#I sure hope everything is going to be all right Marta! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 years ago

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The Girls' Trip Fairy Tale Ending--Chapter 3 of 5

Summary: This is my combined birthday gift for Joni ( @jrob64 ), Marta ( @snowbellewells ) and Krystal ( @kmomof4 ). Happy birthday ladies! Four fandom friends are nearing the end of their annual girls’ trip when they’re suddenly visited by Isaac, the author before Henry. He gives them an each a gift–an opportunity to jump into any scene in the storybook they want and fix it. Large focus on CS, although other characters and relationships will be explored. A big shoutout to @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 for betaing!

Word Count: 2897

Other chapters: (1) (2) (4)

Can also be found on: (ao3) (ff.net)

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Note: Happiest of birthdays to Marta, @snowbellewells! I hope you enjoy your trip into the book! (You might want to sit down when you read this; there is a decent chance you'll swoon, hehe.)

Chapter 3

The book deposited Marta somewhere in the middle of the Storybrooke cemetery as dusk settled over the town. She grinned, knowing she was exactly where she was meant to be–and because against all odds and logic, she was about to actually meet and interact with Graham. Best. Girls’. Trip. Ever.

She wasn’t going to fulfill her purpose by standing here and thinking about the surrealism of her situation, though. She needed to find Regina’s vault, and she needed to find Emma and Graham before Regina did.

She scanned the cemetery past rows and rows of completely ordinary tombstones, some with loving epitaphs and others rather nondescript. She even saw one on which was etched three bears standing side by side. The epitaph for this stone read “Jesus saves.”

Finally, in the distance she saw the large mausoleum with its twin pillars and its circular crest, emblazoned with antlers or curved vines. Marta wasn’t entirely clear what they were supposed to represent.

Even more significantly, she saw the three figures of Emma, Graham, and Regina standing before it. They spoke for a few moments, and then Regina threw a punch, which Emma quickly returned, before slamming Regina up against the vault.

Marta’s heart sank; she hoped she wasn’t too late.

As Emma began walking purposefully toward her cruiser, Graham not far behind, Marta knew she had to make her move.

“Graham was right,” Marta said quickly, catching up to Emma. “Regina is keeping his heart in the vault!”

Emma stopped and stared at her for a long moment. “Is there something in the water today? Have I dropped into some bizzaro world where I’m the only person who hasn’t lost my mind? Do you realize how you crazy you sound, Marta?”

“Yeah, I’m sure I sound insane,” Marta said, “and normally I’d give you the opportunity to figure all of this out on your own, but right now… it’s literally a matter of life and death. We can’t let Regina get to that heart!”

Emma closed her eyes for a moment, growling in frustration. “Okay, say I believed you,” she finally said, encompassing both Marta and Graham in her glance, “we searched the vault. There’s nothing there but a coffin.”

Marta didn't know how much she should or could intervene. It was probably best to be a little cryptic and circumspect.

"It seemed like you were interrupted in your searching," she said. "I'm sure there's more to be discovered there than you realize."

"She's right, Emma," Graham insisted. " I can still feel it. It’s there somewhere."

"Look, Graham," Emma said gently, taking his face in her hands and looking into his eyes. "It’s been a difficult and emotional day for you. Please just take a breath and trust me. Everything is going to be alright."

Marta saw the moment Graham conceded, and she began to panic. “You have to listen to me!” she tried again. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true!”

Emma shook her head. “Look, we already tried searching for it, and that led to an encounter with Regina that I don’t think either of us is ready to repeat anytime soon. If there’s something there, we can always come back and look for it another time, but until then, there’s a first aid kit in the sheriff’s station that’s calling my name.”

“But–” Marta tried one last time, but they were already gone.

Now what?

She considered heading back to the vault and confronting Regina herself, but she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to go up against the Evil Queen–even in the Land Without Magic. What she needed was an ally.

And then it clicked. Henry. Who better than the truest believer, who had been working so hard on Operation Cobra, to help her stop his mom from doing something irreversible?

She needed to get to Henry now … wherever he was.

She’d no sooner had the thought than she was at the front door of the mayor’s mansion. She could really get used to traveling at the speed of thought like this! Knowing she didn’t have a moment to lose, she rang the doorbell and then waited impatiently until Henry opened the door.

“Marta?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s an Operation Cobra emergency!” she said. “We have to get to your mom’s vault A.S.A.P.”

Without a word, Henry grabbed his coat and followed her out the door. As they rushed back to the cemetery, Marta filled Henry in on what was happening–being careful to heavily edit the situation, not entirely sure it was suitable for ten-year-old ears.

“And so,” Marta finished, just as the vault came into view, “I thought you could distract your mom, and then I’ll grab the heart and take it back to Sheriff Humbert.”

To Marta’s profound relief, the plan went off without a hitch. When they got to the mausoleum, Marta hid behind a nearby tree while Henry called out for Regina. She came rushing out, and Marta slipped in behind her just as Henry started in on a tale of how he didn’t know where Regina was and he’d been worried.

Thankfully, Regina hadn’t had time to push her father’s coffin back into place before rushing out to her son, and Marta ran down the cold, stone stairs, heart pounding, fearing to find a pile of dust instead of a heart, but to her relief, she saw it right away, bright red and glowing from inside the small box in which Regina had kept it. Marta took a moment to peer into the box to make sure she truly had her prize before closing the lid and making her way back outside.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next thing Marta knew, she was standing in the doorway of the sheriff’s station just as Graham leaned in and kissed Emma. No sooner had his lips touched hers than he pulled back with a gasp, his eyes blown wide.

“Emma,” he said in wonder, “I remember!”

“You remember … what?” Emma asked carefully.

“Everything,” Graham answered.

Marta stepped forward. “Then I’m sure you’ll be pleased to see this again.” She extended the box toward him.

Graham gasped. “You got it? You really found it? How?”

“Let’s just say…” Marta said, “I knew where to look.”

For a moment, Emma merely looked back and forth between the two of them, her confusion and unease plain to see all over her face, and then she threw up her hands and headed for the door.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t know what the hell is going on around here tonight, but it’s just … too much. I forwarded the station phones to my cell; I’m going home. Graham just … take care of yourself, okay?”

He smiled at her gently. “See you tomorrow? Maybe we can talk.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Promise you’ll get some rest?”

“You have my word.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Marta blinked again, she found herself just inside the door of Granny’s diner. She glanced around, confused. She didn’t remember this scene from the show. Maybe it was something new created because of her changes?

Marta noted that it was dark outside, so it must be evening. Was it the same evening as her previous scenes had taken place? What was she meant to do here? Just as she considered stepping out the door, she spotted Graham sitting alone at a booth near the back of the diner. He slowly brought a porcelain cup to his lips and took a sip as he looked pensively down at the wooden box in which Regina had kept his heart.

With no idea what she was intended to do, Marta decided she might as well join Graham. He looked up as she approached the table, and a smile lit up his face at the sight of her. He gestured to the opposite seat of his bench, and she took the offered seat.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude, Marta,” Graham said. “If you hadn’t been there, hadn’t believed my wild tale, I shudder to think what might have happened.”

Marta felt a shiver go up her spine, remembering what really HAD happened in the original storyline. “It was no trouble,” she assured. “I knew you were right, and I didn’t want anything worse to happen to you.”

He reached over and squeezed her hand with another gentle smile. “Thank you, nonetheless. I know the things I’ve said and done over the past day have been–difficult to believe–but you’ve had faith in me even so, and I appreciate it more than you know.”

“Well,” Marta said, “I … know more than you think. I believe you. On all of it.”

“Do you?” he asked, surprised.

Marta nodded. “And I know that you’ve been controlled entirely too long. You need to get your heart back in your chest.”

Graham sighed, and glanced sightlessly out the window. “Then you know I need a magic wielder to make that happen. The only ones currently in this town are Regina and Mr. Gold, neither of which I trust to help me.”

Marta thought for a moment and a specific scene came to mind: Mulan returning Aurora’s heart in Rumplestiltskin’s cell.

“I’m not entirely sure that’s true,” Marta said. “I’ve, well, I’ve seen a non-magical person return a heart.”

He glanced at her quizzically. “Just who are you, Marta?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she asked with a small, secret smile.

His returning smile could light up an entire room. “Perhaps I would.”

For several moments, Marta couldn’t speak, could barely remember her own name or why she was here. That smile was lethal.

“Anyway, that’s … not important,” she answered, still more than a little flustered. “The point is, I think it can be done. I could try, if you’d be willing to let me.”

He was silent for a moment, considering it, and then he nodded. “It’s worth a try.”

Graham got to his feet, and Marta gave him a questioning look. “I’d assume you shoving a red glowing object into my chest might attract… attention. I thought it would be best to go somewhere a bit more secluded.”

Nodding at the wisdom of that, Marta got to her feet and followed Graham to the back hallway of Granny’s, where he gave her his heart. (Marta was sure for the rest of her days she would never forget the warm fuzzy feeling that gave her.) Holding it carefully, she hesitated for a moment, before quickly plunging her hand into his chest.

Graham gasped, closing his eyes and grimacing in pain for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Marta asked quickly.

After a moment, he opened his eyes, and the smile that came over his face would put the sun to shame. “I’ve never in my life been better,” he said, “and I have you to thank for it.”

Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips, placing a quick, grateful kiss on its back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Marta was fairly certain she’d swooned after Graham kissed her hand, and this time when she came to, she found herself in Mary Margaret’s flat. Emma sat at the kitchen table, pushing around the cereal in her bowl rather listlessly.

Breakfast time, then–must be the next morning.

“Emma?” Marta asked, taking a seat on the other side of the table, “I just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright. Last night was kind of a lot.”

Emma snorted. “Yeah, you could say that. I have a knock-down, drag-out fight with the mayor, who also happens to be my son’s mom. My boss kisses me and then has some sort of … break with reality. All in a day’s work in Storybrooke, right? I’ve only been in this town a few weeks, but already I realize things are just … weird … here.”

“Well that is one way to put it,” Marta replied. “But … maybe try to keep a bit of an open mind about Graham. Obviously he was going through … something … yesterday.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Not you too!”

Marta’s brows furrowed. “Not me … what?””

“Mary Margaret’s already been all over me this morning about closing my heart to love and not giving Graham a chance, and being afraid, and, well, whatever other crap she mentioned.”

“So I take it you told her about your kiss,” Marta prodded.

“Yeah, and she jumped all over it,” Emma said with a frustrated huff. “Got all excited, talking like I’d just started dating my true love or something. It was just …way too much for this early in the morning”

Marta chuckled. “Knowing her, I can imagine. She means well; just wants you to be happy.”

“I know she does,” Emma sighed. “I just wish she’d back off a little sometimes. I’ve been a loner for a long time. I’m not used to… friends.”

“Well you have them now,” Marta said, “and that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma said slowly, “except when they're jumping to too many conclusions about my love life.”

“Okay, I could see that,” Marta conceded. “So what are your thoughts about Graham and what happened last night.”

“I don’t know,” Emma said, looking down at her bowl of cereal and continuing to drag her spoon through it. “I do have, I don’t know, feelings of some sort toward him. I do care about him, but … well, for one thing, he’s clearly going through something right now. I don’t know if he’s sick and delirious, or something else, but all that crap he was saying back at the office–”

“Yeah, I know it strains credibility,” Marta said carefully. This was harder to navigate than she’d anticipated. If she said too much would she change the future? Was Emma even ready to hear it? “Maybe he just needs a little time. You probably do too.”

Emma barked out a laugh. “That’s for sure.”

For a few moments, the two were silent, thinking about the conversation and the events of the past day. Finally, Emma spoke up again.

“It’s not just Graham’s … issues, though, to be honest.”

“What else is bothering you?” Marta asked.

“It’s just … those feelings I feel toward Graham? I don’t think it’s love. I just don’t think I feel for him what I should feel for the man I’m in love with. I don’t want to start something and hurt him later. I know I’m the last person who should have this, I don’t know, romanticized view of love, but I just feel like there should be more to it than this.”

Marta smiled gently, thinking about a certain leather clad pirate Emma was only weeks from meeting for the first time. She thought about their epic love story that even death itself couldn’t stop. “Emma,” she said, “I have no doubt that epic, passionate, all-consuming true love is out there for you, and I have a sense that it’ll find you sooner than you think. Until then, there’s nothing wrong with keeping things with Graham at the friendship level.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma thanked Marta for the talk and then headed for the station. Left alone in the loft, Marta wondered what else she was meant to do.

Then she noticed the storybook–the storybook Lucy had at the start of season 7, the one that contained all of the events of canon along with the past fairy tales.

Maybe she was supposed to flip through and see what changed thanks to her ministrations?

She paged through until she found the events of the past day, and then she moved forward. Regina, angry with being thwarted and concerned with how much of the truth Graham might know, came up with a creative–and particularly cruel–way to solve her problem. After convincing the town that Graham had suffered a mental break and was no longer fit for duties as sheriff, she had him committed to the Storybrooke mental asylum in the hospital basement.

It appeared the rest of season one continued largely the same as canon. Curious what would happen following the breaking of the curse, Marta kept reading.

After the curse, Graham was freed from the mental hospital and went on to team up with Ruby to head up the task force to reunite people with their missing loved ones. Working together brought the two of them closer, and it wasn’t long before they began dating.

Through the seasons, Graham continued to help the heroes as various villains showed up and were subsequently defeated. Eventually, he and Ruby decided to pull back from the craziness and enjoy their life together, even as the world continued to crash around them.

It was all Marta could have hoped for her favorite first Storybrooke sheriff.

She’d no sooner closed the cover of the book than she felt a tug in her midsection, and the room around her began spinning. She closed her eyes against the sudden dizziness. When she opened them again, she was back in the living room of her cabin, looking at the eager faces of her friends.

“I can’t wait to tell you what just happened!” she said excitedly.

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” Isaac said irritably. “Come on; I don’t have all night. Who’s next?”“I think it’s my turn,” Krystal said, a blood-thirsty gleam in her eyes, “and I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

Notes:

--I hope you enjoyed your birthday gift, Marta! Your affinity for a certain handsome Storybrooke sheriff who deserved so much better is well known to all of us. Since we got so little of him in canon, I thought I'd give you more one on one interaction with him!

--Up next: A bit of a longer hiatus. The next chapter will be posted on October 15, Krystal (@kmomof4's) birthday. We'll be moving on to the missing year between 3a and 3b, and Krystal will get a chance to give Neal the ending he deserves. (Cue evil laughter)

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#ouat fanfiction #girls' trip fanfiction #fandom friends' birthday fics #1x07 The Huntsman fanfiction #sheriff graham #snowbellewells #my fanfiction

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reddogf13 · 1 year ago

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Outlast 2: Deliverance CH 3

Also on A03

Status: Incomplete

Rated: M - Dead Dove Do Not Eat This takes place in the Outlast 2 universe after all.

Previous chap: CH 2: Purgatory

Next chap: CH 4: Eucharist

___________________

~Ch:3 Atonement~

When he heard Val had survived the massacre in the mines. His stomach dropped, filled by a phantom lead, then readied to vomit. Heart stilled by the memory's of facing her that now could repeat in the future. She can't be alive. Refusing to believe it, Blake furrowed his brows. “How do you know?”

“He came hours after Knoth's death to mock us all. Laughing beyond Templegates edge.” Marta sneered while repeating Val's words. “ “Our God didn't fuck the earth, but your Father fucked you all!”.”

Blake considered what to ask after Marta turned angrier around the topic. He choked down his ill stomach for the next question. “Why hasn't she tried to take over?”

“Knoth's gone, but I'm still here. He knows not to test me.”

“Ah... Yeah.” Relieved at hearing Val wouldn't be coming to visit. Yet, how long would that last? Marta kept her back for now, but was it because Val didn't know of her injury yet? “... So, how'd they escape? Broke themselves free?”

“No, someone let them free when the fires broke. I don't know who, but I do know it must be someone around here. I didn't see anyone who wasn't suppose’ to be in Temple Gate that night. Only those free after the deed was done and I was too occupied by the fires to hunt them.”

“Great.” He breathed. So Val might know of Marta's injuries by now. Maybe she's injured too and only biding her time to take a crack at Temple Gate. He looked around at the ramshackle town. Already brought down so low when Knoth was around. Would it stand a chance if Val swarmed over it with a group of heretics? I guess it's not my problem. Tossing the thought aside. If only it didn't return shortly to nag him. Silenced fully when his stomach painfully growled. Remembering what he even came down for. Walking onward toward the great hall he first challenged Knoth at. Hoping that some scrap of food was inside when he arrived. Following behind him was Marta with a group lagging slightly behind to give her space.

Passing by the burnt church along the way. The group stopped to look down at the rotten body of Knoth. Shooting glares while one boldly spat on the corpse before they caught up to Blake. Regretting their choice when faced by Marta's ire. “What ungrateful-”

“Marta!” Blake's voice warned her back. She shot him an agitated look with clenching fists. Untensing on a few bible verses spoken. Others gave her a wide birth the entire time she chained out verses. Blake entered the grand hall through the front doors this time. Tall windows off to the left with an open ceiling showing large rafters. Passing by the long rows of dining tables with the higher stage at the back. A pair of double doors off to the right side grabbed Blake's attention. Walking around a large L shaped bar top he Opened them and found the large community kitchen. Noticing its age based on some appliances he was sure of being from the 70s or 80s. The fridges being more “modern” than the black iron stoves. Made to hold wood for cooking with similar black metal vents going into the ceiling. Whole place having not been used for a while based on the dust over everything. He assumed people didn't eat together, but in the privacy of their homes. Would be weird eating together with people who tried to kill you earlier. Turning back to the people still following. “Stay here. Sit down.” Lightly gesturing to the room. He didn't want them all trying to crowd in after him. The kitchen cramped enough with only a small walkway around the place.

He opened a few cabinets that only contained dishes. Moving to others full of various kitchen supplies like dish soap. Checking a small door he found what he was looking for, a pantry filled with canned foods. Grabbing a can of spam he winced a little at its best by date 15 years past. Reading similar expiration dates on every other can in there. Guess I'll be able to tell when I open it? Concerned that it would be rotten and tainted by a metallic flavor. Using a butter knife he popped open the lid. Inspecting the meat that had stayed fresh from what he could see. No strange smell or slime, although the flavor was lost to time. Tasting of nothing as he ate it plainly gripped in hand like a bread loaf. Working his way through the meal he took in the room to pass the time. Locking onto one of Knoth's paintings of himself with a golden disk mimicking other holy prophet paintings. Losing his appetite in the room, Blake removed himself to head outside. Not wanting to even be in a building with one of Knoth's depictions, he rather stand out by Marta. She stood outside staring off toward the burnt church with growing annoyance. Murmuring more bible verses or strips of Knoth's gospel. He looked and saw a group gathered by the building causing his curiosity to grow. Heading over there he finished the bland spam to investigate the commotion.

The freed gathered around Knoth's corpse to prod at it. Confirming to themselves personally that Knoth was indeed dead. Blake grimaced at the corpse laying out in the open. Hating to see his face even more now than when he was alive. Couldn't this town be rid of him already? Even In death he still lingers to torment people with his presence. Blake decided to do something about him. Shooing away some to clear the body he took the pick in his hands. Slamming it under the body to lean back in hooking it on. Wincing at the smell releasing from the bloated corpse. Others stepped back with a cover of their noses. A disgusting thick old blood mixed slime stretched from it to the dirt. Leaving a slick trail behind as Blake dragged him away from everything toward a ditch in the distance. Tossing him in finishing the first step he had lined up. Walking back to the grand hall he searched the cabinets for a small box full of matches. With that in hand he grabbed the painting of Knoth. Gathering similar depictions off the hall walls or framed on desks. Gospel papers crumpled in his grip to join the collected kindling. A pile forming over Knoth of all his monuments across Temple Gate. Many joined in, not only slaves, to toss their saved gospels. Paintings, photos, personal letters to written down commands. It grew further as everyone hunted down the false idols to add. Marta showed her clear displeasure for what Blake was doing. Her mumbling of verses turned louder toward a normal speaking tone. Words traveling down the halls out the grand buildings doors she had hid inside. Blake, having heard her, followed the trailing verses back to her praying under a large chandelier in the middle of an empty meeting room.

He approached her side with still many items held under an arm. “You okay?” His voice calm when asking.

She stopped her uttering of verses to coldly look down upon him. “You took him from our holy town and now you wish to kill his memory. How much more will you take, Angel? When our faith is dead will you be satisfied? Or when our souls are reaped like his? They know not what they're doing. Betraying our Lord by turning away our prophets teachings. His gospel should be treasured for what it gave us. Are you happy about the ruin you bring us?”

“You're one to talk.” He huffed. “How many did Knoth have you kill? You blame me, but I didn't kill Knoth either really. What's going to make you happy? If Knoth returned right now and demanded you to kill, other than me, would you be happy then? Could you look down on those families who just reunited and say they deserve to die?” Marta's piercing stare faltered against his words. “You want to save Knoth's teachings so bad? Then take it.” Holding out the dreaded pick to her. “Kill for him again.”

She flinched away from its form held toward her. Face losing what little color it had. Side eyeing the weapon she once wield as a righteous deliverer of justice. Now treated as a cursed object to be rejected at all cost. Shrinking back under its damning shadow falling over her.

“Knoth's last command was to kill me. Will you? He knows you didn't like killing. Why couldn't he have done it himself? Because of his religious restrictions that he forced you to break? For everyone to break all these years. What did his gospel do for you, Marta? … Will you save it?” Arm tiring from the pick he set its end on the ground. Its weighted thud into the floor boards echoed around them. Sounding close to a gavel sending its judgment down on the guilty.

She hesitated to face him and the blade, her breath stolen in the moment. When it was regained she answered a shaken. “No.” Stepping back to leave deeper into the darkened half of the building. Acting as if being offered such a chance had directly struck down her soul. Requiring urgent healing care as far as possible from the black picks toxic presence.

He sighed at her retreat into the dark. I'll check on her later. Returning to the ditch now completely filled by all sorts of junk that merely mentioned Knoth's name. Tossing in his arm full, he waited for any more stragglers to toss the last. Head facing one side down to the other of those gathered behind him. “Got all that we could?” The crowd agreed along with head nodding. “Alright.” Blake spoke with the strike of a match. Urged to say something while scowling down at all the imagery burying the one they depicted. “For what you've done. … An eternity in hell isn't enough.”

A burning match tossed down into the papers. It spread a fire from the inside out of the pile. When Blake walked off right after, so did everyone else. No one wanted to mourn that monster burning deep down in a pit. Along the way he saw so many other dead rotting out under the baking sun. Their smell caused Blake's eyes to water after almost gagging on it. “Fuck.” Lightly cursing his tugging heart to do something. He thought to burn them, it was the quickest way. Yet he didn't want to get rid of them the same way he did to Knoth. With how many there were, he would need a lot of help. Turning to the people he asked them to. “Fetch some shovels. We're making graves.” Thankful that they did what was asked. Many hours later a long mass grave had been made. Far too many body's to space out for proper single graves. Buried and covered by various stones that many scratched names into. Blake placed three of his own. One for Lynn and the other two for Ethan and his daughter. A depressing number of people killed over many years by Knoth now put to rest. Trees free of strung up bodies. Suicide victims taken out of homes. Freed of cages they weren't freed from in life. Untangled from barbed wire stringing them up on poles for scarecrows. The streets were far more empty, now that so much death was cleared.

Blake feared the next, and most deserving, to be put to rest. Entering the building whose floor was made up of burnt children. He quietly apologized to the small room. Knowing he walked across them to reach Lynn. This would require ginger care to move them all. Their body's burned together were carefully separated to be wrapped in white cloth. Bodies of others were already in wooden boxes lined up inside. Ready to be buried, but never were until now. Walked to a grave set under a large lone oak tree in an open field. Placed with them were flowers or toys the townspeople gathered. When it was done and filled in, it too was covered by various rocks with carved names. This funeral lasted longer than the others. Blake stood by respectfully until the last person left at sundown.

Passing by the people in town he saw in their eyes a presence of awe toward him, but also fear. After his interaction with Marta he studied the pick axe in his hands. He wasn't superstitious and was sure it wasn't cursed. He did see however, that it had a burden tied to it. Weighing down on Marta with each new kill under its blade. Its burden now tying itself to him in intimidating those around him. Same as all those gospel papers, he knew, this too had to go. Could he really say anyone was free while they were terrified of being killed? Either by him or if by chance Marta took it back. It would put him at risk to not have a weapon, but then what was the point? He keeps it and people stay obedient because they're scared of him, exactly as Knoth kept things. Sickened by that he almost abandoned it right then and there. Holding off on that, it needed a grander send off then being dropped in the dirt. If it were only so easy for everyone else. Take their burdens and toss it far away to make themselves free. Marinating on the thought he figured out a way they could. Returning to the patio of the grand hall he took a deep breath.

Shouting toward the first stars appearing, hoping all would hear him. “Tomorrow, grab an object. One that has meaning to you, but one you will not miss. Meet me here tomorrow.” Stepping inside to pass the few freed without homes.

He was stopped by one. “What if we have nothing?”

“A rock will do.” Picking something common that anyone could take. He headed through the back doors dead tired and beyond sore from digging those deep graves. Opening doors one by one to check their insides. Some offices, a cleaning closet then he found a storage space in the middle. Having a line up of basic cots, surrounded by storage shelving, he was thrilled to see the bedding unused by anyone. Judging off them being covered in a thick layer of dust that poofed off in a choking cloud. Before laying in bed he went to the door to lock it shut. Fearful at the thought someone would sneak in to strangle him to death. Soon as he laid down he was out until the following afternoon.

Slow to wake, but knowing he had something important planned he stretched. Popping multiple places along his spine when he hissed after his shoulder locked up. Still feeling that bruise marking his first day here, at least it was lighter than before. Sliding from the bed he looked down at the pick left on the floor. Tired again at the mere thought of picking it up again. I'll be glad when I'm rid of you. Hoisting it up into his hands. Unlocking the door he passed down the hall steps echoing along the whole way. Worrying that nobody heard him last night. That he'd need to go awkwardly knock on doors. Hope Temple Gates full of morning people. I don't want to get a knife to the head. When he passed through the end door a smile twitched onto his face. The huge room full of people sitting at the tables talking to one another. Quieting down soon as they saw him enter. Blake stepped over to the small podium set at mid stage.

“Thank you for coming.” Gazing across the crowd of faces he saw one in particular was absent. “Stay here, I'll be right back. When I do, we'll head out.” He left the podium to search around the grand hall first. Unable to find her he went around the empty town. How do I lose someone who's seven fucking feet tall? Running into a few stragglers along the way. “Have you seen Marta?”

“In her chapel?” They pointed off toward a certain direction.

“Thank you.” Rushing off toward the tall building he was certain was the one. Arriving he came to a stop at the large front door. Knocking on it to announce his presence he received no answer. Opening the door it creaked loudly to announce his presence all the more. Right away he saw the tall woman sitting in a chair. The sunlight pooling in from behind him providing the only bit of light inside. She was sitting completely in the dark, slumped forward, exhausted, wearing a long face after crying not too long ago. “Marta?” He spoke softly. “I need you to come to the lake. Just for a little while, please.”

She glanced over to him, wincing at the sight of the pick in his hands. “I can't let the sun touch me. The Lord would not like it to shine on me.”

His head tilted down, knowing he wasn't always the best at cheering others. “I think he would.” Giving it a try at least. “Especially today, it's very important you're there. I can help clear you of your sins.” He stood between the doorway, waiting. Unable to do this without her he'd stand there all day if he had to. Maybe the ceremony will happen at night then. Joking, but hoping that wouldn't be the case.

“Can you do that?”

“If I'm an angel, I can.” doing his best to give a reassuring smile. Judging from Marta's poker face he wasn't sure if it worked at first. Without a word, she stood to do what he asked of her. He saw the pain inside written all over her face and in how she acted. Keeping away from the object in his hands if it was motioned toward her. Lagging behind as he led the way back to the hall. Gathering the others onward to the lake in a large assembly.

“Gather along.” Gesturing down along the rocky shore. Questioning himself on if this was the best place or maybe a cliff. Least a cliff wouldn't smell like rotten fish, but too late now. Patiently he waited for the others to shuffle into place. Many fidgeted with small objects in their hands. Most appearing out of the chosen objects he saw were crosses. Golden sun beamed down on them from the clear blue sky. Lake looking far nicer than it was the last time he saw it. Not a dead fish in sight despite the lingering smell of them. Birds tweeting from far off tree lines on the other shore. “Marta.” He called forward from the crowd. Tapping a spot in front of him for her to stand. She didn't have an object, but she also didn't need one since Blake brought one for her. He stretched out the weapon in front of him, laid across his opened palms. “Take it.” Set out in offering it to Marta, who again flinched away from it. By the looks on peoples faces he could tell his request scared the crowd. Speaking softly to break their moment of nerves he repeated. “Take it. When you do, toss it as far as you can into the lake. When you toss it, it will take all your sins with it.”

Marta looked between him and the pick. Bringing her hands under it she twitched away at first like tapping hot iron. As he lowered it fully into her grasp she wasn't prepared for its weight, shifting herself to keep it hoisted up. He smiled at her then stood back to give her room. She looked down sorrowfully at it, then closed her eyes for a deep breath. Opening them again she leaned the offending weapon back till it tapped the shore to launch it swirling over the water. Appearance like a black disk before it slammed into the surface creating a huge splash. Sinking deeply into the lake's darkness never to be found again.

“Nice throw.” Complimenting her with a wave of the next person to come forward. Repeating the line he said before to them. “Throw it and let your sins go with it.” A line of people forming to toss all their selected items. People weighed down by their guilt uplifted when they committed their toss. Smiling between one another on the enlarging side throughout the ceremony. Watching the event go on, Blake dipped back into his thoughts. What will you do now? Nagging him that he had to keep this whole thing rolling. Everything's clean. People are happy for the most part. Stomach growling to nag him next about neglecting to eat since yesterday morning. Open another spam when I get back. Mm, can't live on that forever around here. First the spam then the rest will go. Does this place have any farms? There were corn fields, but I don't remember much on them. The livestock rotting won't be any good by now. Fuck, what do we have to work with? Maybe farming shouldn't be first. Turning his head toward the forest surrounding them. Some deer have to be out there or berry bushes. Make some traps for rabbits. Could we fish? Scanning the water. No chance. I don't know what happened to the water before with all the dead fish. Metal poisoning or a toxic algae bloom could be happening. Thinking back on the time him and Lynn reported a case of that on an ocean coast line. Warning people not to eat anything they caught for the next few weeks. Dead things from birds to big seals were washing up dead. He didn't know if it'd wash away in a lake like it would in open ocean. If I start to see fish that would be the first sign it's getting better at least. Still I wont take a sip until it's tested for metal… Were people drinking from this? Were they using the water for farms? Crap, didn't think about that. Cant farm without a major water source for it all. Okay, let's keep all this simple. Hunting and gathering. Figure out the rest later… Wait, does this make me the mayor now? Can I run a town? Can I run this town? Thoughts running off on their own throughout the ceremony.

Sun lowering from its tall noon stature by the time the ceremony was complete. People smiling while they talked to one another. Marta kept a blank face while she leaned against a leafless tree under the sun. Her changes a lot more subtle than everyone else's. Breathing easier under the sun she hid from earlier. Blake didn't want to interrupt the truly happy moment these people had, but he needed to find out more. Specifically if there were any farmers left to work.

Approaching the group he cleared his throat to catch their attention. “Any of you farmers?” The townspeople looked between all of them. Shaking their heads when he looked to a few. His heart sank the longer there was no positive answer. Giving up he turned to teaching how to farm himself as the go to. Saved from that when one older man stepped forward through the parting crowd.

“I am.” He was mid 60s, partly balding with darker hair. A big scar crossed diagonally over his face to split a part of his lip and one eyebrow. “Most of us who worked the fields ain't around no more. It's just me now.”

“Can you teach others how?”

“Sure.”

“Good, what's your name?”

“James, sir.”

“Do you know the fields around here?”

“Yeah, but ain't much. About all our fields are dirt. Knoth told us not to bother replanting since… Well.” Shifting his shoulders. “Only corn stalks that have been picked clean by now. The bad ones were left behind.”

“Can you start planting again?”

“Naw, not a speck of seeds or grain in our barn. I can grab what's left of those inedible cobs for corn seeds. But that next harvest can't be planted 'till April at the soonest.”

Damn, that's months away. Octobers only halfway now. “Okay, start collecting as much as you can along with whatever else you can find. Take as many people as you need to help you out.” Worried about the water supply he added. “Don't plant anything yet though.” Sending the farmer off who took along five people with him. Blake faced back to the crowd. “Any of you hunters?” Happy to get a faster response.

A slightly younger man around 40s with dark hair. Face covered in many small scars that parted what short dark stubble was on his face. “My names John, sir. I used to go out on regular hunting trips.”

“Perfect. I think we're going to need you a lot right now. Any more work with you? Can you train others?”

“A few of us. My son and a couple men. I can train more starting on basic traps.”

“Great, know how to forage too?”

“Yes sir, now's the best time for berry's before they go away.”

“Okay, same as I told James. Collect as much as you can and take as many people as you need. I want to save canned food as much as possible. Come back with what you've gotten at the end of the day.” Announcing to the crowd. “Only eat canned if there's not enough fresh food to go around.”

“Umm.” John nervously said before quieting.

“Yes?” He asked carefully to not scare John quiet. Knoth I'm guessing didn't like to hear any “but's.” Have to make sure nothing slips by because of that.

“I don't have any equipment to hunt bigger things. I can set traps for rabbits and forage, but that's 'bout it.”

“That's fine. Catch or gather whatever you can. We're all starting from the bottom.”

“Yes sir.” John dipped his head before heading off collecting his mentioned three and twelve others.

Blake took in a deep breath of air. Foods being worked on. Time to start rebuilding.

#Outlast 2 #Blake Langermann #Marta Outlast #Val Outlast #Temple Gate #Outlast 2: Deliverance #Outlast 2 fanfic

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futbol16 · 2 years ago

Text

As your Captain ・ Barcelona Femení

This one is for these two requests although I have slightly changed it, I might have forgotten what the original request was, but I hope you enjoy!

Requests: "Can we have some angst/hurt with Barcelona girls or lionesses?"

"Hopping in on the request because you are the best 🤩🤩🤩🤩 Would you write one where the girls wrongfully got the message that Y/N would move to Lyon or worse Real Madrid and the team gives her the cold shoulder and very angry training sessions, Y/N notices after a few days and every attempt of dialogue fails. Having enough Y/N lets all her frustration out when no one expected it, lots of tears and anger and most importantly disappointment. She disappears for hours and it's freezing cold and the girls in the meantime found it was a lie to jeopardize the time. They’re all frantically searching for her and trying to call, she comes to training the next morning, none of the girls sleeps, soaked in rain and not able to talk to her cold temperature and shivering. She catches a intense flu and the team has absolutely never felt worse"

Word count: 1,9k

The final whistle of the match is blown and you excitedly run towards Mapi before jumping on her back and the two of you join the rest of the team celebrating.

Your team had won 5-0 to Real Madrid with you assisting a goal and scoring one of your own as well.

As you glance over to the other side of the field you take in the way Misa lazily picks up her goalie gloves she had previously thrown to the ground. A frown takes over your features when you see her try to wipe her tears away, tears that obviously weren’t anywhere near stopping.

You were always one to respect your opponents especially if they were on the same national team as you, you had seen the way Misa desperately tried to get her team together in the match. She was captain and truthfully she was the only one actually playing for Real Madrid today.

You don’t wait long as you make your way towards her and gently pull the taller girl into your arms, whispering praises into her ear as you try to comfort her.

Misa was your friend on the Spanish team and you knew she’d be more disappointed in her own performance than anyone else’s.

She holds onto you as well, burying her face into your shoulder, occasionally nodding at your words and she thanks you when you tell her you need to get back to your team.

Your actions didn’t go unnoticed by the Barca girls, or the cameras and fans at that and they all watched, confused.

No one thinks about it for too long though as you and the girls get back to the locker room and celebrate the wonderful win.

A few days after the match you notice the sudden change in air from your teammates.

You feel their eyes on you, watching your every step, yet when you’d turn around they would already be busy with something.

They also haven’t said much, at least not to you which was very unusual as usually you and most of the younger girls would be joking around, loudly laughing at each other whenever you got the chance.

Not now though.

Training has been a bit different, your training partner, Patri had switched with someone else and now you had Marta.

It’s not that you didn’t like the girl, you really did, but you were used to training with Patri and her switching up without a word left you hurt and confused.

You knew the defenders on your team could be aggressive, but what you were experiencing right now was far from how teammates would challenge each other.

Their main target seemed to be you and you only. Tackles were sent your way left and right at every drill and you were sure that someone also tripped you up on purpose when you were walking to the back of the line.

It hurt. You didn’t know why they had been avoiding you and why so suddenly. You had thought over everything you had done in the past week that could have made 22 people have it out for you, but nothing came to mind.

Team chemistry was off. It was obvious to you, to your teammates and most importantly to the coach and staff members.

Jonatan had also taken notice of how you seemed to always end up on the ground in drills that on any other day you could have done in your sleep.

It isn’t until you’re clutching your ankle, laying on the turf as you try to breathe through the pain, that he actually intervenes.

As a medic makes his way over to you, Jonatan calls your name from not too far at the sidelines.

“Y/L/N, I want you in my office after practice!”

Your ankle had been fine after checking it out but you did have a small limp as you walked into the coach’s office, ready to talk with him.

As you take a seat in front of Jonatan, he doesn’t waste time as he gets right into it.

“Y/N I’ve noticed how the team isn’t connecting and I know you have too. As captain, and especially now since Alexia isn’t here, I need you to figure out what happened.

Whatever it is, you need to fix it, talk to them. We can’t go into a match like this.” you nod at his words and as you get excused, you immediately walk to the changing room where you knew the rest of the girls would be.

For the first time in a week they acknowledge your presence as you walk in and instantly take notice of the hard look on your face.

You looked mad, something that scared them since you rarely showed this side of you to them. The girls in the room freeze in their movements as they look up at you, silence overtaking the room and they watch as you slightly limp towards your bag.

Shoving your shin guards into it you also turn towards them. Your voice is cold and eerily emotionless as you start to speak.

“I have no idea what happened or if I’ve done something but it’s clearly affecting our performance as a team and I won’t have that. I’m telling you this as your captain, if you don’t get yourselves together and communicate what you’re feeling then I’ll gladly sit you out on our next game.

As captain it is my job to take care of the players but I can not do that if you guys ignore my existence. This is unacceptable and I don’t think I deserve this!”

The last part is spoken harshly and some of the girls visibly shiver at your tone.

Looking around the changing room most of your teammates’ heads are lowered, a guilty look on their faces, but Mapi, Patri and Mariona glare at you, a look you can only give back to them.

You leave the room at the silence you receive and make your way to one of the other offices.

Back in the changing-room Irene takes the team's silence as her chance to speak up, she had been one of the few who hadn’t totally ignored your presence after the ElClásico.

The barca team finds themselves in Jonatan’s office less than fifteen minutes after you’ve left and Jonatan looks at them panicked as he’s bombarded with questions.

“What? Repeat that question?” he asks as utter confusion and surprise is written all over his face.

“Has Y/N already signed with Real Madrid?” Aitana questions again, this time saying it slower, but the coach only stares at the group of football players standing in front of him.

They shuffle uncomfortably under the man’s gaze before he talks.

“Now where the hell did you hear that from?” it’s now the team’s turn to stare at him now as they take in what he’s saying.

“So wait, Y/N isn’t transferring to Real?” Patri is the one who voices her thoughts first.

“No, no of course not!” Jonatan laughs at the idea of you ever wearing the Real Madrid badge over your heart, you had made your distaste towards the club clear to him.

“But everyone keeps talking about it!”

“Who’s everyone? Girls, don’t tell me you got this information from the internet, you didn’t believe another rumor now, did you?” the coach looks at them expectantly before sighing at their guilty faces and he rubs at his face for a second.

“It was only because of the whole Lyon thing from last time, people kept saying she’d transfer to them and well, yeah, we believed another rumor.” Pina admits, her voice growing quieter by the end.

“But we also discussed last time that it was only because she signed the contract extension with Barca late, right?” they nod at his words.

“Look, I understand that you misunderstood the situation and I now also know why you guys haven’t been doing too well in training, but this is very immature of you all.

No one is transferring anywhere unless your captain or I say so. And the way you’ve handled this is disappointing, Y/N is your teammate, she’s family and family shouldn't be treated like this.”

As he lectures the girls, they all nod along, admitting they’ve been wrong and that they’d like to fix it.

“Y/N is in another meeting right now, but I suggest you talk with her first thing tomorrow at training.”

When the team walks into the training center the next day they take notice of your bag already sitting in your cubby, or rather still sitting there.

Training soon starts and as they try to get a look at you they see the dark circles under your eyes and your somewhat puffy cheeks. You looked exhausted and you were barely halfway through training.

A sloppy move from Lucy results in you sitting on the turf as you try to catch your breath and she is instantly standing in front of you, helping you up and apologizing.

You dismiss her and start towards the beginning of the drill when you stumble slightly. The brunette is there to catch you when your body decides to give up and you pass out.

The team runs over worriedly as the medics make space to get you off the field. They watch as you’re carried into the medical room before having to resume practice.

Thirty minutes later they’re all crowded in the unusually spacious medical room and Claudia takes a hold of your hand when she sees the state you’re in.

You have cooling rags placed all over your body and you look exhausted as you breathe slowly. The medic fills them in on the diagnosis, telling them that you’ve got a fever and have also overworked your body.

When some of the girls look at her weird she goes into detail.

“Y/N stays the night at the facility sometimes to get in extra training or work on something. Security has gotten used to her being here at this point and let her have the pitch to herself for the night.

Unfortunately Y/N over here has forgotten that temperatures have dropped during the night and she’s caught a cold now.” she tells them with an amused chuckle and the team looks at you sadly.

Mapi walks over, gently running her finger through your hair and she smiles when you lean into her touch slightly.

A sneeze breaks the team out of their trance and you reach for a tissue as you blow out your nose.

The room is immediately in chaos as everyone tries to apologize for their behavior and you smile up at them gently when both Pina and Mapi explain the situation.

As they calm down a bit they make a show of apologizing to you one by one before promising that they wouldn’t believe another rumor unless you’d tell them yourself.

You’re taken care of by your teammates for the next week until you get better and they shower you in love and small acts of kindness, still feeling incredibly bad for how they’ve treated you.

You soak up the love you’ve missed out on, but you still couldn’t have asked to be part of a better family.

Barcelona was your home and you wouldn’t trade it for any other team.

#woso imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #mapi leon x reader #claudia pina x reader

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shiftingparadise · 2 years ago

Note

Hello, may i please request a Captain Levi x Wife!Reader who's actually a noble - she's outspoken, intelligent and sly and somewhat flirtatious, loyal, kind-hearted and caring.

Their marriage has been a love match, cause it started in a liasion meeting which cause the reader to be pregnant with their child; and so they were wed.

You can do what you want to do for this plot hehe ^^

Thank you

Aaaa I loved this request. I'm not sure if you wanted some ✨ smut ✨ or not, so I made a tiny part that's only suggestive. I hope you're okay with this. Otherwise, you can skip the part after the first '---'.

Thank you for your request, I really hope you like it 🤍✨

Warnings: as I mentioned above, a small part is suggestive, but you can easily skip this (it's after the first '---').

Word count: 2333

‘Careful’, a steady hand grabbed your arm. ‘H-huh?’, a stunned expression on your face. ‘You’ll ruin your dress’, a dark-haired man nodded towards a puddle.

Handsome. You’ve never seen anyone more handsome than the stranger who just prevented you from ruining your new dress.

‘Thank you’, you straightened your back, a hand on your purse, ‘It seems you saved me the trouble of buying a new dress. Drinks are on me’.

‘Not necessary’, the man coldly replied, an annoyed expression on his face. ‘Oh, I insist’, you politely bowed your head, ‘If your wife doesn’t mind, of course’.

He wasn’t wearing a ring. You already noticed. A man his age was supposed to wear a ring if he was taken.

‘Tsk’, he clicked his tongue, ‘I said no’.

‘H-hey! Wait’, you grabbed his arm, preventing him from walking away.

He wasn’t getting away from you this easily.

‘What?’, his brows drew together at your unexpected touch, ‘I don’t have time for this’.

Finally, someone who didn’t beg for your attention. A challenge you loved and hated at the same time.

‘I’m sorry sir’, you put on your most innocent expression, ‘But could you walk me home? You see, I have the feeling someone’s following me and-‘.

‘Aren’t you here with someone? A woman like you shouldn’t be out this late by herself’.

Right, a woman shouldn’t, but you weren’t an ordinary woman. Any man, or woman for that matter, knew what the consequences were if anyone was ever caught hurting you. You couldn’t help but feel some kind of relief that the handsome stranger didn’t know who you were.

‘I’m sorry’, you lowered your head to the ground, hands fiddling with each other, ‘I hope it isn’t too much trouble-‘.

‘Fine’, a cold and short reply, but he held out his arm, nonetheless. Like a gentleman should.

You gently wrapped your arm around his, walking as close as possible to him. His scent greeted your nose like a warm fire on a cold winter day. Everything about him was perfect. His manners, his stoic appearance, his tired eyes… And well, the fact that he didn’t seem interested in you made him all the more interesting.

‘Oh’, you smiled, ‘I didn’t know we’d walk past here… What do you say, just one drink? It’s my favorite bar-‘

‘Bar? You go to bars?’, he paused, holding you back from pulling him inside.

Right. A girl in an expensive dress like you wasn’t supposed to go to bars or feel safe in them anyway.

‘Fine, you got me’, you smirked, ‘I don’t need your protection, but I do need to thank you, so… Just one drink’, you giggled as you pulled him inside.

He wasn’t used to this. You could see it in the way his eyes darted toward your hand as you pulled him inside.

‘Hm, nice and cozy’, you smiled contently as you sat down, slowly removing your gloves. ‘You tricked me?’, a confused and arrogant look in his crescent-shaped eyes. ‘If you agreed to have a few drinks with me, I shouldn’t have’.

‘Tsk’, he finally sat down, ‘I don’t drink’. ‘Well, you do tonight’, you smirked as you raised your hand, ‘I’ll have two scotches, Marta’. ‘On its way, miss’, the girl behind the bar smiled back.

'Scotch?’, the man once again frowned. ‘What? Never seen a woman drink whiskey?’. ‘You just didn’t seem the type to-‘.

You smirked as he stopped his sentence. He finally figured it out. You could see it in his confused look. He knew you weren’t like the other girls. The girls who’d only drank champagne and wine, if they drank at all.

‘So’, you took a sip, enjoying the familiar, dry burn in your throat, ‘I never caught your name’.

‘And I never caught yours’, he leaned back, his arm resting on the back of the chair.

Finally, a challenge.

‘Y/N L/N’, you placed your elbows on the table, chin resting on your hands.

‘Levi Ackerman’, he nonchalantly took a sip from his glass.

‘So, Mr. Ackerman, are you in a hurry?’.

‘No’, a painfully short answer.

You were right. He certainly wasn’t used to this.

‘Good, let’s order-‘, you paused as you could hear Marta’s sweet voice from across the room.

‘P-please sir, i-it was an accident. I-I swear’, she sobbed, her eyes fixed on the ground. ‘I don’t care. You ruined my clothes’, the man - whom she obviously spilled a drink on - grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. ‘I guess you can’t pay for this, right?’.

‘N-no’, she hastily shook her head. ‘So, how are you going to make it up to me? I bet a girl behind a bar like this has at least some experience’, a sadistic smirk on the man’s face.

You couldn’t see past your rage. You couldn’t see that Levi was already standing up. You couldn’t hear him calling your name. You were fuming.

‘Take your dirty hands off her’, you placed your hand on the man’s wrist, ‘If I see you in here, or even hear you’ve been in here again, I’ll make sure your execution takes place on the very day you finally find your balls and dare to come in here again’.

Unlike Levi, the man did recognize you.

‘My clothes-‘, the man tried to regain his dignity, but you quickly cut him off. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t make myself clear. You’re going to leave, now’.

‘Of course, Miss L/N’, the man reluctantly lowered his head before grabbing his jacket and leaving as quickly as possible.

‘Are you okay?’, you hastily pulled Marta’s sleeves up, eyes searching for bruises on her soft skin.

‘T-thank you Miss-‘, ‘Y/N, it’s Y/N. How many times do I have to remind you?’, you kindly smiled as you wiped the tears from her cheeks.

You didn’t have friends. Your status wouldn’t allow it. Everyone who was ever close to you was only in it for the perks. Being a member of one of the mightiest and most influential families sounded nicer than it was.

‘Come here’, you pulled her in for a hug, ‘Now chin up, and back to work. Show those men around here how strong you are. Show them they can’t take advantage of you’, you whispered before pulling away. ‘Thank you, Miss, I mean Y/N’, her eyes twinkling with courage now.

‘Asshole’, you sighed as you wanted to walk to your table.

Gone? Did he leave?

‘This one’s on me’, two hands placed another round of scotch on the table. Levi was impressed with you, even intrigued. Someone of your status normally wouldn’t care if something like this happened. They usually lived with their heads in the clouds, painfully unaware of how cruel life truly was to those who weren’t as privileged.

---

How did he get here? He never did this. He wasn’t the kind of man to sleep with someone whom he just met, yet here he was. His naked body was welcoming yours, his hands intertwined with yours, his lips eager for the salty taste on your skin…

‘You’re beautiful’, he unwillingly frowned, ‘I’m sorry if my hands are rough’.

He could slap himself. Why did he say such a thing? At this moment?

‘You never do this, do you?’, you kindly smiled, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to-‘.

‘N-no, I want to’, he hastily responded, ‘I-I really do’.

‘So strange’, you tightened your grip around his hands, ‘I didn’t expect you to be so sweet and caring’.

God, he felt so insecure, so unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to be sweet, he wanted to take you until you couldn’t walk anymore, to hear you scream out his name, but he couldn’t do that. Your eyes seemed so fragile, so soft and so broken.

‘I just want to make sure you enjoy this’, he gently bit your shoulder, ‘Because I’m going to’.

---

‘Levi?’, Hange nonchalantly knocked on his door, ‘Someone’s here to see you. A girl from the city. What was your name again? Oh right, Y/N’, a guilty smile on her face.

Y/N? What were you doing here? At headquarters? He hadn’t seen you in months. After that night, you parted ways and that was it.

‘Come in’, he laid down his pen, ‘Not you, Hange’, he coldly looked at his friend.

‘Fine’, she raised her hands, ‘I’ll try my best to keep the cadets away from this door, but I can’t promise anything. They almost jumped on her when she asked them where your office was’.

‘Right’, he sighed as he pinched the space between his eyebrows, ‘She asked the cadets, that’s great’. ‘Sorry’, you nervously smiled.

‘Doesn’t matter. Sit down, please’, he nodded towards the chair. ‘You’re still here, Hange’, Levi nodded toward the door.

‘Ugh, fine!’, a discontent sigh as she left the room.

‘What are you doing here?’.

‘I’m fine, thank you. How are you?’, you smirked in response.

‘I’m sorry’, his cold eyes piercing through yours, ‘I just didn’t expect to see you again’. ‘Me neither’, your smile slowly disappeared.

Something was wrong. He could see it in the way you carried yourself. You seemed tired, nervous even.

‘Look’, you sighed, voice shaking, ‘I don’t expect you to care about what I’m going to tell you, nor do I expect you to do anything, but I thought you should know’.

‘What?’, his heart racing.

‘I’m pregnant’, a glossy shimmer in your eyes, ‘And I know what you’re going to say, but yes, it’s yours. You were the first person I slept with in a year. I just thought you should know’, you stood back up again.

Where were you going? Were you just going to leave like this? You told him he was going to be a father, and you expected him to pretend this conversation never took place?

‘Are you going to keep it?’.

It came out cold and uninterested, but he cared. He really did.

‘Yes’, you looked over your shoulder, ‘But as I said, I don’t expect you to help out or anything. I won’t tell anyone you’re the father’.

‘But aren’t people going to shun you out if they find out someone of your status is pregnant without being married?’. ‘So?’, you shrugged your shoulders, ‘I don’t care about any of that. Besides, if my father finds out, he’ll probably make me marry someone before I give birth. I’m sure my status won’t be harmed’.

‘So, you expect me to stay put and watch how a stranger raises our child?’, he pushed his chair back.

‘What? Are you going to marry me?’, you turned around, tears streaming down your cheek.

‘Yes’.

‘What?’, your shoulders dropped, your eyes wide open.

‘I’ll marry you. Even if it’s just for show, even if you don’t want anything to do with me. I want to be there for-‘.

Wait. He was going to be a father. It suddenly flooded over him like a cold shower. He was going to be a father. How? He never had one. He never grew up in a warm mansion like you did.

‘It’s fine’, you shook your head, ‘As I said, I won’t tell anyone’.

‘N-no, that’s not what I-‘,

Why was the room spinning? Why did he feel a pressure on his chest?

‘L-levi?’, you hastily grabbed his arm, ‘A-are you fine? You don’t have to worry about it really I-‘.

He didn’t care that he only met you once. That he only spent one night exploring your body, your thoughts, your past. He didn’t mind it at all because he knew what he felt. Even if it seemed impossible. He cared for you. He didn’t hesitate, not this time.

You froze as two hands cupped your cheeks, his lips crashing against yours. ‘I’ll marry you’, his eyes locked with yours as he pulled away, ‘And not just to save your status. I’ll marry you because ever since we slept together, I wake up every morning only to find out that I ache for your touch, for your voice, for your honey-like scent. I don’t care if this sounds strange since we only met once, but I this is how I feel. You made me addicted to your taste and honestly, I don’t care. I know you don’t feel the same, but give me a chance to show you what kind of man I am and –‘.

‘I feel the same’, you softly replied before letting your head rest on his shoulder, ‘I really do’.

---

‘No’, Levi sternly replied. ‘Yes’, you looked at your husband. ‘I said no’, he crossed his arms as to strengthen his answer.

‘Here’, you happily smiled at Connie, ‘You can hold her’.

‘No’, Levi hastily held his arm in front of you.

‘I-I promise I’ll be careful, Captain. I’ve got siblings so…’, Connie saluted your husband, ‘I promise I’ll dedicate my heart to this cause and make sure I won’t drop her’.

‘Jezus Connie’, you laughed, ‘You don’t need to take it this so serious’.

Levi couldn’t help it. He couldn’t hide his smile when he looked at his cadet.

‘Fine’, he quickly shifted back to his cold expression, ‘Sit down on that chair’.

‘Loosen up, Levi’, Hange laughed, ‘They’re trained for war. They can hold a baby’.

‘Tsk’, Levi kept his cold gaze fixed on Connie as you carefully placed his whole world in the arms of a kid.

‘Whaaa’, Connie’s eyes widened as he smiled from ear to ear, ‘She’s so tiny’.

‘Good, now hand her back over’, Levi immediately took her back away from him.

‘Give him some time’, you brushed through Connie’s hair, ‘He’s a bit overprotective’.

‘My turn!’ ‘O-oh, I want to go next!’, ‘And then me!’.

‘What?’, Levi widened his eyes as he turned around, only to find his cadets neatly lined up, patiently waiting their turn.

‘Give them a chance’, you softly placed a kiss on his cheek, ‘They’re going to be her family after all’.

‘Right’, Levi smiled, ‘Our family’.

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jamneuromain · 2 years ago

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Wishful Thinking Chpt. 3

Andy Barber x You (Reader), no use of Y/N

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: detailed description of (performed) oral sex, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, explicit language, TW: BDSM/safe wording, angst

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. list

Andy: Morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling today?

You’ve been staring at the message on your phone for precisely seventeen minutes now. Andy gets up a bit earlier than you did. As usual. He sends the message when he’s not there when you wake up. As usual. And you’ve been hesitant to reply. Which is not usual.

You roll over on your bed, exiting and re-entering the text message page. You should text him. You know you should. Yet, you drop your phone on your stomach and cover your eyes with your hands.

You wish you rather go back to sleep.

You safe-word last night, and you’ve been… odd.

You came back home as if you have lost half of your soul and don’t even remember how you went to bed. Your mind was, and still is, playing the scene over and over again. How he didn’t make eye contact when he forced you to deepthroat him. How your stomach and your throat protested. How you wanted him a second ago and abominated him the next.

And you are also certain that you ruined his floor. Either that or his carpet. Or both.

Your fingers clench and unclench on your soft beddings, as if it would bring you some comfort. You want Andy, you know for sure, but how can you ever face him when you safeword during sex? And his words last night, “fucktoy”? Does he want you? Does he want you in a sexual way or a spiritual way? More importantly, does he love you? How can he love you if you are so different (at least from the age perspective) and you barely know each other apart from two months of dating? How can anyone fall in love after a dozen dates?

Your eyes are dry. A bit swollen too. Thanks to all the tears you poured onto your pillow, for reasons of God knows what – you kept crying, you felt bad, and the worst part is that you couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, you didn’t know why you were feeling bad.

Your stomach gurls in another protest. Quite a lot protests coming from your body recently, you can’t help but being sarcastic. But you manage to get up from your cozy bed and decide to make yourself some breakfast, secretly hoping breakfast can take your mind off him. Andy. Last night. Whatever.

The TV is playing another episode of Alicia, the leading character of The Good Wife, crying and breaking up with her lover, also her boss – again, you think. Somehow, you are gloating because Alicia has to see Will again at work while you could avoid Andy because you don’t have any of his classes, however, you are also frustrated because Will clearly loves her, and they deserve to be together, not like… Jesus fucking Christ, does Andrew Fucking Barber ever take a break from occupying your head!

Marta is taking up one of the stoves, frying bacon and eggs while sparing a glance at the TV every now and then.

“Hi!” She greets you cheerfully.

“Hi.” You greet back, clearly not in a chatty mood, not that you ever were.

The sizzling of the frying pan and the humming of the kitchen ventilator have you focused on your plate. Your empty plate, which needs to be filled. ASAP. Before you start thinking about the-man-who-must-not-be-named again.

Marta is focusing more on the plot playing rather than cooking. When the character Alicia went out of the room, crying, she can’t help but “awww” in frustration, and stomps her feet on the carpet, “nononono you both idiots! Why don’t you just talk!”

Yeah, talk. As if that’s an easy job.

You are reminded of Andy again. You are pretty sure you need to talk this through or this would be the last action that buries your relationship.

But do you? Want to talk?

Or you want to bury your head under your duvet and just ignore all that had happened?

“Maybe it’s better off this way.” You comment, while making yourself a sandwich, “I don’t think he - Will - wants to settle down.”

Marta shakes her head as fast as she could, “but he loves her!” She exclaims, making a face when Alicia is trying to act normal in front of her family, “the least they could do is to start an affair to get back at her cheating husband!”

“So it’s about payback?”

“It’s about Alicia being stupid!” She slides the fried bacon into her own plate, wiping her hand with kitchen cloth, clearly disagreeing with you, “she loves him, and they deserve being together!”

You munch on an apple, “she has her family… she’s still married.”

“Yeah, married to a cheating husband.” She snorts, chewing the bacon like it’s a crispy chip, “fuck her family. Her kids are ungrateful little brats. Her mother-in-law is awful. And the only kind guy is her brother, who supports her being with the love of her life!”

You grow silent for a small while.

Guilt and regret claw their way back into your body, tugging your heart along with the pain you feel down your throat.

At this point, you can’t tell the difference between your biological pain and your psychological ones any more.

You lost the appetite that’s barely there. The slight interest you had in your apple. Poof. Gone. Even if it’s a small one.

You are a bit annoyed because Marta thinks cheating is “right”, in soaps at least, and you believe the opposite. You are also embarrassed, because deep down, you think what she said has a tiny bit of correctness. Panic, too. Because you think you approve of what she said.

Plus the fact your throat is not getting any better.

Andy: Talk to me, sweetheart. Please. Call me when you feel better.

The ding in your phone nearly has you throwing it half way across the room.

That certainly didn’t help.

You are getting more annoyed by the minute. Clicking your phone back to lock mode, you put it screen down on the kitchen counter without much patience.

Call him. A tempting choice.

A daunting choice.

If only you have the courage to face him. To accuse him of what he did. To address the harm he inflicted on you. To be as brave as the characters in the stories, to face him.

…to be honest, you’d rather pour yourself into writing. Writing stories and fantasies. Writing those perfect men that only exists under your pen and keystrokes.

Maybe that’s the better option. Write of a story you will never post. About some man who loves being a dom in the relationship.

A voice inside your head reminds you. This method is also known as procrastination.

Your phone is on your bed when you are pouring your heart out into a new story. You have Bluetooth headsets playing loud music, aiding you in writing a dramatic scene. You are sitting by your desk, working on your iPad, when the beating drums in your headset turn into a ringtone for phone calls.

Must be the delivery guys. They could never find the correct entrance to your apartment building.

You press the “call” button on your headset, still typing frantically on your screen, “hello?”

No sound. No voice. No nothing.

In just a millisecond, you can tell something is wrong. It doesn’t feel like someone butt-dialed or called the wrong number. And scams would often be more eager to speak than you.

“Hello?” You begin to wonder if you pressed the “pause” button for your music instead of the “call” button. Lifting your headset a little, you can see the blue light is on – which means your phone should still be connected to your headset, which rules out another possibility. You clench your teeth in annoyance, stretching your arm to its utmost limit to reach your phone, “is anyone ther-”

Andy 00:15

And the call is still on.

Andy.

As if someone just pulled out a big vacuum machine and sucked your entire courage and your voice into a tiny box that is locked in outer space.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He sounds hoarse, unlike him.

Do you miss his voice? Hell yeah.

Do you want to talk? Hell no.

But you press your headset tighter to your ears, as if you can hear him more clearly this way.

“Sweetheart, I know you don’t want to talk. Please, just … listen.” He croaks at the last word, and some more silence, probably to cover the fact that he, like you, is also on the verge of tears.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice your call for help. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you through. I know you hate me right now. I’m so sorry for that. I never meant for this to happen. I …” his hesitant voice becomes determined, “I love you, and I-I know it doesn’t mean anything but-”

You hold your breath, waiting for the next sentence that’s about to put an end to your relationship.

This is it. This is the end of your pathetic relationship and your futile attempt at giving a shot with your professor.

But this marks the period of your fun, your hate, everything that’s ever happened between you two.

Gone.

“- you didn’t do anything wrong when you safe word. If you want to put a stop to all of this, I, I…”

His phone vibrates as another call hits his number.

Some papers shuffling in the background, Andy looking for the draft he wrote before making this phone call, clearing his throat, “I… I just want another chance, if that’s okay with you. We’ll start it all over, like the way Ari got back with Ana in Love and War.”

Cheesy. And corny. And not Andy-like at all.

You’d never dream of him quoting from your stories as a make-up line. Not to mention that was your random one-shot story months ago.

You chew on your lower lip, a small chuckle leaving your lips even though tears are still swelling in your eyes.

Andy lets out a breath of relief. Hearing your chuckle has the big stone sets in his stomach, finally not worrying over you still being totally and utterly upset with him.

Though you are still upset, that he needs working on.

“Talk to me, please, sweetheart?”

The begging tone. He’s killing you with it. You couldn’t resist his soft voice, the pleading, and the hint of hope lacing behind his words.

“I dunno, Andy.” You gather all the courage you have left, sitting back on your chair, shifting your weight to one side of your body just as if you are leaning on his shoulder, murmuring to the speaker, “it feels weird, and difficult. And I don’t feel like myself. After I safe word. It’s just …” You feel vulnerable for saying it out loud. You wanted Andy, but not his presence, and the conflict is eating you up like a horrid monster.

Or you are the horrid monster for wanting a man, a man you have known for a mere couple of months, to dominate you. To control you. To break your neck just to place it together again.

You want him to own you. And yet a part of you screams for independence.

You were reckless when you dared to surrender your submission. Now you regret it. You are scared.

You don’t know whether you want this more. Or worse, if you want this less.

Being a sub seems like an inseparable part of being with Andy, and you are not sure if you are completely pliant enough.

But the feeling of giving up control. It’s intoxicating. It has you light-headed. The way he punishes you, brings you both pain and pleasure, calls out to you, like it was meant to be, like you belong to him.

Or you are into D/S relationship, just that Andy is not the right person?

And how are you even able to face him after all this? You were thinking about having him as your dissertation tutor 24 hours ago, and now you are positive that this is not a good idea at all.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise.” Some rustling noises, and a dull thud, then his voices are smaller, sounds like he’s out in the open, “I miss you so much.”

“Miss you too.” You don’t know whether you are lying or not at this point, but you do miss his warm hug and his soft smile.

“Why don’t you look outside your window for me, sweetheart?” He replies, standing by his car, holding his phone in one hand, looking up at your bedroom.

“Oh you did not!” You gasp in shock, can’t believe he pulled another cheesy corny stunt, right in front of your face.

And damn it works.

Andy waves to you when he sees your face by the window, blowing you a kiss. You can hear the smugness in his voice when he says, without a single trace of regret, “sorry about turning your words – your stories, to be precise – against you.” Damn him when he borrows all the tricks from your stories, your plot, your design, your idea about how to make up.

It's not original but it sure as hell matches exactly how you want it to be.

He looks at you, and he sees you.

He understands you.

Does this mean you should equally understand him too?

You dash out of the room before you brain could react, the questions in your head only a mere glimpse, a spark of thought, which you quickly throw away when you run down the stairs of your apartment building, not even caring you are in your fuzzy slippers and thin pajamas or the fact that you could literally break your neck running like that.

Nothing matters.

You need to see him right this second. Touch him. Kiss him. As if he is the string that attaches you to the ground, preventing you from drifting into space.

“Sweetheart?” Andy takes his phone away from his ear to take a good look at the screen.

You just hung up on him.

He thought he had you. You were so close to forgiving him and what he had done, but…

Is it too much? Showing up, in person, on your doorstep?

Were you scared?

He is going to dial your number again when you run into his arms. Catching him completely off guard.

“Hey.” He kisses your cheek, his arms circle your waist, gently stroking your back.

“Hey.” You inhale deeply. His woody cologne wraps you around, having you bury your face in his collar. Soft. Warm. Comforting. The skin contact you have been wanting ever since last night is finally relieved from your mind.

“I’m sorry about being rough last night. Really am.” Andy dips down to capture your lips in a brief peck, his blue eyes sparkling with a hint of giddiness as he notices you are welcoming his close proximity instead of rejecting it.

“I’m sorry too. Safe word and all that … I must have you worried.” You hug him tighter, blinking to prevent the tears from falling again.

“Hey hey hey.” He cups your face with his palm, “don’t EVER apologize because of safewording. I’m glad you are able to use it. Or I could…” hurt you more, but he chooses not to say that, “that’s the purpose of safe word, telling me to stop. And you make me so proud of using it instead of not. I know it’s a lot to take in, but you did nothing wrong.”

You hide your face on his shoulder again, having him sigh and hug you back, “you sound like kindergarten teachers.” You mumble, “and I feel like a crybaby.”

“Well, I am a teacher. So there’s nothing wrong with that.” Soft kisses land on your hair and your temple, “but improper use of adjectives, I’d say.”

“Yeah, you’re a university professor-”

“Not that,” he grins from ear to ear, wrapping your body in his jacket, which makes you slightly puzzled, raising your chin to look at him, waiting for his answer, “you’re not a crybaby. You’re my baby.”

Taglist: @geminiflanagansblog@wintasssoldier

#andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #defending jacob #andy barber fanfiction #professor!andy barber #student reader #dancing in the daydream #wishful thinking

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thesoftboiledegg · 3 years ago

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Man, don't tell me this episode just threw away Morty's character development.

I mean, I realize these are probably throwaway lines, and I don't think Morty and Rick are going to literally never have a conflict ever again. Plus, other beings hated Rick--like the president--and they (presumably) still ended up back in Morty's consciousness. Morty also still has all his memories of Rick, and plenty of those are terrible. I don't think he's going to start seeing Rick as a saint now.

But still, Morty needs to continue his character development from season five. I don't want the show to reset everything and make him even more passive than he was in season one.

Although this ending is intriguing because I think Rick actually thought he did the right thing. And, I mean--Marta DID want to stay behind. Rick didn't just lock her up to make Morty more subservient to him. He's even letting the program stay running so she can live out her life instead of killing that part of Morty.

The way he studies the game at the end implies that he's conflicted about whether he made the right decision or not. No "Yeah, whatever Morty, you're doing whatever I want forever now."

I don't think Morty needs Marta that badly--she was just a tiny fraction of billions of pieces, and surely, she wasn't his only rebellious side--but I hope the show doesn't use this as an excuse to go back to the "old" dynamic because it's easier.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith

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omgkatinka · 4 years ago

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Breaking and Entering

Summary: Your cat gets you into trouble with your grumpy new neighbour

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

>>> chapter 2

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of abuse; anxiety, angst, grumpy neighbour / Also: English is not my native language and this is my first and probably last attempt at writing. I do not even know why I tried. This is eventually a result of procrastinating from learning for my exam next week. I mixed up tenses.

Also not betad.

Words: 2.127

Here you were. New Job. New city. New apartment. Again. The past years have been a hassle of starting over.

When did your life take that turn? When your mother died? When you had to leave your grandfather to live with your father because you were underage? When instead going to study English literature like you always dreamed of your father made sure you’d get some fancy business master’s degree? Or when your ex-fiancé abused you and no one believed you because he was not just abusive but manipulative. Your life possibly finally took that turn when you ran. Head over heels. Leaving everything behind but your cat. You stopped counting the places you lived. Well rather visited for you never stayed long. Sometimes your ex would show up and you’d flee. Or you thought you had seen him in a crowd and flee. Or you were getting restless. High Functioning Flight Mode. All the damn time.

Moving days were a constant companion and those days smelled like freedom. It was just you, your SUV and your cat. The little fella would proudly ride shotgun while you sang along your old school rock playlist. Your whole life fit into a car.

This time it is Minneapolis. Large city. Anonymous, easy to vanish. You scored a job at a major financial player. Major as in Fortune 500 major. Thankfully, you worked project based for a while now, so no one ever really questioned your constant moving all over the nation. If they ever read that far in your resume that is. Summa cum laude in combination with a Harvard degree opened most doors for you.

The furnished apartment you found was in a half decent neighbourhood for a change. It was not the smallest you’d lived in and it faced the back of the building onto a yard hosting a huge oak tree.

Settling into Minneapolis was easier than it should have been. Your new co-workers were friendly. Too friendly. Not one lunch break you would get to spend on your own. Especially Marta from accounting was keen to talk to you. She was lovely. It was not her fault you never made friends. Because you never stayed. But still, that insistent woman and a couple of more people gave you a sense of familiarity you would never have expected from a huge company like that.

Most of the new neighbours greeted friendly too. Most, apart from one. When you were unloading your car, he stood right in your way, a bear of a man, shooting you a death glare. Mumbling something about not being allowed to park here and stomping off. You did not pay attention to his word, being intimidated by his sheer size. A broad beast, grumpy at that. You made a mental note to avoid him. Great plan.

Here ‘s the thing with your plans: they tend to simply not work. Three weeks after starting over, you come home to for once not being greeted by Jack. Your cat Jack. Named after an infamous pirate because of his funny face and weird way to walk. Not being greeted by Jack stirred panic. He was old but almost never failed to wait at the door for you. He did not today. Searching the whole place for him you came up empty. When you realised, you had left the bedroom window open in the morning you started to hyperventilate. He liked to sit outside on the fire escape while you got ready in the mornings. Looking outside he is not there either. By now you were freaking out, running downstairs, calling for Jack. Climbing up the roof. Nothing. By now you were crying. Starting to search the apartment one more time. And then once more. At some point you cried yourself to sleep until you are woken up by frantic knocking at your door. While still trying to figure out where you’re at, you glimpse the clock. It says 2 a.m.. Great. And what is this noise? Right. Knocking. On the door. Furious by now.

Opening your door, you find your grumpy neighbour. Even more grumpy. Scowling. „Is this thing yours? “ he asks, lifting Jack into your line of vision.

As relieved as you were to have your cat back. That was when things got out of hand. Thanks to that scare you frantically double checked every window every day before leaving for work. All is good for five days. When you get home on the sixth though – Jack is gone. Again. And the window you double checked the very same morning is open. You panic. Torn between hoping Jack broke into your grumpy neighbours’ place again hence being safe and him sitting on the roof calling out pigeons. You check the yard, the roof. No Jack. Hesitantly you knock at Mr. Grumpy’s door. No answer. Going onto midnight you hear the elevator and spy onto the floor. There he is. You brace yourself and head out. Looking apologetic. „um Hi, I am so sorry, but my cat escaped again. Would you mind checking if he did break into your place again? “. He does not answer. Unless grunts count as answers. He just raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head in direction of his door. You avoid breathing and follow him into his apartment. Where you find your cat sits lounging on the couch like he owns the place. You cannot help but snort. That is what you get naming the little fella after a pirate. Breaking and entering seems to be his thing. It takes you a moment to realise Mr. Grumpy is staring at you, so you take a deep breath, apologize again and introduce yourself. „You really need to close your windows, you know? Not just from keeping that thing in your place but also to keep others out.“. Telling him, you double checked your windows just earns you a headshake. And there is that critical eyebrow again. Great. Then it dawns on you „if your so adamant on checking windows, how do you think Jack got in here? “. Now he looks puzzled. „Who is Jack? “ he asks and you fight hard to not snort again. “The cat, obviously” you answer. That earns you another grunt. ‘Great at communication that specimen’ you think and grab your cat. “Uhm, I am so sorry he, uhm…, we invaded your place again. So so sorry. Thanks for your patience. Good night, Mister?” “Marshall”. And that is the last thing he says. “Well good night Mister Marshall”. At that you hold on to your furry, purring companion and head back into your apartment. From now it will be triple checking the windows it seems.

Three times within the next you need to get your cat from his new favourite hideaway during the next week. The only new thing is Mr Grumpy telling you “it’s just Marshall”. Everything else is the same. Like being trapped in a fucking time lapse. Him scowling, telling you to “fucking check your windows” and giving you that critical eyebrow of doom. Each time though, you start to notice things. About his place. About him. He seems to live out of boxes. His shelves are empty. The only cosy thing seems to be the fluffy blanket Jack made his favourite place on the black leather couch. Also, he wears a gun. And a batch. You despise guns but guess this one comes with the job. And his accent is foreign. No, not foreign, it is English. A bit like a lost, grumpy Mr. Darcy. WHAT? Mr. Darcy? You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you finally going insane? Now take your cat and get out of here!

How do you reason with a cat? You surely tried but the next time you have not even noticed Jack vanishing. It’s a Saturday and you were just filling your coffee cup when there is knocking on your door again. You open the door to a sleepy looking Marshall, holding Jack. Shrugging. Something is different. Taking your cat out of his huge hands you are about to apologize again, when he beats you to speaking “did you just make coffee?”. You nod and he steps into your apartment. “Well, come in, why don’t you?” you mutter and find him standing in front of your kitchen island, scratching his head, looking kind of lost. With huge eyes and a suddenly small voice he says “sorry for barging in like that, your little fella here woke me up. Pretty sassy for such a small guy. Would you mind sharing a cup of coffee? I forgot to go grocery shopping and seem to run out of everything.”. For a moment you stare at him, stunned from the number of words he just threw at you and the lack of grunts. When you remember how to use your words, you tell him to take a seat, grab a cup and ask him how he prefers his coffee. Fixing both your cups and setting them on the table you finally get to apologize again for your little intruder, constantly breaking into his place. Marshall just shrugs at that and admits, that he has no idea how Jack opens the windows. He himself started to double and triple check his windows and it should not even be possible to open them from the outside. It is that moment you realise what is different. He looks sleepy but barely as tired as before and more important. He’s not grumpy. That’s new. And you do not know how to handle that. After silently drinking his coffee, he thanks you for the coffee and crouches down to pet Jack and tells him something that sounds like ‘see you mate’, then tells you goodbye and takes his leave.

It is the next Friday that you come home to a post-it on your door with “Jack is visiting” scribbled on it. Somehow you remember your cat not being overly fond with men, but he seems to have a soft spot for this one. Or his couch. Taking a deep breath, you turn and move over to knock at the next door. Heavy relaxed footsteps near and Marshall opens the door widely, motioning for you to come in. “We were just about to choose a movie and call for pizza. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and join us?”. You look at the man as if he did just grow two more heads. Raising his eyebrow at you he adds “maybe choose pizza before you head over, so I can order already”. Shaking off the initial shock, you apologize. Before you can actually try to take a leave, he sternly asks “did you have dinner?”. When you shake your head, he repeats “come on, it’s just pizza and a movie. And maybe we should use the opportunity to discuss a shared custody arrangement for Jack.”. At that your stomach rumbles and when you see the glint in Marshalls eyes, you know this is a battle not worth fighting. And you are hungry. You tell him your pizza order and head over to shower and get changed. You wonder how you are not nervous about this. Since things went south with your ex you could hardly stand to be alone with one man. Let alone spend the evening at his place for dinner and movie.

Back at Marshalls place he offers you a bottle of water and his cosy looking armchair. While himself settling beside Jack on the couch. He suggests watching pirates of the Caribbean and you accept, telling him that you actually named the cat after Jack Sparrow to which he counters “It’s captain. Captain Jack Sparrow.”. The evening proceeds with you watching the movie, laughing and having pizza. You are taken aback to realise he actually ordered some extra tuna for Jack. From time to time, you catch yourself watching Marshall instead of the movie. He seems so much younger when relaxed. And handsome. How did you not realise what a beautiful face hides behind those curls and that beard?

After the movie you grab your snoring cat and thank Marshall for the evening when he pushes something cold into your free hand. You need a moment to realise, that he just handed you a key and give him a puzzled look. “I told you we’ll need a shared custody agreement, considering this little one keeps breaking and entering and claiming this apartment. I often work long hours and when shit hits the fan even spend the nights at the office. You might need it to retrieve the lodger.”. With that he winks - well tries to and fails – and opens the door for you, telling you goodnight.

#henry cavill fanfiction #walter marshall

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gallpall · 4 years ago

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canaan bubble redux as a womb for story/character arcs

I’m sure most of this has been posted about before but: ever since my initial read I’ve been obsessed with the gross bodily/gorey stuff in the Canaan redux and I wanted to organize some of my constant+chaotic thoughts!!

TM has said that a lot of the motifs/events in the bubbles are actually “Silent Hill stand-ins” for story elements and she hopes we pick up on stuff, so here’s my Attempt!

At the same time that Harrow’s mind is being made a tomb for Gideon Nav Wake’s subconscious is pulled in to act as a womb for certain plot elements right alongside it. The chronology/time period of HtN mimics a full nine-month gestation. There’s a lot of very literal imagery here (which is below the cut), but I also think we’re meant to see it as metaphorical: we’re able to glean some things about character arcs based on how everything in the bubble goes down.

I’m particularly interested right now in those ‘side’ characters in the bubble who aren’t actually dead, who barely appear in the bubble at all except to get summarily offed, all in very distinctive ways. Judith, Camilla, Palamedes, and Coronabeth.

(cw below cut for some pregnancy/insemination imagery, canonical body horror and gruesome bubble deaths rehashed)

First of all just some quotes showing some of the imagery that I’ve attributed to being Wake manifesting pregnancy trauma stuff (there’s possibly some of Harrow’s conception trauma here, too) seeping through, for the purposes of this line of speculation.

This isn’t nearly all of it, but some things that stood out to me as possibly comparing Canaan House 2.0 to a functioning reproductive system:

(ch. 21) a “collection of large, rusted pipette needles” -- turkey basters?

(ch. 35) “great, slithering, pulsing tubes” which contain “whitish-pearl bubbled globules”-- this perhaps recalls ovaries/fallopian tubes, with the ‘globules’ being follicles produced by superovulation for insemination, or corpus luteum that supply progesterone to maintain a pregnancy.

(ch. 45) “stretched webs of organ [...] like nets of sticky venous spiderweb” --uterine walls, maybe; it’s all over the windows, totally encasing them in Canaan’s rooms, and arguably even contracting like a uterus would: “every so often they would tremble uncertainly and erupt in floods of bloody, foamy water.”

in the next pgh we get some more of the tools Wake would have used to conceive/upkeep the pregnancy: “pipettes, broken glass-fronted containers filled with dark fluid,” skeletons sitting atop piles of “capsules or pills” perhaps hormones/supplements. (also holding Drearburh tools, the way Wake’s skelly would have been doomed to do)

(ch. 43) “from that hole emerged a clattering pile of plex scope slides, the type you would preserve a cell sample between“ -- Wake would’ve had to carry out the IVF process for implantation, this also seems like apparatus for that

(ch. 47) there’s the “libation” Abigail uses to summon Wake which is... well. It’s a “thin, milky, whitish liquid pooled at the base, sluggish in the cold,” and the summoning involves a bunch of ‘come’ commands, which I think might be Muir making a very elaborate jizz-adjacent “silly buggers with the emissions” joke.

Just a note, cause I’m hopeless about Pyrrwake: the Seconds’ quarters are almost completely preserved from the leaky body horror (though it’s still cold in there)--as if they represented a sanctuary in Wake’s subconscious. There are also letters in the nonagonal coffin room which spell out an anagram of “PYRRHA” (ch. 47).

So with all that in mind, I’d posit that the fake-ghost deaths are all metaphorical “rebirths” of various characters arcs for ATN. I haven’t delved into what this imagery might mean for Harrow or Gideon specifically because I know there’s a LOT and it’s probably above my theoretical paygrade (I would love for someone to tack on with that though!!) but I can talk about ‘side’ chars on a very big-picture level.

Judith’s simulacrum gets knocked off first (ch. 18); shot through the heart (both atria) while she and Marta’s ghost are trying to complete the winnowing trial. The Sleeper shoots her 7 more times after that, I guess partly just ‘cause she can, but Ortus notes that it seems like there was an element of "Anger” to it. It’s possible Wake wasn’t pleased to have someone messing around with Pyrrha’s lyctoral trial, infuriated that anyone would be attempting to replicate G1d/Pyr’s original downfall. She then ignores Marta entirely and climbs back in the coffin (now with the sword) once Judith’s out of the way.

[Marta’s] scarlet necktie looked redder too—by the time they’d gotten hold of Judith Deuteros the blood had dried hers nearly black.

Cohort red-and-whites being stained black with blood, like a certain high-collared BOE uniform... could be another little clue to Judith’s "heart” for the Emperor (and for Marta, and pretty much everything else she knew) being lost and her realigning--though not willingly, at least at first--with the other side.

Cam and Pal’s simulacrums are plainly executed (ch. 21), they have their “faces obliterated” each by a single gunshot, and it’s as if they just stood there and let it happen. In the bubble, “Harrow had never seen Sextus or Hect except from afar.” These simulacrums totally avoid having their features revealed to Harrow. I’m willing to bet their faces being obscured and then exploded is one of the clues we get to their eyes being swapped around the next time we see them in the epilogue and in ATN.

Regarding the twins: They are essentially non-extant in the bubble. Ianthe never appears because she’s still kicking and, in her own words, “doesn’t live alternate histories” (GtN ch. 15).

Coronabeth’s simulacrum scene (ch. 37) is SO vivid and cryptic. It fascinates me because it definitely is, in part, trying to tell us something poignant about the initiation of Corona’s “worse twin” arc in ATN.

[Corona] was turned away from Harrow, and her riot of hair—half-caught in a fillet, half-escaping—was soaking wet, a dark and crinkling amber in the rain. She was not fighting or arguing. She was still as a statue, and ready and waiting as a dog.

Sounds like the fake ghost preparing for that major shift in allegiance. Silas is the one to ‘dismiss’ her, with his “may the blood of your blood suffer,” which perhaps is a really Templar-y way of saying ‘now go wreck ianthe’s SHIT.’ When Harrow accuses him of sending Corona to her death, Silas asks “Death?”--as if he sees that what’s really just happened, at least metaphorically, is (re)Birth.

[Harrow] thought she saw, absurdly, a sudden gush of watery blood, as though the fog itself had been knifed; but it was gone almost as soon as she had seen it.

Sounds a bit like amniotic fluid/water breaking? Coronabeth doesn’t ever seem to hit the ocean (bodies of water=necromancy and that’s not her deal), she instead just kinda poofs, and Silas says she would have ended up “on her feet.” Coronabeth is ditching her family ties and is out for blood, and I think her charisma, willpower, and sheer desire for revenge will move her a long way in the ranks of Eden--probably even to the point of echoing Commander Wake’s ambitions and actions. I could delve into that damn portrait mirroring Ianthe’s obsession w/ Cyrus’ paintings on the Mithraeum... but that is a whole other post!

So all of these are fairly baseline observations and I think there’s a LOT more to be expounded on, if y’all wanna reply/reblog/DM with additions I would freaking love that, every time I open a page of this book I find something I missed before and it’s such a delight. Thanks for reading if you got this far!!

#the locked tomb trilogy #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #htn spoilers #shoutout to kallistoi and rusty-k for bouncing ideas around w me

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chuckbass-love · 4 years ago

Note

May I request a Ransom x Y/n fic where he goes to a pub after being taken out of the will and he see's y/n at a table crying because she's just been dumped

I love this idea!!

A/N: Just a heads up, i’m keeping the events of the movie in this where he goes back to the house to switch the medication and then have him go to the pub after that.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad or Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lots of angst, alludes to smut at first and then pure smutty filth. Fingering, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, daddy kink, ass slapping and fluff overload. Heavy alcohol use, swearing and alludes to murder (the plot from the movie).

Word Count: 8,770

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @roooogers go check them out💜

Shoulder To Cry On

“Please, Anthony. Please. Don’t do this” your voice shaking with the fear of losing the one person who you assumed would always be around. Your brain trying to register everything he’s just said as tears drown your vision out causing everything to go blurry.

Weak body, silent screams and shaky hands. It’s real. But it doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream. Like if someone were to pinch you now then you’d wake up and feel fine. But that’s far from your reality.

“You’re making a scene Y/N, everyone’s looking” he looks around him, watching on as everyone stares in your direction, enjoying the free show as they dine.

Is he serious?

“Me making a scene? You chose to do this here in front of everyone, knowing full well how i’d react” the anger coming out, the need to scream consuming you, so you do. You yell. You pick the food up in front of you and throw it at him. Bread, prawns, even your red wine.

“How could you do this to me? You fucking cheating scumbag” bottom lip trembling at the words leaving your mouth, the sick feeling working its way through your body and eventually settling in the back of your throat but you stop it.

You had plans for a lovely anniversary dinner tonight. Your boyfriend of 4 years Anthony. The man you’ve always seen yourself marrying and tonight, you thought was the night. That he’d finally get down on one knee and propose. But that was soon ripped away from you the moment the starters arrived.

He started his little speech about how he’s had the best time over the last 4 years with you, the memories you’ve made together.

Then came the moment that everyone dreads. The breakup speech.

He confessed to not feeling as happy as he once did with you and then he admitted to having a connection with some woman at work. His assistant. Jennifer.

And as much as he played it off like nothing happened, you’ve known him long enough now to see all of the tell tale signs. The way he rubs his ear lobe, the way he avoids your eyes and most importantly the way he stutters when he’s nervous.

His face has guilt and cheater written all over it. Your whole world feels like it’s crumbling around you and everything is a mess. Including your mascara.

You always had your suspicions about Jennifer but he was the perfect liar, a genius at concocting up excuses. The way he’d make your mind do a full 180 with your thoughts and feelings. Just like a magician tricking the audience. He pulled the wool right over your eyes and love enabled that, stopped you from asking all the questions that you should have thought to ask.

It’s like now, everything he ever said to you, all the happy memories and plans you made. They all seem so fake, like he never meant any of it. It’s gut wrenching. Sickening.

He’s a beautiful liar. He did it so effortlessly. Getting into bed next to you after no doubt being with her, touching her in the places he was only ever supposed to touch you.

But before you can even get to him, the restaurant staff make their way over, trying to remove you from the scene but you don’t even give them the chance.

“I’m going. Don’t fucking touch me” you hold your hands up, slipping your coat on and grabbing your purse.

“I hope one day you’ll experience how you’ve made me feel tonight” and that’s the last thing you ever said to him, picking your stuff up to leave.

All that anger and hurt eventually brought you here, the bar right round the corner from your house. You couldn’t bare the thought of even going home right away, let alone stepping foot in there. It’s too soon.

The house that’s jam packed with memories of the two of you. Photographs of you. The bed you’ve slept in every night with him for 2 years. Your skin itches.

That’s when you see someone sit down next to you at the bar but you don’t look. He still notices you though. Ogling you as he sips at his whiskey. The way your dress hugs your figure, the slit up the side, exposing your legs.

You hear his thick Boston accent ordering. Still refusing to turn your head. You really don’t want any bother tonight. You just need to drown him out. Drown out the way he smells, the way he touches you, the feel of his huge hands all over your skin.

Ransom doesn’t stop though, stealing glances here and there at you, trying to figure out the perfect chat up line to dish out. Then it comes to him, no chat up lines needed.

“What’s brought a beautiful girl like you here tonight then?”

The smirk that appears on his face comes out in his words, you can hear it but you’re really not in the mood so you order another drink, ignoring the stranger.

But the second you speak up, your voice giving your state away, causing Ransom’s head to shoot up, leaning closer to get a better look and that’s when he sees it. Your eyes that are filled with tears, the way you’re sniffles follow shortly after they fall.

“Wait, are you okay?” Genuine concern in his voice, not wanting to upset you even more by prodding too much.

“I’m fine” you spit, just wanting to be left alone to wallow. To over evaluate everything that’s gone down tonight. But that’s kind of hard to do with this man talking non stop.

“You don’t look fine”

“That’s because i don’t need nor want anyones pity” ouch.

“Who said i was pitying you?” he rolls his eyes, not even sure on what’s turned you so cold or should he say who. But he tried. Which isn’t usually in his nature.

See the events that lead Ransom to that little bar are slightly different to yours but nevertheless, he’s here with you so it doesn’t necessarily matter. The story should probably be told anyway though.

All was going so well in his world earlier today, he was happy as Larry, living off of his Grandfather, taking all he could get from him. He had everything. A bachelor pad that puts his friends one to shame, a beamer, scantily clad women at the click of his fingers and invitations to all the best parties in Boston. He was the most notorious playboy, everyone knows him.

The moment he stepped foot into his Grandfathers study, nothing was ever going to be same once he left. And that’s a fact.

Harlan broke the news about his will. How he changed it recently. Leaving his nurse Marta Cabrera with everything. Every. Last. Dime.

Meaning Ransom and his family will be pushed out of the mansion and Walt will be kicked to the curb when it came to Harlans publishing company, Blood Like Wine.

He argued with Harlan for what felt like forever, tried his best to plead his case and he even resulted to taking a threatening tone to his beloved Grandfather. Which of course, didn’t work. Leaving him angry, furious even. His blood was well and truly boiling. He’d had it. He couldn’t hear another word of that bullshit. So he stormed out. Bidding his great nana a swift goodbye in the form of resting his hand over her arm.

Once in his beamer, he screamed. Smacking the wheel with all of his might before stepping on it, pulling out the space and up the driveway. He had to get out of there and fast.

But halfway up the drive, he slams on the breaks when an idea begins to form, causing him to turn around. Parking away from the mansion first before creeping his way back in.

He climbs the wall at the side of it, up to the secret window that he discovered in his childhood. Once he’s in he finds Marta’s medical bag, opening it and switching his grandfathers meds, making sure to take out the one saving grace that could ruin his perfect plan.

With that secured in his pocket, the bag is zipped back up and placed back where he found it and he’s leaving the same way he came. Back down the side of the house but before he can make a quick run for it, he sees his great nana in the window. Staring at him, without blinking. He waits to see if she’ll speak but she never does, so he turns to leave, making it back to his beamer without a single person catching him. Great nana doesn’t count, there’s a very slim chance that she didn’t even know it was him. After all, she didn’t say a word.

All done now though, the plan is now in full swing. Soon Marta will take Harlan up to bed to give him his medicine. That’s when she’ll give him the overdose on morphine. Or the good stuff as they like to call it.

And eventually it’ll start to come together.

Marta will get arrested for Harlan’s murder, the money and all of the assets that were once hers will be stripped away and they shall all be returned to their rightful owners. His family and him of course. One thing that should be made abundantly clear about Ransom is that he’ll only ever help or get involved when there’s something in it for him. However, he’s not always evil, he has a soft side, it rarely comes out but make no mistake, it’s there alright.

With his evil plan in place, he heads back home but before he even gets there, he passes a quaint little bar at the side of the road. He could really do with a drink right now. Of course a taxi home will be required but with thousands about to grace his bank account, what’s 10 or more dollars on taxi fairs. Exactly, it’s pittance to him.

The second he enters, all eyes are on him. All but two. Your eyes. You’re sat at the bar, head in your hands and from what he can see, you’re dressed all fancy. Too fancy for this place that’s for sure. So he makes his way over, noticing the disgusted looks out of the corner of his eye. He’s never been here before, so of course he’s the newbie to all of the regulars.

That then leads to now.

You turn to face him, your sad eyes meeting his dreamy ones. The only way to describe them. You find yourself on the verge of getting lost before you break the gaze. Nodding towards the barman who slides another shot over to you to which you knock back like it’s nothing before continuing to sip Gin.

Just one look from you and he can see that something isn’t right.

“What’s got you crying all on your lonesome?”

“More like who” you respond, chuckling as more tears fall.

He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off “i had the lovely pleasure of being dumped tonight” you muster up your best fake smile, as if somehow acting like everything is okay will suddenly make it all okay for real. But it’s no use, you still feel torn to pieces. Your heart is still on the floor, it’s been stomped on way too many times for you to count on two hands and you’re life is a complete shambles.

He doesn’t love you, Y/N. He doesn’t love you anymore but then again, did he ever?

“I’m sorry to hear that and for what it’s worth, the guys a jackass for doing that to you”

His comment has your brows furrowing in question. What does he mean by that? But you don’t even get a chance to ask, he can sense your confusion a mile away.

“I just meant that you’re gorgeous. He’s a fool” his nice side coming out to play, he’s never this nice to a woman unless he plans to sleep with her. But this time, it’s different. You’re different. He can never bring himself to pray on you like one of those other girls. Because he can see it, that you’re drained. You’ve had enough. Your ex made a fool of you enough already so who is he to add to that?

“Yeah right, he cheated so i doubt that very much” you snort, knocking back the rest of your drink.

At this point the bartender doesn’t even need you to ask for another, he’s probably realised by now that he should keep them coming.

“What an asshole”

Why does he care? He’s just a stranger. But still, you agree with him.

“Yup”

And just like that, a conversation blossoms.

Drinks flow as you explain the events of tonight and he doesn’t interrupt you. He just lets you speak, it’s almost like he can sense that you just need someone to listen, like all you need is to let out all of your emotions. Even if it is to a complete stranger.

Who by the way isn’t bad in the looks department.

Wait. No. You can’t think that.

Surely it’s fine to think it, just as long as you don’t act on it. Although, you are available now so there would be no harm.

“So let me get this straight. The man took you to dinner for your 4 year anniversary, let you get all dolled up, makeup, hair, nails. The works. Just to break it off with you and tell you he’s met someone else?” his brows raising and you nod, ashamed of how you’ve been treated because ultimately, you really did look like the idiot tonight.

You bought an expensive dress just for this very occasion and you did look the best you’ve ever looked. Radiant and glowing. Your makeup was on point, as was your hair. But now, you’ve got mascara everywhere and you’re way over the line of tipsy.

“I don’t get it. You’re well, you. I mean look at you and he left this for another woman? It makes no sense. There’s no way i’d ever give you up. No chance. No way” the way you feel your cheeks warm at his obvious compliment. You’re almost certain that he’s sweet talking you now. It took him a total of 2 hours. And he finally gave it a go. But you’re not complaining.

“LAST ORDERS” the bartender pulls you from your thoughts. That’s when you turn to look at him, still not knowing the perfect strangers name.

“Um, i guess i should get going” the very sentence makes that sick feeling come back but just like earlier, you push it away, stopping it before it comes spewing out on the bar. There would have been no time to run to the bathroom.

“I guess i should too” he smiles softly, shrugging his coat on and standing up.

That’s when the height difference is clear. He towers over you, making you feel small and dainty.

He gestures for you to head out first and as you glance back over your shoulder, you see him sliding some money to the bartender. No doubt, he paid for all of those drinks that you forgot to even pay for. Fuck.

These heels are way too high and your vision blurs a little as you stumble out the door but before you can even fall to the ground and face plant, he catches you, lifting you up and walking you over to what looks like a taxi.

“Come on you, let’s get you home. Where’d you live?”

Your mind goes blank as you stare at him before muttering “i don’t want to go home, i can’t go home. He’ll be there. Don’t make”

He cuts you off, pulling you closer to him and giving the cabbie his address instead. Wait. His place?

“I guess i should probably tell you my name being as you’re gonna be in my house soon huh?” he chuckles, spurring your own laughing fit.

“Do tell, mystery man”

“Ransom”

“I don’t have any money to pay you, not that i need to anyways, just tell me your name”

“No, no. My name is Ransom” his laughter fills your ears.

Strange name. Strange man.

“Surely not”

“Sure is. Well technically it’s my middle name. But i really can’t reveal anymore than that”

“Well i’m Y/N by the way and can i just say, you smell amazing” ah, the part where you make an utter show of yourself by leaning closer and closer, until your face is inches from his neck. That’s when you inhale really dramatically. Getting a good whiff of his manly scent. It’s intoxicating.

Luckily for you, he takes it all in good humour, probably because you’re drunk.

The rest of the ride back to his consists of you getting overly touchy, making random comments and with Ransom being the playboy that he is, it’s a real struggle for him not to fuck you here and now. Even in front of the cabbie. It wouldn’t be the worst place he’s fucked.

Yes you’re drunk but your hands are roaming to places they shouldn’t be and now he can feel a situation forming in the shape of a huge hard on.

Not that you notice, you’re too wrapped up in your own drunken state, blissfully unaware.

He can’t fuck you anyway. You’re too drunk. He’ll have to sober you up first.

The taxi comes to a halt and you look out of the windows, noticing a huge house, too posh for the likes of you but clearly fitting for a man like Ransom. He pays the cabbie before getting out.

You sit there clueless until you feel him scoop you up in his arms. He kicks the the door shut, walking the both of you to his house. He fiddles around in his pocket, holding you up with one arm so that he can open it and put you down on the couch.

“Is this your place?”

“It is indeed”

“It’s so big”

He lays you down, pointing his index finger in your face as he warns you “stay here, okay? Don’t move”

The child in you starts to emerge, the pout and puppy dog eyes coming out “yes sir”. You salute him and watch him strut away.

When he returns, his coat is off and he’s just in his white shirt, grey cardigan and his slacks.

“Here, drink this, it’ll help”

“Ew what is this?” your face screws up, disgusted at the taste “are you trying to poison me?”

“It’s just water, don’t be so dramatic. Drink it”

“What if i wanted another drink”

He just shakes his head disapprovingly. You’re really having none of it and he can’t fuck you like this. He makes it his mission to make sure all the women he’s with can actually remember what’s going on. Plus he needs your consent first.

“Drink. I won’t tell you again” his scary side showing just a tad but he soon shuts that off, realising how bossy and intimidating he sounds “wait, sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you”

Shouting and confrontation has always scared you. You’ve always had this natural instinct to cower and hide.

But this time, all you can really do is back up, to the other end of the couch.

“You’re just really drunk and it’s not doing you any good. Especially with everything that you’ve gone through tonight” wow. He’s even surprised himself with that one.

It’s not that he doesn’t care about you or your feelings because he most certainly does. He’s liked being there for you tonight, even if you did start out as two strangers at a bar. It distracted him from his own drama filled life. But your freaky side was showing on the taxi ride over and it awakened something inside of him.

Not in the way that some may think. Sure he’d love nothing more than to fuck you senseless, make you forget everything even if it’s just for the night but most importantly. He felt something more than just lust when you were touching him.

And as strange as that is to admit, it felt amazing. Like fucking you wouldn’t just be for the sake of it. You wouldn’t just be another notch on his bed post. It’s almost like his heart knows something that his brain doesn’t know yet.

Eventually he gets you to slowly sip at the water until half of it is gone and then the whole thing. You’re still tipsy but a little better than you were before the water.

“Did you want any food? I could order in? It might help?”

“I mean i did sort of throw my prawn starter at my ex”

He can’t contain his laughter, leaning back on the couch and throwing a hand over his left boob. You really are hilarious to him. He’s so amused by you and he doesn’t ever want this night to end. Even if it doesn’t end in sex, which it will. He’d be satisfied.

Something that Ransom Drysdale would never ever think or say.

“So food then?”

You nod before shaking your head aggressively.

“Actually no. No food. I already feel like i’m going to hurl. Food will just make that worse”

He seconds that, taking your empty glass from your hands and disappearing to refill it before returning it to you.

“You best drink up then if you aren’t planning to eat”

So you do as he says, stopping after a couple of sips due to your eyes noticing more and more about him that you never noticed before. Like his slicked back hair, his broad shoulders and oh shit. Is that a boner?

It’s gotta be right.

Your still tipsy self hands him the water for him to place on the coffee table for you and that’s when you do the unexpected. You make your way over to him, sitting way too close. Your bare arms rubbing against the soft and thin material of his cardigan.

“You alright?”

The way he acts like he cares, which, he does. It’s soothing, the gentle tone in his voice. The way he’s treating you like you’re glass and he doesn’t want to break you. And he’d be right, because you are delicate. Not your body of course but your heart, your soul, your mind. Not that there’s much left of your heart after Anthony broke it.

“I’m okay, i’ll be better after i get this dress off though” the flirty side of you starts to make an appearance. You look down, twiddling your thumbs as he clears his throat, clearly didn’t expect a comment like that.

“I guess i could fetch some of my clothes for you to wear?” his suggestion, whilst very cute and gentleman like, isn’t what you were after. And he’s far from a gentleman. You can just tell.

“I don’t think you understood” you turn around, back facing him “i need some help. Please” eyelashes batting as you quickly look over your shoulder at him and seconds later, you feel his hand move your hair to the side.

The zipper glides down with ease causing the straps to fall down your arms and soon enough. You stand up, letting it fall into a puddle on the floor. Leaving you in nothing but your matching blue laced, bra and panties set. Along with your heels of course. It’s the set that you bought for tonight too. For the sex you never ended up getting.

For the first time ever, Ransom is rendering on speechless, his mouth waters at the most incredible sight in front of him and he can tell from that look in your eyes that you want him.

Something he never expected to happen so fast. That’s when you sit back down next to him, resting your hand on his thigh.

“You know i should really thank you for tonight”

“Honestly, it was nothing” his words are aimed at you whilst his eyes are fixated on your body, not even trying to hide it from you but you just lap it up. You could use some attention right now. After all, your confidence was knocked with your ex boyfriend’s revelation.

“No, really. It was nice. You’ve been amazing. So let me thank you” but before your lips can touch his, he pulls back. Looking at you as his hand caresses your cheek, staring into your eyes like he’s looking into your soul and you feel close to naked in more ways than one.

That’s when his lips crash to yours in an intense and very heated kiss. As his hands roam around your half naked figure, you position them at the back of your bra, signalling to him that you want him to remove it. Which of course, he does.

He pulls away for a couple of seconds, taking a moment to look at your breasts. And the way he cups them with his large hands before using his thumb and index fingers to pinch at your now hard nipples, has you moaning into the kiss. Leaving your lips parted just enough for his tongue to slip in, adding to the build up.

The battle for dominance begins and it goes back and forth between you both, your hunger is very much profound. As is Ransom’s. The moans he’s eliciting are almost porn star like and he’s barely even touched you. But that’s the beauty of it, it feels so good that you’re keening for more. Which earns a low and raspy chuckle.

It doesn’t take long before you’re straddling him, legs either side with your hands cupping his face. His hands rested on your waist, squeezing slightly, almost like he’s making sure you don’t go anywhere. And after the day he’s had. He needs someone, whether he admits it or not. He does.

But that’s all he’s ever wanted. Is someone. Someone to talk to, someone who will listen and be there. He can’t complain about how that’s not the case though, he’s brought it all on himself. The loneliness, it’s killing him but he chooses to push everyone away.

His family though, that’s all them. They made him this way. A scheming, money grabbing playboy. It doesn’t mean the facade doesn’t drop once he’s all alone though.

However, it never drops around others. So why is it dropping around you?

“God, i needed this” he pants, in between his kisses that he’s peppering from your lips to your jawline and then your neck. It takes him next to no time at all to find the one spot that drives you insane and when he notices the way your whole body shivers. He smirks, sucking and biting it along with the equal amount of wet kisses.

“Me too. Fuck, right there” you mewl, back arching in his hands as they splay across it before moving down to settle on your panties. His finger traces the top of them, following them as it dips into your ass before giving your ass cheeks a hard smack.

God if this is how incredible you feel just kissing and touching the man then sex must be a real first place prize.

Just the way he’s handling your body alone is enough to send you over that sweet cliff but you stop it, holding back by pushing his face away from your skin, interrupting the hickey he was clearly in the middle of making.

“I wasn’t done with you, come back here”

You stop him again “i need you” you whisper frantically, both of your chests rising and falling. Your heart is beating like crazy.

“Patience baby” he winks, standing up with you in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist and your arms holding onto his broad shoulders for support as he carries you up the stairs and into what looks like his room.

Before you even have time to pause for so much as a second, he throws you to the bed.

“I wanna take my sweet little time with you” he starts, the bed dips as he gets on it, hovering above you “gonna worship every inch of your body” he lowers himself so that he can kiss your lips, then your jawline, then your neck and then eventually, the valley between your breasts.

“Gonna show you what your worth baby, prove to you that you’re better than that scum who didn’t treat you the way you deserve” also something that’s unlike Ransom. But if there’s one thing he’s a pro at, it’s pleasuring a woman. He knows what the fuck he’s doing. He can talk the talk and walk the walk. Which he’s about to prove to you right now.

He lowers himself down to your sex, the way the pool is growing more and more is obvious, he can smell it and even see it, the way the light blue material has darkened around your tight hole.

You spread your legs open wider, your way of inviting him in. Of course he accepts. He starts off by pressing a thumb down onto your clit, moving it around in circles and causing you to jolt. You’ve been craving someone, anyone at this point to touch you there. Maybe that should have been a sign that things were doomed with you and Anthony since he’s not touched you in months. Maybe that was a sign you should have seen, a red flag that you were too blind to notice.

“Look at you, so flustered already. God i can’t wait to fuck you”

“Please” you beg, pathetically.

“Nuh uh baby, i told you i wanna take my time, starting with this pretty little pussy” he hooks his fingers into the hem, using that to pull them down and off of your legs before throwing them behind him, not caring where they land.

“My oh my, it is a pretty little pussy, isn’t it. God you’re soaked baby, all this for me?”

“All for you” your confirmation leads him to lick his lips before pressing a couple of open mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs.

“That man is an idiot. But i guess his loss is my gain. Ain’t that right baby” he winks as his kisses get closer and closer to your arousal covered hole.

“Ransom, plea- OH FUCK” his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking as his tongue flicks across it rapidly. A sensation you’ve never felt before that makes your breathing hitch, your hands run through his locks, no doubt messing them up, not that he’s showing any signs of caring.

All that Ransom cares about right now is making you feel good, making you cum.

“Like this baby? Like my mouth all over you?” his eyes meet yours as he uses his fingers to spread you open so that he can really get a good eyeful “you’re dripping” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself and not to you. He slowly slides one finger in before resuming his attention on your folds and your bundle of nerves.

“More, i need more. I need you” as flattered as he is by your desperation and need to feel every inch of his thick cock, he has to prepare you. Most of the women he’s been with have never had someone as big as him before, so he always likes to get them ready and you are no exception.

“Patience baby, you’ll have me. All in good time”

His raspy voice has you melting alone and the way he’s working you over, slipping a second digit in, should be criminal. How can a man like this be single and alone? It makes no sense. Plus it doesn’t hurt that he’s loaded too.

It’s a mystery that you’ll be sure to get to the bottom of once you’re done here.

A third finger is added and he’s curling them all more and more each time he bottoms out, your back arches again, your grip on his hair gets tighter. But he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t stop. Not even for a second. He’s a man on a mission right now.

The way he’s sucking on your clit, the way his fingers are filling you up and the way he’s slurping at you like a drink is something you’ll never and could never compare to anything you’ve ever experienced. He’s a literal god and he has your walls fluttering around him, your clit pulsating in his mouth.

“Feel the way your squeezing me baby, you gonna cum? Huh? Gonna cum all over my fingers” the pure filth that he’s spewing, is what has you coming face to face with stars. And Ransom can feel the way your hips bucks up into his face, the way your hands keep him locked there until they are pushing him away due to how sensitive you are. He doesn’t budge though.

He just laps at your sex again and again before finally withdrawing his fingers, noticing your slick coating them and dripping down his hand.

“Jesus, looks like somebody made a mess”

You can’t help the way your cheeks warm in embarrassment which he soon puts to bed by stuffing his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. Every last drop.

That’s when he takes it upon himself to drink directly from you, sticking his tongue into the honey pot, taking everything you have to offer “god so fucking sweet. I can’t get enough baby, tastes so fucking good”

A flirtatious giggle escapes, your hands covering your mouth but he rips them away.

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed or shy around me”

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” your teeth bite at your bottom lip as you shiver with the anticipation of what’s to come from him. His silence is deadly but exciting.

“Indeed i am”

He can most likely hear your heart race as he pulls away, getting off of the bed to undress himself. Starting with his cardigan and shirt. Once it’s off, his abs are revealed, his biceps are huge. You have the biggest urge to kiss him all over that chiseled body, sculpted by some kind of god. He’s gotta be a fantasy.

“But first baby” he trails off, pulling his slacks down and stepping out of them “you’re gonna suck my cock, get it nice and hard with that mouth of yours before i ram it into that tight little cunt” he pulls his boxers down, stepping out of them too and kicking both to the side before stalking closer.

You gulp, your eyes widen... he’s huge. Really huge. Thick too. Does he even need your mouth?

“What’s the matter baby? Is someone intimidated?”

“No” your denial, whilst very cute, isn’t believable. But he’s still going to let you have a go at wrapping that mouth around it.

You scoot off of the bed and fall to your knees, feeling even more dainty than you did before when he was towering over you like a giant.

“Don’t be shy baby, get to work”

Your hand wraps around him with your thumb swiping the pre cum that’s oozed out of the slit and you immediately pop your thumb into your mouth. You just want a small taste and as soon as the salty-sweet droplet hits your tongue. You all of a sudden crave more of it.

“Nice?” he asks, cocking a brow up “delicious” you smile, adding to his already blown up ego.

You gradually welcome him into your mouth, opening wider as each inch passes your lips until he’s almost bottomed out. That’s when you open wider and his tip hits the back of your throat making you gag, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

“You look so good taking all of me in that mouth, bet you’ll look even better when you’re taking me in that cunt”

Is he trying to kill you with his dirty talk? Most likely.

He’s a different man to the guys you normally go for. Maybe that’s where you’ve gone wrong. You’ve let yourself settle for mediocre sex, mediocre relationships and maybe that’s why you’ve never been truly happy, like happy to your very core. You’ve never fully believed that you deserve the world. Never known your worth.

He grips the sides of your head, stilling your movements so his can begin and he doesn’t go easy. His thrusts have you making an even bigger mess, more saliva dripping down from your face to the floor. He’s loving every second of it though. But soon enough, just as quick as he started, he stops. Pulling out and looking at you, content with what he sees.

“God you’re fucking beautiful like this, on your knees for me like a good girl. Get on the bed baby” you do as you’re told, sprawling out on the bed and waiting for him to join which of course he does. As soon as he gets a condom out, taking it from the wrapper and sliding it down his shaft. Size XL. You spy before he tosses the wrapper into the bin.

“You ready?” he asks, resting his tip between your legs and lowering his body so that he can slide his arms underneath your shoulder blades. His face inches from yours.

“Please, i need you now” and with that he slides home, not stopping to let you adjust to every inch as it comes. You can feel your pussy stretching, the way it stings slightly but it also feels incredible. It’s bliss.

“S’tight baby and s’warm. Feel that pussy stretching around my cock”

Your eyes roll back as your head lolls to the side, presenting your neck to him and giving him the opportunity to finish what he started earlier, which of course he does.

And the second is lips are on your skin, his pace picks up and the pain turns to pleasure. You feel him so deep inside of you that you just know if he were to pull out that you’d feel emptier than ever.

“God, yes. Ransom. Fuck” your legs wrap tight around his waist, forcing him in even deeper if that’s possible at all but still you do it. Wanting nothing more than to feel as much of him as physically possible.

So you wrap your arms around him, your fingers tracing shapes on his back, causing him to shiver and growl loudly “fucking take this cock baby, take it like a good girl” he starts, adjusting his pace from fast and rough to slow and hard. Ramming in each time he speaks “such a good girl” thrust “loving every inch of this cock huh?” thrust “god this pussy” thrust “is gonna have me cumming way too quick” thrust.

“I can’t have that now can i?” that’s when he shocks you, flipping you over so that you’re on top “ride me baby, show daddy what you got” the nickname he uses for himself has your walls spasming, catching his attention.

“Oh you like that huh? Such a dirty girl for daddy, aren’t you?”

“Yes daddy” despite never using that in the bedroom before, it feels weirdly satisfying, having him refer to himself as daddy and seeing how he gets when you call him that too, the way his mouth hangs open, the way his cock twitches.

It’s something you’ll never forget.

You start off by collapsing onto his chest, your breasts pushed up against his pecs as you slowly lift your ass up before sinking back down onto him, earning a hiss.

“Yeah just like that, make daddy proud baby” so you do, you go again. And again. And again. Getting quicker each time until you’re a pro at it. You then sit up, continuing to bounce up and down, grinding as he bottoms out, with his initial instructions of course. He guides you through it and before he even tries to help a second time, he takes his hands away, noticing how you’re doing it all by yourself.

Grinding like the whore he’s turned you into. You can’t help the confidence beaming off of you as you go to work, slamming yourself down on his cock eagerly. You need that sweet release now more than ever, as does he.

“That’s it baby, make yourself cum”

The best pout and puppy dog eyes make a return “fuck me. Please daddy” and who is he to say no to you?

“You’re gonna be the death of me i swear” he flips you over again, keeping himself seated deep inside of you as his pace turns animalistic.

“Mhmm, give it to me, i’m gonna cum” you plead, not that he’d ever deny you a mind blowing orgasm in the first place as it’s clear you’ve never had one like the one he’s about to give you.

“Bet he could never fuck like this huh? Make you moan like a fucking porn star for him. Gonna have your legs shaking baby, hold on to me”

So you do.

Your grip tightens around his neck.

With every hit to your g-spot, he nudges you closer until yet again, stars cloud your vision and your toes curl. Your back arches up so that you’re chest to chest and you cum with a shaky and satisfied cry. He doesn’t stop though, plowing into you to chase his own release. Your legs are most definitely shaking.

Your walls continue to clamp down on him, spurring it on.

“God i’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me daddy” is all he needed to hear to go crazy and that’s when he spasms himself. His thick seed filling the condom and his thrusts get slower and harder. Riding both of your highs out.

Your breathing is heavy, your heart beat is out of control but you feel complete.

You’ve never experienced anything like that before.

He pulls out, disposing of the condom and rushing into the en suit for a second before returning with a wash cloth. He uses it to clean you up, taking his time and making sure to be extra careful with you. You try to prop yourself up on your elbow but struggle due to him fully ruining your body.

“Just relax baby, let me take care of everything” he presses a couple of kisses to your thighs and then your stomach, pausing to throw the wash cloth into the hamper before making his way back up to your lips.

He lays down next to you, pulling you into his side and draping an arm around your body so you lay your head down on his chest.

“So” you both say at the same time, causing a laughing fit to erupt.

“That was certainly an experience”

“I told you that i was gonna worship you and i think you can agree i delivered”

“You did more than just deliver Ransom”

“Please do tell me more” he laughs, stroking your hair.

“How on earth are you single?” the question that’s been on your mind since you and him got talking at the bar. He’s acted in a way that not many men do these days, it’s hard to believe no ladies are lining up to be with him.

Plus his dick and head game is A-1.

“I’m single more by choice than anything else”

“How come?” you feel bad for asking but surely if you were over stepping the line then he’d say.

“I mean, my family life hasn’t always been the best. I’ve learnt to not trust anyone that i’m related to and growing up with parents that just chucked money at stuff to solve it. If i was upset then it was always take this money, go shopping. Or if i needed my mother for girl advice it always lead to my dad telling me i should never trust women which is rich seeing as he cheats on my mom all the time”

It’s quite sad actually, a man that seems to have it all together, is clearly broken inside.

“I’m sorry, that’s awful. I’m guessing that’s why you’re single then, why you choose to keep away from dating”

“Yup. I prefer to just fuck with no strings attached. It’s easier, I don’t have to do anything other than make them cum. I’m not filled with pressure to be the perfect boyfriend. I can just relax but sometimes it gets lonely”

“How’d you mean? Sorry if i’m prying” you rest your head on your hands as you look up at him, his finger tracing shapes on your back now.

“It’s fine honestly, don’t sweat it. I guess the best way to explain it is that i can have all this money from my grandfather, all the cars, girls and friends in the world but i can’t trust any of them enough to let them see me when i’m laying in bed at night. The times when i just want someone to hold, someone to hold me, tell them about my day, hear about theirs. Someone to wake up next to and fall asleep next to. But whenever a woman gets even remotely close to me in a way that is too deep. I back off, i give her the cold shoulder and just ghost. I get freaked out because to me, there’s nothing scarier than someone seeing all of me, the good, the bad and the ugly”

It takes you just a second to realise, he’s just bared his soul to you. After saying that he backs off whenever a woman gets too close. After saying that he struggles to trust. That he’s scared of being himself around someone. He’s just been himself around you. And you have no doubt that he feels comfortable enough with you to do that so that’s gotta count for something, surely.

“I get it. It’s hard. Loving someone is easy but allowing them to love you, that’s the scary part. Because ultimately when you let someone in enough to let them love you whole heartedly it opens you up to the chance of heartbreak i mean, look at my life”

You both laugh a little “It’s not even just regular heartbreak, it’s the fear of being cheated on, having my trust shattered. Having someone use me for my family’s money”

“Well, for what it’s worth. I think you need to just bite the bullet, let that guard down. How do you ever expect to find what you want and need if you’re not willing to open yourself up to it. It’s a risk that is worth it sometimes, that eventually, all the heartaches will lead to something greater or someone. Someone that will accept every flaw you have and be there regardless of how messy things can get”

Ransom is just so relaxed right now, he feels at peace, at ease with you. The way you’re listening. Your head rested on his chest, letting him hold you and giving him proper responses, it shows you’re paying attention, you want to be there for him. He’s completely taken back by you. How could anyone want to cheat and leave you, it’ll always remain a mystery to him.

You’re like this ray of light, that came into his life tonight out of the blue. Someone who’s hurting too but somehow you amazing him with the sunshine you provide. You’re everything he’s always wanted in a girlfriend but he’s spent years pushing girls just like you to the side due to fear. Only difference is, he’s able to be himself with you. With them, he could never.

His body lets go as he turns on his side, turning you with him so that he’s cuddling you from behind.

“You’re right. I’ll get there eventually. I just, i need time”

Your silent for a while, taking his words in before you speak.

“Seems like you don’t need any time at all”

That’s when you hear quiet snores from behind you, he’s dozing. And after a couple of minutes, you decide that it’s probably time you see yourself out, you never wanna over stay your welcome and right now with him asleep, you already have.

But before you can even get off the bed, you need to remove his hand from around your frame. Which isn’t going to be easy considering you have to try not to wake him up.

You succeed, finally managing to scoot over to the edge of the bed. But that’s when you hear his tired groans, followed by a hand to your wrist.

“Don’t leave me” his voice is laced with worry

“What?”

“Everyone leaves me” his words break your heart all over again, you’ve been left before and you’re not about to do this to him. Besides, it’s not like you wanted to, you just didn’t think he was the type to want you here all night.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to be here when you woke up”

“Well, you thought wrong. Come back and cuddle, don’t leave like everyone else does”

It doesn’t take much more to convince you to crawl back into his arms. He presses a couple of kisses to your shoulder as you get under the covers with him. Then the kisses move to your cheek and eventually, your lips.

“I’m here to stay then i guess”

“Good”

You feel warm and happy somehow in his arms, like everything has gone away, even if it’s just temporarily.

“Goodnight”

“Goodnight Ransom. sweet dreams” something you’ve always said throughout your whole life. It’s a nice thing to say and it has him smiling into one last kiss before he closes his eyes for the night.

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

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