers against my skin as he did was incredibly soothing. He finished just as i felt my awareness fading completely and i feel asleep with a smile on my face as i felt his arms wrap around me and his lips against my forehead. If I’d stayed awake a little longer I might have seen the loving smile directed at me, felt the hand stroking through my hair, or heard the whispered I love you, but for now they would remain known only to the man beside me and the gentle embrace of the night.

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness

Dorian Havilliard: @myblackconfessions

Throne of Glass: @astressedwriter

#dorian havilliard #dorian havilliard imagine #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian havilliard x you #dorian havilliard fanfic #dorian #dorian fanfic #dorian imagine #dorian x reader #dorian x you #tog #tog imagine #tog fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass imagine #fluff #dorian fluff #reader insert

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ahnsael · 5 years

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@kjuw89 replied to your photo: “Isn’t she beautiful?”:

Crowds look light ��

They’re not bad. I was surprised to see 15 minutes for Pirates. On the Disney Parks App it then said that HyperSpace Mountain had a 20 minute wait, but it had just returned to 104 status after going 101 (for you non-cast members, that means it was working again after having broken down), and by the time I got there from Big Thunder it was up to 55 minutes and no Single Rider Line. I got a FastPass for 9:10-10:10pm, but then gave that up for a Small World FastPass that would be valid by the time I walked from Galaxy’s Edge instead when I decided I didn’t have the energy to stay that late today.

The highest I saw Smuggler’s Run was also 55 minutes, and that and HyperSpace Mountain were the two longest waits in the park. It was warm today (even though I heard people complaining about how cold it was when I left -- it was predicted to be in the mid-60s at the time, so I’m guessing they’re SoCal people -- we’re already down to the 30s at night back home, which is probably why I found a scorpion in our garage yesterday; it’s still warm enough during the day, but it’s cold at night and our garage is still warm -- also I used my blacklight that I use for IDs and large bills at work and saw that the thing about them glowing green under black light is true), but when i walked by Splash Mountain on the way to the Hungry Bear and then Galaxy’s Edge, the wait was only 30 minutes.

I forgot to mention Star Tours and the Jedi Thingy in the Captain EO theater on my list of things I did today, too. I walked in to Star Tours and waited less than 5 minutes on Standby. It was weird to see that the Star Trader is pretty much all Star Wars merch now (it used to just be the small part by the Star Tours exit into the gift shop). There was also a huge selection of Star Wars pins on Main Street in the music store (which is now mostly a pin store). So much Star Wars in areas of the park other than the Star Wars par!I

I also happened to time the Jedi thing just right after finding out the Space Mountain wasn’t doing single rider but hearing the announcement that the doors to the theater were opening.

I was one of literally three people in the theater, and I was really only there to sit in the old seats and pretend I was watching Captain EO. The cast member didn’t even bother with the microphone; he just stood in front of us and did his spiel “in person” to us.

I wasn’t exactly wowed by Smuggler’s Run. I was told to watch for flashing buttons and push them (I was an engineer, the last row), and I was focused on that for the first part of the ride until I realized that the bright green flashes were enough to get my attention if I wasn’t looking.

The down side: Without spoiling the story, there were two times I was supposed to press something specific (and two other times to hit a couple other things -- there wasn’t a lot of interactivity for the engineer position). The first time I pressed the button and it had the desired effect; the second time, I pressed it, but it stayed lit, and Hondo kept yelling at me to press it, no matter how many times I pressed it. I could see the other Engineer (another single rider) having the same issue at the same time.

The lady who grouped us asked me whether I was a rebel or part of the Empire, and I told her honestly, “I don’t know, I just walked into Galaxy’s Edge and came here.” And since I was a single rider, I don’t think anything would have been “remembered” for me anyway as they advertised when the land opened.

Another issue was the Play Disney Parks app.When I first opened it, I allowed location services only while the app is open...turns out you can’t get “achievements” unless they’re always on (any time you turn the phone screen off, the app starts from scratch when you reopen it). And for the life of me, I couldn’t find a way to go back and change my preferences. Maybe it’s outside the app in the phone’s app settings.

Oh, and they still have the typo on the sign at the entrance to the Haunted Mansion display in the Opera House on Main Street. It still says “Kindly step all the way in to the explore eerie evolution of the Haunted Mansion’s design” instead of “Kindly step all the way in to explore the eerie evolution of the Haunted Mansion’s design” (emphasis mine -- I tried posting it earlier from the Opera House, but Disneyland’s wifi keeps going in and out and if you thought I posted a lot today, just imagine if half of them hadn’t failed due to a lost connection!). That typo has been there for months, I believe. Disney has its own sign shop. It’s an easy fix. They just haven’t done it. Has nobody actually told them? Would I be a jerk to mention it?

The only other thing that I was disappointed in was that when I got dinner at the Hungry Bear, the cashier asked whether I wanted fries, slaw, or onion rings. I chose the rings.

And then when I got my receipt, I noticed that I was charged an extra 50¢ for that choice, then saw on the menu that it said “includes fries or slaw” (onion rings appeared nowhere on the menu, even as a side dish). Seemed a dirty trick to not mention the upcharge when offering it. It is, at the very least, a sneaky upcharge

But...let’s be honest, if she had said “would you like fries or slaw, which are included, or would you like to substitute onion rings for 50¢ more?” I still would have chosen the onion rings. It’s not a ridiculous upcharge, I just think it should be mentioned at the time.

But overall, it’s been so long that things that used to drive me up a wall were...pretty much okay today.

When I was in line for Pirates, there was a lady ahead of me with a young (2 or 3 years old I think) daughter, and she was having a heck of a time keeping her daughter from wandering off, or bumping into those of us around her, etc. That used to drive me crazy.

And maybe it’s because I’m an uncle now and understand the struggle better, but...all I could think was “Hey, at least she’s trying. Besides, what kid DOESN’T do these things?”

I was more bummed about the group who tried to sneak past me in the FastPass line of Big Thunder (the cast member at the merge point saw this and made them wait until I was ahead of them, bless him), the people behind me in line for Pirates who were old enough to understand the concept of personal space but still kept walking into me, and the family in front of me waiting at the FastPass merge point at Small World who kept giving their 1-2 year old daughter an empty Coke bottle, just for her to throw it down again -- one of those times at my head (and instead of stopping giving it to her to throw, tried to tell her to throw it in another direction without so much as a “sorry ‘bout that”). But to the cast member’s credit, the one watching the merge point -- while not showing perturbation at the situation (her Disney smile game was strong), when she let us in she sent that family to one line and the rest of us around them to another line, and gave a brief but noticeable (to me) look of “I got you, fam.”

I had all these plans for what the first thing I was going to do was when I got there. The thing I did was the thing I didn’t plan, but I’m okay with it...I wandered some of the shops on Main Street. Partly, I was looking for a hat, since I didn’t bring one (I brought sunscreen, but...getting sunburned, then shaving my head, can result in “hairless dandruff” -- the peeling skin just being made to look awful by a razor passing over it). I may buy this one tomorrow:

Overall, though, I wasn’t a big fan of the hat selections available.

But I went into the Magic Shop (take that, Magic Kingdom, Disneyland still has a Magic Shop) wanting to buy a Hot Rod. I found it on the shelf right as the cast member started asking if he could help me with anything. I told him that the Hot Rod was the first magic trick I ever bought in that store as a kid and the first “real” magic trick I ever learned (this is true), and he said “And it’s still a great classic trick.” (If you want a cast member who knows every last bit of their merchandise, experience over the last 30+ years tells me this is the store you want to be in.)

I bought it (I have a guest at my casino that it’s going to blow away, even though it’s one of the easiest tricks to perform).

There’s a sculpture (probably about 6-7″ tall) of Peter Pan riding Peter Pan’s Flight that’s surprisingly only $55, and I may get that too. There was a great lithograph of the organist in the Haunted Mansion for $40...the problem with wall art is that for everything I put up, depending on the size, I have to choose one or two attraction posters to take down.

There’s probably more that I’m going to have to choose between (or order online later since they’re on shopdisney), and part of me is worried that, since I would do Package Pickup rather than carry the things (other than the hat) around all day, I might forget to actually pick them up on the way out. I could have them shipped, but I don’t know how much that would cost.

Today was more or less my test run -- if I was so exhausted by the end that the walk back to the hotel was a pain, I was going to pay the $25 parking fee and drive in tomorrow. But even after all that time awake, the walk takes less than a half hour. And once I crossed Harbor and then Disney Way and started walking down Disney Way, there was only one other pedestrian with me (it was a madhouse from the exit to that point -- I was far from the only one leaving early, but even though I never understood leaving early when I was younger and had more energy...I get it, especially for people with multi-day passes).

I wore a PeopleMover T-shirt, and one of the cast members at Hungry Bear complimented me on it, so that was good (I thought about wearing my T-shirt of an anthropomorphic Pluto walking a non-anthropomorphic Goofy, but decided I didn’t want a bunch of kids asking their parents questions about it; when I left work this morning I chose an understated WED Enterprises T-shirt, but even with my A/C on for the whole drive down, I was a sweaty mess when I got here and I wasn’t going to subject people to that).

My shirt choices for tomorrow: the aforementioned Pluto/Goofy shirt, a shirt that is a parody of “The Jerk” movie poster but with Goofy taking Steve Martin’s place and the title changed to “The Goof,” or a Captain R3X T-shirt.

Honestly, it’s probably between “The Goof” and Captain R3X. The other one might freak people out more than I would like.

Oh, and I have to look into Oga’s Cantina. Earlier I saw a reservation available for tomorrow evening, but...when it asked me to authorize a credit card guarantee, I wasn’t sure what I was agreeing to (I know they charge you if you don’t show up, but...how much? And am I just guaranteeing being able to go in and have a drink and enjoy the ambiance, or am I required to buy a certain dollar amount of things, like the $200 you’re committing to when you reserve building a light saber or a droid?).

Speaking of which, I saw a LOT of people, in my 3½ hours there today, carrying around “custom droid” boxes.

Not that I’m surprised a lot of people are getting them, I’m just surprised they’re not having them held for package pick-up at the end of the day, choosing instead to carry them around.

The things I did learn today: I do NOT miss driving in Southern California. You know you’ve reached Southern California when the left lane is street racers holding racers through heavy traffic, when people are diving from lane to lane to try and find the fastest way to their destination, when people randomly slow down to 10 below the limit, then accelerate to 10 over when you try to go around them, and just the general feeling of claustrophobia of being in a sea of so many bad drivers that you have to scan them all to try to anticipate what stupid thing they’re going to do next so you can react before they do it because if you wait for it to happen, it’s gonna be too late.

I also learned that driving down on Highway 395 sucks. For more than half the time, it’s one lane in either direction (passing lanes are few and far between, and in the daylight there’s that “is that the water-mirage effect, or a semi coming? I have a dotted line and I can legally pass, but I literally have no idea whether it’s safe to do so and I am NOT dying on the way to Disneyland). And there is a TON of road construction (a good 25 miles is one lane TOTAL, with them alternating directions in that one lane).The whole area around Victorville is a complete mess. At the intersections (of which there are many), they open up to two lanes for the last couple hundred feet prior to the intersection, just to go back to one lane afterwards. Which means that a LOT of people who have been frustrated for 100 miles or more about their inability to pass are trying everything they can to cheat the system and get ahead somehow before the road goes back to one lane.

Don’t get me wrong, we have plenty of jerk drivers in northern Nevada. But traffic is sparse enough that I see, at most, five jerks a day. Most nights it’s just one, some nights none (the advantage of working graveyard is there aren’t a lot of people on the road, and we’re a small enough town that even “rush hour” means going 15 in a 25 zone at worst). But in SoCal, there are so many selfish drivers that it just...wow. It’s a lot to deal with when I haven’t dealt with it in so long (and since I’ve never driven south from the 395 to the 15 to the 60 to the 57 before, so it was all new road to me -- this was literally my first time traveling more than 3 miles south on 395 since I moved to Nevada, and that’s the highway my casino is on). The claustrophobia, when I knew I had no possible out if anything happened, was scaring me.

It’s great to be back. I mean, I’m home at Disneyland. It’s also going to be great to leave and get back to a small town in rural Nevada.

Oh, but I may be meeting up with disfan tomorrow. He hasn’t posted in almost a year here (hence why I’m not tagging him), but I met him in person six years ago at my third most recent trip (this current one being the most recent, then going with an old friend in 2015 where I didn’t see disfan then that third-most recent one in 2013), and it would be great to see him again. I’m still in touch with him from time to time, and when I thought I had a date he offered to do something to help make it special, and while the date thing didn’t work out (I got a text from her while I was on the road saying that she was “getting ready” but nothing since then, even tonight when she knows for sure she missed the boat to It’s a Small World -- I waited 30 minutes longer than I wanted to to leave in case she showed -- though I showed up just about 30 minutes after check-in time so it wasn’t too bad, since a review of my hotel on Travelocity said they charge extra for early check-in even if the room is ready and I don’t know if that would apply if I had missed some traffic and arrived 15 minutes early -- but her text was after I had already given up on her and gotten on the road -- her text was in reply to one I sent at the time we were supposed to meet asking if she was on her way, her reply came over 20 minutes later that she was “getting ready” but since I was driving I didn’t see that until I got here because I’ve learned no to do other things and drive), disfan was a gem. So...I hope I do get to see him tomorrow.

And if any of you Disneyland people who I know on here happen to be going to the parks Tuesday, send me an ask (I’m mostly mobile, though I am on a laptop at the moment, so an ask should show up on my notifications...but maybe to play it safe, add an X to the end of my tumblr name and make it gmail and get in touch with me that way.

I really do enjoy doing the park on my own (which is probably why I didn’t call her instead of text her when she wasn’t there -- plus there was some drama the morning before involving her roommate and I’m worried that may be a regular thing, so I might have self-sabotaged this “date” a little bit by not trying harder than I normally would with someone who I genuinely do like). But I also like doing the park with friends, and if we’re mutuals here we’re already friends (or if you follow me and I don’t follow you and you want to show me that we could be friends that works too), send an email.

I’ll be in the park most of the day (I can’t promise I’m gonna rope-drop it, because my Wednesday/Thursday is gonna be a LONG day driving home and getting there just about in time to shower and get ready for work, then I have a 9am meeting on Thursday, so I’ll have been up since whenever I get up and check out on Wednesday to get back up to Nevada for work), but I’m staying at least through the Electrical Parade. I don’t care about a projection-only show instead of fireworks, and there’s no Fantasmic!, but...the Electrical Parade will be good memories.

Oh, and Laughing Stock, Co. was listed in the times guide that I picked up today (as a “Fri-Sat” thing, no mention that those were their last shows; they’re gone now).

Anyway, my phone (barely) made it the 3½ hours tonight (and that included a live broadcast on Facebook of my ride on Small World from the front row -- which Facebook says they’ve “partially muted” due to the use of copyrighted music, but the song “It’s a Small World” was never copyrighted -- it was written for UNICEF, copyright-free, as a gift to the children of the world.

Oh, and when I rode Small World, they were grouping two boats at once on the same side (that’s “bote” to you, Ian...unless only “botes” with names like Irrawaddy Lady qualify for that title). But as I was the first grouped into the second boat, and the cast member just said “row 1″ which put me with two other people (that row can comfortable fit three), I waited until he was done grouping and then asked whether I was in the boat with the two other people, or waiting for the next boat.

Hey, I was ODV. I can make you a great churro or box of popcorn (I really need to get some popcorn tomorrow -- a Disneyland trip isn’t complete without it), but I don’t know a thing about balancing boats.

At first, he just said “You’re in the second boat.”

And then, after a few seconds, he said “The only way you’d be in their row with them is if you were in their party.”

And...I got it. They were both ladies (one young, one older), and he was saying “we’re not going to put some strange guy in there sitting next to them.”

The only response I had was “that’s probably for the best.” Because he was looking out for his lady guests by not putting some strange guy next to them.

I mean, I know I’m not a danger to anyone with whom I may ride It’s a Small World, but he doesn’t know that. And he acted accordingly, and I dig that. Plus, it gave me a chance to balance y phone on the front lap bar (since I was the only one in the front row on my boat).

Must-dos for tomorrow:

HyperSpace Mountain

The Jungle Cruise

Indiana Jones and the Temple of the Forbidden Eye (single rider, hopefully -- I’ve already translated everything in the queue)..

Peter Pan’s Flight (but probably only if I can book a FastPass)

Waiting in the Standby Line for Smuggler’s Run(I hear the queue is amazing, but the single-rider queue is just a series of hallways and stairs).

Haunted Mansion Holiday (even though Jack should have his own darned attraction by now and leave the Haunted Mansion alone).

Splash Mountain (maybe last? I have a bad habit of being placed in Row 1 and I tend to make the front end heavy and the splashes are huge -- especially for me, and I’m gonna have my cell phone on me)

A grand circle tour on the Disneyland RR

Walt Disney’s Enchanted Tiki Room (this was what I thought I would do first today, but I worried about staying awake...last time I saw the show was the abbreviated version at Walt Disney World so it will be nice to see it in full again).

The Submarine Voyage with Finding Nemo (I had no interest in that but I’ve seen a thing on how they did it that I want to check out, but also part of it is still underwater so I want to try it).

The Sleeping Beauty Castle walkthough

The PeopleMover (that one’s not gonna happen it’s been gone for over 20 years and I am NOT risking a lifetime ban to go up and try to walk the track that is still there)

Matterhorn Bobsleds

All Fantasyland dark rides

Meet a nice lady and invite her to dinner at some place not Blue Bayou, since that’s booked, but maybe somewhere nicer than the corn dog cart (just kidding -- I couldn’t even get a seemingly nice lady to join me for a trip to Disneyland, even though I had one day’s cost covered through a friend and was willing to foot the bill for the other and I had made it clear that the room I booked had two beds [which it does] and that “things” would not happen UNLESS SHE WANTED AND INITIATED IT [I PROMISE I’M NOT BITTER about her not showing AS I SAID I MAY HAVE SELF-SABOTAGED THAT BY NOT TRYING HARDER TO GET TO TO COME WITH ME WHEN SHE DIDN’T RESPOND TO MY LAST MINUTE TEXT but the concept of dating as daunting; forgive the self-pity but I’d actually have to be worth it for a date to happen and I’m wasn’t worth it to her).

Walt Disney’s Enchanted Tiki Room (I’m back to “things I must do now)

Dole Whip

Maybe the lobster roll from Harbour Galley?

Popcorn

Maybe stopping my rambling for a minute (y’all know that isn’t gonna happen -- if you didn’t see it, it’s because Disney’s wifi crapped out again and I thought I posted it but it never posted).

But seriously, if any of y’all are there and want to meet, I would throw out every one of these to spend time with you (I’m so lonely!).

#kjuw89 #Kenny goes to Disneyland

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