#baby artist found dead in an alleyway
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It Was Inevitable: Jimmy Palmer X Reader
Jimmy Palmer falls into a sugar daddy relationship with Y/N, but what happens when he falls in love with her? This can only end in heartbreak. It's inevitable.
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Jimmy Palmer never would have thought he would wind up in a situation like this. He knows that sounds like such a cliché. It’s true though, he never thought he would wind up doing anything like this and it’s a mess. It is the definition of a mess.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He doesn’t know how things got so complicated so fast.
It all began with a case and a little comment from Tony.
The case involved a dead sailor and the revelation that said dead sailor was taking part in a sugar daddy type of “relationship” with a young woman. There was some suspicion that she might have been the one responsible for his death…and in a way she was…no she didn’t shoot the man herself, but another one of her clients did out of jealousy.
Tony had made some offhand remark about how these types of “relationships” always ended in a disaster.
Of course this had quickly prompted teasing from Ziva and McGee about just how Tony knew so much about these types of relationships…which had in turn resulted in Tony admitting he’d maybe looked at a website designed for the purpose of those types of relationships.
Or as Tony had put it. “It was research for a case I was consulting on. I chatted with a girl for strictly professional purposes…she was a nice girl, very hot, a total ten, but ya know…I don’t get the appeal of being treated like a human ATM. That kind of relationship just seems destined to fail.”
Jimmy couldn’t help but to hang on to the entire concept of a sugar baby.
Jimmy Palmer had always been terribly curious. It was a positive attribute to have, Dr. Mallard had always insisted. The first step to any type of learning was curiosity.
Then again didn’t curiosity kill the cat?
As hard as Jimmy tried to forget about the entire case his brain had clung onto the details. He had so many questions about sugar babies. How exactly did that type of relationship work? Did it feel degrading for either party? Did it involve sex or was it just about having companionship in other ways? What types of things did the sugar baby expect? What kind of guy was into a relationship like this? Was it like a business transaction or a friendship? And most importantly what type of girl was interested in this type of relationship?
Jimmy had found a website faster than he would ever admit. It was just to satisfy his curiosity he’d told himself.
Wasn’t Dr. Mallard always yammering on about the importance of understanding how people’s minds worked in their line of work? You had to understand how the human mind worked to understand how people could do something like shove an ice pick through someone’s heart or shoot a man in an alleyway. Perhaps having an understanding of how these types of relationships worked would make Jimmy a better medical examiner.
This was an educational endeavor Jimmy had told himself. He could make a quick profile, take a look around, and then his curiosity would be satisfied and he’d never have to think about this ever again.
For the most part the girls on the website had been kind of what Jimmy had been picturing. They were beautiful of course. However, it was obvious that a few of them weren’t even real people. Their photos and their profiles seemed a little too good to be real. They were most likely scam artists who’d stolen some photos of attractive women hoping to make a quick buck off some naive guy with a large bank account.
He’d been almost ready to give up and call his little educational experience a total bust when he’d spotted her profile.
It was her username that had caught his attention: Belle Mort.
Jimmy had taken a semester abroad his junior year in France. He still understood the french language just enough to translate her username: Beautiful Death.
The little sense of familiarity and the mention of a subject that his career revolved around had been enough to spark his interest and before he could stop himself he’d clicked on her profile.
She was different from the other girls on the site.
She was a few years younger than him; still in her twenties. She was a college student working on her masters. She’d mentioned her university fees were expensive and she was looking for companionship and a way to ease the financial strain. So, why not try an option that could offer her both monetary gain and companionship. She listed films and music she enjoyed a few of which Jimmy recognized. She seemed to enjoy art and overly sweet iced coffee. There were photos of her at museums and coffee shops. She posed in front of sculptures and paintings. She posed with a comically large iced coffee at an outdoor cafe somewhere. She was a beautiful woman. She wasn’t as in your face like the other profiles though. There was almost something elegant about her.
Her profile wasn’t what he’d been expecting.
He’d expected something kind of vulgar to be honest, like something straight out of one of the men’s magazines Tony liked to read at work when he thought Gibbs wasn’t looking.
Most of the other women on the site had been in bikinis and more revealing outfits. The outfit Belle Mort had worn in her main profile photo was sexy, sure, it hugged her body well, but the black sundress had seemed so much less intimidating than the other women’s clothing choices. The other women seemed dressed for a night of clubbing. Belle Mort seemed as though she could fit in at any cafe or farmers market in the DC Virginia area.
Her profile had made her seem less like some sort of sultry seductress and more like the girl next door. There was almost something playful about how she described herself despite the more serious tone of her username.
There was something about her that just seemed so approachable. She looked like the kind of girl Jimmy would spot at a coffee shop or maybe even on campus at Georgetown, but would never have the nerve to actually approach.
That was Jimmy’s big problem it seemed. Jimmy Palmer had never been too terribly great about approaching girls, especially ones who he found pretty. Most of his past flings and romantic encounters had been with women who approached him.
Jimmy wasn’t really the type to make the first move. He’d be the first to admit he was more the type to pine after a pretty girl but never quite work up the nerve to hit on her. He wasn’t the dominant type when it came to romance.
Jimmy had never really had that much confidence when it came to women. He was awkward at the best of times when it came to communication, but when it came to a pretty girl he could be hopeless.
Maybe that was what had driven him to click on the little message button by her profile. It was too easy to send her a quick message knowing that if he was rejected at least it would be over a computer screen and not in person. Being rejected online seemed so much less pathetic than being rejected in person.
The message Jimmy had sent had been so simple. Hi. So, Beautiful Death? Where did the inspiration for that come from? I’m Jimmy by the way.
He hadn’t expected to get a message back that same night and the message he had gotten back had only made him all the more intrigued. Hello. It comes from an essay I wrote recently on death and funeral culture in medieval era France. A little morbid of a subject, I know, but I guess it’s an odd little interest of mine. I’m impressed you caught the translation. <3 Y/N.
Jimmy had read the message over and over and over again. His brain picking it apart. He’d only grown more intrigued the more times he read it. And her name, he read her name a thousand times thinking it sounded so much nicer than Belle Mort.
He’d been unable to stop himself from messaging her back and had been delighted as she’d been open to sending him one in return.
This had gone on for a while, Jimmy working up his confidence to broach the subject.
He’d been unable to stop himself from admitting it to her. I’ve never done anything like this. I don’t know how to do any of this. I don’t know how this works.
A sigh of relief had left him at the response she’d given him. Lucky for you I’m a bit new to this myself. There’s no correct way to go about this. We can figure it out together, that is, if you’re interested?
Jimmy was interested, he was very interested. He knew he’d sounded far too eager when he’d let her know that he was, but luckily for him she didn’t seem to mind.
She’d requested that he send her a photo of himself. He hadn’t gotten around to actually placing a photo of himself on his profile that he’d made when he’d signed up for the site. After all, he hadn’t signed up for the site with the intention of actually messaging anyone at all.
He’d been hesitant to send her a photo, what if this was a scam? Maybe she’d steal the photo and post it somewhere online to shame him? Maybe she was a hacker who’d hack into his contacts and send it and all their messages to his friends and family and anyone in his contact list? Maybe this was all some elaborate scheme to shame him as some kind of pervert? Maybe she was planning on blackmailing him with this?
He’d ignored this fear though doing his best to take a photo of himself where he didn’t think he looked too horrible. He’d used a digital camera loading the photo up onto his laptop and sending the photo before he had time to second guess the choice.
He’d felt his cheeks flush at the response he’d gotten. I have to be honest Jimmy. You’re cuter than I expected. I thought you’d be much older. You’re a handsome guy. Are you sure you need me? I’m sure there would be plenty of girls who’d be happy to get to know you.
She calling him cute had caused a warm feeling to wash over him. She thought he was handsome.
He’d ignored the little voice in the back of his head that told him it was all bullshit; that she was just flattering him to get paid. It was nice to be complimented even if it was fueled by monetary gain.
He’d sent her a fast response. I need you, please.
That had been all it had taken. They’d exchanged numbers and after a few conversations over the phone, the first few pretty awkward to be honest, they’d managed to work out something between them.
It hadn’t been sexual, not at first. At first they’d just spent time together. He’d liked the companionship. He’d taken her to dinner and to art galleries. He’d taken her to museums once he’d realized she was a history major with the focus being on French history.
They spent their time talking. He felt like it was so easy to open up to her about whatever was troubling him. She never seemed to blink twice at the odder more macabre aspects of his job like most people tended to do. She didn’t mind that he could be anxious and she didn’t seem to mind that he had a tendency to be more awkward than he liked to admit. She didn’t even mind his puns or his terrible jokes. She seemed to like him the way he was.
She seemed to enjoy their time together or at least it seemed like she enjoyed it. She was so willing to praise him and compliment him. No one really praised him like she did. She was just there when he needed her. Even though a little voice in the back of his head told him her compliments were empty, he ignored that voice and soaked up her praise like a sponge.
She made it so easy for him to become so dependent on her. He wanted to please her. There was something addictive about seeing her happy and knowing he was the reason behind that happiness.
It felt like a friendship. In a lot of ways Y/N began to feel like Jimmy’s therapist/friend. He opened up to her about his worries and she listened and gave him advice. She was the first person he wanted to call whether he was having a great day or the worst day ever. She was where his mind went to in his quiet moments.
It felt like a friendship.
The little voice in the back of his head of course was always quick to remind him that they weren’t friends though…you didn’t have to pay someone for friendship.
He’d shushed the voice though, it felt too nice to spend time with her. He could pretend that this was something more than what it was he told himself.
Jimmy had the money to keep this up. His grandparents had long ago set up trust funds for his sister and he both. They’d made some smart investments and those investments had paid off.
Jimmy had never really been the materialistic type.
He might occasionally use the money to buy himself a gaming system or maybe a nicer tie. He’d used a little bit of it to put towards student loans. He mostly left the money alone though. Maybe it was the resentment he felt about it. His grandparents were on his father’s side after all, and his father had been such a bastard. So, in a way, using the money too often made him feel sick to his stomach.
Using the money on Y/N though, that didn’t make him feel sick. He told himself he might as well use the money on this. The trust fund was constantly growing with the investments and he might as well take advantage of it doing something that he enjoyed.
He placed money in her bank account when they spent time together. She didn’t charge him by the hour. It was one rate that they’d agreed on for each date. He’d been surprised at how easily she had presented all the fine little details of how this arrangement was going to work. She had given him her terms and had answered any questions he’d had about just what this arrangement would entail. She’d seemed to have it all figured out despite her admission that she was still pretty new to all of this.
It had become almost second nature to him, something he could do without even thinking, he slipped money into her bank account and went on with whatever they’d planned out for a date.
He did other things for her though aside from the payments to her account. He bought her gifts; flowers and perfume and a cashmere scarf he thought she’d like. Then he’d begun buying her jewelry. It was never anything really extravagant. It was mostly antique pieces that he was sure she’d like given her interest in history. She never asked for the gifts, he just liked the reaction he got when he gave them to her.
The gifts were what had led to their arrangement becoming sexual. She’d been the one who initiated it. The gifts were so nice she’d insisted, she wanted to do something nice for him as a thank you.
Jimmy had tried to insist that she didn’t have to of course, he hadn’t given her the gifts expecting anything in return other than the simple act of knowing he was pleasing her. She had insisted she wanted to do this for him though. And Jimmy had found that he was incapable of denying her this. He could admit that he wasn’t the most experienced guy on the planet at least when it came to the amount of women he’d been with. She was a beautiful woman and she seemed to want to please him. He was incapable of saying no to her. He’d let her take the reins on that front deciding to just go with it. How many opportunities like this would fall into his lap after all?
If anything this had made their arrangement feel more like a friends with benefits type of situation.
He could admit that the sexual aspect of this entire arrangement had only made things between them feel all the more complicated though. It was inevitable really, how could he share such an intimate action with someone without it meaning something?
They were playing a dangerous game and the longer it persisted the more Jimmy was beginning to realize his heart was going to be broken in the end.
It was undeniable how he felt about her. It was the only explanation for why she constantly seemed to be on his mind. It was almost pathetic really, he’d fallen in love with someone who he was paying to spend time with him. He’d fallen in love with his Sugar Baby. He was pretty sure that this was a recipe for disaster.
Lately this realization had seemed all the more apparent to Jimmy. Someone was going to get hurt if they kept this up, and he had a feeling it was going to be him. He loved her, but she could never love him. It was all so hopeless.
There didn’t seem to be any way of stopping the arrangement though, not now. He knew he could end it at any moment, but he remained helpless to do so. He was in too deep now. She had become such a fixture in his life. It was almost as though she was a siren calling him to what would certainly be his doom, but he was far too entranced to care. He needed her and he didn’t care if it would only hurt him in the end.
So that was maybe why it was so easy for him to reach for his cell phone the second Dr. Mallard stepped away for his lunch break leaving Jimmy alone in Autopsy. It took him very little time to find her number in his contact list and call it.
He couldn’t stop himself from sounding as eager as he felt as he spoke. “Hey, are you busy?”
“I’m never too busy for you Handsome.” Her response came so naturally and he couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his lips at the sound of her voice and the little pet name she’d bestowed upon him.
He spoke up knowing he still sounded so needy. “Can I see you tonight?”
“Of course, what do you have in mind? I need to know how to dress for the occasion.” She asked.
The answer fell from his lips without hesitation. “Nothing too crazy. I was just thinking a night in with some take out, just…things have been pretty hectic lately. I just- I really need to see you tonight.”
“What time? My last class for the day ends at five.” She remarked Jimmy so fast to answer her.
“I won’t make it out of here until around five thirty if I manage to make it through the rest of the day without any complications. I’ll need time to shower though…so maybe seven would be best.” He admitted knowing he didn’t quite want to meet up with her smelling like the scent of decay and disinfectant that seemed to permeate around Autopsy.
“Sounds workable for me, Handsome. Any special requests for tonight? I know how much you love that black lace set I wore last time.” She replied, making an audible moan leave him as he clearly pictured the lace lingerie set she was recalling and just how much he’d loved the way it had hugged her body.
He spoke the words sliding from him without a second thought. “Whatever you’d like. I just want you to be comfortable.”
The giggle that left her only made his cheeks flush all the more the lust he felt for her only becoming more apparent. “Always such a gentleman. I may have to find something new to wear for you. You sound like you could really use a nice distraction tonight. You sound tense.”
He spoke his voice tight the words sliding from him without him even having to think twice now. “I am…I could use a distraction. I’ll make the deposit in your account. The usual amount.”
“Punctual as always, Handsome. I’ll let you get back to work. Those crimes aren’t going to solve themselves. I’ll see you tonight. I’ll bring the wine. No red, I remember you don’t like the bitter. I’ll bring a Rosé or a Moscato, something sweet.” She replied knowing him well enough by now to know exactly what he preferred.
He felt a deep sigh leave him as he hung up the phone. He was in too deep. There was no escaping this. He wanted her too much to escape this. He didn’t care if he only got to have her because of their arrangement. This was how it had to be if he wanted time with her. Sometimes he just wished things could be different.
………………………………………………………………………
They wound up on his sofa in his apartment with two wine glasses and some empty take out boxes set out on the coffee table in front of them.
She’d greeted him just how she usually did; with a kiss to the cheek. There were never kisses to the lips. The act of pressing her lips to his was just too intimate he’d guessed. She’d kiss him everywhere but his lips. He tried his best to deny how much the refusal to actually kiss him stung. He told himself he didn’t have the right to complain. This wasn’t a real relationship.
She’d followed his request for comfort showing up to his place wearing a more casual blouse with a pair of jeans and a loose fitting cardigan. She still had made an effort for him as she usually did; her makeup looking as flawless as always. She’d traded in heels for a pair of flats and had allowed her hair to hang loosely around her face.
She managed to look stunning even in a more casual look.
She’d made good on her promise to bring wine having chosen to bring a sweet rosé with her chilled and ready for them. The bottle looked expensive and Jimmy had resisted the urge to ask if he was the one who had paid for the bottle, deciding he didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t like the way it sounded, so accusatory.
She sipped her wine, her eyes cutting over to gaze upon him not helping but to sense his less than cheerful mood. It was so unlike him. If she’d figured out one thing about Jimmy it was that the man seemed to be an endless ray of sunshine and joy. He always seemed so cheerful. It was kind of refreshing honestly, to be around someone who was capable of being so positive.
She had noticed over the course of their last few dates though that something seemed to be troubling him.
She spoke daring to bring it up. “What’s going on in that head of yours Handsome? You don’t seem like your usual self.”
He managed to glance over at her the answer dancing around in his brain. Isn’t it obvious, I’m in love with the last person I should be in love with. He spoke the lie sliding from him so easily. “Work has just been hectic lately.”
She managed to give him a small teasing smile. “So it’s been nothing out of the ordinary.”
He felt a small smile cross his lips at the statement. He had been pretty open about the somewhat hectic nature of his job. That was something he’d always liked about her, how she was willing to listen to him discuss his job without ever shying away or showing disgust at some of the more morbid aspects of it. He wasn’t accustomed to people not being fazed by his choice in career.
She spoke again the words sliding from her so easily. “If there’s something bothering you then you know you can tell me. I’d like to think I’m a pretty good listener.”
“You are, I mean- you are a good listener and I appreciate it. This is just something…it’s just something I have to figure out on my own.” He admitted knowing there was no way he could tell her the truth.
He spoke again before she had time to press him for more information. “What about you? Didn’t you say your classes have been really intense lately?”
She felt a small genuine smile cross her lips still a little impressed by Jimmy’s ability to remember these details about her life. Somehow he’d gotten her to open up to him just as much as he seemed to want to open up to her. There was just something about him that had made it so easy for her to trust him to open up despite their arrangement.
She’d only had this type of arrangement once before with another man, but it hadn’t felt like this.
She hadn’t been lying to Jimmy when he’d first contacted her. She was still new to this type of work. An acquaintance had encouraged her to give it a shot. It was an easy way to make money quick. You could set your rules and your own boundaries. It was a fast way to make a lot of money without having to work very hard.
Y/N was in desperate need for some form of income and the usual part time job just wasn’t covering it. It seemed easy enough. All she had to do was spend some time with some old wealthy guy and make a quick paycheck. She didn’t have to do a thing he didn’t want to do. She was the one in charge.
Her first attempt at this hadn’t ended well. The guy was too pushy. He hadn’t exactly respected her rules and she’d cut him off. No amount of money was worth the disrespect.
She was almost considering getting out of the business around the time Jimmy had contacted her.
Jimmy wasn’t what she’d been expecting. He was different from the usual men who had propositioned her on the sugar baby website. She was accustomed to old graying business men old enough to be her father who seemed to believe that sugar baby equaled prostitute.
Jimmy wasn’t some old graying business man who wanted her to put out because he threw money at her. He’d never really pushed her for anything more than she’d offered. Maybe that was why she’d been the one who’d offered to give him more. Jimmy had seemed just happy to have her company. She couldn’t help but to want to please him as badly as he seemed to rely on making her happy.
To be totally honest she couldn’t help but to depend on his happiness as much as he seemed to depend on hers. She couldn't deny the fact that spending time with him did give her some sense of joy. She could also admit that Jimmy did seem to be an interesting guy. Although, he seemed kind of lonely to be honest. It didn't feel like he had much of a social life outside of his coworkers. It seemed as though his career ate up so much of his time. His job seemed so sad really, but she couldn't deny that it was fascinating to hear about. She couldn’t help but to think he must see so many heartbreaking things at work though. She didn’t understand how he could be so positive in his line of work.
She’d been surprised when he’d sent her his photo. She’d been expecting another guy old enough to be her dad. Jimmy wasn’t that much older than her. She hadn’t been lying to him, he was a cute guy. She had to wonder why he felt the need to seek her out. She’d quickly realized why of course. He just seemed shy; almost painfully so. It was obvious that Jimmy Palmer was a little nervous around women. Hence why he had needed her. She’d figured she was doing the man a favor. She could help him build up his confidence. She had just never expected to like him this much.
He was unlike anyone she’d ever met.
Jimmy Palmer was dangerous.
The more she got to know him the more she began to realize this simple fact.
She tried to shush the thoughts in her brain trying her best to play it cool and stay as calm and collected as she always did with him. “Finals week is coming. It’s always stressful. It’s nothing I can’t handle though.”
He felt the words leave him without hesitation. “Maybe when it’s all over we can do something special to celebrate…Maybe we can take a trip or do something like that…anything you want….I mean if you don’t have plans. You probably have plans.”
She replied not helping but to dislike the way he seemed to deflate at his own suggestion when it hit him that she might have plans for the end of her semester that didn’t involve him. “I don’t have plans. I’m sure something can be arranged for us.”
She paused not helping but to tease him. “A trip might be nice. Though it’s a little dangerous to tell me I can have anything I want.”
He felt his spirits lift at the promise of more time with her. He felt the words leave him knowing his words rang so true. “I’d give you anything you wanted, no questions asked.”
She chuckled at this statement, her hand pressing to his cheek not help but to be amused at the way he leaned into her touch. She managed to speak ignoring the warm feeling that washed over her at the way he was staring down at her. “Like I said, a dangerous promise to make me, Handsome. You should be careful I might just take you up on that offer.”
He cleared his throat remembering something he’d been hanging on to with the intention of giving it to her in a few months. He’d planned on waiting until her semester ended but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give it to her early. Seeing her happy always seemed to lift his mood.
He could admit this gift was something special. The second he’d spotted it his mind had gone to her. To be honest he may have bought the particular gift with the hopes that the message behind it would read out loud and clear to her without him having to even say the words.
He felt the words leave him as he reluctantly pulled from her touch. “I have something for you.”
She watched him disappear to his bedroom not helping but to be intrigued. The gifts he gave her were certainly always a surprise. He’d never seemed to have any expectations with the gifts he gave her, but she always felt the need to thank him. What better way to thank him than by pleasuring him?
It was something she hadn’t exactly done in her previous arrangement. She’d always figured it wasn’t a line she was willing to cross with a client.
She could admit that it had been easy to bring intimacy into her arrangement with Jimmy. He was an attractive guy and he seemed so eager to please her. He seemed determined to make her feel good. She figured it was a good ego boost for him, she was doing him a favor helping build up that confidence. If anything she figured it was a job perk for her.
Still she could admit that the more times she allowed their arrangement to cross this line the more complex her feelings towards Jimmy became.
She didn’t have much time to hyperfocus on the complexity of her feelings as Jimmy reappeared holding a small gift bag.
She took it from him as he sat down beside her, the words sliding from her. “I’ll never say no to a present.”
She widened her eyes, a bit stunned by what she pulled from the gift bag. The necklace was contained in a little velvety pouch. She felt a little breathless as she stared down at the red garnet hanging from a golden chain.
Jimmy spoke the words falling from him. “I remembered you said it’s your favorite gemstone.”
He paused remembering how she had told him quite a bit about it during one of their dates to a museum. There had been an exhibit on gemstones and he’d found that Y/N knew quite a bit about the subject. He could remember hanging on to every word she’d said. “From what I remember of what you told me, garnet was actually one of the most popular stones used during the Victorian era. You also said that it’s actually associated with pomegranate seeds and that according to greek mythology it was associated with Persephone.”
She nodded her head amazed he’d even recalled this conversation. “It is. It’s associated with pomegranates due to the red hue. It goes back to the myth of Hades giving Persephone a pomegranate so she would be bound to the underworld and would have to return to him when Spring ended. So greek mythology associates it as a gift to give an estranged lover with the hopes they will return to them. Greeks used to exchange garnet to travellers as a token of safe travels.”
Jimmy cleared his throat easily remembering more of what she’d told him. He spoke unable to stop himself from saying it, his true feelings spilling from him. “Garnets are also supposed to represent friendship and…love, they’re supposed to represent passionate love.”
She parted her lips, hesitant to ask him if that’s what this necklace represented to him, but she didn’t have a chance as his cell phone began to ring, breaking his gaze from hers.
He cleared his throat as he answered his phone, his brow furrowing as he listened to the person on the other end of the line for a long while before actually speaking. “Yes, Dr. Mallard. Of course, I’ll be there right away. I understand.”
Y/N didn’t speak until he hung up the phone the moment they’d shared over this newest gift too far away to grasp again.
She cleared her throat trying to play off her true feelings. “Work calling?”
“Yeah, dead petty officer found in a dumpster behind a diner.” Jimmy admitted trying not to give away too much knowing he couldn’t exactly risk breaking evidence protocol.
She gathered her coat and her gift placing the necklace in her purse as she headed for his front door.
Jimmy walked her to the door, Jimmy and she staring at one another for a brief moment. He felt himself lean closer to her, everything in him screaming to take his chance. Everything in him screamed that he had to show her what he was trying to say with the necklace. He couldn’t keep doing this. He had to show her how he felt before it drove him insane. He needed more than this arrangement. He couldn’t fight this any longer. Even if it hurt him he had to try.
She turned her face from his silently rejecting his attempt to press his lips to hers as she spoke. “Be safe at work.”
Jimmy felt his heart ache at what was so clearly a symbol of her rejecting how he felt. Of course she couldn’t feel the same. Of course this wasn’t real.
“I will, thank you.” He stated his eyes turning from hers as she pulled from him.
He closed his eyes, his heart cracking as he fought the urge to chase after her. Her reaction to his attempt to kiss her had told him all he needed to know about how she felt. She didn’t want him, not in the way he wanted her.
He could distinctly hear a voice in the back of his head that sounded all too much like Tony’s repeating the same words Tony had said months ago. I don’t get the appeal of being treated like a human ATM.
A Human ATM, of course, that’s all Jimmy was to her. He was a fool to ever hope for more.
………………………………………………………………………………
Y/N found herself sitting up in her bedroom, the garnet necklace sitting in her hand, her mind going ninety miles an hour. The necklace, that damn necklace. Why’d he have to go and do that? Why’d he have to do this?
The other gifts hadn’t been so intimate. The other gifts hadn’t meant anything. They’d been innocent gifts; a perfume she liked, a pair of earrings she thought was pretty, a nice silky robe that cost a bit more than she’d usually feel comfortable spending on one item of clothing, a dozen roses, a pretty red cashmere scarf.
Those gifts had been nice of course, but they hadn’t had any meaning behind them, not like this necklace.
This wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to get attached. She wasn’t supposed to get attached.
It was inevitable a voice in the back of her brain told her. She’d taken him to bed, it was bound to happen. That kind of intimacy meant too much for it to just be another part of their arrangement.
That had been her first mistake; taking him to bed allowing him to make love to her more than once.
It was just supposed to be sex, but then again was sex really ever just sex?
Maybe that was why she’d always told herself she’d never sleep with a client. Jimmy had made her throw out those rules so easily though. She’d given in to her own lust and it had bit her in the ass.
She may have never allowed him to press his lips to hers, but that hadn’t stopped those feelings from blooming within them.
Why did Jimmy have to be so sweet and charming and so kind and funny? Why did he have to be him?
This had been a mistake. This entire arrangement had been a mistake.
She’d realized it was a mistake from the start. She’d realized it was only going to end in disaster when she’d realized that she actually enjoyed her time spent with him.
She’d gone into their arrangement expecting it to be just like her previous experience where she had to smile and tolerate someone for a few hours knowing that it would be well worth the paycheck.
She didn’t have to tolerate Jimmy. She didn’t have to pretend with him.
She genuinely enjoyed being with him. Her heart lifted each time a call from him came. She felt a feeling of such warmth and adoration wash over her anytime he told her he needed her.
It wasn’t fair.
She had known she was fucked when she’d started feeling guilty about the deposits he’d placed into her bank account. She’d known she was well and truly screwed when she’d had the realization she’d like to spend time with him for free.
Her mind went to him far more often than she wanted. She remembered stories he’d told her or little habits he had. She remembered far too much about him for it to be just an arrangement between them.
What was she supposed to do now?
He clearly wanted more if this necklace and that almost kiss meant what she thought it meant.
This was no foundation to start a relationship on.
What were they supposed to tell people when they asked how they met? He was my sugar daddy and after he dropped a crap load of money on me I realized I was in love with him. He bought me a garnet necklace and I couldn’t deny how I felt about him anymore.
She knew how that made her sound. People already had enough to say when they found out about her little side hustle. People assumed the worst. Finding out she was dating a client would just reconfirm people’s worst assumptions about her.
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she barely heard her roommate enter the room, a small frown crossing the girl’s face. “What’s with you?”
Y/N sighed ignoring the question choosing to ask her own question. “What do you need?”
Her roommate shot her a sheepish smile as she spoke. “Can I borrow that dress you have? The green one? I have a date.”
Y/N nodded her head giving a nonverbal answer, her brain easily sliding back into her own loop of despair over this entire mess.
Her roommate spoke a small sigh leaving her. “Why are you at home? You’re usually out with the Sugar Daddy on the weekends.”
Y/N let out a soft sigh her voice tense. “He had work.”
“That doesn’t explain why you look like someone pissed in your cheerios.” Her roommate easily remarked Y/N rolling her eyes at this statement.
She spoke, deciding to just be honest about it. “Shit’s getting complicated with him.”
Her roommate spoke easily, guessing the issue. “He’s getting a little too attached?”
Y/N sighed hating to admit it out loud. “He’s not the only one.”
“Shit, well what are you doing to do about it?” Her roommate dared to ask Y/N feeling her heart crack as the only possible solution came to light.
She had kept her profile on the sugar baby website though she hadn’t had any other clients but Jimmy. She’d had no reason to. He paid her well enough to only keep him. To be honest, it had seemed almost wrong to take on any other client but him even though it was something she knew some girls did.
She sighed remembering all those messages in her inbox. She’d gotten some messages pretty recently actually.
This was a sign. She should just admit that this couldn’t last forever. It was time to let Jimmy go. He could find someone else. He had worked up his confidence with her. It was inevitable that this couldn’t last. He had to move on with his life. She ignored the way her stomach turned at the thought of him with someone else. This was for the best. She had to do the smart thing for the both of them. She wasn’t right for him. A relationship with him wouldn’t work. She needed to set him free.
“I can’t do this with him anymore. It’s time to move on.” Y/N stated hating to admit it. It was the only way this could end though.
It was inevitable.
……………………………………………………………………………………………..
Jimmy Palmer knew he’d screwed everything up.
She wasn’t returning his calls. She wouldn’t pick up when he called her. She didn’t respond to any of his messages.
It had been weeks now and it was so obvious she was ignoring him.
He’d really gone and messed everything up.
He’d lost her. Then again was she ever his to have?
How did it all get so screwed up?
He knew how, it had all gone to hell when he’d fallen in love with her.
His despondent mood was apparently noticeable to everyone despite his unwillingness to open up about it.
He couldn’t imagine anyone would understand how he felt anyhow. They would all just judge him if they knew the details behind this entire mess.
Dr. Mallard had tried to get him to open up, but Dr. Mallard was the last person Jimmy wanted to know about this entire situation. He wasn’t sure his mentor would approve of any of this. He wasn’t sure Dr. Mallard would have much sympathy for him.
Apparently his mood was so low that even Tony had taken some sympathy on him and in a very uncharacteristic Tony act he cornered Jimmy in the hallway outside of Autopsy fast to speak to him before Jimmy could say no. “You and me Autopsy Gremlin. We’re hitting a nightclub. I don’t know what your issue is but it’s nothing a night out can’t fix. I am speaking for everyone when I say we’re sick of watching you mope. I’m guessing that a woman is the only reason behind why you’re so moody. We’re going out tonight. I feel sorry enough for you that I’ll even be your wingman. You need a rebound and you’ll be good to go.”
Jimmy wanted to say no, but he’d found himself unable to get out of it as Tony had shown up at his front steps and had practically dragged him out of the apartment.
That was how he’d wound up here in a dim nightclub, the neon lights making his head hurt, the music far too loud.
Tony had already tried to get Jimmy to talk to a few girls, but Jimmy wasn’t willing to play along with any of this.
Tony had long ago given up and had promptly ditched Jimmy to go hit on a group of girls that were part of a bachelorette party. He’d tried to drag Jimmy along with him insisting that bridesmaids were always up for a fun night, but Jimmy had resisted.
He’d found himself alone at the bar debating the best way he could escape this nightclub and go home.
He sipped his drink knowing that the alcohol would only make him feel worse.
He let his eyes scan the club the smiling faces of the other patrons doing nothing but making him feel even more terrible. There were so many couples here. Seeing them so happy and in love just made his heart crack all the more.
Why was he like this? He should have known that it would end like this. This was bound to end in heartbreak.
He almost dropped the drink he was holding as he spotted her. It couldn’t be. No fate wasn’t that cruel was it?
It was Y/N and she wasn’t alone.
He felt his stomach turn as he watched the older man she was with slide his arm around her leaning in far too close to her.
She’d told Jimmy that he was her only client. Had it been a lie? Or had his love pushed her away into the arms of a new client?
He felt a wave of jealousy wash over him at the sight of her suitor. The man was much older than him and to be honest Jimmy thought he looked kind of scummy. Sure his suit was nice, and he was handsome enough. It was the way he was gripping onto Y/N though. He was holding her far too tight in Jimmy’s opinion.
As much as he wanted to turn away he couldn’t take his eyes off them.
He felt that jealousy boil down to anger when he watched the man lean in closer to Y/N whispering something in her ear. Judging by the look on her face she didn’t like it because she made an attempt to pull away. Her suitor apparently wasn’t pleased with this and took a tight grip to her arm yanking her back towards him.
Jimmy felt himself moving before he had a chance to second guess himself.
He felt the words leave him squaring his shoulders trying to make himself look far more intimidating than he felt. “Hey, leave her alone.”
Y/N stared up at him, the color washing from her face. Of course he was here. Why would fate be any kinder to her?
The guy stared up at Jimmy seemingly unimpressed with his attempts to look intimidating. “Back off buddy. This is between me and her.”
Jimmy didn’t back off his voice still firm knowing he at least had the advantage of being taller than this guy. “You need to let go of her. She’s trying to get away from you.”
Y/N spoke trying to smooth this all over before someone got hurt. “Jimmy-”
She didn’t have a chance to continue as her suitor spoke. “You know him Doll? You didn’t mention having any other clients.”
He glared up at Jimmy fast to speak again. “Listen Jim, I don’t know how much money you’ve given her, but I’m paying her tonight, not you. I dropped a good bit of money on her tonight so I suggest you back off and let me get my money’s worth. You can have her back when I’m done with her. Trust me, I’m having some buyers remorse right now so you might get her back sooner than later.”
Jimmy felt his fists clench as he spoke. “I’m only saying it one more time, let go of her.”
“Or what huh? Are you serious? You’re willing to get in a fight over a whore?” Jimmy saw red at the statement and raised his clenched fist allowing it to collide with the man’s nose, a crack sounding out audible even with the club music beating around them.
The man let go of Y/N to clutch his nose, blood pooling around him he cursing.
Y/N sighed grabbing a hold of Jimmy’s wrist as she spotted a very annoyed club bouncer making his way towards them apparently having spotted the situation.
She dragged him from the room speaking to the bouncer trying to smooth over the situation. “I know, My boyfriend saw that guy harassing me, he’s had too much to drink. I’m taking him home. Please don’t call the cops we’re leaving.”
The bouncer glared down at them, his voice gruff. “Just leave the premises and don’t come back.”
She sighed yanking Jimmy behind her heading out the entrance and around the alleyway her face flushing with embarrassment and rage.
She spoke, unable to stop herself from sounding pissed. “What in the hell was that Jimmy?”
Jimmy spoke his own anger still so apparent. “You’re welcome for defending you from a creep.”
“I had it handled. I didn’t ask for your help.” She snapped back her arms crossing as she tried to control her anger.
Jimmy scoffed at this, shaking his head. “Oh yeah, you looked like you had it all under control.”
“What’s your problem. Last I checked I’m allowed to have other clients besides you.” She remarked glaring up at him.
“You said I was your only client.” Jimmy exclaimed, unable to stop himself from saying it.
Y/N sighed shaking her head as she spoke. “You were. This was my first date with this guy.”
He spoke, needing to say it. “It’s going to be the last.”
She glared up at him ready to tell him that he had no right to tell her what to do, but he spoke again the words that left him making her defenses crumble. “I just-the way he was touching you. How he talked about you, I couldn’t stand it. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, no one does. Even if this arrangement between us is over, I can’t stand you being treated that way.”
She felt a lump develop in the back of her throat, her voice soft as she spoke. “I won’t see him again…I actually…I think I’m done with this whole Sugar Baby thing.”
She crossed her arms a little tighter ignoring the shiver that ran through her. She regretted not wearing a coat tonight. The little red dress her client had sent her for tonight was more revealing than she’d usually wear.
The message from this client had been sitting in her inbox for almost a month now but she’d just replied to it earlier this week. Against her better judgement she’d agreed to a date almost immediately. She thought it was necessary if she wanted to forget Jimmy Palmer.
Jimmy sighed, spotting her shiver, taking her by shock as he took off his own coat draping it over her shoulders.
She held it against her hating the feeling of warmth that washed over her both at the warmth of the wool coat and the sweetness of the action. She managed to speak averting her eyes from him. “Thank you.”
The two stood in silence for a moment unsure of where to go from here. What could they say in a moment like this?
Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft and broken. “Why did you have to do it Jimmy? The damn necklace, why? You made everything too real.”
Jimmy sighed knowing exactly what she was asking. He spoke unable to stop himself from speaking the truth. “You can’t help who you fall in love with.”
She closed her eyes, a deep sigh leaving her. Jimmy spoke again needing to just say the words. “I love you Y/N, I love you. I know our situation isn’t typical, but I can’t deny how I feel.”
She shook her head, her eyes beginning to water as she gazed up at him. “You can’t be in love with me.”
“Why not, give me one good reason why I can’t.” Jimmy replied far too stubborn to let this go.
She spoke the words coming to her so easily. “Look at how we met Jimmy. Everything about this thing we have, it was all you paying me for my time. We never even had a real date where you didn’t pay me for my companionship. How do you even know what you feel for me is real?”
“I don’t care if I was paying you. I don’t care how any of this started. I know it’s real. I feel it everytime I look at you. I can’t deny how I feel about you Y/N. I love you. My mind is always with you. Anytime I have a moment of peace my mind goes to you and it feels like my heart is always with you. I can’t stop myself from loving you. I may have been paying you, but everything between us has been real. I’ve always been myself with you and I think I trust you enough to know that you’ve always been yourself with me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before you. It’s real to me. I love you.” He insisted reaching out, taking her hand in his relieved that she didn’t pull it away.
She shook her head still wanting to deny this. This wouldn’t work. Couldn’t he see it? “What kind of foundation is that to build any kind of relationship on? You can’t be in love with me not when it started like this. What are you going to tell people when they ask how you met me? Are you really prepared to deal with people assuming the worst about us?”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks. If they can’t accept how I feel about you then I don’t want them in my life.” He insisted his hand not leaving hers as he stepped closer to her.
He stared down at her speaking from the heart needing to say it. “We can start again if that’s what it takes. If this can’t be our foundation then we can build a new one. We can start over.”
He paused letting go of her hand and holding his hand out to her as he spoke. “Hi it’s nice to meet you, my name is James Palmer, but my friends call me Jimmy. I work as a medical examiner’s assistant for NCIS. I’m currently taking classes to become a Dr. Palmer so I can take my medical examiner’s license exam. I like overly sweet coffee and I’ve been told I tell really terrible jokes. I’d like to take you out on a date, actually I’d like to take you on several dates.”
She couldn’t stop the smile from crossing her lips both hating and adoring that he was this sweet. Could he be right? Could they build an entirely new foundation? Could they start again?
She stared up at him, the answer so obvious. It was inevitable really. They’d set themselves on this path the second she’d responded to that first message he’d sent her. There was no denying how she felt.
She gave him her answer, leaning up her lips pressing to his. He managed to realize exactly what was happening easily, his hands pressing to her face deepening the kiss, it being everything he’d dreamed it might be.
She spoke as she reluctantly pulled from the kiss her voice soft. “I would love to go on several dates with you. As long as I can pay for some of those dates.”
He gave her a soft smile, his lips pressing back to hers as she spoke. “I love you Jimmy.”
He smiled into the kiss it growing in passion so effortlessly.
She spoke her voice soft as she once again pulled her lips from his. “I don’t want to be your sugar baby anymore. I think I’d rather just be yours.”
He pressed his lips to hers the answer leaving him before his lips met hers. “I don’t want to be your Sugar Daddy anymore. I’m already yours.”
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It was Inevitable: Jimmy Palmer X Reader
Jimmy falls in into a sugar daddy arrangement with Y/N and promptly falls in love with her. What are you supposed to do when you fall in love with a woman who you’re paying to even spend time with you? Heartbreak and disaster are sure to follow, it’s inevitable.
Tagging: @jimmypalmerdeservesbetter for requesting this concept. I kind of ran with it in this direction so hopefully it lives up to what you’d hoped for.
Jimmy Palmer never would have thought he would wind up in a situation like this. He knows that sounds like such a cliché. It’s true though, he never thought he would wind up doing anything like this and it’s a mess. It is the definition of a mess.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He doesn’t know how things got so complicated so fast.
It all began with a case and a little comment from Tony.
The case involved a dead sailor and the revelation that said dead sailor was taking part in a sugar daddy type of “relationship” with a young woman. There was some suspicion that she might have been the one responsible for his death...and in a way she was...no she didn’t shoot the man herself, but another one of her clients did out of jealousy.
Tony had made some offhand remark about how these types of “relationships” always ended in a disaster.
Of course this had quickly prompted teasing from Ziva and McGee about just how Tony knew so much about these types of relationships...which had in turn resulted in Tony admitting he’d maybe looked at a website designed for the purpose of those types of relationships.
Or as Tony had put it. “It was research for a case I was consulting on. I chatted with a girl for strictly professional purposes...she was a nice girl, very hot, a total ten, but ya know...I don’t get the appeal of being treated like a human ATM. That kind of relationship just seems destined to fail.”
Jimmy couldn’t help but to hang on to the entire concept of a sugar baby.
Jimmy Palmer had always been terribly curious. It was a positive attribute to have, Dr. Mallard had always insisted. The first step to any type of learning was curiosity.
Then again didn’t curiosity kill the cat?
As hard as Jimmy tried to forget about the entire case his brain had clung onto the details. He had so many questions about sugar babies. How exactly did that type of relationship work? Did it feel degrading for either party? Did it involve sex or was it just about having companionship in other ways? What types of things did the sugar baby expect? What kind of guy was into a relationship like this? Was it like a business transaction or a friendship? And most importantly what type of girl was interested in this type of relationship?
Jimmy had found a website faster than he would ever admit. It was just to satisfy his curiosity he’d told himself.
Wasn’t Dr. Mallard always yammering on about the importance of understanding how people’s minds worked in their line of work? You had to understand how the human mind worked to understand how people could do something like shove an ice pick through someone’s heart or shoot a man in an alleyway. Perhaps having an understanding of how these types of relationships worked would make Jimmy a better medical examiner.
This was an educational endeavor Jimmy had told himself. He could make a quick profile, take a look around, and then his curiosity would be satisfied and he’d never have to think about this ever again.
For the most part the girls on the website had been kind of what Jimmy had been picturing. They were beautiful of course. However, it was obvious that a few of them weren’t even real people. Their photos and their profiles seemed a little too good to be real. They were most likely scam artists who’d stolen some photos of attractive women hoping to make a quick buck off some naive guy with a large bank account.
He’d been almost ready to give up and call his little educational experience a total bust when he’d spotted her profile.
It was her username that had caught his attention: Belle Mort.
Jimmy had taken a semester abroad his junior year in France. He still understood the french language just enough to translate her username: Beautiful Death.
The little sense of familiarity and the mention of a subject that his career revolved around had been enough to spark his interest and before he could stop himself he’d clicked on her profile.
She was different from the other girls on the site.
She was a few years younger than him; still in her twenties. She was a college student working on her masters. She’d mentioned her university fees were expensive and she was looking for companionship and a way to ease the financial strain. So, why not try an option that could offer her both monetary gain and companionship. She listed films and music she enjoyed a few of which Jimmy recognized. She seemed to enjoy art and overly sweet iced coffee. There were photos of her at museums and coffee shops. She posed in front of sculptures and paintings. She posed with a comically large iced coffee at an outdoor cafe somewhere. She was a beautiful woman. She wasn’t as in your face like the other profiles though. There was almost something elegant about her.
Her profile wasn’t what he’d been expecting.
He’d expected something kind of vulgar to be honest, like something straight out of one of the men's magazines Tony liked to read at work when he thought Gibbs wasn’t looking.
Most of the other women on the site had been in bikinis and more revealing outfits. The outfit Belle Mort had worn in her main profile photo was sexy, sure, it hugged her body well, but the black sundress had seemed so much less intimidating than the other women’s clothing choices. The other women seemed dressed for a night of clubbing. Belle Mort seemed as though she could fit in at any cafe or farmers market in the DC Virginia area.
Her profile had made her seem less like some sort of sultry seductress and more like the girl next door. There was almost something playful about how she described herself despite the more serious tone of her username.
There was something about her that just seemed so approachable. She looked like the kind of girl Jimmy would spot at a coffee shop or maybe even on campus at Georgetown, but would never have the nerve to actually approach.
That was Jimmy’s big problem it seemed. Jimmy Palmer had never been too terribly great about approaching girls, especially ones who he found pretty. Most of his past flings and romantic encounters had been with women who approached him.
Jimmy wasn’t really the type to make the first move. He’d be the first to admit he was more the type to pine after a pretty girl but never quite work up the nerve to hit on her. He wasn’t the dominant type when it came to romance.
Jimmy had never really had that much confidence when it came to women. He was awkward at the best of times when it came to communication, but when it came to a pretty girl he could be hopeless.
Maybe that was what had driven him to click on the little message button by her profile. It was too easy to send her a quick message knowing that if he was rejected at least it would be over a computer screen and not in person. Being rejected online seemed so much less pathetic than being rejected in person.
The message Jimmy had sent had been so simple. Hi. So, Beautiful Death? Where did the inspiration for that come from? I’m Jimmy by the way.
He hadn’t expected to get a message back that same night and the message he had gotten back had only made him all the more intrigued. Hello. It comes from an essay I wrote recently on death and funeral culture in medieval era France. A little morbid of a subject, I know, but I guess it’s an odd little interest of mine. I’m impressed you caught the translation. <3 Y/N.
Jimmy had read the message over and over and over again. His brain picking it apart. He’d only grown more intrigued the more times he read it. And her name, he read her name a thousand times thinking it sounded so much nicer than Belle Mort.
He’d been unable to stop himself from messaging her back and had been delighted as she’d been open to sending him one in return.
This had gone on for a while, Jimmy working up his confidence to broach the subject.
He’d been unable to stop himself from admitting it to her. I’ve never done anything like this. I don’t know how to do any of this. I don’t know how this works.
A sigh of relief had left him at the response she’d given him. Lucky for you I’m a bit new to this myself. There’s no correct way to go about this. We can figure it out together, that is, if you’re interested?
Jimmy was interested, he was very interested. He knew he’d sounded far too eager when he’d let her know that he was, but luckily for him she didn’t seem to mind.
She’d requested that he send her a photo of himself. He hadn’t gotten around to actually placing a photo of himself on his profile that he’d made when he’d signed up for the site. After all, he hadn’t signed up for the site with the intention of actually messaging anyone at all.
He’d been hesitant to send her a photo, what if this was a scam? Maybe she’d steal the photo and post it somewhere online to shame him? Maybe she was a hacker who’d hack into his contacts and send it and all their messages to his friends and family and anyone in his contact list? Maybe this was all some elaborate scheme to shame him as some kind of pervert? Maybe she was planning on blackmailing him with this?
He’d ignored this fear though doing his best to take a photo of himself where he didn’t think he looked too horrible. He’d used a digital camera loading the photo up onto his laptop and sending the photo before he had time to second guess the choice.
He’d felt his cheeks flush at the response he’d gotten. I have to be honest Jimmy. You’re cuter than I expected. I thought you’d be much older. You’re a handsome guy. Are you sure you need me? I’m sure there would be plenty of girls who’d be happy to get to know you.
She calling him cute had caused a warm feeling to wash over him. She thought he was handsome.
He’d ignored the little voice in the back of his head that told him it was all bullshit; that she was just flattering him to get paid. It was nice to be complimented even if it was fueled by monetary gain.
He’d sent her a fast response. I need you, please.
That had been all it had taken. They’d exchanged numbers and after a few conversations over the phone, the first few pretty awkward to be honest, they’d managed to work out something between them.
It hadn’t been sexual, not at first. At first they’d just spent time together. He’d liked the companionship. He’d taken her to dinner and to art galleries. He’d taken her to museums once he’d realized she was a history major with the focus being on French history.
They spent their time talking. He felt like it was so easy to open up to her about whatever was troubling him. She never seemed to blink twice at the odder more macabre aspects of his job like most people tended to do. She didn’t mind that he could be anxious and she didn’t seem to mind that he had a tendency to be more awkward than he liked to admit. She didn’t even mind his puns or his terrible jokes. She seemed to like him the way he was.
She seemed to enjoy their time together or at least it seemed like she enjoyed it. She was so willing to praise him and compliment him. No one really praised him like she did. She was just there when he needed her. Even though a little voice in the back of his head told him her compliments were empty, he ignored that voice and soaked up her praise like a sponge.
She made it so easy for him to become so dependent on her. He wanted to please her. There was something addictive about seeing her happy and knowing he was the reason behind that happiness.
It felt like a friendship. In a lot of ways Y/N began to feel like Jimmy’s therapist/friend. He opened up to her about his worries and she listened and gave him advice. She was the first person he wanted to call whether he was having a great day or the worst day ever. She was where his mind went to in his quiet moments.
It felt like a friendship.
The little voice in the back of his head of course was always quick to remind him that they weren’t friends though...you didn’t have to pay someone for friendship.
He’d shushed the voice though, it felt too nice to spend time with her. He could pretend that this was something more than what it was he told himself.
Jimmy had the money to keep this up. His grandparents had long ago set up trust funds for his sister and he both. They’d made some smart investments and those investments had paid off.
Jimmy had never really been the materialistic type.
He might occasionally use the money to buy himself a gaming system or maybe a nicer tie. He’d used a little bit of it to put towards student loans. He mostly left the money alone though. Maybe it was the resentment he felt about it. His grandparents were on his father’s side after all, and his father had been such a bastard. So, in a way, using the money too often made him feel sick to his stomach.
Using the money on Y/N though, that didn’t make him feel sick. He told himself he might as well use the money on this. The trust fund was constantly growing with the investments and he might as well take advantage of it doing something that he enjoyed.
He placed money in her bank account when they spent time together. She didn’t charge him by the hour. It was one rate that they’d agreed on for each date. He’d been surprised at how easily she had presented all the fine little details of how this arrangement was going to work. She had given him her terms and had answered any questions he’d had about just what this arrangement would entail. She’d seemed to have it all figured out despite her admission that she was still pretty new to all of this.
It had become almost second nature to him, something he could do without even thinking, he slipped money into her bank account and went on with whatever they’d planned out for a date.
He did other things for her though aside from the payments to her account. He bought her gifts; flowers and perfume and a cashmere scarf he thought she’d like. Then he’d begun buying her jewelry. It was never anything really extravagant. It was mostly antique pieces that he was sure she’d like given her interest in history. She never asked for the gifts, he just liked the reaction he got when he gave them to her.
The gifts were what had led to their arrangement becoming sexual. She’d been the one who initiated it. The gifts were so nice she’d insisted, she wanted to do something nice for him as a thank you.
Jimmy had tried to insist that she didn’t have to of course, he hadn’t given her the gifts expecting anything in return other than the simple act of knowing he was pleasing her. She had insisted she wanted to do this for him though. And Jimmy had found that he was incapable of denying her this. He could admit that he wasn’t the most experienced guy on the planet at least when it came to the amount of women he’d been with. She was a beautiful woman and she seemed to want to please him. He was incapable of saying no to her. He’d let her take the reins on that front deciding to just go with it. How many opportunities like this would fall into his lap after all?
If anything this had made their arrangement feel more like a friends with benefits type of situation.
He could admit that the sexual aspect of this entire arrangement had only made things between them feel all the more complicated though. It was inevitable really, how could he share such an intimate action with someone without it meaning something?
They were playing a dangerous game and the longer it persisted the more Jimmy was beginning to realize his heart was going to be broken in the end.
It was undeniable how he felt about her. It was the only explanation for why she constantly seemed to be on his mind. It was almost pathetic really, he’d fallen in love with someone who he was paying to spend time with him. He’d fallen in love with his Sugar Baby. He was pretty sure that this was a recipe for disaster.
Lately this realization had seemed all the more apparent to Jimmy. Someone was going to get hurt if they kept this up, and he had a feeling it was going to be him. He loved her, but she could never love him. It was all so hopeless.
There didn’t seem to be any way of stopping the arrangement though, not now. He knew he could end it at any moment, but he remained helpless to do so. He was in too deep now. She had become such a fixture in his life. It was almost as though she was a siren calling him to what would certainly be his doom, but he was far too entranced to care. He needed her and he didn’t care if it would only hurt him in the end.
So that was maybe why it was so easy for him to reach for his cell phone the second Dr. Mallard stepped away for his lunch break leaving Jimmy alone in Autopsy. It took him very little time to find her number in his contact list and call it.
He couldn’t stop himself from sounding as eager as he felt as he spoke. “Hey, are you busy?”
“I’m never too busy for you Handsome.” Her response came so naturally and he couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his lips at the sound of her voice and the little pet name she’d bestowed upon him.
He spoke up knowing he still sounded so needy. “Can I see you tonight?”
“Of course, what do you have in mind? I need to know how to dress for the occasion.” She asked.
The answer fell from his lips without hesitation. “Nothing too crazy. I was just thinking a night in with some take out, just...things have been pretty hectic lately. I just- I really need to see you tonight.”
“What time? My last class for the day ends at five.” She remarked Jimmy so fast to answer her.
“I won’t make it out of here until around five thirty if I manage to make it through the rest of the day without any complications. I’ll need time to shower though...so maybe seven would be best.” He admitted knowing he didn’t quite want to meet up with her smelling like the scent of decay and disinfectant that seemed to permeate around Autopsy.
“Sounds workable for me, Handsome. Any special requests for tonight? I know how much you love that black lace set I wore last time.” She replied, making an audible moan leave him as he clearly pictured the lace lingerie set she was recalling and just how much he’d loved the way it had hugged her body.
He spoke the words sliding from him without a second thought. “Whatever you’d like. I just want you to be comfortable.”
The giggle that left her only made his cheeks flush all the more the lust he felt for her only becoming more apparent. “Always such a gentleman. I may have to find something new to wear for you. You sound like you could really use a nice distraction tonight. You sound tense.”
He spoke his voice tight the words sliding from him without him even having to think twice now. “I am...I could use a distraction. I’ll make the deposit in your account. The usual amount.”
“Punctual as always, Handsome. I’ll let you get back to work. Those crimes aren’t going to solve themselves. I’ll see you tonight. I’ll bring the wine. No red, I remember you don’t like the bitter. I’ll bring a Rosé or a Moscato, something sweet.” She replied knowing him well enough by now to know exactly what he preferred.
He felt a deep sigh leave him as he hung up the phone. He was in too deep. There was no escaping this. He wanted her too much to escape this. He didn’t care if he only got to have her because of their arrangement. This was how it had to be if he wanted time with her. Sometimes he just wished things could be different.
………………………………………………………………………
They wound up on his sofa in his apartment with two wine glasses and some empty take out boxes set out on the coffee table in front of them.
She’d greeted him just how she usually did; with a kiss to the cheek. There were never kisses to the lips. The act of pressing her lips to his was just too intimate he’d guessed. She’d kiss him everywhere but his lips. He tried his best to deny how much the refusal to actually kiss him stung. He told himself he didn’t have the right to complain. This wasn’t a real relationship.
She’d followed his request for comfort showing up to his place wearing a more casual blouse with a pair of jeans and a loose fitting cardigan. She still had made an effort for him as she usually did; her makeup looking as flawless as always. She’d traded in heels for a pair of flats and had allowed her hair to hang loosely around her face.
She managed to look stunning even in a more casual look.
She’d made good on her promise to bring wine having chosen to bring a sweet rosé with her chilled and ready for them. The bottle looked expensive and Jimmy had resisted the urge to ask if he was the one who had paid for the bottle, deciding he didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t like the way it sounded, so accusatory.
She sipped her wine, her eyes cutting over to gaze upon him not helping but to sense his less than cheerful mood. It was so unlike him. If she’d figured out one thing about Jimmy it was that the man seemed to be an endless ray of sunshine and joy. He always seemed so cheerful. It was kind of refreshing honestly, to be around someone who was capable of being so positive.
She had noticed over the course of their last few dates though that something seemed to be troubling him.
She spoke daring to bring it up. “What’s going on in that head of yours Handsome? You don’t seem like your usual self.”
He managed to glance over at her the answer dancing around in his brain. Isn't it obvious, I’m in love with the last person I should be in love with. He spoke the lie sliding from him so easily. “Work has just been hectic lately.”
She managed to give him a small teasing smile. “So it’s been nothing out of the ordinary.”
He felt a small smile cross his lips at the statement. He had been pretty open about the somewhat hectic nature of his job. That was something he’d always liked about her, how she was willing to listen to him discuss his job without ever shying away or showing disgust at some of the more morbid aspects of it. He wasn’t accustomed to people not being fazed by his choice in career.
She spoke again the words sliding from her so easily. “If there’s something bothering you then you know you can tell me. I’d like to think I’m a pretty good listener.”
“You are, I mean- you are a good listener and I appreciate it. This is just something...it’s just something I have to figure out on my own.” He admitted knowing there was no way he could tell her the truth.
He spoke again before she had time to press him for more information. “What about you? Didn’t you say your classes have been really intense lately?”
She felt a small genuine smile cross her lips still a little impressed by Jimmy’s ability to remember these details about her life. Somehow he’d gotten her to open up to him just as much as he seemed to want to open up to her. There was just something about him that had made it so easy for her to trust him to open up despite their arrangement.
She’d only had this type of arrangement once before with another man, but it hadn’t felt like this.
She hadn’t been lying to Jimmy when he’d first contacted her. She was still new to this type of work. An acquaintance had encouraged her to give it a shot. It was an easy way to make money quick. You could set your rules and your own boundaries. It was a fast way to make a lot of money without having to work very hard.
Y/N was in desperate need for some form of income and the usual part time job just wasn’t covering it. It seemed easy enough. All she had to do was spend some time with some old wealthy guy and make a quick paycheck. She didn’t have to do a thing he didn’t want to do. She was the one in charge.
Her first attempt at this hadn’t ended well. The guy was too pushy. He hadn’t exactly respected her rules and she’d cut him off. No amount of money was worth the disrespect.
She was almost considering getting out of the business around the time Jimmy had contacted her.
Jimmy wasn’t what she’d been expecting. He was different from the usual men who had propositioned her on the sugar baby website. She was accustomed to old graying business men old enough to be her father who seemed to believe that sugar baby equaled prostitute.
Jimmy wasn’t some old graying business man who wanted her to put out because he threw money at her. He’d never really pushed her for anything more than she’d offered. Maybe that was why she’d been the one who’d offered to give him more. Jimmy had seemed just happy to have her company. She couldn’t help but to want to please him as badly as he seemed to rely on making her happy.
To be totally honest she couldn’t help but to depend on his happiness as much as he seemed to depend on hers. She’d be lying if she tried to pretend she didn’t find some sense of joy in spending time with him. Although he seemed kind of lonely to be honest. She didn’t get the sense that he had much time for a social life. It seemed as though his career ate up so much of his time. She could admit she found his job so fascinating though it did seem so sad really. She couldn’t help but to think he must see so many heartbreaking things at work. She didn’t understand how he could be so positive in his line of work.
She’d been surprised when he’d sent her his photo. She’d been expecting another guy old enough to be her dad. Jimmy wasn’t that much older than her. She hadn’t been lying to him, he was a cute guy. She had to wonder why he felt the need to seek her out. She’d quickly realized why of course. He just seemed shy; almost painfully so. It was obvious that Jimmy Palmer was a little nervous around women. Hence why he had needed her. She’d figured she was doing the man a favor. She could help him build up his confidence. She had just never expected to like him this much.
He was unlike anyone she’d ever met.
Jimmy Palmer was dangerous.
The more she got to know him the more she began to realize this simple fact.
She tried to shush the thoughts in her brain trying her best to play it cool and stay as calm and collected as she always did with him. “Finals week is coming. It’s always stressful. It’s nothing I can’t handle though.”
He felt the words leave him without hesitation. “Maybe when it's all over we can do something special to celebrate...Maybe we can take a trip or do something like that...anything you want....I mean if you don’t have plans. You probably have plans.”
She replied not helping but to dislike the way he seemed to deflate at his own suggestion when it hit him that she might have plans for the end of her semester that didn’t involve him. “I don’t have plans. I’m sure something can be arranged for us.”
She paused not helping but to tease him. “A trip might be nice. Though it’s a little dangerous to tell me I can have anything I want.”
He felt his spirits lift at the promise of more time with her. He felt the words leave him knowing his words rang so true. “I’d give you anything you wanted, no questions asked.”
She chuckled at this statement, her hand pressing to his cheek not help but to be amused at the way he leaned into her touch. She managed to speak ignoring the warm feeling that washed over her at the way he was staring down at her. “Like I said, a dangerous promise to make me, Handsome. You should be careful I might just take you up on that offer.”
He cleared his throat remembering something he’d been hanging on to with the intention of giving it to her in a few months. He’d planned on waiting until her semester ended but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give it to her early. Seeing her happy always seemed to lift his mood.
He could admit this gift was something special. The second he’d spotted it his mind had gone to her. To be honest he may have bought the particular gift with the hopes that the message behind it would read out loud and clear to her without him having to even say the words.
He felt the words leave him as he reluctantly pulled from her touch. “I have something for you.”
She watched him disappear to his bedroom not helping but to be intrigued. The gifts he gave her were certainly always a surprise. He’d never seemed to have any expectations with the gifts he gave her, but she always felt the need to thank him. What better way to thank him than by pleasuring him?
It was something she hadn’t exactly done in her previous arrangement. She’d always figured it wasn’t a line she was willing to cross with a client.
She could admit that it had been easy to bring intimacy into her arrangement with Jimmy. He was an attractive guy and he seemed so eager to please her. He seemed determined to make her feel good. She figured it was a good ego boost for him, she was doing him a favor helping build up that confidence. If anything she figured it was a job perk for her after all he was willing to go above and beyond to get her off. It wasn’t often a guy gave that much of a crap in the bedroom, at least in her experience. He was good in bed. So it wasn’t as though she wasn’t getting something out of the sexual aspect of this arrangement.
Still she could admit that the more times she allowed their arrangement to cross this line the more complex her feelings towards Jimmy became.
She didn’t have much time to hyperfocus on the complexity of her feelings as Jimmy reappeared holding a small gift bag.
She took it from him as he sat down beside her, the words sliding from her. “I’ll never say no to a present.”
She widened her eyes, a bit stunned by what she pulled from the gift bag. The necklace was contained in a little velvety pouch. She felt a little breathless as she stared down at the red garnet hanging from a golden chain.
Jimmy spoke the words falling from him. “I remembered you said it’s your favorite gemstone.”
He paused remembering how she had told him quite a bit about it during one of their dates to a museum. There had been an exhibit on gemstones and he’d found that Y/N knew quite a bit about the subject. He could remember hanging on to every word she’d said. “From what I remember of what you told me, garnet was actually one of the most popular stones used during the Victorian era. You also said that it’s actually associated with pomegranate seeds and that according to greek mythology it was associated with Persephone.”
She nodded her head amazed he’d even recalled this conversation. “It is. It’s associated with pomegranates due to the red hue. It goes back to the myth of Hades giving Persephone a pomegranate so she would be bound to the underworld and would have to return to him when Spring ended. So greek mythology associates it as a gift to give an estranged lover with the hopes they will return to them. Greeks used to exchange garnet to travellers as a token of safe travels.”
Jimmy cleared his throat easily remembering more of what she’d told him. He spoke unable to stop himself from saying it, his true feelings spilling from him. “Garnets are also supposed to represent friendship and...love, they’re supposed to represent passionate love.”
She parted her lips, hesitant to ask him if that’s what this necklace represented to him, but she didn’t have a chance as his cell phone began to ring, breaking his gaze from hers.
He cleared his throat as he answered his phone, his brow furrowing as he listened to the person on the other end of the line for a long while before actually speaking. “Yes, Dr. Mallard. Of course, I’ll be there right away. I understand.”
Y/N didn’t speak until he hung up the phone the moment they’d shared over this newest gift too far away to grasp again.
She cleared her throat trying to play off her true feelings. “Work calling?”
“Yeah, dead petty officer found in a dumpster behind a diner.” Jimmy admitted trying not to give away too much knowing he couldn’t exactly risk breaking evidence protocol.
She gathered her coat and her gift placing the necklace in her purse as she headed for his front door.
Jimmy walked her to the door, Jimmy and she staring at one another for a brief moment. He felt himself lean closer to her, everything in him screaming to take his chance. Everything in him screamed that he had to show her what he was trying to say with the necklace. He couldn’t keep doing this. He had to show her how he felt before it drove him insane. He needed more than this arrangement. He couldn’t fight this any longer. Even if it hurt him he had to try.
She turned her face from his silently rejecting his attempt to press his lips to hers as she spoke. “Be safe at work.”
Jimmy felt his heart ache at what was so clearly a symbol of her rejecting how he felt. Of course she couldn’t feel the same. Of course this wasn’t real.
“I will, thank you.” He stated his eyes turning from hers as she pulled from him.
He closed his eyes, his heart cracking as he fought the urge to chase after her. Her reaction to his attempt to kiss her had told him all he needed to know about how she felt. She didn’t want him, not in the way he wanted her.
He could distinctly hear a voice in the back of his head that sounded all too much like Tony’s repeating the same words Tony had said months ago. I don’t get the appeal of being treated like a human ATM.
A Human ATM, of course, that’s all Jimmy was to her. He was a fool to ever hope for more.
………………………………………………………………………………
Y/N found herself sitting up in her bedroom, the garnet necklace sitting in her hand, her mind going ninety miles an hour. The necklace, that damn necklace. Why’d he have to go and do that? Why’d he have to go and do something stupid like fall in love with her?
The other gifts hadn’t been so intimate. The other gifts hadn’t meant anything. They’d been innocent gifts; a perfume she liked, a pair of earrings she thought was pretty, a nice silky robe that cost a bit more than she’d usually feel comfortable spending on one item of clothing, a dozen roses, a pretty red cashmere scarf.
Those gifts had been nice of course, but they hadn’t had any meaning behind them, not like this necklace.
This wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to get attached. She wasn’t supposed to get attached. Oh crap, why’d she have to do something so stupid like fall for him?
It was inevitable a voice in the back of her brain told her. She’d taken him to bed, it was bound to happen. That kind of intimacy meant too much for it to just be another part of their arrangement.
That had been her first mistake; taking him to bed allowing him to make love to her more than once. That’s exactly what it had been no matter how much she wanted to say it was just sex.
It was just supposed to be sex, but then again was sex really ever just sex?
Maybe that was why she’d always told herself she’d never sleep with a client. Jimmy had made her throw out those rules so easily though. She’d given in to her own lust and it had bit her in the ass.
She may have never allowed him to press his lips to hers, but that hadn’t stopped those feelings from blooming within them.
Why did Jimmy have to be so sweet and charming and so kind and funny? Why did he have to be him?
This had been a mistake. This entire arrangement had been a mistake.
She’d realized it was a mistake from the start. She’d realized it was only going to end in disaster when she’d realized that she actually enjoyed her time spent with him.
She’d gone into their arrangement expecting it to be just like her previous experience where she had to smile and tolerate someone for a few hours knowing that it would be well worth the paycheck.
She didn’t have to tolerate Jimmy. She didn’t have to pretend with him.
She genuinely enjoyed being with him. Her heart lifted each time a call from him came. She felt a feeling of such warmth and adoration wash over her anytime he told her he needed her.
It wasn’t fair.
She had known she was fucked when she’d started feeling guilty about the deposits he’d placed into her bank account. She’d known she was well and truly screwed when she’d had the realization she’d like to spend time with him for free.
Her mind went to him far more often than she wanted. She remembered stories he’d told her or little habits he had. She remembered far too much about him for it to be just an arrangement between them.
What was she supposed to do now?
He clearly wanted more if this necklace and that almost kiss meant what she thought it meant.
This was no foundation to start a relationship on.
What were they supposed to tell people when they asked how they met? He was my sugar daddy and after he dropped a crap load of money on me I realized I was in love with him. He bought me a garnet necklace and I couldn’t deny how I felt about him anymore.
She knew how that made her sound. People already had enough to say when they found out about her little side hustle. People assumed the worst. Finding out she was dating a client would just reconfirm people’s worst assumptions about her.
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she barely heard her roommate enter the room, a small frown crossing the girl’s face. “What’s with you?”
Y/N sighed ignoring the question choosing to ask her own question. “What do you need?”
Her roommate shot her a sheepish smile as she spoke. “Can I borrow that dress you have? The green one? I have a date.”
Y/N nodded her head giving a nonverbal answer, her brain easily sliding back into her own loop of despair over this entire mess.
Her roommate spoke a small sigh leaving her. “Why are you at home? You’re usually out with the Sugar Daddy on the weekends.”
Y/N let out a soft sigh her voice tense. “He had work.”
“That doesn’t explain why you look like someone pissed in your cheerios.” Her roommate easily remarked Y/N rolling her eyes at this statement.
She spoke, deciding to just be honest about it. “Shit’s getting complicated with him.”
Her roommate spoke easily, guessing the issue. “He’s getting a little too attached?”
Y/N sighed hating to admit it out loud. “He’s not the only one.”
“Shit, well what are you doing to do about it?” Her roommate dared to ask Y/N feeling her heart crack as the only possible solution came to light.
She had kept her profile on the sugar baby website though she hadn’t had any other clients but Jimmy. She’d had no reason to. He paid her well enough to only keep him. To be honest, it had seemed almost wrong to take on any other client but him even though it was something she knew some girls did.
She sighed remembering all those messages in her inbox. She’d gotten some messages pretty recently actually.
This was a sign. She should just admit that this couldn’t last forever. It was time to let Jimmy go. He could find someone else. He had worked up his confidence with her. It was inevitable that this couldn’t last. He had to move on with his life. She ignored the way her stomach turned at the thought of him with someone else. This was for the best. She had to do the smart thing for the both of them. She wasn’t right for him. A relationship with him wouldn’t work. She needed to set him free.
“I can’t do this with him anymore. It’s time to move on.” Y/N stated hating to admit it. It was the only way this could end though.
It was inevitable.
……………………………………………………………………………………………..
Jimmy Palmer knew he’d screwed everything up.
She wasn’t returning his calls. She wouldn’t pick up when he called her. She didn’t respond to any of his messages.
It had been weeks now and it was so obvious she was ignoring him.
He’d really gone and messed everything up.
He’d lost her. Then again was she ever his to have?
How did it all get so screwed up?
He knew how, it had all gone to hell when he’d fallen in love with her.
His despondent mood was apparently noticeable to everyone despite his unwillingness to open up about it.
He couldn’t imagine anyone would understand how he felt anyhow. They would all just judge him if they knew the details behind this entire mess.
Dr. Mallard had tried to get him to open up, but Dr. Mallard was the last person Jimmy wanted to know about this entire situation. He wasn’t sure his mentor would approve of any of this. He wasn’t sure Dr. Mallard would have much sympathy for him.
Apparently his mood was so low that even Tony had taken some sympathy on him and in a very uncharacteristic Tony act he cornered Jimmy in the hallway outside of Autopsy fast to speak to him before Jimmy could say no. “You and me Autopsy Gremlin. We’re hitting a nightclub. I don’t know what your issue is but it’s nothing a night out can’t fix. I am speaking for everyone when I say we’re sick of watching you mope. I’m guessing that a woman is the only reason behind why you’re so moody. We’re going out tonight. I feel sorry enough for you that I’ll even be your wingman. You need a rebound and you’ll be good to go.”
Jimmy wanted to say no, but he’d found himself unable to get out of it as Tony had shown up at his front steps and had practically dragged him out of the apartment.
That was how he’d wound up here in a dim nightclub, the neon lights making his head hurt, the music far too loud.
Tony had already tried to get Jimmy to talk to a few girls, but Jimmy wasn’t willing to play along with any of this.
Tony had long ago given up and had promptly ditched Jimmy to go hit on a group of girls that were part of a bachelorette party. He’d tried to drag Jimmy along with him insisting that bridesmaids were always up for a fun night, but Jimmy had resisted.
He’d found himself alone at the bar debating the best way he could escape this nightclub and go home.
He sipped his drink knowing that the alcohol would only make him feel worse.
He let his eyes scan the club the smiling faces of the other patrons doing nothing but making him feel even more terrible. There were so many couples here. Seeing them so happy and in love just made his heart crack all the more.
Why was he like this? He should have known that it would end like this. This was bound to end in heartbreak.
He almost dropped the drink he was holding as he spotted her. It couldn’t be. No fate wasn’t that cruel was it?
It was Y/N and she wasn’t alone.
He felt his stomach turn as he watched the older man she was with slide his arm around her leaning in far too close to her.
She’d told Jimmy that he was her only client. Had it been a lie? Or had his love pushed her away into the arms of a new client?
He felt a wave of jealousy wash over him at the sight of her suitor. The man was much older than him and to be honest Jimmy thought he looked kind of scummy. Sure his suit was nice, and he was handsome enough. It was the way he was gripping onto Y/N though. He was holding her far too tight in Jimmy’s opinion.
As much as he wanted to turn away he couldn’t take his eyes off them.
He felt that jealousy boil down to anger when he watched the man lean in closer to Y/N whispering something in her ear. Judging by the look on her face she didn’t like it because she made an attempt to pull away. Her suitor apparently wasn’t pleased with this and took a tight grip to her arm yanking her back towards him.
Jimmy felt himself moving before he had a chance to second guess himself.
He felt the words leave him squaring his shoulders trying to make himself look far more intimidating than he felt. “Hey, leave her alone.”
Y/N stared up at him, the color washing from her face. Of course he was here. Why would fate be any kinder to her?
The guy stared up at Jimmy seemingly unimpressed with his attempts to look intimidating. “Back off buddy. This is between me and her.”
Jimmy didn’t back off his voice still firm knowing he at least had the advantage of being taller than this guy. “You need to let go of her. She’s trying to get away from you.”
Y/N spoke trying to smooth this all over before someone got hurt. “Jimmy-”
She didn’t have a chance to continue as her suitor spoke. “You know him Doll? You didn’t mention having any other clients.”
He glared up at Jimmy fast to speak again. “Listen Jim, I don’t know how much money you’ve given her, but I’m paying her tonight, not you. I dropped a good bit of money on her tonight so I suggest you back off and let me get my money's worth. You can have her back when I’m done with her. Trust me, I’m having some buyers remorse right now so you might get her back sooner than later.”
Jimmy felt his fists clench as he spoke. “I’m only saying it one more time, let go of her.”
“Or what huh? Are you serious? You’re willing to get in a fight over a whore?” Jimmy saw red at the statement and raised his clenched fist allowing it to collide with the man’s nose, a crack sounding out audible even with the club music beating around them.
The man let go of Y/N to clutch his nose, blood pooling around him he cursing.
Y/N sighed grabbing a hold of Jimmy’s wrist as she spotted a very annoyed club bouncer making his way towards them apparently having spotted the situation.
She dragged him from the room speaking to the bouncer trying to smooth over the situation. “I know, My boyfriend saw that guy harassing me, he’s had too much to drink. I’m taking him home. Please don’t call the cops we’re leaving.”
The bouncer glared down at them, his voice gruff. “Just leave the premises and don’t come back.”
She sighed yanking Jimmy behind her heading out the entrance and around the alleyway her face flushing with embarrassment and rage.
She spoke, unable to stop herself from sounding pissed. “What in the hell was that Jimmy?”
Jimmy spoke his own anger still so apparent. “You’re welcome for defending you from a creep.”
“I had it handled. I didn’t ask for your help.” She snapped back her arms crossing as she tried to control her anger.
Jimmy scoffed at this, shaking his head. “Oh yeah, you looked like you had it all under control.”
“What’s your problem. Last I checked I’m allowed to have other clients besides you.” She remarked glaring up at him.
“You said I was your only client.” Jimmy exclaimed, unable to stop himself from saying it.
Y/N sighed shaking her head as she spoke. “You were. This was my first date with this guy.”
He spoke, needing to say it. “It’s going to be the last.”
She glared up at him ready to tell him that he had no right to tell her what to do, but he spoke again the words that left him making her defenses crumble. “I just-the way he was touching you. How he talked about you, I couldn’t stand it. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, no one does. Even if this arrangement between us is over, I can’t stand you being treated that way.”
She felt a lump develop in the back of her throat, her voice soft as she spoke. “I won’t see him again...I actually...I think I’m done with this whole Sugar Baby thing.”
She crossed her arms a little tighter ignoring the shiver that ran through her. She regretted not wearing a coat tonight. The little red dress her client had sent her for tonight was more revealing than she’d usually wear.
The message from this client had been sitting in her inbox for almost a month now but she’d just replied to it earlier this week. Against her better judgement she’d agreed to a date almost immediately. She thought it was necessary if she wanted to forget Jimmy Palmer.
Jimmy sighed, spotting her shiver, taking her by shock as he took off his own coat draping it over her shoulders.
She held it against her hating the feeling of warmth that washed over her both at the warmth of the wool coat and the sweetness of the action. She managed to speak averting her eyes from him. “Thank you.”
The two stood in silence for a moment unsure of where to go from here. What could they say in a moment like this?
Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft and broken. “Why did you have to do it Jimmy? The damn necklace, why? You made everything too real.”
Jimmy sighed knowing exactly what she was asking. He spoke unable to stop himself from speaking the truth. “You can’t help who you fall in love with.”
She closed her eyes, a deep sigh leaving her. Jimmy spoke again needing to just say the words. “I love you Y/N, I love you. I know our situation isn’t typical, but I can’t deny how I feel.”
She shook her head, her eyes beginning to water as she gazed up at him. “You can’t be in love with me.”
“Why not, give me one good reason why I can’t.” Jimmy replied far too stubborn to let this go.
She spoke the words coming to her so easily. “Look at how we met Jimmy. Everything about this thing we have, it was all you paying me for my time. We never even had a real date where you didn’t pay me for my companionship. How do you even know what you feel for me is real?”
“I don’t care if I was paying you. I don’t care how any of this started. I know it’s real. I feel it everytime I look at you. I can’t deny how I feel about you Y/N. I love you. My mind is always with you. Anytime I have a moment of peace my mind goes to you and it feels like my heart is always with you. I can’t stop myself from loving you. I may have been paying you, but everything between us has been real. I’ve always been myself with you and I think I trust you enough to know that you’ve always been yourself with me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before you. It’s real to me. I love you.” He insisted reaching out, taking her hand in his relieved that she didn’t pull it away.
She shook her head still wanting to deny this. This wouldn’t work. Couldn’t he see it? “What kind of foundation is that to build any kind of relationship on? You can’t be in love with me not when it started like this. What are you going to tell people when they ask how you met me? Are you really prepared to deal with people assuming the worst about us?”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks. If they can’t accept how I feel about you then I don’t want them in my life.” He insisted his hand not leaving hers as he stepped closer to her.
He stared down at her speaking from the heart needing to say it. “We can start again if that’s what it takes. If this can’t be our foundation then we can build a new one. We can start over.”
He paused letting go of her hand and holding his hand out to her as he spoke. “Hi it’s nice to meet you, my name is James Palmer, but my friends call me Jimmy. I work as a medical examiner's assistant for NCIS. I’m currently taking classes to become a Dr. Palmer so I can take my medical examiner’s license exam. I like overly sweet coffee and I’ve been told I tell really terrible jokes. I’d like to take you out on a date, actually I’d like to take you on several dates.”
She couldn’t stop the smile from crossing her lips both hating and adoring that he was this sweet. Could he be right? Could they build an entirely new foundation? Could they start again?
She stared up at him, the answer so obvious. It was inevitable really. They’d set themselves on this path the second she’d responded to that first message he’d sent her. There was no denying how she felt.
She gave him her answer, leaning up her lips pressing to his. He managed to realize exactly what was happening easily, his hands pressing to her face deepening the kiss, it being everything he’d dreamed it might be.
She spoke as she reluctantly pulled from the kiss her voice soft. “I would love to go on several dates with you. As long as I can pay for some of those dates.”
He gave her a soft smile, his lips pressing back to hers as she spoke. “I love you Jimmy.”
He smiled into the kiss it growing in passion so effortlessly.
She spoke her voice soft as she once again pulled her lips from his. “I don’t want to be your sugar baby anymore. I think I’d rather just be yours.”
He pressed his lips to hers the answer leaving him before his lips met hers. “I don’t want to be your Sugar Daddy anymore. I’m already yours.”
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EWTBATF Vlahd x Teen!reader Oneshot
(!NOTE: THIS IS NOT A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE READER AND VLAHD, THIS IS A FATHER DAUGHTER TYPE RELATIONSHIP!
Hello! I made this oneshot for people with daddy issues who used to simp for Vlahd but now want him to be your dad. The reader uses they/them pronouns because I want everyone to be able to feel included while reading this.
Vlahd and Eddsworld The Beginning and The Friend doesn't belong to me! It's a fancomic made by Makenzie Matthews, Jaculynn Kristiansen, Alyssa Grissom and Brittany Clark. Eddsworld belongs to Edd Gould. If I use any art in this oneshot I will credit the artist and give their socials.
P.s: If this is well received, I might make a story about this, so stay tuned~
P.p.s: I know this isn't Creepypasta content, but I felt like doing something a bit different.)
!DISCLAIMER! This oneshot deals with a lot of gore, mental, emotional, and physical abuse, fighting, missing body parts, and swearing! If you are sensitive to these topics, I advise you don't read this oneshot! Also, some spoilers for the fancomic EWTBOTF, so if you haven't read it or haven't been reading it for the past few months, I urge you to do so. Not just for this oneshot, but the comic is also pretty good!
Tessellate
Word count: 3,569
Song: Tessellate - Alt J
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"Three guns, and one goes off. Ones empty, ones not quick enough. One burn, one red, one grin. Search the graves while the camera spins."
The same thing happened every single day. You would wake up to screaming, try to shower and do your morning routine without being interrupted, spend the rest of the day your home trying not to get involved with your parent's marital issues, go to school, do chores, get screamed at for not doing something right, eat dinner, do homework, cry, then go to bed. This was your life since you were ten years old. Your biological father died when you were nine, then your mother got remarried a few months after your tenth birthday.
Your parents were very emotionally and mentally abusive. Sometimes they hit you, but would feign sorrow to try to make you feel safe around them. They continued this behavior for years, until you were thirteen. Apparently, your stepfather had gotten into some shady business with the infamous Red Leader. You had to move from your home country to England so your stepfather could work with the Red Leader. You were miserable, you had lost all of your friends you had in school. You had to go to a private boarding school, you never got picked on, but you found it hard to make friends. After a few moths, you finally got comfortable with your new surroundings.
One day though, that all changed for the worse. Your mom and stepfather got into a huge argument, apparently your mom was cheating on a man in the same army as your stepfather. He hit your mom, your mom left right after that. He then hit you really hard in the face, so hard that it left a mark. You burst into tears and ran to your room. You emptied out your book bag, and threw some clothes, hygienic products, your phone and charger, etc, into it. You quietly walked out of your room and out the front door while your dad wasn't looking. You walked down the streets of your neighborhood and out into the little town a few blocks away.
Popping your earbuds in, you listen to some music to try and calm yourself down. You walk around town for a about an hour before you passed a creepy alleyway. Unbeknownst to you, a man stepped out of that alleyway. He lightly tapped you on the shoulder. You stop dead in your tracks. You shakily turn around and take out your earbud to confront the man. A man with shaggy brown hair, an eyepatch, big eyebrows, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth stood before you. Its Paul, your stepfather's mate!
Paul asked why you weren't at your house and offered to take you back. You explained what happened and Paul was shocked and disgusted with your stepfather's behavior. He took you back to the Red Army base and let you stay there. You agree and he takes you to the base. As soon as you get there, Paul took you to talk with Red Leader himself. Scared, you explain to the Red Leader what happened with your mom and stepdad. Red Leader let you stay on base on one condition. You have to serve in the Red Army when you turn sixteen. You agreed because you had nowhere else to go.
It's been five months since your sixteenth birthday. You have been integrated into the Red Army, and you have made a bunch of freinds on the base. It's not so bad working for the Red Army. You even have a father figure now. Even though you'd never tell him you consider him a father figure, in fear of him not being ready to be a dad and pushing you away. Sargent Major Vlahd has been training you since you were fourteen. You started out being very skittish towards him. You didn't know what he would do to you. Eventually, you two have grown closer and closer together.
Vlahd has been teaching you Russian, and you have been working your ass off during training with him. He has taken you under his wing and now you live with him in an apartment Red Leader has for him. All of Red's most important people have their own apartment-type rooms. Vlahd's is built with a living room, two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and an entire ass library. Your room is right across from Vlahds. You have to do chores in your and Vlahd's apartment as well, but it's a small price to pay for a roof over your head and a non-toxic father figure.
"Y/n, ужины готовы (Y/n, dinner's ready)." Vlahd calls from the kitchen, you get up from your desk and decide to finish your studies later. You walk into the kitchen and see a big pot on the stove, whenever that big pot comes out, you know he's making borscht. You celebrate in silence and take a bowl from the cupboard. You spoon some borscht into your bowl, then you proceed to the dinning room table to sit with Vlahd. A little tradition you both started to do to make tou more comfortable around him. "So, how was your day?" You ask, to get a conversation going. "Все было хорошо, а как насчет твоего (It was okay, what about yours?)?" "Mine was pretty good." You say, spooning some borscht into your mouth.
"О, между прочим, Красный Лидер хочет, чтобы я нашел солдата, который недавно ушел из МВД. Так что завтра тебе не нужно тренироваться или учиться, у тебя выходной (Oh, by the way, Red Leader wants me to go find a soldier who has gone MIA recently. So you don't have to do any training or studies tomorrow, you have the day off.)." Vlahd finishes. You nod your head in understanding. "Who do you have to find?" It was often that soldiers went MIA to try and get out of the army and Red Leader's deal. Red is a ruthless man. "Мэтт, я думаю, его зовут (Matt, I think his name is)."
A small 'ohhhhh' left your mouth. Vlahd has had problems with this soldier before. He was not following orders, so Vlahd was ordered to contain him with any force necessary. That didn't go so well. Apparently, another person with Matt turned into a fucking horned beast and sent Vlahd to the medical wing for two weeks. He had broken two of Vlahds ribs and broke his leg. Finishing up your borscht, you bid Vlahd a goodnight, put your bowl and spoon in the sink, and return back to your room to finish your studies before you go to bed.
You awake to your alarm beeping at you. Sighing, you begrudgingly get up and put on your uniform and proceed to role call . After that, you take off your uniform and pick out your clothes for the day. If you're off duty, you don't have to wear your uniform. You pull out a f/c sweater and a pair of black jeans. You get dressed and go to the bathroom, Vlahd has already left, so you have the bathroom all to yourself. You take a shower and proceed with your morning routine. After you're done, you decide to make yourself some toast and have a nice cup of coffee. After you finish your breakfast, you clean up the kitchen and bathroom out of boredom. You pull out your phone and check the time. The digital screen reads 10:36 am, you groan out of boredom. Then, a wonderful idea popped into your head, you decided to take a walk off base.
You made sure to write a note for Vlahd and stuck it on the fridge if he returns before you're back. You also ask Red Leader if it's okay. He said that it was, so you go ahead and take a secret trail off base and into a huge, lush forrest. You stick in some earbuds and continue to walk into the forrest. From this trail, there is a small town on the other side. Usually when the base runs low on food, plates, utensils, etc, there is a store where you can buy things in bulk for cheap. You also know of a small café where you like to get drinks, they have really good tea and coffee. You arrive at Le Café de Campagne and enter. You order your favorite drink off the menu. You pay and sit down at the cute tables. The café was heavily inspired by France, with relatively French architecture and design.
Cute glass tables and tall chairs are scattered around the small café, a gorgeous mural is painted on the back wall near the counter and cash register. The mural depicts a beautiful countryside with a small cottage to the left behind a field of yellow and pink flowers. In the background, snowy-topped mountains and another cottage sit beautifully. The baby blue sky and fluffy clouds pull the entire piece together. Cute black vases hold pink and yellow tulips along with napkins, salt, and pepper. A display counter with delectable sweets ranging from Macaroons to Tarte Tatin sit in the window, ready to be eaten. On top of the display counter sits a miniature Eiffel Tower, and a bunch of other mini versions of popular tourist attractions such as the Louvre and the Notre Dame cathedral. The people who work there are pretty cool as well. You know most if the people that work there, such as Andrea. She's been working at the café since it opened three years ago. She's easily one of the sweetest people you've ever met.
"Y/n, you're order is ready!" Andrea's sweet voice calls to you. "Thank you so much, have a good day Andrea!" "You too Y/n!" She calls as you walk out the door. You continue to stroll through the tiny town, looking into windows of small shops. You stop in front of a small thrift store, you decide to look around. You start in the CD and DVD section. You found a CD of your favorite band, and a Smash Mouth CD, both for lest than a euro. Obviously, you decide to buy them. You go looking around in the long sleeve shirt section. You pulled out a cute blue-grey sweater that says "Big Dick Energy" on it in bold letters, as if it were school apparel. You look at the tag, it's your size and only five euros. You take that with you as well. Moving across to the pants section, you find a cute pair of high waisted black ripped jeans. They're your size and only seven euros, so you take it. You bring your items up to the cashier, you pay, then you leave.
You decide to walk more into the forest. You take a short cut through an alleyway between the thrift store and a small bank. You push past a few stray branches and step over some shrubbery. You walk along a naturally formed pathway, admiring the beauty of the nature around you. You keep walking until you feel a droplet of rain fall on your forehead, then a couple more. You take cover underneath a tree as rain pours from the sky. You slide your small f/c backpack off of your shoulders and pull out a travel sized sketchbook and a pencil case full of pencils and pens. You take out a graphite pencil and begin to sketch out some scenery infront of you. Rows upon rows of tall oak trees sit infront of you, along with a line of small bushes keeping the trees from growing onto that pathway. The dirt pathway is damp with rain water, some weeds and flowers have managed to grow through the pathway.
After you're done, you marvel at your sketch, you're definitely putting this on your wall later. You pack up your sketchbook and utensils. You also manage to fit your new thrifted items into your bag as well. You pick up the cup that houses the few drops left of your drink from the café. You quickly make it back to town and find a garbage can to throw the cup away. The rain is still coming down hard, and it's getting dark out. You pull out your phone and check the time. Your digital screen reads 16:57 (4:57 pm). You slip your phone back into the pocket of your jeans and hurriedly walk back to base. Almost slipping in mud a few times, you make it back to base. Once you enter your and Vlahd's apartment, You speed walk to your room and peel off your soaking wet clothes. You enter the bathroom and toss your clothes into the washer to clean them.
Slipping on the clothes you bought, you put away your CDs, wallet, sketchbook, and pencil case. You flop on your bed, now bored. You decide to re-read your favorite book, you haven't read it in a while. In the middle of you reading your book, you got a text from Vlahd. 'Подойдите к входу в большую базу, это срочно (Come to the big entrance, it's urgent.' The text reads, you respond with an 'okay'. You throw another pair of shows on that aren't soaking wet and speed walk to the big entrance in the base. That entrance is usually used for big shipments of cargo, you wonder what could have happened. Anxiety begins to catch up with you and so many negative thoughts run wild in your head. Your speed walking turns into a jog, which turns into a run, which turns into a sprint. You're dodging soldiers as you sprint down to the big entrance.
"Sargent Major Vlahd!" One of the nurses says in shock. You turn the corner just in time to see Vlahd, kneeled over. Your eyes begin to well up with tears. He's covered in blood, parts of his uniform are gone and replaced with huge gashes, his left arm is completely gone. He looks up at you, he sees you almost in tears, he tries to stand back up, but one of the nurses grabs his arm. "Take him to the infirmary, stat!" She says, trying to hustle him past the crowd that formed behind the nurses. Everyone is talking around you, can't hear anything though because of how shocked and overwhelmed you are. Vlahd tries to say something to you, but he's in so much pain that he cant speak. You have people step aside so the nurses can get through to make it to the infirmary in time.
You follow them to the medical wing, you try to follow them into the infirmary, but they won't let you. That's kind of understandable though, considering he needs emergency surgery to fix his arm, or what he has left of his arm. You see him through the infirmary window. Making eye contact with you, he gives you a weak smile before passing out from blood loss. You decide it's best to go back to your apartment, and wait it out. One of the nurses gave you her number to get updates on how Vlahd is doing. She knows how close you are with him, she could tell by the look in your eyes that you were devastated when he came back. You enter the apartment and go straight to your room.
You can't help but cry. You lost one of your father figures and you sure as hell aren't going to lose another one. In the middle of you sobbing, you get a text from the nurse, saying that Vlahds surgery was successful. He's going to have to stay in the infirmary for two to three weeks, but he's going to recover. You start sobbing harder out of pure joy. You hadn't even realized that you've been sobbing for almost two hours straight. The clock on your phone reads '20:37' (8:37 pm). You quickly go out to the kitchen and heat up some leftover borscht from last night. After you finish dinner, you go to bed. All of that crying made you exhausted.
Waking up was a but hard today, but you knew if you didn't show up for role call, Red Leader would be upset. Nobody want's to upset Red, he's terrifying when he's angry. So, you begrudgingly get up and grab an extra uniform you have. Walking into the bathroom, you remember about your clothes from last night. You take them and shove them in the dryer. You do your morning routine and then throw on your uniform half hazardly in a rush to get to role call. Making it to the role call room a bit early, you check your schedule for today. You have patrol with Paul today and that's it. Patrol is just you and Paul standing outside if the bases main entrance to make sure no one comes that isn't expected. Usually these are six hour shifts, but you only have to do four today. Thankfully its only a four hour shift today, you don't think you're mentally well enough to stay for six.
After role call, you met Paul by the main entrance of the base. You two greeted each other, then stayed silent. Until Paul spoke up, "I'm so sorry kiddo. I know this can be very stressful, especially when someone you're close to gets severely injured. It's really not fair what happened to him. Hopefully, he'll recover soon and things will go back to some sort of normality." You pull Paul into a tight hug. A few tears slip out of your tired eyes.You haven't had the time to really process this information. Now that you are on patrol, you can kinda marinate in your thoughts. You pull away from Paul's embrace, "Thank you Paul, I really needed that." You sigh, wiping away the tears that stuck to your flushed cheeks.
After Patrol, you go back to your apartment and change. You change into the Maroon sweater and jeans that are in the dryer. Before you head to the infirmary, you text the nurse to see if Vlahd is awake. Vlahd is a stong man, so the nurses and doctors had to use a lot of anesthesia to keep him unconscious during surgery. The nurse said he was awake, just a bit groggy. You thank the nurse and haul ass to the infirmary. You arrive at medical wing. The medical wing is confusing as hell to navigate. Its three floors, one is where the receptionist desk is, the waiting room, and all the machines like the x-rays, the cat scans, etc. The second one is used for less severe injuries, the third one is used for intensive care. Vlahd is on floor three, room number 108.
"Hello honey, what brings you to the medical wing today?" The receptionist asks in a heavy Jersey accent. "Hello, I'm here to visit Sargent Major Vlahd." The receptionist nods and types something on her keyboard. "Oh! You're Y/n, correct?" You nod. "Okay, sign this out for me please and write your name on this." She hands you a clipboard with a piece of paper you had to fill out in order to visit someone in intensive care. She also hands you a visitor pass that you stick on your shirt. Kind of like a name tag. You fill out the paperwork and pads, then you put the visitors pass on your sweater. You give the paperwork back to the nurse. "Alright sweetie, you know where Vlahd's room is right?" You nod. "Okay, have a good one!" "You too miss." You respond to the receptionist.
You impatiently ride the elevator up to floor three. As soon as the elevator opens, you speed walk to Vlahds room. Knocking on the door, you wait for permission to enter the room. "You can come in hon." The nurse says from the other side of the door. Proceeding to enter the room, all your attention goes to Vlahd. He looks miserable. "I'll leave you twonalone for a while, just hit the bed alarm if you need me." The nurse says then leaves the room. As soon as the nurse leaves the room. You sit down next to him, and try to hold in your tears. You dont want to overwhelm him more than he probably already is. Vlahd tries to sit up, but you try to make him lay down again, he can't be straining this much. Although, considering Vlahd is a powerhouse of strength, you didn't get very far.
Instead, you gave up on fighting against him. Surprisingly, Vlahd pulls you into a tight hug. "Все в порядке, дорогая, все будет в порядке (It's okay honey, it'll all be okay.)." You broke down once again, sobbing into Vlahd's shoulder. You unknowingly grabbed fistfuls of his gown. "P-please don't ever leave me, I can't handle this, please d-don't ever leave me dad-" you cut yourself off has soon as 'dad' left your mouth. "I'm so sorry Vlahd, I-I didn't mean to- " "Y/n." Vlahd silences you. "Все в порядке. Я горжусь тем, что являюсь твоим отцом. Ты чертовски ребенок (It's okay. I'm proud to be your father figure. You're one hell of a kid.)." Vlahd states, you hug him once again.
"Thanks, dad."
#ily <3333#ilysm <333#<3 <3 <3#<333#eddsworld#x teen!reader#oneshots#tbatf vlahd#Vlahd x teen!reader#writers#writers on tumblr#eddsworld the beginning and the friend#ewtbatf
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DSMP AU :D
Gods abandon children all the time.
It wasn't uncommon for children to find each other, be it on the road, travelling to somewhere that even they didn’t know existed, or, perhaps if they were the lucky ones, in a school among the rest of humans, where their godly heritage goes to die. It was up to opinion if losing heritage was worth it. If not, the children left a means of shelter to follow the path of uncertainty, chaos, without education or any guarantee they would see the beauty of dawn, or her loving embrace.
Like all abandoned children, twelve year old Tommy was good at something. It may not have been dancing, or cooking, or baking, or sports, or… a lot of things. But, the blonde was good at something. He was good at counting steps, and he was good at breathing, and smiling, and he was really funny. Although, according to the other abandoned children, in the abandoned children villages, none of those were things to be proud of. Tommy hated coming across villages. In truth, calling them villages made the places sound nicer than they were. If you were lucky, you could come across a village that was really just a house. Most of the time, however, these villages were just a group of children in whatever shelter they could find - painted in brilliant roses of risk, with brushstrokes of broken glass, or the potential to be discovered and torn apart like useless paper, soaked in water.
Following the train tracks, as Tommy had done since he left the certainty of a foster family, led the blonde to many villages. Some villages only had two or three people, some had ten, one even was in the thirties. Tommy knew to avoid the bigger villages as a child with no insight on his godly parent. He had no powers to rely on, much less any intimidation. He was a scrawny kid carrying a stick, a backpack full of things, with a bandana around his neck, and a bandaid on his nose. Lesson one of being an abandoned, Tommy discovered, was to avoid big villages with bigger kids, or risk being beaten with your own stick. Tommy was only lucky they gave him bruises.
Despite having life, rather literally, beat him down when he was already low, Tommy followed the tracks with an uncanny sense of optimism. He sang for himself when even the birds were too tired to listen. He told himself stories when the forest did not. He still cheered as excitement swelled in him when a train passed by, even more so when he checked the time and found that the train came later. He was moving somewhere, farther from where the train was coming from, but that meant he was heading where it was going too. Time was still moving, and so was Tommy.
~
Meanwhile, in the passing train, there hid a pair of twins who lived on the run their entire lives. On the caboose, out of sight from the authoritarian eyes of adults, was Techno and Wilbur. One with pink hair, tusks, and pointed ears, the other a brunette and unnaturally human looking for being Techno’s twin. They were both fifteen, soon sixteen, with enough years of experience to know the natural law of being an abandoned child: Lesson one. Do not trust anybody.
While Wilbur was sitting near the caboose exit, knees tucked under his chin, Techno was studying a map of the city the train was heading to. The city was named Las Nevadas, and nicknamed “The City Who Never Sleeps”. Someone of human descent says it’s because of how busy the gambling city was. Anyone of godly descent knows it’s because Las Nevadas was a place untouchable by the gods, including the god of sleep himself. It was the perfect place for Techno and Wilbur.
Las Nevadas welcomed artists, of all kinds, and, they hoped, they would not be discovered as abandoned children long enough to be hired by someone. There were most certainly flaws in the plan, and the twins weren’t quite sure what they would say about Techno’s appearance, but they were clever enough to figure out something. It was fake, they could say. Techno loved the theatre, especially a character from a local play from their far away town that they definitely came from. So much so that he decided to dress like them everyday.
“Techno…?”
“Yes, Wilbur?”
“I’m hungry… Do we have anything left?” Techno set down the map and checked his bag. Staring at the rather empty contents, Techno took out the last sandwich he had made from their last stop. After giving that to Wilbur, Techno gave his twin an orange and his metal water bottle. “Thanks, Techno…”
“Eat slow,” Techno picked up his map. “We still have an hour until Las Nevadas…”
“Okay…”
~
The City Who Never Sleeps. It was always a facit of conflicting viewpoints coming together to drown in the losing game of gambling. It was giving individuals jobs to work themselves to death. It was an approximation of a monster that never slept, just continuously fed on the poor souls it, and its creators, lured in. It was infectious. A disease that allowed people to walk like the living dead, with local folklore painting it as so alluring the pride and joy casino, Los Amantes, first ever built, lured in gods.
All who lived in Las Nevadas, from the richest sinner to the poorest saint, that one phrase that dictates all in the city. Those who haven’t learned it perished mercilessly, their souls ripped from their bodies and minds to be sold to the highest paying bidder.
Lesson one: the house always wins.
From between the buildings, continuously wandering through alleyways, there was a tall child, just reaching fifteen not too long ago. His eyes were a misty purple, his pointed ears tilted towards the ground. He was an obvious abandoned child. If one couldn’t tell from ears or normally red and green eyes, then his skin of black and white was the giveaway. Truthfully, it was uncharacteristic for him to be in public and, if there was no other choice, then he would be in disguise. To have him wander so dangerously close towards the busy streets was suicide.
“Ranboo!” A hand grabbed the sleepwalker’s, yanking him away before he could get into trouble. Ranboo hissed, struggling, but his companion was much stronger than him - albeit shorter. “Come on, not again…”
His companion went by Tubbo, an abandoned child left behind before he was known to have existed, then yet again when he was growing into his demigodly features as a small child. He kept his brown hair over his eyes, blocking anyone from seeing their yellow glow, and always kept his pants baggy to cover up his goat-like legs. Surviving through the streets, being a thief, getting an odd job once or twice, all led to him taking care of Ranboo and another abandoned child. Nights like these, where Ranboo was “sleepwalking”, Tubbo searched for him. Sometimes it took minutes, sometimes it took hours. Tubbo had trained himself to wake up an hour after falling asleep just for these occasions, but predicting everything was impossible.
“Hisssss,” Ranboo snapped at Tubbo, literally hissing and snapping his jaw.
Tubbo snapped his fingers at Ranboo. “Don’t get mouthy with me, mister!”
The sleepwalker went quiet, making tiny noises Tubbo couldn’t describe - or replicate, for that matter. Tubbo dragged Ranboo back to their makeshift home, made from the fifth floor of an abandoned office space that had yet to be torn down. It was a stuffy place and it was hard to transform into a decent enough space to live, for both themselves and baby Michael. It wasn’t an unwelcomed surprise, just one unexpected. Ranboo freaked out, but who left a baby crying behind a trash can to either starve or freeze or get eaten by raccoons. Tubbo wasn’t expecting a baby, and was thankful Ranboo had some semblance of childcare knowledge. Tubbo supposed there was some benefit from being raised in an orphanage.
Tubbo panicked when he heard Michael crying, the abandoned child swore the baby was asleep. Before Tubbo could react, Ranboo near sprinted past him to attend to the baby. Out of his sleepwalking phase, Ranboo picked up Michael and soothed him to sleep. Tubbo smiled a bit, relieved, and watched his platonic partner while leaning on the doorframe.
Michael didn’t sleep easily, especially if he can’t feel Tubbo or Ranboo. It’s why Tubbo moved his makeshift crib into his and Ranboo’s, for lack of a better word, room. It was just a mattress with a sheet Ranboo stole from the orphanage when he escaped, a blanket Tubbo stole, and pillows they managed to save up for. It was comfortable, appearances being deceiving of course. Michael surely thought so, resting as Ranboo set the baby on one of the pillows.
“... you should go back to sleep, bossman.” Tubbo mumbled, taking off his coat and letting it fall on the floor. “Under the blanket too, it’s too cold for that shit.”
Ranboo made a small noise, brushing some of Michael’s hair out of his face. Tubbo shook his head, sitting on the mattress.
“He’s fine…” Tubbo assured him. “And you’re fine! It’s not like you’ll sleepwalk again, you’ve never done that before.”
Ranboo, hesitantly, laid down, and Michael moved to cling to his face. Tubbo muffled his laugh, throwing the blanket over all three of them.
“Night, bossman.” Ranboo mumbled a goodnight.
Nights in Hell can only stay cold and dark for so long.
#dsmp#dream smp#dreamsmp#dsmp tommy#dsmp tommyinnit#dream smp tommy#dream smp tommyinnit#dsmp ranboo#dream smp ranboo#dsmp tubbo#dream smp tubbo#dsmp michael#dream smp michael#dsmp au#dream smp au
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TUA DISNEY AUs: Big Hero 6 (Pt. XVIII)
(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the film) (not to be misleading or anything :p)
(BEWARE: abuse, murder, corruption, mental health issues, unhealthy coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation, death, grief, violence, basically i took the sad montage after Tadashi dies and just kept going with that except without the whole "getting better" thing, sorry, my bad, enjoy anyway i guess i don't know, bye, etc.)
(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)
(Hiro) Vanya hasn’t much of a head for science - not since a gas explosion in her childhood apartment killed her parents and exposed her to radiation, leaving her brittle-boned and sickly. She spends most of her days holed up in her room, reading and writing about every little thing she sees and hears and feels. There’s this cat in the alleyway she feeds sometimes, and her friend Ben who comes by to see how she is every few days. The only time she goes out is for school, or bot fights down in the bad neighborhoods. At those she gets to see Ben, and his partner Klaus and his friend Diego. Oh, and Sissy - the beautiful, shy punk girl who spins the records in the corner store. Vanya lives what she considers a pretty average life - until Ben dies, she screams, and all the windows around her shatter from nothing.
(Tadashi) Ben has been a science nerd for years, spending hours in the libraries and labs researching every little thing that catches his fancy. His partner, Klaus, has no such interest, having more of a head for poetry, but Ben loves him more than life itself - especially since Klaus was the only person who stuck with him when one of his experiments went wrong a few years ago, resulting in tentacles that are prone to ripping out of his chest when he’s angry. And since he loves Klaus so much, he spares not a second thought to running back into a burning building to get him back, even when it means certain death. And Ben knows you can’t bring back the dead - he tried when Klaus’ beloved boyfriend Dave died in a gunfight a few years back. Once you’re gone, you’re gone - or so he thinks until he wakes up and Klaus starts crying and muttering, You’re here, you’re here, you’re here, I did it, I did it, I did it - and Ben reaches out and thinks, Oh, no, sweetheart. You didn’t.
(Honey Lemon) Allison was engaged to Ray before he disappeared, but even after that failed experiment lost her the love of her life, she continued to work for the forward movement of science and kept her vow of love to Ray. Using her research, she managed to create a pill that allowed her to bend reality, hoping to bring back Ray. Though she couldn’t raise the dead - no amount of I heard a rumor Ray was alive again worked - she won herself other advantages with her newfound powers, including sponsors, knowledge, opportunities, and protection. Klaus, Diego, Five, and Ben are her only true friends in this world - and she nearly loses all of them when Ben dies, drowning in their grief. When Luther, one of Five and Ben’s passion projects starts hanging around to monitor their mental health, Allison finds a new kind of love - deep, ever-lasting friendship that she’ll never give up. Even when they have to leave him behind on the moon after they save Ray, she doesn’t let him go - she finally knows how to speak up for what she wants, and speak up she does: I heard a rumor that Luther came back to me.
(Fred (actually a mash-up of Honey Lemon and Hiro though to be honest)) Klaus is a starving artist and poet, and he's covered in tattoos of his own words and drawings. Diego is too, because Diego loves him, and Klaus wants to love him back and probably does already, if he’s really honest with himself, but he’s not ready yet. Dave happened too soon ago. And then there was a fire, and Klaus was running around outside, looking for Ben, looking for the platonic love and light of his life, and he saw him run inside screaming Klaus’ name and never come back out. And he lives with that guilt every day, smoking and drinking all the bad shit again in an effort to just forget, forget, anything goddamn anything to forget, and he goes crazy. People forget, because he’s not a student at their nerd school and because he acts like a dumbass, that Klaus is actually just as much a genius as the rest of them, and whatever he wants, he can get without much trouble. So what if he can’t bring back the dead? He won’t live without Ben, he won’t, and he won’t leave Diego - which leaves only one option, really: find a way to make himself see ghosts.
(Wasabi) Diego lives a charmed life. Truly. He’s almost been assassinated fifteen fucking billion times, his two best friends are robots, and he’s in love with a person too sad to love him back. See, Diego’s skills brought him to the military’s special attention - he found a way to make weaponry that doesn’t obey the laws of physics. He keeps it as secret as he can, and will sell it to nobody, but millions of people are still after it. It’s not until one of the assassins almost nails Klaus with a bullet and Diego kills her with a store-bought kitchen knife without moving that he realizes the weaponry he created isn’t special, but Diego is. From then on it’s nothing but trouble - because Klaus likes to dumb himself down, but he can’t fool Diego, and so when he starts screaming at empty air and calling it Ben, Diego isn’t surprised in the least, though maybe he should be. Instead he just sighs, opens his arms, and lets a sobbing Klaus fall into him, loving him more than he did yesterday and less than he will tomorrow. Diego has his home, and he has his people, and he has his powers - and he will defend them to the fucking death.
(Gogo) Five is bitter and grumpy, living off coffee and perpetually crazy. He’s brilliant enough to have done surgery on himself, implanting an AI pacemaker in his heart named Dolores from an accident that nearly stripped him of everything, his life included. He was born with special powers, both of which fuelled his fascination with science, but he keeps that secret close to his chest - he’s seen what people do to Diego and Allison, and he has no interest in that. He’s close with the others, somewhat, though his impassable genius makes it difficult for people to understand him - Diego gives him piggy back rides and he often falls asleep curled into Klaus’ side, and Allison gives him rides home and Ben builds robots with him. But as hard as he finds it to connect with them, it’s even harder to lose them - so when he realizes he can use his time travel powers to save Ben, he doesn’t hesitate. And then he’s dying in Klaus’ arms, and he’s watching as his favorite person in the world chooses to lose the love of his life all over again to save Five, and something deep inside him changes.
(Baymax) Luther is a medical robot, built by Five and Ben in their spare time. There are some videos in him, mostly of Ben talking to Klaus because Luther was meant to be a gift for Klaus to help him with his depression, anxiety, PTSD, anorexia, and addiction, etc.. Five adds grief counseling to his programming and gives him to Klaus on his first birthday after Ben’s death, making Klaus dissolve into tears. While Luther clashes with Diego, who hates him for surviving where Lila didn’t, they get along well enough to appease Klaus, because Luther knows Klaus loves Diego and Diego knows Luther helps Klaus. When they travel to the moon to get Ray, Luther winds up stuck there, unable to get the others home if he doesn’t stay behind. Klaus and Allison both have trouble letting him go, but Klaus forces Allison to come home with him, crying as he leaves Ben for the third and final time. When Allison brings Luther back, his videos still intact, Klaus touches Ben’s face on his chest and cries, cries, cries.
Lila is a malfunctioning masterpiece, and Diego’s best friend. He made her as a help robot, but she’s a prototype, and was rejected for her proneness to violent outbursts and catatonic episodes. She’s easy to manipulate, as Diego never bothered to fix her security protocols, but it’s not like there’s anyone else who talks to her - except Five, and he’d never touch her programming without Diego’s explicit permission. She sleeps at Diego’s house, in her charging station next to Eudora’s. Lila knows robots can’t feel love, so that isn’t what she’s feeling - but her wires are tied to Eudora’s in some way, she just knows it. They’re two halves of the same code. But she never gets to explore that link - she burns away to nothing in the fire that destroys the Handler’s minions, using the last of her strength to save Five from the flames. She hopes, when Diego finds his baby brother curled in her charred corpse, that he’ll bury her in the rain, and keep on living without her well enough.
Eudora is a suicide-prevention robot. Seriously. That’s all she’s here for. Ben and Diego built her together for Klaus specifically, programming her with some of his favorite jokes and references so she’d have an easier time talking him down from the edge when one of them can’t be there. She’s programmed to instantly call Ben, Diego, Five, or Allison immediately if she finds him doing dangerous things, like playing with Diego’s knives naked. (It happened one time. Seriously. True story.) She’s calm and gentle, unruffled and kind, and Diego often spends hours talking to her, because she may be programmed for Klaus but she can still help anyone who needs it. He nearly looses her to Cha-Cha, but Klaus saves her just in time, beating Cha-Cha to a steaming hunk of scrap metal with a baseball bat for trying to hurt his best (robot) friend. She’s not saddened by Lila’s death, per say, she can’t be… but when she’s downloading databases on panic and anxiety attacks for Diego and Klaus, she makes sure to save some on insomnia for herself, too.
Sissy is a botfighter, one who dresses in a black and magenta punk aesthetic to fend off strangers, too shy for the world. She messes around with Vanya, the two of them often dancing in the rain and finding joy in the small moments, but happily ever after was never in the cards for them. Sissy lives with her abusive boyfriend Carl and has their son to take care of, an accident from too many beers - when Carl murders her in a drunken rage, it’s less of a surprise and more of a solemn inevitably. Her son, Harlan, is placed in Vanya’s care, and Vanya travels the world with him, telling him everything about his mother she knows. It’s a bittersweet ending, but a hopeful one too.
Ray was a student at the nerd school before he became a therapist, using his incredible mind-healing technology to help people all over the world. Allison fell in love with him quickly, easily, and the two were engaged before the year was up, planning for a spring wedding in which Klaus would, obviously, be the flower girl. But when he was offered the chance to go to space as a therapist for the other nine people on the mission, he jumped at the chance, bidding Allison goodbye and heading to the moon. But something went wrong and he was lost to the world, along with the other nine astronauts, all of whom died when the ship crash-landed. Ray has been in a coma for years there, having been knocked out in the explosion, and remains that way until Luther brings him home, Allison having come for him at last. (When he’s well enough to, he takes care of Five, Klaus, and Diego, whose mental states have been steadily declining for years. Their robots are brilliant, of course, but there are some things you just need a human for.)
Reginald is the dean of the nerd school and also an asshole. He has a habit of killing students when they get in his way, or to steal their inventions as his own - and he gets away with it too, because he’s at the forefront of memory technology and quite literally erases these people from existence so nobody comes asking questions. Plus he’s got connections in the government that destory any records he needs destroyed. He had a couple of kids he wanted to get rid of the night of the showcase, and started the fire to make it seem like an accident - well, Ben actually was an accident, he wasn’t on Reginald’s hitlist, not yet, but whatever. It is what it is. What Reginald doesn’t anticipate is Klaus - because nobody ever anticipates Klaus - and so he thinks nothing of it when he confesses to Ben’s murder in his monologue in front of all his former students. He can just erase their memories later. Or so he thinks, until Klaus lets out a savage war cry and lunges forward to strangle him, killing him in cold blood without a second thought, and so is the end of Reginald Hargreeves. (Five takes the fall for his murder - not that it matters. Diego and Klaus break him out and the three of them disappear, never to be seen again - at least, not until Allison’s done manipulating every single person in the world into forgetting it ever happened on live TV.)
The Handler is Reginald’s finest invention: a flawless AI in a perfect human body. Problem is, she became bored of being his servant years ago and took over his life, blackmailing him into doing whatever she wants. Most of the killings are still his idea, and Ben certainly wasn’t her fault, but it’s the Handler who wants Five dead, and it’s the Handler who sends her reject minions after him. She wants Eudora dead and she wants Klaus deader, but she gets neither - Five finds her and hacks her into little tiny pieces, putting all of them in a fire and then shoving those ashes into an Iron Maiden, dropping the Handler to an inescapable grave. Fuck her “life”.
Hazel is a teddy bear with a security camera in his stomach. He sits on Agnes’ counter in her donut shop, just watching the goings-on even though nobody ever steals anything there. Mostly he’s held in the lap of Five, who comes into Agnes’ whenever he doesn’t want his friends to see him cry - over a failed invention, Klaus’ most recent suicide attempt, Lila’s death - whatever, you name it. Agnes takes care of him, making him milkshakes when he asks for coffee, and eventually sends Hazel home with him, asking him to take care of Five for her. He doesn’t know it’ll be the last time he ever sees her - two weeks later Agnes is killed by Reginald and her donut shop is ransacked by looters. Her memory lives on in Hazel and Five, who rebuilds and reopens the shop with Klaus and Diego and Allison after a couple years, renaming it for Ben and living on despite his grief, and Hazel sits on the counter again, watching the sunset through the glowing windows.
Cha-Cha was supposed to be one of those “oh-hey-we’re-not-racist-anymore-we-make-black-dolls-too-see?” Barbies. She ended up with a rather experimental kid who enjoyed robotics and horror films, resulting in Cha-Cha: an AI in a Barbie with chainsaw arms. She kidnaps Klaus under the Handler’s orders, as he’s a connection to Five (who the Handler wants to kill) and Ben (who’s the only connection to Reginald and the Handler’s murders). This backfires spectacularly, of course, when Eudora and Diego come for him: Cha-Cha goes for Eudora’s throat and Klaus breaks himself free of his binds and beats her to smithereens with a baseball bat.
Leonard used to hang around Vanya, just generally assaulting her and being a creep, until suddenly he disappeared one rainy Monday never to be seen again. His body was found rotting in a lake a couple years later. It was revealed later on that he had decided to and succeeded in making real-life replicas of the Five Nights at Freddie’s characters, and they hadn’t been too fond of him trying to boss them around. The Handler recruited the replicas later on for her own schemes, and they followed Reginald rather well, their appetite for people satisfied well enough. But Leonard remains the school legend, and a striking reminder to be careful what monsters you let live.
Grace is the queen of the Land of the Remembered, and you may be wondering what she’s doing in this story. Well, to put it simply - Reginald’s little games have been messing with her shit. There are perfectly kind and memorable people who have come down to her only to be erased in the Land of the Living within the week, leaving her no choice but to take them in as refugees, working out a deal with the Land of the Forgotten since they weren’t given a fair shot at their deserved afterlife. She takes care of Ben when he dies for the second and final time, appearing to assure Klaus he’ll be alright when he crosses over. This is when Diego finally learns the truth about his mom, who has always been home in time to make dinner and never missed a single milestone, and who is apparently also an all-powerful goddess. She gives him a hug and tells him his boyfriend is cute (He’s not my boyfriend.) (You’re holding hands, darling. You may be an oblivious idiot, but I’m not.) and then she heads off, though she’s always back with Ben for the holidays. (Not Lila, unfortunately. She has no jurisdiction over robots.)
And Hiro is ace-aro and he and Miguel are QPPs, and Honey Lemon and Wasabi are QPPs, and Fred and Wasabi are dating, and Gogo is an bisexual aro queen with a girl she likes to kiss in the back alleyways, and Hiro has two sisters named Violet and Boo and Tip is his ace-aro lab partner. You’re welcome.
#tua#the umbrella academy#big hero 6#disney#the hargreeves & friends#kliego#ralluther#eudorla#vanya x sissy#five &x dolores#klaus &x ben#hazel x agnes#hazel & cha cha#i don't know this is really sad and really dark#whatever#my bad#have a nice day y'all#bye
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Summary: Thane thought his time of seeing color was over. Soulmates AU.
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Sunset-colored eyes.
They were the first thing he saw, really saw. The flight of poetry struck him like a bolt when he peered through his scope and saw not the back of his target’s skull, but those eyes. Thane had never seen a sunset, in the truest sense, but when he looked into her red-orange eyes, he thought they matched perfectly with what descriptions of the sight he had read. Surely this was the stunning phenomena which had captured so many artists and poets—not that Thane considered himself much of either.
The ruddy orange of Irikah’s eyes, the cool yellow of her scales, the blue flush of her throat—the defiant outrage in her face—the sights flashed against Thane’s eyelids every time he shut them, and the sudden onslaught of color dizzied him. He barely finished the job—he did finish, he always finished—but when it was done, the stranger still hounded his heels, her accusing glare burning through his eyes even when he was alone.
That first night, he caught sight of his reflection in a pane of glass, and stopped him dead in his tracks. Green—his scales were green. It was the question every young drell asked the first time one of them was able to see properly—What color am I? Thane had been told—but how did one describe a color? Now he understood—understood why the answers of those with sight failed so badly, how they flopped around and bit their tongues trying to answer the question. Thane did not habitually linger in the open, even when he was not on duty, but that night he stopped in the alleyway and stared, like a blind man seeing his reflection for the first time. Green. Had his parents been green, he wondered?
Kolyat was a beautiful sea-green, all foamy and blue and mottled with darker swaths. Thane was glad he had the memory of the sight, though it was locked in Kolyat’s childhood—if his scale colors had shifted at all since then, Thane was not aware.
It was inevitable that he should track down the yellow woman, but Thane only realized this when he had done it. She was tormenting his conscience, clawing at his eyes, her thundering, soundless voice penetrating his dreams—there was no rest. By the time Thane found her, he could do no more than throw himself at her feet and beg forgiveness for this avenging disciple of Arashu sent to punish him for his sins. She staggered away from him, reaching for the defense pistol against the wall, but her hand stayed and he saw her tremble. Her lips moved, just a wobble, and he thought he saw the beginning of a question on them. What color...?
How much time had they spent together in the early bloom of their tenderness, tracing over each other’s patterns, describing their surroundings, inventing new metaphors and similes to illustrate one another? Each new color was a delightful surprise and on more than one occasion, they purchased things simply because it was a color they had not seen before (the day Irikah ran to show him a necktie she’d found that was teal, though neither of them wore such ties; the day Thane gifted Irikah a basket of red-green-yellow fruits because he had never known a fruit could be so many colors at once).
And Kolyat! Irikah was no painter, but Thane arrived at the house one day to see her agonizing over an easel, tongue poking between her lips, scrutinizing the baby lying on the floor beside her. The image was no more than a mottle of Kolyat’s colors (“Abstract,” Thane pronounced), but they hung it on the wall anyway. They marveled over him anew, as if they had been granted their sight all over again. But wonder did not last: food wanted purchasing, and the roof wanted keeping up, so Thane returned to work, and Irikah tended to Kolyat, and cursed the Illuminated Primacy for its carelessness with the children in its charge.
He was on a job when the world dissolved again. At first, he did not realize what had happened—the area was so dark and gray already that the absence of color did not immediately register. It was only when his hand passed through his vision, as gray as his surroundings, that it became clear.
Thane Krios did not leave jobs undone—but he killed four other people in the frenzied flailing to down his target and return to Kahje. His pay was halved, later, for causing such a mess.
To his deathbed, he maintained that entering that house was the hardest thing he ever did. There were no colors—but there was the smell. The sharp tang of blood, and the sweeter, more insidious smell of rot. Irikah was gray, the shimmering gloss of her yellowness lost to him forever more, sucked out of the world. It was cruel, and perfectly fitting—why should he see, when the only thing that mattered to him was discarded on the kitchen floor like a displeasing rag doll, limbs askew, eyes dull and unseeing, the taint of death wreathing her like a cloud of poison. Thane did not know what pain was—not until that day. Anything that came before were the pinpricks of a child’s scraped knee, and now he was holding his heart in his hands, watching the blood stream in rivulets down his arms.
Kolyat was gray, too. When Thane finally found him, coaxed him out of the closet where he was hiding, had been for days, the resplendent blue-green-black of his scales was gone, just shades of muted gray, and a shivering child too frightened even to weep. Thane pressed Kolyat’s face into his chest as he carried him out of the house, though Kolyat had lately insisted he was too big to be carried. If there was one last act of parental mercy he could give to Kolyat, it was to spare him the sight of his mother’s defiled corpse.
Irikah’s sister and her husband were gray when Thane passed Kolyat over to them, and her pleas for him to stay, to let the saga end with Irikah’s death, were white noise. Thane had never known how to get along with Irikah’s family, having had none of his own that he knew, but it had sometimes pleased him to sit on the sidelines and be an observer to their familial warmth, if he was not wholly a part of it. Now, even such pretenses were gone. Thane did not have a family—but Kolyat should have one.
To work once more in black and white, Thane had to train himself to see again. He had grown too used to the color, and the grays began to blur together. So too did the passage of time. It took years to hunt down every last one who had contributed to her death. Kolyat was a teenager when Thane was done, and then, a stranger. So just as before, without direction, Thane returned to what he was trained to do. It was only biding time—his lungs would take care of the question for him sooner or later.
Nassana Dantius was a job difficult enough that it might speed along the process. Kolyat was an adult when Thane took the job—must have been nearly twenty. Older than Thane had been when he left the Compact to marry Irikah. Older than Thane had been when Irikah birthed their only child. Thane prayed Kolyat made better decisions--that Thane’s absence might at least spare Kolyat his influence. Irikah’s sister had not spoken to him in many years, and Thane did not press it.
Imagining that Thane did not feel anymore after Irikah’s death was a fantasy, even for him. For a long time, things were dampened, but he knew still anger, pleasure, amusement, even a rare moment of peace. When he saw someone trying to steal his kill, it roused something he had not felt for some years—irritation born of a wound to his pride. How long, since he had been a cocky youth, allowed to take solo jobs younger than any other assassin working with the Compact? Since he had strutted about like an animal flashing its crests, marking his territory as the most talented and promising young assassin on Kahje? Thane did not like to think of himself as that same callow boy—but he knew the child existed in him still, and he was howling his displeasure at the thought of being bested, as some strike team crashed through Nassana’s hideout, forcing Thane to double his speed. Just because he meant to die here, or shortly after, did not mean he would allow someone else to take his kill.
Thane Krios did not leave jobs undone.
And while the human—it was a human, wasn’t it, despite the motley crew?—wasted time talking, Thane swiped Nassana out from under her nose. Assassination was an art—and he would not be shown up by anyone.
But the competition did not rage or shout or shoot as he had expected. In fact, they were wholly unconcerned with Nassana’s death.
“My name’s Commander Shepard,” the human said, reaching up to pop her helmet off. “And I’m not here for Nassana. I’m here for you.” What a confounding place the world was—as Thane tried rapidly to figure what anyone in the Alliance could want with him, he studied the Commander’s eyes, searching for answers. What kind of person targeted him on a job? Put so much work into hunting him down, but not to kill him? The penetrating brown of the Commander’s gaze, a few shades lighter than her scale-less skin, was marred by a red glow, an unmistakable sign of bionic implants. Commander Shepard had brown eyes.
Commander Shepard had brown eyes.
Commander Shepard had brown eyes.
“You have brown eyes.” Thane spoke without thinking, shock punching through his considerable defenses (an assassin with a loose tongue did not live long).
Commander Shepard had brown eyes.
“Uh. Y--.” She squinted in the light, and he watched as her eyes began to flick around wildly—he knew the reaction. It was the same one he had had after catching sight of Irikah for the first time. “Yes. I do.” She mastered herself quicker than he had, forcing her attention back to him, batting away the explosion taking place before her eyes. What kind of person was this Shepard? “But more importantly, I have a job to do. And I want your help.”
Thane took the job.
When Kalahira finally came for him—so many years after he had begged her to hurry—he kept his eyes open to the end, so the last things that tethered him to the world might be Kolyat’s sea-green scales, and Shepard’s fair brown eyes.
#thane krios#shrios#irikah krios#mass effect#mass effect fanfiction#irikah x thane#me fanfiction#fanfiction#rocky writes#amondi shepard#shepard x thane
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Art Brought Us Together- Preserum Steve X Reader
This is a lil present for Steve’s Birthday so!!! Happy Birthday you cutie!!! -Selenophile
He was an artist.
was
Now he’s fights in Germany, dancing along to death’s ballet with unskilled HYDRA soldiers. He’s become the American Dream for so many back on the home front. He’s the star-spangled man with a plan, advertising war bonds - a term he probably never understood, since after all he dropped out of high school - to inspire nationalism among the population.
Steven Grant Rogers was the one, the only, Captain America.
At one point, though, he was an ordinary everyday artist. Attending painting class every Monday. Sketch every Tuesday. Perspective on Wednesday, etc etc. Missing his train by 5 minutes due to his disorganization. Always having at least 1 or 2 blotches of crimson decorating his skin or white collared shirt.
At one point, though, he was an ordinary everyday artist. Attending painting class every Monday. Sketch every Tuesday. Perspective on Wednesday, etc etc. Missing his train by 5 minutes due to his disorganization. Always having at least 1 or 2 blotches of crimson decorating his skin or white collared shirt.
Sickeningly skinny. Asthma ridden windpipe. Blistered knuckles. Beautiful baby blue eyes that told a million stories his mouth couldn’t.
That was the Steven Grant Rogers you knew. That’s the Steve you fell in love with.
Both of you met in an advance art class in the center of Brooklyn. You were drawing out the basic shapes of the fruit bowl when he stumbled into his chair. Your eyes couldn’t help but dart over to the young man. You heard his heavy-as-a-ton gasps of air, you watched the gross salty beads of sweat drip down his brow. What caused the struggle? He was 15 minutes late to the first class. Missed his train by 3 minutes ( which later wouldn’t surprise you as much ). His small hands swiveled down into his bag and-
Nothing was in there.
You had to help him out at this point.
“Here” You spoke up softly, sliding a piece of sketch paper his way. “just take some of my paper”
His head gently turned towards you, the redness of his cheeks resembling a perfect cherry tomato. Not only was he embarrassed he left all his stuff at home, you were just simply gorgeous. Pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty voice.
Overwhelmed, he took the paper rather slowly. His thank you came rather slow too. With a nod of your head, he turned away and started to work.
You didn’t think much of him after that. The skinny little boy who sat next to you in art and occasionally needed paper was just that. Of course, you thought he was adorable, but just not your type. The disorganized life he lead just wasn’t for you.
That thought all changed though.
It was late at night, at least two months into the corse when your changed your mind on the boy.
You braved the streets of Brooklyn, hoping for a smooth night. You didn’t not receive that. Cat-Calling lead to name calling which lead to you being followed. You had so many fears in your mind. Were you going to be attacked? Robbed? Worsening thoughts came to your mind as you found yourself running away from two big men behind you. Alleyway was a dead end. You mumbled your last goodbyes, blew a kiss up to your parents, and prayed you’ve been good enough for the afterlife.
Until you heard him
“Leave her alone!! She’s done nothing to deserve whatever you plan on doing to her!”
It was the kid who sat next to you in art. Small, skinny and ready to fight.
The two men laughed real hard.
“And what are you going to do about it?” One of them bruted.
Blinking was such a bad thing to do. One minute the men where approaching the little man, the next both of them were holding their jaws and you were being ran out of the alley.
The boy’s asthma catched up with him though, and they were blocks away from your apartment. Luckily, you were close to his. That’s were you hid for the night.
He placed you down on an old ottoman, fetching you a glass of somewhat cool water.
The first thing he asked you was: “are you hurt?”
You shook your head no in response. Weakly taking sips of your drink, you saw his sigh of relief.
“Thank god your-“
You can’t help but interrupt him “No no, thank you. Without you I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. I don’t ever wanna find out what would happen to me.”
Heat returned to his cheeks, just like they did on the first day you two met.
“Ah shucks, it was my pleasure”
The room went silent before you finally learned your hero’s name.
“Oh, I’m Steven Grant Rogers. Steve is just fine though. And You are?”
“Y/N”
“It’s a pleasure to finally know you Y/N”
From there on out, it was smooth sailing between you two.
He wouldn’t let you walk home alone anymore. Some nights it was you and him, sometimes his friend Bucky tagged along. Either way, you two wouldn’t shut up about art and books and yourselves until you arrived home safely.
One night, while the sun hung real low in the sky and the moon was waiting for its chance to shoot into the atsmosphere, he asked you a question.
“Can I take you out somewhere, someday pretty girl?”
Your smile widen. “You may Steve”.
That first date became the best date of your life. He set up a nice picnic in the park. You two laid on the comforting green grass for hours. You just enjoyed being with him, and he was enfatuated with the ideas of seeing and being with you.
That night you slipped you fingers together. It was a perfect puzzle. Interlocking them wasn’t painful, nor uncomfortable. Your hands just fit so well together.
It was destiny.
You two continued going on dates after that. Movie dates, Dinner dates, Park dates, Art Dates. One day he took you into New York City just so you could say you’ve been. After each date you became more intimate with him.
On the first date you held hands, the second date you held each other in a big hug. The third date you spooned his cute little body snug into your chest. Forth included waist holding, Fifth included arm clinging. It wasn’t till the ninth date when he kissed your cheek, prompting you on the tenth to kiss his plush, pink lips for the first time.
It was magic the way you two kissed. You felt your stomach flip, he boticed fireworks exploding in his heart. His hands made their way to their rightful places on your cheeks. Gentle thumbs rubbed the soft skin you beheld. Now, your hands met his hips, where rubbing the bone made him giggle and blush more. Both lips danced together in a rhythmic motion. It reminded you of your hands: perfectly interlocked.
He moved into your place a month later. You cuddled every single night, anyways switching positions time to time. Little did you know he was moving back out a month later.
“War...stevie, your joking....”
“I need to play my part, Y/N. People need my help...”
“You act as if your the only man out of that battlefield...”
Tears spill out of your eyes. His little arms wrapped around you. Steve was such a sweetheart and you were about to loose him to war. You wish you could stop him, but you knew that was impossible. That big heart of his didn’t stop him back in the day, it won’t stop him now.
“Fine...but I want you to give me the best night of my life before you go, do you understand me?”
“Always”
And so, that night finally came around. Bucky left a long time ago. He had no choice as he was drafted. But Steve. Steve was to leave for a Jersey training camp at 6 am. He could stay. They could kick him out for all his physical ailments. They wouldn’t though. He’s already gotten this far on lies.
He sits next to you on the bed. Your body immediately collapses into his
“Don’t leave stevie...I need you here with me”
“Y/N, you know I’ll return to you”
“And if you don’t?”
Steve laughed a bit before he said “then you can fetch me out of my grave and kill me again for hurting such a beautiful girl like you, my wife”
You pause, allowing your head to tilt off to the side. “Wife?”
Steve slides a golden band on your finger. “Wife. I’m going to marry you after the war, if you allow me to that is”
You sit up, raindrops falling from your cloudly eyes. You never nodded so hard in your life.
He keeps his promise too. He gives you the best night of your life. You honestly couldn’t believe he had such talent in him.
“Congratulations Stevie, you have taken away my virginity” you say between your pants.
“Mine as well, Y/N”
You wake up to an empty bed. Well, not completely empty. There’s a note that reads “I love you more then I ever loved anyone else. I’ll see you before you know it”
Before you know it was 80 years later. At 97 years old, your son, Steve, places you in an elderly home. He visits you at least once a week. This day, though, it wasn’t your son Steve visiting you. It was a past husband of yours.
“Y/N....my name is St-“
“What took you so long? I was starting to think I had to beat your ass in heaven. “
He laughed weakly, your hands interlocking perfectly. Just like they did back then.
“I love you Y/N....my wife”
“And I love you Steve....my husband”
Send all suggestions to the inbox! 💌
#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#preserum steve#preserum steve rogers x reader#captain america#preserum steve rogers#marvel imagine#steve rogers imagine#preserum steve imagine#steve rogers one shot#preserum steve one shot#marvel one shot#marvel#mcu#chris evans
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Summary: Roman is Roaming around.
Word count: 3,108
Ship: It’s a surprise! Shush!
Warning: drive-by/gun violence, major character death and grieving, ghostly nonsense, angst ft. lots of tears, broken glass, like 2 (?) swear words, Deceit exists but it’s just his name, hurt with minimal comfort (if there is any at all), please let me know if I missed any! “It’s awful and sad, don’t read it.” -my friend
Author’s Note: ... Carrie Underwood is inspiring. I was sick the other week, so I wrote this. I would like to thank my friends for reading it for me and catching my mistakes, also screaming “What have you done?!?!”. They’re some real ones. I also am currently undecided on leaving it like this, or forming a part two with a better resolution... It’ll come to me eventually! Enjoy! :)
I’m just going to tag a couple of people, because that’s what other people do, idk: @altruistic-skittles @fearfilledvirgil @notalwaysthevillian ... @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @things-we-used-tc-share @stormcrawler75 idk, I just like all your writing :,)
“Roman!”
Roman jumped awake in a cold sweat, trying to settle his breathing. He looked around, gathering information regarding his surroundings. He noticed it was dark, and he was outside- aka: not in bed within the safe hold of his husband. As he continued, he concluded he was in an alleyway. He stood up, dusting the dirt off of his jeans and exited onto the quiet street.
He continued walking, trying to think of the possibilities of why he woke up in an alleyway, though he couldn’t figure it out. His memory was hazy, seemingly not being able to remember the last twenty-four hours, (at least, that was his guess.) He shook the thought as he eventually approached his doorstep, ready to curl up next to his husband and sleep for as long as possible. He started his search for his keys in his leather jacket pockets, as well as his jeans, but came back unsuccessful. He frowned and turned his attention to the potted plant by the door, knowing there was a spare at the base of the plant.
But, as he went to reach for it, he couldn’t believe what he saw.
A leaf of the plant going straight through his hand.
His eyes widened and he gasped as his knees buckled under his weight. Tears threatened to prick his eyes as he fell to his knees, wishing what he saw was all imaginary. He looked towards the door, and then back at his hand. He reached out to touch it and instead of feeling the wood of the blue door, his hand passed through without a care in the world. He pulled back almost instantaneously as the tears were now streaming down his cheeks and hiccuped sobs escaped him.
Roman Knight was dead… and he didn’t know why.
~
He sat on his doorstep for god knows how long before he finally noticed the sun start to peek over the houses across the street. He stood up, with tears staining his cheeks, and turned back to the blue door that caused him to break down just hours earlier and decided to step through. Once he was through and into the living room and open kitchen, he noticed the abundance of flowers amongst any surface that was available, as well as cards and other tokens of condolences.
“Well,” Roman said to himself, “at least it’s evident that I’ll be missed.” Roman gave a half-hearted chuckle as he continued through the room and found the stairs. He continued up, stopping when he reached the end to look at the photo that had been recently hung, adding to the small collection of family photos.
It was of him and his husband as well as their seven-year-old son, appreciating the newest addition to the family, that sat in his husband's arms, with wide eyes and tender smiles. The seven-year-old was desperately attempting to poke the new addition before Roman grabbed his hand and whispered, “He’s sleeping! If you poke him, he might wake up.”
“But I wanna hold him!” The seven-year-old frowned as he removed his small hand from his dad's grasp, crossing his arms once he was free. Roman gave a soft chuckle and ruffled his son’s hair before pressing a kiss on top of his head.
“How about you hold him when we get home?” He asked as he turned his son towards him. The small boy’s eyes beamed with excitement and he vigorously nodded, turning back to see the baby in the other man’s arms.
With that memory, Roman shook his head and brought his hand up to his eyes, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill out of him. He turned and continued down the hallway, approaching a room with a red door: his bedroom. He sighed before stepping through it with shut eyes, fearing what he might see on the other side.
Once he was through, he opened his eyes, mouth falling agape at the sight before him. The once pristine space was currently in a state of chaos. Clothes littered the floor, along with a digital alarm clock upside-down on the floor, (reading 6:55 AM). Drawers were remained open, picture frames that were on their dressers were now flipped.
Roman felt his heart snap in half.
He continued further into the room, turning toward his bed, relieved to see his husband fast asleep. Roman didn’t think he could handle the emotion if he were to be awake. He walked closer to the foot of the bed, watching his husband’s chest rise and fall under the purple comforter. Roman walked around to the left side of the bed so he could see his husband’s face. His brown, semi-curly hair was sticking around in all sorts of different directions and with his glasses off it could be seen that his eyes were a tad bit puffy. Roman continued and noticed his skin was only the slightest bit paler, making his freckles stand out against it. Roman smiled softly at the sight of him. A sense of peace surrounded by all the chaos.
He was about to head out of the room, but he stopped when he noticed a newspaper on the nightstand out of the corner of his eye. He contemplated ignoring it, to head off and check on his sons… but his own curiosity got the better of him. He turned to face the nightstand and read the headline: “Drive-By Within The City.”
Roman’s head began to spin as different noises filled his ears. Police sirens, people screaming, tires screeching across the pavement. He groaned in agony as he pressed his hands against his ears and shut his eyes, hoping to drown out the any and all noise. Though, that didn’t solve anything.
When he decided to open his eyes, he was back in the same alleyway where he woke up.
~
Roman walked along the sidewalk with a small grocery bag in hand as he reached into his jacket’s pocket for his phone. It was getting a little late, so he figured he should call his husband to tell him.
He just had to reach his car and he would be on his way.
Roman quickly found his husband’s contact and clicked his number, bringing it up to his ear and letting it ring. A wide smile broke onto his face when he heard his voice.
“Roman? Where are you?! It’s almost time to eat!”
Roman chuckled at his husband’s distress. “I’m sorry, Lo. I had to get some stuff done before I left work. I’m on my way home right now!”
Logan sighed on the other end of the line and Roman continued to giggle. “It’s alright. Though, when you get home you must talk with your son.”
“What is it this time?” Roman asked, “Did our little prince draw on the wall again?”
Logan giggled at the memory of a tiny boy, showing off his masterpiece of purple and light blue crayon.
“No,” Logan began, “he did, however, draw on the baby.”
Roman burst out laughing, and he could hear Logan chuckling across the line. “Roman, this is serious! Virgil thinks he made Patton beautiful by putting small blue flowers on his arms!”
Roman cleared his throat once his laughter died down, “Of course it is! I’ll talk to him when I get home, don’t worry about it.”
“Thank god. I don’t see why he doesn’t list- hey!” Roman could hear Logan being interrupted by a stifle of giggling quickly passing him. “What are you doing with the marker?!”
Roman quickly swallowed his laughter before Logan had the chance to reprimand him, “I think you need to go after our little artist.”
Logan let out a dejected sigh, “You’re right. I’m going to go after him, prevent him from drawing on his brother again. He has red, he’s probably contemplating ladybugs. I love you, Roman. Drive safe please.”
“I will,” Roman began, not noticing the screeching tires behind him, “I love you t-”
Roman was cut off by the sound of a gunshot and a burning fire in his side. He grunted as he fell to the ground, gripping his side and listening to the other people scream and some more gunshots in the distance. The world around him was becoming blurry as his eyelids became heavy. He carefully pulled his hand off of his side to see it covered in blood. His breathing was becoming light as the burning turned to ache. Police sirens could be heard in the distance, but it was too late.
Roman’s world slowly faded to black, and the last thing he heard was the faint voice of his husband on the other end of the phone.
“Roman!”
~
Roman’s thoughts were interrupted by the blaring sound of an alarm clock and the faint sound of a baby crying, forcing the previous sirens to fade away. He noticed that his face was wet from small tears escaping his eyes while he was out of it. He brought a hand to his face to wipe them away and walked away from the paper that was still sitting on the nightstand.
Roman Knight was dead… and now he knew why.
He turned to face the bed, standing at the foot, when he heard a small groan come from underneath the pillow. He noticed Logan, who was once peacefully asleep, locking the pillow over his head with his arms- prolonging the inevitable, no doubt.
Roman stifled a small laugh. Logan was always more of a night owl.
“Y’know,” Roman began, “if you didn’t stay up to look at the stars all night, you wouldn’t need an alarm!”
Another minute passed by before Logan finally flung the pillow off of his head and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Roman watched as the rest of his husband’s movements became sluggish- from searching for his glasses, (which were under the bed), to walking over to the dresser and retrieving a red t-shirt from one of the pre-opened drawers. He then bent down and shut off the alarm that was continuing to scream.
Before Logan could get to the door, a faint knock was heard and the door opened to reveal a small boy in purple pj’s, and his black hair sticking up in every direction imaginable. Roman’s heart swelled at the sight.
His son was adorable.
“Daddy, your alarm is loud,” Virgil stated as he tried to begin entering the room. He was quickly stopped by a wide-eyed Logan who scooped him up in his arms, shutting the door behind him to which Roman decided to follow. Virgil released a light screech at the sudden movements. Roman continued behind them as they began to walk across the hall.
“I’m sorry, Virgil,” Logan began, voice drenched in sleep, “daddy didn’t hear it. I also broke something, so you can’t go in there right now, okay?” Virgil gave a small nod against Logan’s shoulder.
“Broke something?” Roman furrowed his eyebrows as he whispered in confusion. He only saw a mess, he didn’t see anything that was broken- especially to the point where Virgil wouldn’t be able to enter the room. Roman decided to turn back, re-entering the bedroom to search for the said broken object.
Once he entered, the search began. Roman looked under the bed, in the closet and the bathroom and on top of his dressers but still came up short. Roman groaned and tilted his head back in defeat, ready to exit the room and completely move on. He brought his head down to look at his feet as he was walking back toward the door when he finally noticed tiny pieces of glass on the ground underneath the tall dresser that was closest to the door. Roman looked up to see a dent in the wall next to the dresser, to which he tilted his head in suspicion.
Roman continued to walk around the foot of the bed and towards the tall dresser, only the slightest bit afraid for what the smashed object may be. Once he reached the corner of the mattress, he followed the dent that was on the wall down to the ground and tears threatened to spill out of his eyes when he saw what was before him.
He saw a smashed picture frame, with a picture of him and his bespectacled husband on their wedding night, peeking through shattered glass. Logan was rolling his eyes, for there was a bit of white frosting on his nose, while Roman was looking at him fondly while trying to hide his laughter, though it was nearly impossible.
The tears were now spilling from Roman’s eyes as he gave a small, but sad, smile; wishing he could pick up the broken pieces of what he saw before him.
Before Roman had the chance to walk away, his head began to spin and the once fading sounds of a baby crying were now turning into glasses clinking and people chatting. Roman shut his eyes, though it was much more bearable than the last time, and once he opened them he wished he never went looking for the broken object in the first place.
Across from him, he saw a twenty-four-year-old Roman and a twenty-three-year-old Logan, holding hands and walking down the aisle; away from the arch from where they presumably said: “I do.”
~
“Roman, what are you doing?” Logan asked as he grabbed the long knife off of the table, ready to cut the cake. He was looking at his now husband, who had a dollop on frosting on his finger.
“I’m not doing anything!” Roman gave a mischievous smile.
“You are aware that you’re supposed to wait until the first slice is cut for this typical wedding scenario, correct?” Logan blinked at Roman while the other just shrugged.
“You’re right,” Roman began innocently as he stepped closer to his husband. Before the other could react Roman swiped the frosting onto Logan’s nose, “but this is a lot more fun!”
Logan simply rolled his eyes while Roman chuckled, along with their guests that were watching the scene unfold. Logan set the knife back down on the table, feeling it currently unnecessary.
“Alright,” Logan smirked as he obtained a small amount of frosting on his finger, “if that’s how it is going to be, then I will just have to do the same!”
“Wait-” before Roman could even begin to protest through his laughter, the frosting that was once on Logan’s finger was now on his cheek. Their audience cheered in delight as Logan snorted at the offended look on Roman’s face, mouth agape and eyes wide. Logan continued to laugh, with Roman eventually giggling, stepping closer to the other.
Soon, bright green eyes met bespectacled blue ones, both reaching for the long knife to the right side of the cake, and finally deciding to cut it.
~
The scene quickly faded as Roman was once again in his bedroom, bringing his hand up to smear away fallen tears. He looked to the left of him, about to head for the door but couldn’t help but notice this was not the same room he was standing in moments earlier.
This room was neatly organized, pictures that were once flipped were now standing face up on the dressers. Roman looked to see that the glass that was once scattered on the ground was nowhere to be seen, along with the frame itself. When he looked up he saw that the dent in the wall had also vanished.
“If God could stop fucking with me, now would be the time!” Roman said dramatically, spreading his arms out to make a point. He started to turn around and face the foot of his bed, “I’m starting to get real tired of this bullshi-” Roman’s voice trailed off at the sight of Logan, wearing a black suit with silent tears rolling down his face as he clutched the once missing picture frame close to his chest. Roman’s heart ached at the sight.
He’d never seen him look like this.
Roman opened his mouth to say something, though he knew the other wouldn’t hear him anyway. But, before he could there was a knock on the door.
~
“Knock, knock!” Logan heard Remy on the other side of his bedroom door, knowing damn well that he himself should be on that side as well.
He just didn’t have the will or the energy.
Logan let out a soft groan as he fell back onto the purple comforter, still clutching the same photo he’d been looking at for the past day and a half.
He didn’t want to let go.
“Sweetie, if you don’t open the door in the next five seconds, I’m going to break it down!”
“That won’t be necessary,” Logan began, voice hoarse from his lack of talking, “considering it is unlocked, there should be no need to break it down.”
Remy sighed as he entered the room, catching sight of the man before him through his sunglasses. He walked to the foot of the bed, sitting down next to Logan’s legs and folding his hands on his lap.
‘Y’know,” Remy began, turning to look at Logan’s face, while the latter continued to stare at the ceiling, “your son missed you over the past day or two. He’s downstairs wondering if his daddy’s okay. He’s easy to distract, though. Yesterday his ol’ Uncle Rem decided we should break into Uncle Devlin’s reptile room and pet his snake. Virgil thought Ryan was chill. Hashtag: get the child a corn snake, 2k19.”
Logan stayed silent, not breaking eye contact with the white paint above him.
“Girl, you’re going to have to say something. I’m not a mind reader.”
With that, Logan sat up, bringing the photo that was at his chest down to his lap, stroking the edges of the frame with his thumbs. He glanced towards the other man, who was currently adjusting the sleeve of his black dress shirt and then glanced back down at the photo, taking in the past smile of his husband.
A smile that he, nor Virgil, would ever see again.
A smile that Patton would never even remember.
A smile that was taken from the world too soon.
Before Logan could even process what he was doing, he threw the picture to his right, smashing it against the wall, leaving a noticeable dent and glass shattered on the floor. His body shook as it wracked with sobs, tears no longer flowing silently as Remy wrapped his arms around him, rocking and soothing the other as he hiccuped for air.
Roman Knight was dead… and Logan was barely surviving.
#thomas sanders#sanders sides#sanders sides fic#logan sanders#patton sanders#virgil sanders#roman sanders#remy sanders#deceit sanders#tw: death#tw: violence#tw: guns#tw: angst
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Killjoy Headcanons - Backstories
(Just a heads up: warning for mention of suicide. It's a very brief mention and doesn't go into any detail at all but here's a warning just in caseies)
Okay, to start off, when they all met, Party and Jet were 13, Kobra 12, and Ghoul 11 so, they baybies
Jet:
- Baby Jet was born in the city but smuggled out into the desert at a real young age, like 5 or smth
- The people who got him out were murdered in front of him within the day and he ended up running and wandering to a neutral town still in his bloodied BL/ind Children's Wear™
- Was taken in by a couple where the guy looked like off brand Brian May
- His name was Red Special
- Am I saying Queen existed in The Zones?
- Perhaps.
- A few days later a Drac patrol came looking for Jet, and Red and his wife dirtied him up and made him look like just another dust baby so he wouldn't get recognised as easily. It worked and Jet Star Will Remember That.
- Jet and Red would look up at the stars at night and make up stories about the shapes they saw. It helped Baby Jet calm down a lot and it started his love of space
- His adoptive parents would call him things like Star Baby and he kept the Star part for his name later on
- He would draw a lot and ended up making his star logo when he was just an baby (He drew a lot when he was older too, whenever he had the time, and was actually a really good artist)
- Eventually Jet started to get restless and Red suggested that instead of him wandering the Zones, he go work for Tommy for his band of child runners so he'd at least explore with a set destination
- Besides, Tommy couldn't say no. Red had a favour from Tommy. No one knew why
- Jet met Pony and Dr. D that way
- Tommy liked Jet but he stood up for Pony too much (who TCM didn't and still doesn't like) so before he was Jet Star, he was Cup Noodle as per the Tommy Chow Mein naming conventions
- He ended up learning how to be a mechanic during this time
- Payment for one of Tommy's jobs was an old acoustic that Tommy didn't want. Red taught him how to play but he eventually started to learn on his own
- He found an old abandoned trans am and ended up managing to push it to the diner somehow where he'd work on it
- Was 12 when he told Red and his mom that he was gonna go out on his own and ended up calling the diner his home
Ghoul:
- Ghoul grew up p much alone in the shady part of The Lobby, greasy orphan rat baby
- Probably also friends with actual rats in the streets
- Learned that being loud and fighty is the only way to stay alive
- Somehow got caught in the crossfire in a gang fight, wrong place wrong time. He got sent off for re-education because BL/ind didn't believe he wasn't a part of it
- Was just. Out of it dead inside for a while until he started coming back to himself faster than they would have liked
- He started freaking out because he didn't know where he was at all and wound up getting more aggressive than he was before
- Tried to kill himself to avoid going through any more BLI Brand Torture Torture™ but got caught and ended up getting re-educated a second time
- Started thrashing before it started and got his face gashed open on some instruments, getting his Glasgow smile
- Took even longer to come back out of it the second time but still came back faster than most do after a re-education
- (Sometimes he would lose himself, just go blank because Re-Education Fucks Up Your Head)
- ((Meant he would end up drifting along, lost like a ghost, which is where he got his name))
- He managed to escape and went to cause fucking Hell in the City which included torching a Drac car and fighting four Dracs in it on his own aged 3 barely 11
- He strung that motherfucker on fire!
- FIRE!!
- He's got a deathwish now
- He never lost the deathwish
Party and Kobra:
- Party and Kobra are related to the director, she's their aunt, meant they were high class in Batt City
- They lived in the main BL/ind building and at night they'd sneak out of their rooms to the prison cells to talk to the imprisoned 'Joys inside who'd tell them about life outside The Battery and what BLI did
- They saw Ghoul in one of the cells and Kobra ended up seeing his second re-education where he sliced open his cheek. Meant they ended up getting re-educated themself to forget the trauma (and to try and rewire their brain to get rid of their autism too) ((same thing would've happened to Jet if he hasn't gotten out before they could properly screen him for it))
- That's what gave Party the initiative to try and escape
- Party and Kobra snuck out to get hair dye from a backstreet Killjoy store. Kobra kept watch while Party went in there and they got ganged up on by a group of teens who decided they were gonna do some not so savoury shit to them because they're "an entitled brat who needed to be shown the reality of the world."
- (They also called them a snake, because of their link to BLI who'd betrayed everyone in terms of what they promised to do for the citizens, so they took it and owned it for their own and that's how they got the name Kobra Kid)
- Party heard that shit starting to go down from the alleyway so it barely lasted any time at all. That was the first day he'd ever killed.
- Party decided that that night was the night they'd run
- They knew to run to Lemon Drop and Apple Fizz to get them out of there and on the way they ran into Ghoul and brought him with them.
- Kobra and Lemon talked for a good long while. She helped them calm down and get into a good enough mental place for the time being so they could get out of the city. They owe her their life and they're still good friends to this day
- Once they got out and were hidden in a little shack, Ghoul found out they were upper class, got angry and went outie 5000
- He came back like three days later and apologised and they set off into the desert
- After a while they noticed they were being followed and started to freak out and they found the diner where Jet jumped them, screaming in Zonelang and no one knew what anyone was saying, Jet tried harder to kill them when he realised they were from Batt City, it was a mess, Ghoul nearly died
- They eventually started to trust each other after they saved Jet’s life at some point and their friendship only grew from there
(( big thankies to @peepeepoison for helping me get this written into a coherent format ily ))
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10/7/2019
brandon and i went down to the train tracks by the la river. parked the car in the arts district. down past the “soho warehouse” the social club up on the rooftop and the barely reformed warehouses bombed-out looking.
we’d walked around the industrial quarter of downtown at night earlier in the week. putrid smell of clothes and trash on the ground. i don’t know how clothes and stuff gathers like that for the homeless. there are smells downtown that make me worried i’m going to get a disease. a lot of things originate here. roaches and rats and old-school plagues. the tents here in los angeles are really really intense. some are big. they mark off sections of the sidewalk and you don’t see what’s going on inside (Behind cloth walls). people stick together and make tent cities. a lot of the houseless people look like just average citizens. just normal people who haven’t been tattooed by homelessness yet. we walked past people staggering under the floodlights trying to erase the darkness of the alleys. weeds 6 foot high these new weeds that i dont remember from before that now remind me of places like this. they grow tall and ugly and hairy almost, they grow straight up. brandon and i walked looking for a burger shop. i was more scared than he was. past a van blasting mexican music, the kind with trumpets and sort of a ballad. at first i was comforted by the sound but by brandon’s hesitation i noticed it was weird to play such a thing to an alleyway, at 2:00 in the morning.
getting home to a warm bed was a relief. somewhere warm and safe where you don’t have to look behind you or be afraid. we saw a guy walking who kept looking behind him. we saw black and white helicopters flying overhead, LAPD, so many. we saw industrial workers at these giant wholesale warehouses getting things ready for the morning. pulling things out of trucks and putting them in. it felt safe there too. it felt like the kind of situation where you could die but probably wouldn’t. there were hibiscus flowers.
the thumping gunshots of the hardcore rave we’d gone to when getting here felt so wrong. $20 each for security guards, warehouse space and paying the artists well. young friendly healthy-looking people with a table of dj equipment. meanwhile we’re in the middle of one of la’s many hoods and a uniquely terrible one. the angry aggressive electronic music carries for blocks of this derelict place and the uncomfortable looking tenant building next to us. i wonder what homeless people say about the warehouse parties that go on in skid row and the fashion district. it’s a tale as old as time for the artists to go where it’s cheap and grimey but the discrepancy felt too great and it felt wrong to stand on the rooftop where cool kids were hanging out and smoking cigarettes and looking out from the tower onto the rough and deeply dangerous and deeply unwell street. as we left a man staggered in our direction from the mouth of the alleyway and we went in the other direction.
at another warehouse party i attended in skid row the streets were alive with homeless people, there was no sidewalk because the tents took up the sidewalk and so the people that lived there and hung around there took to the street. the streets were filled with people like a slow-motion bedlam. a woman sitting on a broken stool saw us first, getting out of the lyft, looking lost. she told us to come and told us exactly where the rave was. we said thank you and were grateful for her kindness because we were afraid. she offered us weed or meth and said had we got anything and we said no, she asked if we had money and my friend max who is wonderful this way gave her twenty dollars. we should have left then but had stayed too long and four or five others came over and they asked for money too. we didn’t know what to do because we all wanted to be kind to homeless people in that naive way and we just stood there and began to catch the attention of others who began coming over from the farther reaches. the first woman asked us all how old we were and at this point i hostilely lied. max told her the truth. then a tired-looking black man with glasses came down from somewhere and told the original woman that it was time for us to go and to leave us alone. he said it like he knew her, like they were family and they listened and they all went back.
we went into the rave guarded by a big strong man and the walls were 10 feet high and made of cement with barbed wire on top. inside was plasticky neon basic EDM music and lots of people. and it was so loud no one could have slept next the building. it made me think about rising waters and tension and the possibility of riots. us safe in our cement barbed wire and the oceans of suffering outside. i think of someone saying “just let me look at you” and spreading them apart with a magnifying glass, a rape of the city. brandon and i are obsessed or at least very interested in these insanely tough neighborhoods and i can’t think of why it’s not poverty tourism. i think it’s okay but you have to talk to people and not treat them like animals and you have to understand that this isn’t an aesthetic. it’s hard because i aestheticize everything especially the dark parts of life but increasingly when i come home after experiences like this i feel stressed. it makes me feel precarious. i feel like i’m doing some kind of duty if i do it right but i’m also afraid i might die. LA isn’t providence. if i was ever scared or worried in providence, LA is the big dogs it’s the major leagues it’s where all this shit gets ever more concentrated and ever more stark. i get scared when we get home at night. i don’t know how many people, poor people have to tell me that this life fucking sucks and i should never wish it on anyone so why would i even go here. it’s so not normal and it’s twisted. but i can’t stop because i feel like there’s something i have to do, maybe, and i just have to be careful that i don’t become another arm of the culture-raping gentrifying cycle but for this to actually be it.
anyway when i start talking about my privilege i just end up in this endless cycle thought machine so i’ll tell you what we did and what else happened.
after that night we went to the la river and i parked the car in the arts district and we started looking for a weak spot into the river. i thought it’d be a kind of safe tunnel through the city because there’s a bike path i’d biked along at some point as a kid. but there was no sidewalk next to the river here and it was all fenced off to get there in the parking lots of factories and warehouses and restaurants, well fenced or gated, and there were people around. so we walked and walked and found a place at maybe baby 667 took a right. brandon kept saying maybe baby maybe baby and we walked into the back of a wholesale truck place where the cargo crate attaches to the wall of the building like the tunnel between an airport and airplane. nothing there, no way in. we went the other direction towards a construction site and there was a way in there, it was a sunday so construction was halted. there was a fence we could easily have crawled under into what looked like a tunnel down into the river next to a metro building, but we weren’t sure if a ticket person was sitting in the booth in the parking lot and we walked nother 40 feet past a man in an orange and yellow reflective vest who looked at us a little funny.
for the life of us we couldn’t find an opening, it must have been an hour. i was surprised. into the arts district through hennesy and ingalls it felt like we were being directed. or protected. it got super rich and gentrified, turns out after verve coffee roasters skid row was .2 miles to the left, but we were being directed along this long shaped metal outside-tunnel wall thing through the safe parts and we started getting frustrated thinking we were losing the river because there’d never be a weak spot here.
we reached a bridge that would bring us across the river to the other side and thus into east la. i knew we had to ascend the stairs, i just knew for some reason. next to another or the same metro building with crabgrass we took one last look at a possibility -- a weakly fenced crack between two buildings. in front of the fence was a stinky pile of waste and i lifted my pants and hopped across it afraid to touch it even with my feet as brandon held back behind. it was truly a crevasse, about four feet across and it looked like there were people in or recently had been. brandon sort of wanted to go but i said it looked strange, something wrong, claustrophobic. when we ascended the stairs of the bridge and looked down the crack ended in a dead end. somebody had lived there like a snake in the rock. trapped themselves but banking on the idea that no one else would want to take the risk and enter either. jon said it was like literally being backed into a corner, no other place to go. he said it was sad.
we crossed the bridge and saw a man that startled brandon but more on that later. we took a left to keep going north up along the river but almost immediately i took a breath. there was writing on the wall that looked strange. it looked like it had been written by a white crusty. it had this bloody dripping quality, scrawled and was almost a paragraph, some sentence i dont remember about the water rising perhaps. and when it distracted me or sort of spoke to me i suddenly realized that that was it: the opening.
we went through the space between the bridge and the building and suddenly we were there. a big gravel parking lot with rusted traincars parked and empty. to our left under the bridge a homeless encampment. a latina woman walked in the opposite direction of us between tent and sink or something like someone just going about their fucking day in the glare of sunlight and public and the hunched stress of poverty, but also just a young woman living. i didn’t feel unsafe much at all near them. people form tent cities often to feel more safe. community and protection behind cloth walls and the neverending threat of having to move and leave a lot of what you’ve got behind and stake out another place in unknown territory on the street.
the parking lot had a surprising amount of cars in it. i actually dont know how cars drove in there. a lot of the cars were kind of nice and some were driving kind of weirdly, backing up and making U turns or just circling a little bit. not like they were waiting to make a drug deal though. just this weird collision of privacy out in the public. a man and wife and two little kids got out of the car and started taking pictures with their iphones. of the la river and the train tracks. there were a number of people like that. brandon and i were both in ponytails and loose and dark clothes, tucked so nothing was sticking out, comfortable clothes you could move in, dark in the heat. we walked right past the family who looked at us almost like we could be the dangerous ones. we walked past them along the tracks, under the bridge and into a new sort of zone. not directly into the la river because it is remarkably visible and vulnerable, wash of sunbaked gray cement through the whole city -- could see us from a mile. we walked along it though we did see a tunnel going from the riverside into the underground of the city.
a sign said no trespassing no dumping though we saw many putrid piles of homelessness that brandon said were very much like the ones he saw at the border. people have to leave their stuff behind and he called them artifacts, photos of family and religious items, which was beautiful to me because many of these items were so disposable and transient. and the stink of displacement, the stink of stress on people’s backs. we saw many of them and heard voices in the shadows the way you heard animals and i had to remind myself that this was not the apocalypse, every man for himself, these were people living behind cloth walls in the back alley we traversed in the heat. we tried to walk quietly on the tracks themselves. a tent under the bridge solemn and silent like a shrine.
we walked quietly on the tracks themselves so our feet wouldnt rattle the gravel of slag and asphalt. actually i told brandon to do that. i think he’s street smart but sometimes he surprises me -- he doesnt slip or sneak. i sneak like a cat when im in places like this. i dont know if he’s right to be unafraid to me he’s being a dope. brandon had brought the weed without me realizing and it was time to smoke. we sat to the side of the train tracks back out from under the bridge in the yellow heat of sun and dried out los angeles plant weeds waiting to be revived by rain which grew thick here unlike other places where they just die. he lit the joint and the trouble started.
we heard a train whistle in the distance and we were both like shit active train tracks. railside traffic lights had turned green and we thought the train was coming just as the no trespassing sign became obvious in front of us. usually trespassing isn’t a big deal but sometimes it is. once in a park a sheriff found us with his flashlight off way in the hedges and wrote us all up.
plus we were high. so we ran to the opposite end of the track where we could crouch behind a low wall and kept sipping on the joint which almost caught fire to my hair and the weeds lol. then brandon looked at his watch and it was time to go so he could make it to work on time. so we went up the hill behind the wall because we heard traffic and thought it might be just a street. plus we found a modest footpath made by a person. industrial relics, old rusted things with many pieces lodged in the side of the hill we passed. brandon said this was the same at the border too, these little paths. he followed me because i’m good at scrambling. and we slowly poked our heads up and it was...
a construction site. another empty one. the traffic right beyond. i felt vulnerable out in the open like that -- we were even visible to some of the road, and it looked like someone could come out from one of the bulldozers or cranes at any minute. we edged along the shadow in the perimeter and i feigned confidence that i could get us out but my legs felt shakey and brandon was quickly losing confidence in me. i wished i could have been a better leader. there were many places we could just scale and jump out to the sidewalk but i didn’t know what we were jumping into. the way there was crawling with cop cars, and, i dont know. the spaces between chainlink fences were too small and we watched a guy about our age bike by without noticing us. that’s a funny feeling that���s happened a few times in places like this. everyday life just beyond the fence.
it’s a nightmarish feeling, to be trapped at a dead end. the flow of your movement cut off. i don’t know how to explain it. it’s not the fear that some big scary person is going to come after you right then. it’s the fear of being trapped. i’ve, yeah, had dreams about it and it’s happened to me a couple times. you have to go back the way you came. eventually brandon made the call to just walk the way back. we walked back and being high we managed to really freak each other out.
first there was a sound behind us. looked up. police helicopter. they regularly patrol los angeles particularly downtown. or maybe it was on a mission who knows. they patrol the border too, and fly low to terrify people. this one flew right above our heads. why here, at the riverside? i imagined organized executions, shootings going on here in this overgrown alleyway walled off from the street. visible only from that other dimension. being high we both flipped that the helicopter was going to say something to us. i just stood up straight, moved to the shadows and kept walking like business as usual. police bluff. we didn’t turn around.
then we heard the craziest fucking thing. it was like a bird, loud and low by our ears. a big bird, a bird with big windpipes. and i swear to you there was something deliberate in its call. though the notes were many the way it was played had none of the wild animalness of a bird, none of the changes in dynamic, none of the rhythms beyond humans. it sounded like it was being played...on some kind of flute or whistle. it was going on behind us mixing with the helicopter blades. it, too, felt like it was about us. i think it was some kind of signal but brandon insists it was just a bird. but he didn’t say that then. i fucking swear it wasn’t a bird. i don’t know what it was. the signal idea’s beautiful but the melody was rather complex (and did not repeat). to know what that meant would really be a whole language. maybe it was just someone trying to attract a bird. whatever it was it played at our backs as we beat it.
that’s all i want to say for today peace out
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For some, shoes are an accessory: a stylish embellishment to elevate the rest of your look. For others, they're more of a tool: a practical necessity to allow you to travel from point A to point B. The best shoes are a little bit of both. Regardless of style or comfort, almost all of us have at least one pair of shoes that holds emotional meaning much greater than any other pair. Because our shoes quite literally carry us throughout life, sometimes we find ourselves with a pair that holds a special place in our journey—a pair that we can't stand to part with no matter how broken or out of style it might be. These are exactly the stories told in the brand-new book Our Shoes, Our Selves by model, actress, and activist Bridget Moynahan (aka Natasha on Sex and the City ). This chic and inspiring coffee table book compiles photos and essays from 40 famous women (including Katie Couric, Cecile Richards, Rupi Kaur, Padma Lakshmi, and more) about the one pair of shoes in their closet that means the most to them. Preview some of the stories in the book below, as well as a few shared by us Who What Wear editors. Then feel free to DM us the story of your most meaningful pair of shoes on IG @whowhatwear . “They are Punjabi Juttia—boldly colored leather-crafted shoes that easily become the highlight of any festive function. Since the old days, they’ve become a staple of my outfits, in rural Punjab, basement bedrooms, college dorms, and eventually houses. I wear them on tour, at parties and weddings, on casual strolls at home, or on my travels. I’ve even begun to see them refashioned and reshaped for Western wear by those brands that always take the most culturally relevant elements of a people and re-create them for Western wallets.”. — Rupi Kaur, poet and artist “We first got to know Nike at a women’s event back in Los Angeles when I was sixteen and Halle was fourteen. We had just signed with Beyoncé, but we hadn’t announced it to the world. “Then Nike asked us to do a half marathon. We trained for about three months, and I remember being scared out of my mind. … It’s the only half marathon I’ve done, but every time I go running, I use this shoe. I have so many other Nikes, but I always end up with these because they remind me of that time of my life. “I got to customize my Nike Flyknit Lunars myself—I picked all the colors on the app, and they even have '1998' on them, for my birth year. … I feel that life is more fun when you’re uncomfortable and when you feel nervous about something. That’s when you know you’re doing it right, because if you always feel safe, you don’t really grow.”. — Chloe Bailey, R&B artist “I was a single mom living in L.A. The year before, I had gone through a very public breakup with my boyfriend of three years, who happened to be a well-known professional athlete. His new girlfriend was a very successful model. As a result, between the three of us, the gossip mags were having a field day. “From the moment I announced I was pregnant to well after my son was born, the paparazzi relentlessly scrutinized me, documenting every pound gained, every trip to the doctor. … Having a baby should have been the most joyous time of my life, but instead I felt assaulted. It’s unnerving to be followed and stalked like that, especially during such an emotionally vulnerable time. … I became reclusive for a bit, and I barely left my house. I became wildly private. I shared little and only with a select few. “It was late summer/early fall, which tends to be the best time to shop for a New England girl living in L.A. I was on a mission for the little man and had no intention of buying something for myself. I was off to the Grove to pick something up at the Baby Gap. I must have been naive to think that I could actually get there without a tail. Maybe I did, and I was just unfortunate to run into one of the many paparazzi that hang out at the mall to capture celebrities minding their own business. Who knows, but I saw him and I tried to lose myself in the crowd. I went down one of the mall alleyways and found myself in a Barneys Co-op. I hid in there to kill some time before I abandoned my Baby Gap mission and could get back to my car. Being followed made me want to go back to the safety of my home immediately!” "I love these Aquazzura heels because they were my first adult designer purchase (a Coach mini bag I got in high school doesn't count!). I got them on major sale, but they were still more than I usually spend. To this day, I own very few items I've spent more than $300 on. They're not everyday per se, but I actually think they're super practical because the busy embroidered print doesn't show dirt or scuffs." — Erin Fitzpatrick, fashion editor. Shop a similar style: "I know this isn't the most original answer, but the I hold most dearly are definitely the ones I got married in last year. They're gold glitter Manolo Blahnik slingbacks that I partly decided upon because I knew I could wear them again. (They don't really scream wedding ) In spite of that, it's been over a year, and I haven't worn them again. I'm hoping I get over wanting to keep them pristine because I've worn countless outfits since then that they'd complement perfectly. I honestly haven't even gotten the box down and almost worn them. They just sit on my closet shelf when I could be wearing them regularly and thinking happy thoughts every time I look at them. Actually, I just convinced myself to start wearing them. (Thanks, Amanda!) At the very least, I will get the box down from the shelf so that they taunt me for awhile." — Allyson Payer, fashion editor. Shop a similar style: "I bought these vintage navy-blue Doc Martens on a trip to Paris when I was 20. I was there for a program through NYU writing poetry all summer. Probably the most romantic summer of my life. I picked these up in a secondhand store on my first week there and wore them to the bone until they were quite literally falling apart. I remember trying to communicate 'shoe glue' to an employee at a French hardware store one day when the sole completely fell apart on a walk through Père Lachaise Cemetery. Though these shoes remain utterly dilapidated and unwearable (a shame since Docs are back), I still have them buried in my closet, unable to part with them. “Vintage docs from Paris are unbelievably cool to have, but these shoes mean more to me than that: They represent the first summer of my life when I felt like a confident, independent adult. I was away from my family for the longest time ever in my life until that point, in this incredibly beautiful place, with all these interesting people, studying what I wanted and dressing how I wanted. These shoes were a glimmer of what the rest of my 20s would be—sometimes a total mess and falling apart but so much cooler and weirder and more exciting than adolescence was for me.”. — Amanda Montell, features and beauty editor. Shop a similar style: Next up: 9 Reasons This 2000s Shoe Trend Is Back From the Dead
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(Chapter 1: The man that walked amongst machines.)
He was covered a forest camouflage hood and cape. In his bag pack there was his B3 Wingman and mastiff and additional ammo for them. Styx was sane but he claims he can hear a voice in his head guide him whenever he needed help. That voice only referred to itself as CP and it would assist styx no matter the action and long as it was not out of it’s capability. On his hip Styx also wore a jump kit. His memory loss took away his wall running skills and limited him to only jumping and double jumping with it as he found he could do. However, this hermit’s life was about to be changed forever this faithful day.
When he walked out of the alleyway he saw a group of civilian shot and killed by a spectre group. They eventually saw him and went into position to target him next, but before they could even fire the first bullet. The whistle of 3 titans falling from the sky above could be heard. One of them was headed on a crash course onto the spectre group.
The first one to land was Meat Man. He had started blaring All-star by Smash Mouth the second he landed and didn’t even bother with deploying a shield. He just hit the ground, crushing several spectres before grabbing them, ripping apart and throwing them. Once he finished, he yelled “STAY OUT OF MY SWAMP.” His hatch opened and a pilot with the grappling hook pilot armour jumped out. The mech closed its hatch and did a special handshake and double fist bump with his pilot before looking over at Styx. John looked over his shoulder at him and gestured him over.
Styx’s first action was admiring the titan, such a marvel of engineering. He eventually snapped out of the trance and took out his Mastiff shotgun and B3 wingman revolver out of his bag and holstered them on his back and waist respectively before throwing the bag to the side. Styx then sprinted towards John before stopping at arm length’s distance from him.
Styx: “yesss…sir?”
“Can you shoot, run, and think?” He simply said as he turned to him, his head was shaved but he had a nicely waxed moustache.
“Yes sir!” Styx exclaimed. Styx was a simulacrum a consciousness, either artificial or from a human in a robotic body. Styx’s interface had a stim ability integrated in, allowing him to speed up his actions and reflexes once activated.
“You’re going to get your metal plated ass on top that beefy ass motherfucker over there. You can’t link to him, but you can help assist him by riding on him. Help evacuate any civilians you can and link up with a Northstar Prime with cat paint. To get on top of that Legion Prime without him stomping you like a bug, just yell ‘Ocean Man, take me by the hand, lead me to the land, that you understand’ and he’ll let you on.” He said before hopping back into the Ion Prime. “I’ll tell you my name when you survive this.”
“Understood sir!” Styx said with a soldiers confidence. Styx proceeded to ocean man and loudly sang the magic phrase and as expected ocean man let Styx rodeo him. Styx crouched before engaging his jump kit as the same time he executed the high jump before grabbing onto the titan’s top with finesse and ease. Styx felt like he had done this before but didn’t remember when, his past was a jumble like the static on a television or background radiation in space. Styx then proceed to ask, “so when do we go?”
“We hold position and fight our way up. Get as many evacuated as possible.” The Legion Prime said as he gutted a Ronin that had been cutting apart civilians with the Ronin’s own sword. “The name is Ocean Man. And if you need me, I’ll take you by the hand and lead you to the land that I understand.”
“Points noted” Styx said as he hung on while the legion proceed.
“It has been 7 days since our previous combat scenario, your combat effectiveness has increased by 10% pilot.” CP’s voice ringed inside Styx’s head.
“CP i need you to tell me how to call of this imc invasion, we can’t continuously keep on evacuating civilians or killing enemies.” Styx pleaded.
“I have intercepted incoming imc comms signals. Most of the infantry down here are taking control from a pilot named Justin Barber of the rank captain. Eliminating him may do mighty fine.”
“Alright then CP, give us his nav points.”
Ocean man received the nav points from CP but was confused before CP introduced himself as a friendly.
“Got it, LETS KILL DA HOE.” Ocean Man said as he began fighting his way towards Justin Barber.
“S-H-I-T” Styx exclaimed as a bullet scraped the side of his head. It was fired from a spectre using the dmr longbow. That impact somehow racked a part of his pain sensors, that overloaded him with memories. That pain he felt just now he felt just now, the same injury on his first mission as a pilot and as a simulacrum. Each memory recovered lead to more memories, Styx recalled his whole life up to now in a span of mere seconds. The militia and his adopted sister and daughter, his teammates, everything. Styx was reawakened. “I’ll TEACH YOU JUSTICE!” Styx roared as he fired his b3 wingman at the spectre, destroying him immediately with a headshot that tore through it’s central motherboard.
In the distance Justin Barber’s Titan could be seen ripping apart a militia Titan before a loud railgun shot blew a chunk out the Titan and sent it fling into a building. A Northstar Prime with cats painted on the front be could be seen chasing after Justin Barber. “Purge Man’s doing is job as always.”
“HOLY SHIT!” Styx gasped in awe.
He had seen great snipers in his time but purge man’s shot takes the cake and eats it.
However, Justin barber was not done, his silhouette charged out from the smoke the debris caused and proceed to knock purge man down into a submission hold. “Never say never” Justin smirked before engaging his tone’s sonic scream right in front of purge man’s face. “AAAAAAAAAA” the tone screamed as it’s vibrations destroyed most of purge man’s electronics on his surface. Purge man collapsed onto the ground after Justin let him go, he was still alive, his data core was undamaged but serious damage had been done to his surface electronics.
Purge Man fizzled and stood up and shook. “Next you’re going to say ‘WHAT? YOU AND YOUR PILOT SHOULD HAVE DIED!’”
“WHAT? YOU AND YOUR PILOT SHOULD HAVE DIED!” Justin barber gasped. “Oh no this is a trap” Justin realised just before ocean man shot 2 power shots at Justin and his tone, one took out his tone’s speaker system disabling his screams and the other was a head straight for his face. The shots sent Justin falling down and crushing his own squad of spectres damaging his tone’s propulsion systems disabling his front and back dashes.
Purge Man flew over and jammed his gun into Justin Barbers titan, blowing a hole into the safe containment of the Titan’s core, causing its reactor become unstable before pulling the gun out just as Meat Man jumped in, the Ion Prime plunged his fist through the cockpit and grabbed Barber and throwing him to the side before firing his laser straight through Barber’s Titan.
Barber’s sonic titan was destroyed. As he landed Styx had already appeared in front of him using his stim. “Who do you work for?” Styx questioned barber. “Ge..general pol…po” Justin answered in fear. “Reason for invading this peaceful city?” Styx questioned smirking. “To..to abduct special civilians for his experiments.” Justin spoke while almost crying like a baby.
“People like them deserved to be punished, that includes you.” Styx chuckled before kicking Justin into a almost settling cement mixture. “AHHH!” Justin yelled as the cement started to harden around him due to Styx activating the concrete settling machine the pool of concrete was in. After a few seconds the cement had fully hardened and Justin was embedded in it like a beautiful carving by an artist.
“Heh, serves him right. Abducting innocents like some kind of alien.” Styx sneered.
“A-A-A-aSsHOLe..” Purge Man said, his electronics were still glitching due to the blow from earlier. “That’s going to hurt in the morning.” The Titan said before going to a power saving mode and falling.
Ocean Man picked up Purge man and put him on his back.
Meat Man’s eye looked over to Purge Man. “Damn, he needs some milk!”
John then could be heard over the coms. “Not the time, Meat Man.”
CP’s voice can then be heard in their comms.
“A better phrase would be “dam he needs some batteries!”“ Styx chuckled, he knew CP was fond of jokes as well. Styx then walked to john before asking. "So what’s your name, mate?”
“John.” The pilot said, looking at Styx.
“That’s a manly name, mine’s Styx.” Styx looked around at the rag tag group.
“There should be a ship to come pick us up now right?” He puzzled.
“Evac is in 15 minutes. Be patient.” John said before going over to play Rock Paper Scissors with Meat Man.
“I owe you a favour today, had it not been you that came and rescued angel city, those imc scum might have abducted all of them.”
Styx thanked john before confessing.
“I also have to thank you for restoring my memory, i was shot here and presumed dead but i only lost my memories your actions brought them back. I have to thank you for that.”
“I’m not a hero. I’m just doing it because it’s what my brothers would have wanted.” This was half true.
“Yep, this is what any brother or sister would have wanted.” Styx huffed as he recalled Alizeh his adopted daughter and Lalah his adopted sister.
“Ocean Man and Purge Man were their Titans. They were separated from their Titans and publicly executed.”
“By imc i guess? Always those scum.” Styx growled.
“Yes. I was told their Titans would be assigned to new pilots, but I demanded they be synced with me.”
“Must be alot of weight on your shoulders linking up to 3 titans like that.” Styx replied awestruck before walking to meat man and discussing memes while the evac came.
“Yo dawg, i heard you like robots so we put a robot inside your robot, so you can beep boop while you beep boop.” Styx chirped.
“WOW.” Exclaimed meat man.
“Have you ever heard of that Szechuan sauce McDonalds released in 1998 back when humanity was still stuck in the home system?” Styx questioned.
“What….?”
“The one that’s so sweet and spicy it ascends your soul to cloud 9 as you eat.” Styx preached.
“That honestly sounds horrible.”
“Whelp everyone has their own tastes, tell me about any memes you like the most.” Styx spoke.
“You reposted in the wrong neighbourhood’s pretty good.”
“Ah yes so versatile, you could fit into any genre. You know what play that song for me. I have got some moves to bust.” Styx exclaimed.
Meat Man began to blare it on his speakers.
“This is what I’m talking about!” Styx cheered as he proceed to perform a dance from a comic book he once read as a kid.
John laughed softly.
Eventually evac came and the 2 hopped on board. “You know what? My old friends in the militia told me to build tech and save lives. Angel city seems to need the angels now more than ever…and that’s why i want to join the Angel City Elite.”
“You need to say that to the man in charge, not me. It’s not my position to do decide.”
“Alright” Styx muttered as the two ships took of. One with the pilots and the other with the titans.
After they meet up with barker, he was genuinely surprised at why a ex militia would have wanted to join the elites but after listening to his reasons barker allowed him a temporary role in the elites before assigning him the most suitable position.
“HA, now I’m an angel city elite” Styx exclaimed gleefully as he left barkers office with a angel city elite badge in his hand that he later pinned onto his vest.
John sighed and leaned against the wall, lighting a cigar.
Styx’s video chat suddenly lighted up as Alizeh appeared on the screen.
“Thank god you are okay dad, I’ve missed you. But not is not the time for a reunion, big sis lalah has been captured by the imc!” Alizeh cried out. Styx worryingly questioned “Where is she now? Is she okay?”. “She’s being experimented on the moon Astatania which is just in the same solar system as angel city. Please save her.” Alizeh pleaded.
Styx replied with a warrior’s valour. “I will!” but just as the video chat was disconnected.
“Please help me rescue my sister!” Styx fell to the ground pleading john.
“Sure. Why not? It’ll help.” He said putting on his helmet and gesturing for his three Titans to follow him.
“Thank you john, i could not ask for a better friend” Styx said as he stood up.
Elsewhere, In the slums of a city, a lone spectre, wearing a long coat and hugging itself tightly travels through. Passing by alleys and buildings and undesirables, only to come up to a seemingly abandoned warehouse. It bangs on the door with its metal fist three times, jiggles the handle, then bangs on the door the same three times. The door opens and it is lead inside.
“Here again, huh? Let me guess. High priority target in need of a skilled multimech user.”
They move to a barely lit table, the man who spoke sits on one side, his forearms and hands in the light. Long, seemingly slender in the clothes he wears. The hands encased by leather gloves. The spectre lays down a device, and a voice speaks from it.
“Of a sort.”
“Do you have the case?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Give it now, and you already know my terms.”
“Of course.”
The hands, that were once clasped together now rest on the table, as the spectre pulls a case out of its coat and opens it.
“Good… Now where do you need me?”
Meanwhile on planet Astatania, A roar is heard over the prison as a 40 meter long assault ship lands down 'Urban Symphony’ painted across the hull guards stare in awe of the titanic gun ship that they don’t notice the hatch open and Revan step out helmet in hand “Alright ladies stop staring” he smirks as his titan steps out from behind him “Let the real men do their job”.
*TO BE CONTINUED”
——————————————-
This chapter is written by @ask-a-robot-pilot , @sweatpants-gramps-the-kensei
( @s-sokuma and @ask-the-pilot-squad tagged cause you showed intrest durring the production of the chapter.)
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Scotlandia
Northbound train ::
Murmuration express
the farther north,
the greener the fields
the higher the hills,
the sheep multiplied & birthed
forests, creeks, rivers abundant
the marriage of water & mud.
baby lambs so pure
they don’t know the future of the earth
blissed to be present
among castles of stone
in a strong magic realm
where old ways & new come together as one.
the farther north you go,
the nicer people become,
joab told me.
the more layers you wear,
the more layers you shed.
wildflowers are the color of the sun.
waves of godsend in this country
after the deep moon,
after a bluebell magic spell,
drawing the medicine circle with sticks among the nettle,
let’s call our ancestors with our smartphones.
the men next to me on the train
speak of the masculine,
how the coin Gods reign,
unknowing
these gods & technology
will soon disappear
then what will you value?
Spirit in everything~
forgiveness in exhales
in their plastic waterbottles
& chewing the skin of dead animals
someone else killed.
yet-we ride the same train,
on this earth together
we can all bring
what we offer
Give, not collect
We all breathe,
drink water
eat & poop plants
want Love & calmness
these threads sew us
in the blanket of the Earth
we, weavers of great mother
tend to get caught up
in webs of illusion.
folks mirror the sheep herds
in cities of normalcy & expectations
Isolation
in the mind
Light
needed most where the shadow of repression is heavy on the bricks.
why did I travel halfway cross the earth
to do sexual work in a grey place?
do these thoughts hold anything?
is Love enough?
for all the ways that we can Love–
undefined.
Folks don’t travel far from home here
& i appreciate the localism.
For how can an outsider
ever grasp or judge what’s going on within?
appropriation nation.
Be, receive, give, spiral, honor the mystery, challenge the mind,
Witness patterns
of colonization,
Hippies go to cheap once-indigenous places
now morphed by the capitalism
they ran away from.
What is belonging
Or separation
What is respectful
What is
Advaita?
***
5.28
zombies of Aberdeen.
aberdeen,
where i involuntarily practice boundary work
with a too-wide-eyed hairfree polski.
ale drunk at the mutt pub.
in a place without sunset or sunrise,
i dance on cement at the devils hour under turquoise Sky~
i watch as zombies fall into the bed of the street
in the shadows of the streetlamps,
glitter stars on their shoulders,
bare skin their frozen nightdress,
working hard & drinking harder,
the oil industry collapsed
as do the people into traffic.
cat-calling eyes wander into the backs of the sockets
where is the presence, juice, vitality?
candycane vomit spews over granite that doesn’t age.
how can we live so far from the Mother?
in these dead boxes?
why not do what you Love?
open the mind to possibility & the heart will follow
instead of escape the reality built up, why not confront & transf
take off your clothes
take off your skin
undress from yourself
& do a little contact.
play your organs with your fingertips.
when’s the last time you’ve really felt your spleen?
i asked a stranger today what part of his internal landscape he doesn’t pay attention to,
he couldn’t even give me an answer.
breathe into all the parts of your body, of your animal self.
we are so deeply in them
let’s get weird.
you didn’t think this poem was going here.
it’s here.
you’re here.
we’re all here.
we’re all just waffles
waiting to be served.
***
the first of June:
newfound appreciation in Aberdream.
waking from a fine dream
(of pleasure & flight)
to enter another
(of pleasure & flight)
patterns
like clockwork
new patches sewed
into the tapestry of moments
of finding Love with Passion
once i make plans to depart.
weaving cobwebs of connection
among the torus of the earth,
trying to not be entangled in the web of emotion.
What a dance~
of masculine & feminine at war with each other-
follow through with Saturn’s Time & plans,
or feel your way through Life?
id forever be making Love. & there are so many ways to make Love.
with the Earth,
with each other,
with the wisdom of
living through the lens of curiosity & newness.
found freedom in motion~
the earth is a great big garden bed
the more we dig & plant ourselves in dirt
the more our truths become illuminated in the Sun.
Lovers are rich soul
that help feed
the roots
of my watery soul.
But the topsoil
is already
deep
inside me.
***
5.22
Mirrors.
dirty beach oil town
your environment
Is you.
Upward downward mobility
Are we even moving?
5.8 London: five-minute poem in a Jewish neighborhood
Reflections on when someone asked,
are you playing monopoly?
mono, poly, both?
how do you like your coffee?
Whipped–
with the innards of a cow?
are you drinking the blood of this moment?
are you drinking for your blood to run faster?
so your mind may follow?
are you drinking to swim in the mud
of thoughts & rainfall,
of the changing Sky & birdcall,
dont take it personally~
so many of us do
when we don’t take it personally
feel release recycle
body a vessel for passing feeling
Nothing will affect you,
is that really how to live?
Functional Nih-spirit-lism-words & feelings are they enough-
are you playing monopoly?
***
the second of June
on a bus out of Norway,
past forests & waters
jacked-up prices & untouched people.
the officer of customs
saw my pack & bit his knuckle–
he wanted papers i didn’t have,
thought i was freeloading,
but apparently he was about to go on holiday, & let me in.
i bet he loves the power
to decide someone’s fate.
job description: must yell at others well to let out your personal crap. therapee.
i wonder the taste in his mouth.
Strangers offer bus tickets,
places to crash,
i find Gemini Jesus,
Barefoot birthday in the bus hall
we are still as people orbit us.
we speak of containers
being like a flowerpot
soil you can take with you
i break my glass container then.
it feels important,
the water spills everywhere.
jesus left with his cake party gang of artists & kooks
they go north the mountains, i go east to the lakes.
messages in each person i cross
Tarot spreads foresee solitude studies, guides
Bliss in community bubbles
Living extremes to understand
Emotional maturity.
I touch a strangers anxious chest and breathe with them, tell them words from my mouth that didn’t come from my mind. Streamed.
Release.
Dolphin medicine of breath.
I walk past homes, Orange and red to the sea.
On a secret beach, a marina wirh my birthday inscribed in it.
I crouch goddess pose over the sand
Young dead jellyfish unfer my pussy.
This one didn’t sting.
a fish swimming through emotions of boundaries, dissolved, transformed.
In my dream last night
Someone asked the difference
Between transformation
& transmutation.
5.12
The church bells ring midnight, in this place of obvious magic, quietness and grey in a way I haven’t appreciated before. I wandered into the forest & sang to the spirits in the cemetery on the hill, the taking in the cold wind like wine, up skirt & kissing my bare thighs in this fleeting moment of union with gaia & release.
In the woods with loud birds & louder in their movement tree spirits, at the tower over the sea, dreaming with a mother & crone calamity above an alleyway, living the medicine wheel, the plants mirror the heavens, as do we
5.25 Aberdeen
When Life looks like Easy Street…
cloudless sky Scottish morning
melting into Granite City
seeing Love in everything,
in love with Love itself,
from the way the bubble of dew kisses the blade of grass,
bringing Water to Earth,
rainbow illuminations by the Fire of the Sun,
untouched
by the soft wind of today.
masculine & feminine in the fractals of everything~
seen & unseen,
tangible & formless,
active & receptive.
playing as One.
from the charges in an Adam,
heads & tails,
to the Sun & the Moon in their endless dance in circles
they hold the Earth
& give us structure in waking dream,
nightdream.
Mmmm….
i love the simplicity in peoples’ lives here, so telling.
just a few spices,
grow the plants you savor in your mouth most,
no excess,
Controlled consumption.
cherry blossoms in Spring,
bumbleberries in Summer,
understanding the beauty in tended Earth is an extrordinary gift for Spirit.
Disoriented by the late, late sunset & rise before four
reframe my mind to bicycle
on the feminine side of the road.
Why am i here?
i let the feminine take over yesterday,
allowed Spirit to guide my fast feet,
open to possibility,
following signs like breadcrumbs.
a not-so stranger led me,
through trees that stood in the soil through the tension of the centuries,
to where the river meets the sea.
I feel–Fully–In my watery soul,
I am.
where the rushing River meets the open Sea.
❤️
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ARKE “ATROPA” MERETRIXA is a 568 year old FEMALE FAE that uses SHE/HER. They are known for her INTUITION, ADAPTABILITY, and INTELLIGENCE. Unfortunately, they are also known for her CRUELTY, VANITY, and REFUSAL TO CREATE EMOTIONAL BONDS.
Their face claim is IMOGEN POOTS, and they currently live in SPRING COURT as a MEMBER OF THE THIRTEEN.
(Triggers below: Abuse, kidnapping, sexual assault on a minor, underage pregnancy and miscarriages, murder.)
Character Description:
Arke’s story, as with all true stories, begin with her mother. Adelaide Larksen was a Seelie Irish fae stolen from her home in the countryside and dragged south to England under the order of a courtier -- an Imp by the name of Rictovarus. He was a wretched Imp had a love for pale women with golden curls, and took her as his mistress. For three years, Adelaide suffered, too frightened and weak to flee. It was her third year, however, that she found a man she loved and tried to marry him. Rictovarus had the man slaughtered, but not before Adelaide became pregnant with her only child, a girl she named Yseult. In her third trimester, after waiting for the other courtiers to fulfil their promises to free her, Adelaide had no choice. She snuck away, aiming for home.
Rictovarus found her three days later, dead in the forest, a sorrowful and nameless midwife weeping over her body. The infant Yseult, bathed in her mother’s blood, did not scream or cry out. She observed the world with blue eyes ringed by golden lashes, and when she looked at Rictovarus, it seemed like she was already seeing to much.
He took her in anyway, with a governess to raise her and a tutor to educate her as a proper nobelwoman should be educated, though he raised a hand to her far more often than a warden should. Just as he hoped, Yseult quickly proved to be as beautiful as her mother had been, with golden curls, iridiescent wings, and a grin that put the Cheshire cat to shame. She was drawn to knowledge like a moth to flame, learning more than Rictovarus could ever expect. From the moment she knew how to keep a secret, Yseult knew she was going to get out of there.
She was fourteen when he decided she was old enough. Rictovarus took her as his new mistress, wrapping his meaty hands around her slender waist and dragging her in to his bedroom, even as she screamed and begged for help.
The dawn found Yseult dead-eyed and broken, her wings sawed off with a silver blade and her girlhood lost. In the smallest corners of her mind, a raging beast roared and fought against the chains being lashed to it, unable to fight, unable to flee. Her fight was lost in a matter of hours, and it did not return for years.
(It was leashed, but not tamed. Slowly, it grew in the dark, taking bites from the blackness filling her soul so small and unnoticeable that not even Yseult herself knew it was still there.)
At twenty-six, Yseult was the most beautiful women in the court, pursued by those who cared for looks alone and not for personality. She was silent, stone-faced and unsmiling. But she did not have to smile to turn heads, and what Rictovarus didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She bore the hell with nothing more than a few silent tears, and never asked for help.
Though Yseult knew nothing of her mother, it was the same thing that finally gave her the strength to flee -- a child, heaven-sent no doubt. Yseult slipped away in her nightclothes and bare feet, making for the first place to rest her head, to be free, to be anywhere but there. A farmer and his family took her in, and for three months, she was safe. Finally, Yseult relearned to smile and laugh.
And the then world reminded her what it truly was. The miscarriage was a bleeding, painful mess, no kinder than the first time Rictovarus had taken her to bed.
Believing her to be bad luck now, the farmer sent her away. Yseult was given passage to France. She renamed herself, Roux for the color of her blood and the color of her hate. But France was no kinder than England, and she was forced to beg. To grovel. To earn a living the only way she knew how -- on her back. Men paid her barely enough to feed herself, but she found companionship among the other women, trading secrets and meals, sleeping close together as they could for warmth in the cold nights. She discovered her vein of magic -- emotional manipulation. Or, rather, allure and trust. With a blink of the eye, Roux could get someone to see her as the most loyal, trustworthy, beautiful woman in the world, when she was far from any of these things. But it got her business, it got her allies, and it kept her safe from the law.
Another many years passed like this, until a team of vampires raised hell, killing anyone they could get their hands on. Roux managed to escape, at the cost of three women she had come to see as friends. She blamed herself, even as she traveled southeast, arriving in Italy as a dirt-covered, half-starved urchin.
She took on a new name, Ruby, for the jewels dropped by a wealthy merchant in the Florentine alleyway where she begged. She helped him collect them, well aware that it would get her further than stealing a few of the jewels and fleeing. And indeed, the merchant gifted her a room in his mansion, a bath and clothes. She was given a month to get on her feet and use his resources to do so.
Come the end of the month, however, once her hollow features began to fill out and her wit and cleverness began to show, the merchant had fallen in love -- or at least what he thought was love. (It was, indeed, magic amplifying what would have been friendship.)
Through this merchant, she rose through the ranks of society, becoming his secretary and treasurer, as well as a muse for more than one budding artist. It was innocent fun -- sitting nude for studying painters and sculptors. She sat among men, unable to be touched, unable to be judged. Her scars were glamoured, appearing as smooth skin, and she seemed the epitome of Venus.
The merchant found out, and no amount of compulsion could save her. He accused her of harlotry, seduction, witchcraft. The band of artists were arrested, and Ruby was thrown out once more. She groveled at his feet, begged to be forgiven. He sent her away with a handful of gold and nothing more.
She met a similar fate in Rome, her reputation having preceded her. She sold herself again, working in a brothel visited by cardinals and bankers who insulted her and hated her despite being the very reason her business was kept alive.
Nothing could have prepared her for the day she found the Court. It was a simple walk to the market, to pick up a salve for her aching body, and one turn brought her into the beautiful cobbled streets of Fateswallow.
Winged fae and beautiful vampires crossed before her, and she was taken in by a woman in black. Phaedra, she was called, and she brought Ruby to the Spring Court, placing her before the Queen and offering her as a member of her guard -- a member of the Thirteen.
All her wretched life had been living to this moment. It was not the immortality that saved her, not the knife being placed in her hand, but the return to England. The visitation of Rictovarus, in his last decades of life. It was standing before him, grinning like a wraith, and plunging that knife it deep into the neck of the man who ruined her, again and again and again until he succumbed to her. The creature tat had been chained for so long roared in victory as she licked his blood from her fingers, as it dripped from her hair and lips and chin. She was alive, well and truly, and would never bow to anyone again.
Ruby returned to the Spring Court victorious, and renamed herself for the last time. She became Arke, the goddess who lost her iridescent wings, banished from Olympus. She became Meretrixa, the whore of Italy. She became a living, breathing woman for the first time in her life.
At Least Three Potential Plots for Your Character
The past comes back to haunt her. Arke’s fought tooth and nail to get where she is now, stepping on and hurting people in her wake. Though they might have known her under a different name, they will know her face and they will want revenge for all the pain she’s caused.
The past caomes back to...help her? Arke has done a great amount of good as well, even if it doesn’t seem like it. So she’s bound to run into someone wanting to repay her for all she did for them.
All her babies -- err -- wards. Arke has a weak spot for the neglected and abused, and will provide support in every manner except emotional if they prove to be both intelligent and willing to do whatever it takes to get control over their lives -- that is to say, cold-blooded ambition. Of course, some of them are a bit more soft-hearted and try to rely on her for emotional support as well, with varying results.
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