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totesnothere04 · 8 months ago

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The Silence Didn't End, Until It Did

Tonowari x Deaf!Avatar!Reader x Ronal

Disclaimer: I don't own any fanart, screenshots, or gifs.

Warnings: Uh Idfk imagine going from hearing absolutely nothing your entire life to hearing everything.

Masterlist

As soon as you're pulled out of your cryo-pod, you're greeted by a nurse signing to you.

"We're here." He signs and you sigh.

"Thank you." You sign back and he helps you out of your pod and you float over to your locker. You sadly set a hand on Tommy's locker since it was right next to yours, and you open your locker grabbing your things. Your eyes are caught by someone coming over and opening Tommy's locker and you have to do a double-take. He looked exactly like Tommy, but his legs had no muscle mass. This must be Jake. You sigh again, close your locker, and push off to get where you need to go.

Later after your shuttle landed you sit there watching what the interpreter is saying from the Colonel. You were bored, but you knew that this place wasn't a cakewalk. You were invaders so you knew the indigenous wouldn't be particularly accepting of humans.

But you were one of the lucky few who didn't have to be stationed at Hell's Gate. You were lucky enough to be stationed further away in the forest close to the ocean. You were a marine zoologist, and you couldn't pass up the opportunity to beable to come here and be out there.

The moment the interpreter signed to you that the safety briefing was over your bag was in your hand and you were out of the mess hall. Basically jogging over to the link room to meet THE Grace Augustine. A man greeted you when you entered the link room.

"Hello, I'm Max. I'll be helping you connect to your avatar tomorrow, and then you'll be sent to your station afterwards." Max signs to you and you smile excitedly.

"I'm so excited, I'm sure you understand just how excited I am." You sign to him and based off of the exhale of breathing and the movement of his shoulders he chuckled.

"I get it. I really do, but as beautiful as this planet can be it can be very dangerous. Just keep that in mind." Max signs and leads you over to a link pod. "Any minute now, Grace Augustine is going to be coming out of this pod. But I'll have you standing with us in the center of the room so that you don't crowd her when she first comes out." You nod along and move with him over to the center of the room and look at all of their monitors in awe. After a moment her link pod opens and she walks over to meet two men. Both of which you know will be joining the avatar program. Norm takes notice of you and waves.

"Hey (Y/n). I didn't see you in the mess hall." Norm signs and wave off his words.

"I sat in the back with my interpreter. I'm just ready to be at my station." You sign to him and he smiles and nods. Grace looks at you and smiles.

"You must be (Y/n). I'm excited to beable to read your reports. From your grades and your simulation hours, I can tell that you will be an amazing addition to the avatar program." Grace signs and you smile bashfully.

"I'm just ready to be at my workstation and learn everything I can about the marine life here." You sign to her and she smiles.

"Be here bright and early and be ready, because this is going to be an experience." Grace signs to you and you give her two excited thumbs up and grab your bag to go to your temporary bunk. As you pass the lab the blue glow catches your eye and you go inside. The first avatar is Tommy's, the next is Norm's avatar... Then yours. You smile wide and go over to yours and watch her twitch occasionally.

The teal blue of her skin contrasts with Norm and Tommy's avatars, and her hair is a different consistency. Longer, thicker, and softer looking and you already start thinking of the different ways you could style her hair so it doesn't get in your eyes. Her wide limbs were there to make gliding through the water much easier, and her thicker tail for better propulsion. You leave the lab feeling way too excited for tomorrow.

The next morning you were up early and dressed ready to go. You leave your temporary bunk to go grab breakfast and after you finish eating you're in the link room.

Max greets you and leads you over to a link pod. You calibrate it and take a deep breath as you sit down in it and lie down. Max puts everything in place and you reach up and pull down the lid. A moment later your eyes close and you wake up slowly, but something is off.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Your brows furrow in confusion and suddenly they're above you shining a bright light in your eyes.

"Pupilary reflex is good." The woman says and your eyes blow wide. The man notices and snaps in your ears and you flinch at the noise.

"(Y/n) can you hear us?" The man asks and through your shock, you start reading their lips to associate words with the way they sound, you manage to nod.

"I can hear..." You sign to them and they both smile widely. Approximately 5 minutes later you're sat up on the bed when Norm's avatar stirs and your ears perk toward the noise of his shuffling. When he sits up he looks over at you and smiles.

"This is awesome." Norm signs and you nod.

"I can hear." You sign to him and his face drops in shock.

"Really?" Norm asks outloud and you nod.

"Now I just need to learn to speak." You sign to him and he waves a hand.

"You're smart. It's easy to talk, you'll get it in no time." Norm says and you giggle, but your eyes widened after you did.

"That's what my laugh sounds like?" You sign and Norm nods.

"Yeah. Tommy and I always thought it was cute." Norm says with a chuckle. Your conversation ended abruptly when To-Jake started to stir and you watched with curiosity. After only being linked to his avatar body for a few moments he starts to get up and your eyes go wide as you watch him detach all the IV's and monitoring equipment and run out of the airlock. Norm follows behind Jake, but you remain seated with a raised brow.

The two scientists close the airlock when they return from trying to keep up with Jake and they return to you.

"Alright (Y/n). Let's get you up and ready." The woman says and the man takes that as his cue to leave. She pushes a cart over to you and you gladly get dressed and ready to go and soon enough you're out of the airlock too. You're met by an older ocean avatar and he smiles at you.

"(Y/n), I'm so excited to get to know you." He signs happily.

"I'm excited too! But I wanted to let you know I can hear you... I can hear everything." You sign to him and his eyes go wide and he smiles.

"Even better. I'll teach you to speak Na'vi first." He says with a laugh. "Come on let's get you used to these legs." He says as he leads you off to an obstacle course.

The next day you step off the Samson with your mentor and you look around you in awe. The ocean a few miles away was a beautiful blue, the sand a pure light tan nearly white, and the grass around you was green. You smile brightly at the scene around you, but your admiring is cut short by a hand waving in your face.

"Sorry... Forgot you were in your human body and not your avatar." Your mentor signed and he had a sheepish look on his face.

"I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention... It so much more beautiful than I thought it would be." You sign to him and he smiles and nods.

"And to think.... At one point Earth looked like this." Your mentor signed as he looked out over the scenery sadly. "Anyway... Let's get you set up." He signs as he leads you into the mobile units. Three small portable buildings clustered together and when you walked in there was only one other scientist there. She jumped up quickly and waved excitedly.

"Hello! I'm Kira a marine biologist." Kira signs excitedly.

"Hello, Kira. I'm (Y/n) and I can't wait to get started." You sign to her and she nods.

"You'll love it here, trust me. I never want to leave." Kira signs and as quickly as she appeared to you she disappears into the buildings.

As you settled into your new surroundings and got used to the schedule for studying, Kira and your mentor, Steve, taught you to speak Na'vi. You picked up on it so fast that soon enough you were having full conversations with them fluently.

Currently, however, you are enjoying some free time. The sounds of the waves crashing on the shore and the animals in the nearby forest were relaxing. You took a deep breath and got up from your seated position on the sand. You waded into the water and dove in being careful of the possible dangers within.

Even under the water, you could hear everything. The chitter of the animals under the water, the flowing of the water, and the sound of rocks shifting with the tides. Everyday you became more enraptured with the world around you, and you started to dread when your 6 years were up. You couldn't stand the thought of leaving such a beautiful lively planet to return to one filled with so much ugly. The tall buildings you once thought were beautiful and strong, now seemed disgusting in your memories compared to what you were seeing everyday now.

In your deep state of thinking you didn't notice a Tsurak, or Skimwings, as humans call them, swimming toward you. You turned startled slightly when you felt something nudge your back. You came face-to-face with the Tsurak and you felt your blood run cold. When claimed by a rider they don't attack Na'vi unless prompted to, but this one didn't have a saddle. You freeze in place waiting for it to make its move, but it never moves to attack you. It only nuzzles the end of its nose into your stomach, so you bring your hands up to pet its muzzle. It starts pushing you back to shore and you have to suppress the giggles since it was tickling you. You finally stood up when you reached an area where you were still in the ocean up to your waist.

"(Y/n)!" Steve calls out as he comes out of the mobile unit. You turn to look at him and your new Tsurak friend floats up to the surface of the water.

"Yes, Steve?" You ask him in Na'vi and he freezes after taking a step when he sees the Tsurak.

"(Y/n)... very slowly walk out of the water." Steve says and you chuckle and shake your head.

"Steve this is my new friend." You tell Steve with a smile and pet the Tsurak's head.

"Okay..." Steve says slowly. "I got a status update from Max... They're attacking the Omatikaya Hometree today." Steve says sadly and your expression drops as well. You go to open your mouth to speak when something wet and slightly slippery smacks you in the face. Confused and slightly annoyed you look down to see that the Tsurak has its tswin sticking out of the water expectantly. Steve becomes amazed, moves a little closer, and crouches.

"Oh my god..." Steve says quietly as he watches the two infront of him. You slowly reach behind you and pull your tswin forward, and bring it to meet the Tsurak's. When the small pink nerve endings meet they bind together and suddenly everything feels different. You got the sudden urge to hang on for dear life and did so. Which proved to be a good idea since the Tsurak took off swimming quickly in what felt like a familiar direction to it. When your lungs start to burn in protest for air the Tsurak changes its direction to go for the surface. When it breaks the surface its wings spread and it flies above the water. You take a deep breath letting the scent of the ocean air flow into your lungs and you laugh happily as you watch the ocean fly by.

Hours later the Tsurak dives into the water for probably the 15th time when you get close to an island, but after a minute it pops back up above the water. When you get to the shallows he stops and you slide off of him and disconnect your tswins. He swims off quickly and you sigh, unsure of where you are or why he brought you here. You turn to go inland to try to find somewhere to safely stash your avatar, but quickly put your hands up in surrender. Behind you are several clan members with their weapons drawn and pointed at you. The tallest Na'vi man you had ever seen walks through the crowd shortly followed by a shorter female Na'vi.

"Why have you come to us, tawtute?" The female asks and you nervously gulp.

"I didn't mean to... The Tsurak approached me while I was swimming, offered to bond with me, and brought me here." You say honestly and she slowly walks around you. She picks up your arm and lets it fall to your side. Then she tugs on your tail and hums quietly. Then she picks up your tswin, twirls it in her hand once, then drops it. She returns to the man's side and the two have a silent conversation. Occasionally their eyes would wander back to you and they almost seemed... Intrigued?

"Come." The woman says and comes back over to you wrapping an arm around your back, guiding you.

"Everyone, return to your duties." The man says and follows behind the two of you. They lead you to a shelter and tell you what each thing inside is for.

"Why... are you treating me nicely?" You ask confused. "I'm human, my race hasn't exactly been good to yours."

"Just as not all Na'vi are bad, not all humans can be." The man says.

"There is a reason your Tsurak approached you. A gifted one that was given to us by the Great Mother." The woman says and you suddenly remember what Steve told you before you were whisked away, so to speak.

"Wait... I need to go help Max." You say hurriedly and the two seem confused. "Right before I bonded with my Tsurak, my mentor, Steve, told me that the RDA was about to attack the Omatikaya Hometree. I need to go help stop it."

"What?" The woman asks angrily.

"The people that brought me here to Pandora, they were about to attack the Omatikaya People's Hometree." You say hurriedly and she shakes her head.

"I sense that you are not a fighter. There is not much that you would beable to do to help." The woman says and you sigh sadly and your ears droop. You know what she's saying is true, you're not a fighter, you study things you learn about them. In no way had you ever been taught to fight or even shoot a gun.

"Here, you are safe and you do not have to fight." The man says and you shake your head.

"Maybe my avatar is, but my human body is still back in the mainland." You tell them, they look at eachother and sigh.

"We will start training you tomorrow." The man says and the woman agrees.

"Wait... what are your names?" You ask them.

"I am Tonowari, Olo'eyktan of the Metkayina." 'Tonowari' introduces himself.

"And I am Ronal, Tsahík." 'Ronal' introduces herself as well.

"I'm (Y/n)." You introduce yourself to them. Ronal and Tonowari share a small smile and they leave you alone in the hut they took you to.

A few days later you link with your avatar with a heavy heart. Knowing you will most likely be sent back to Earth with some of the other scientists and humans. When you link you got up and stretched then made your way to find Tonowari or Ronal or both. It really depended on who you would find first. When you spot them they are in deep conversation, speaking quietly to one another.

"Good morning Tonowari, good morning Ronal." You greet them and they immediately cease their conversation and look up to you.

"(Y/n), good morning. Come join us for breakfast." Tonowari says and you take a seat across from them and Ronal hands you a leaf with breakfast in it.

"We were just discussing if we wanted to have you train with Ronal today or if I would continue training you to hunt." Tonowari says and you sigh sadly.

"I'm sorry, but I'm most likely going to be sent back to Earth soon." You say sadly.

"Why?" Ronal asks her voice angry.

"The humans have waged war against the Omatikaya... The last I heard anything was earlier when one of the scientists at the main base told us that the military leader was preparing for an attack on the Tree of Souls." You tell them with a frown. Tonowari immediately stands and shakes his head.

"No... You are Metkayina. You stay on Eywa'eveng." Tonowari says and you shake your head.

"I won't have a choice." You tell him quietly, but he doesn't respond. He simply grabs his spear and walks out of his marui, a few of his best warriors falling to his side as he walks away. You look at Ronal in confusion and she just gives you a reassuring smile.

"Then it is decided... You will train with me today. I'm going to start with the easy part of healing, making bandages." Ronal says with a smile and after you both finish breakfast, she leads you to the healer's marui.

Hours later you're learning to make a salve to help calm down the effects of Stinging Coral when you feel your consciousness being pulled back to your human body. You have enough time to feel your body start to collapse, but you're back in your human body before you make contact with the ground.

You sigh sadly and get out of the linkpod. Nothing. That's all you could hear, it's all you could feel. Suddenly a hand is shoved in your face and waved to catch your attention. You look up with an angry expression, hating it when people get your attention that way.

"(Y/n), you and Kira are leaving." Steve signs and you feel your spirits fall once more. "Tonowari and a few of his warriors are here to take you with them." Steve sign quickly when he realizes you thought you were being sent back to Earth.

"Kira is going too?" You ask him and he nods.

"One of the warriors took a liking to her so she's going too." Steve explains and you nod. You feel a smile creep across your lips and you quickly go over, grab an oxygen mask, and take off running out of the airlock. Kira is already outside talking to Tonowari and the others when you get out there. Kira sees you and quickly turns and says something to Tonowari and his men. When you get close enough Tonowari turns to Kira and says something to her.

"Tonowari says that he couldn't stand the thought of you being forced to go back, when he feels that you belong with him and his people." Kira says and you smile wide and look at Tonowari.

"I will admit I have not been with them for long but I feel like Awa'atlu is where I belong." You tell Kira and she turns and talks to Tonowari. He offers you his hand and leads you to the water where their Tsuraks are all waiting. And soon enough you're riding off in the direction of Awa'atlu... Your home.

15 Years Later

The horns blared signaling visitors to Awa'atlu and Ronal looked at you worriedly. Ever since it was confirmed you were pregnant both she and Tonowari had been overprotective.

"You should stay here." Ronal says as she gets up but you roll your eyes and standup as well.

"It will be alright Ronal. I can protect myself and both you and Tonowari will be there." You say and move to leave the healers marui.

"Yawne, this is your first child with us. I want you to be safe." Ronal argues softly.

"As I said I will be safe. You and Tonowari will be here." You say in return again and nearly bounce your way down the walkways, Ronal begrudgingly following behind you.

When you get to where your clan is gathered around 5 ikrans. Your ears perk forward as the crowd splits for you and Ronal. Your head cocks to the side as you recognize Jake.

"Jake Sully." You say in surprise and you approach him, Ronal quietly protesting.

"(Y/n)?" Jake asks in surprise. "What- How-" Jake stammers and you shrug.

"We both chose our people." You say casually and you feel a large muscular arm wrap around your shoulders. You turn to find Tonowari and a smile comes across your features at seeing your other mate.

"Jake Sully. I take it you already know of my second mate?" Tonowari questions and Jake's jaw nearly falls off him.

"I met her once a long time ago, but I didn't know she was your second mate." Jake admits.

"I was there the first time he connected to his avatar." You tell Tonowari and snicker at Jake's embarrassed expression.

"Why have you come to us?" Ronal finally asks, obviously done with dancing around the subject.

"We've come seeking uturu." Jake says and you feel Tonowari's muscles in his back tighten.

"Uturu?" Ronal says astonished by the request.

#avatar #avatar 2009 #tonowari x reader #avatar twow #tonowari x reader x ronal #ronal x reader #james cameron avatar

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ghouljams · 1 month ago

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At this point aphrodite!reader should just bite him in a fit of cuteness agression, maybe then he'll understand

Teeth you know.

They scrape against your skin, dredge themselves through the pitch of night and leave you burning for more.

They follow phantom touches and words whispered in a tongue that sticks to consonants you can't parse.

They are dangerous and gleaming, and oh so gentle with you.

And you arch into the feeling of them, hoping to be devoured,

Only for the dream to leave you.

You pad down to the forge, the heavy clang of Nikto's hammer guiding you like a siren's call. The grit of soot beneath your bare feet reminds you that you've foregone the boots Nikto insisted you wear, but you can't find it in you to mind. The stone floor is so warm, and you let out a please hum at the blast of hot air that hits you as you open the forge door.

Nikto is inspecting an arrow when you enter the forge, holding the silvery thing up to the darkness with his pliers as he inspects it. He lowers it back to the anvil and raises his hammer to strike it anew.

"Zolotse," Nikto greets, his voice just loud enough to cover the sound of metal striking metal, "It is late, go back to bed."

You ignore his command in favor of picking your way to his workbench. A quiver of silvery arrows strewn across the wood, each with perfectly trimmed feathers and sculpted points. You press your fingers against one and find Nikto's rough hand covering yours, pulling you away.

"For Artemis," He tells you, "Don't touch."

You've never seen his worktable properly before. Screws and nails are set in neat plates with walled edges. Tools rest on leather wraps. Raw ingots and metals sit in lumps in one corner waiting to be processed by Nikto's practiced hand. Organized, and yet there's a distinct messiness to the workstation. Claustrophobically cluttered.

Your eyes fall on the plate of food at the edge of the table, warming grapes and olives, bread quickly going stale, ambrosia barely touched.

"You haven't eaten." It puzzles you, somehow. He hasn't eaten, he hasn't come to bed, how is he still able to swing his hammer with such strength? Isn't he tired? Hungry?

"We will eat later." He turns you away from the table, "You will bed now."

You turn back and catch the growl of frustration that Nikto bites off.

"You have to eat something," You insist, reaching for the plate. You're surprised his hands don't catch you again as you break the crusty bread between your hands and tear off a bite to dredge through the wine like ambrosia.

You cup your hand under the bite as you hold it out to him.

"Eat."

You don't know where your boldness comes from, if you were so bold when you married Nikto, or if it's his own curt demeanor starting to rub off on you, but you stand there and wait.

Nikto watches you, his breath puffing through the mask he wears like smoke from a chimney. His eyes are cold, the icy blue like a winter storm in the middle of the forge, and then they're gone, covered by the mask he tugs up as he beds down to take the bite from between your fingers. His mouth furnace hot and his tongue searching.

His teeth scrape your fingers and your body shivers with heat.

Familiar,

like a wonderful dream.

#x reader #cod x reader #cod nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto x reader #mwii nikto #nikto cod #nikto call of duty #hephaestus!nikto #aphrodite!reader #if biting isn't a love language then why do I have teeth?

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revelboo · 1 month ago

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Do you think Earthspark! Soundwave is gonna eventually soften up a bit about the human Laserbeak wanted?

I imagine that Lazerbeak, and Frenzy are gonna take pics of Soundwave holding the human relatively gently, and title it some thing like: Dad and the Cat He Didn't Want.

Then Soundwave is gonna see them snickering over their camera, and demand that they delete the photo. But they just kinda snicker, and run away with the camera. So he makes Ravage retrieve it for him instead.

He will eventually ease up the aggression some. But you’re a constant reminder that Megs defected for a human and your kind helped the Decepticons lose the war. He’s a tiny bit bitter about it

Skin and Bones and The Conversation are next for updates, but 48 degree treadmill run first

Son Of A Gun Pt 4

Earthspark Soundwave x Reader

• Venting on a growl as he works, his servos clench on the tool in his hand and accidentally bends it as the shrill scream of Frenzy’s guitar pierces the silence. Not sure how long he’s been bent over the new power converter, only that his joints are stiff as he straightens. Heading in the direction of the noise to tell them to stop, he rocks to a stop when he hears the laughter. How long has it been since he’s heard any of his cassettes laugh? Not since the accident. Everything strained and uncomfortable now all the time. He’s almost certain Ravage is the only one that doesn’t blame him.

• “I’m not going to stop until you try it,” Frenzy insists, pushing the guitar at you until you take it in self defense. “You’re holding it wrong,” Lazerbeak adds as you try to figure it out while they laugh at you. The other one, Ravage, nearby but keeping her distance. When you’d tried to stand to see if you could sneak away, her head had lifted to stare you down. Getting run down by an alien panther not even remotely appealing, because you suspect Daddy told her to keep you from running. Huffing, you strum the guitar and all three cringe and then laugh louder. “What was that?” Frenzy howls, waving her hands at you. Like you have any idea what you’re going?

• How can they be so relaxed around you? You’re their size, so they don’t see you as a threat to them. Lingering in the shadows, Soundwave wants to knock you down. Hates watching Frenzy and Lazerbeak try to coach you on her guitar. Like you belong with them, instead of being an intruder. As soon as Rumble’s repaired, you won’t be needed to fill that gap left behind. And he’s going to enjoy ridding himself of you. Swallowing a growl, he strides into the room and bends, snagging you by the back of your shirt as you cry out and Frenzy catches her guitar. While he wants nothing to do with you, he doesn’t want you corrupting his cassettes either.

• What imagined slight did you commit this time? Kicking only makes you spin slightly as he turns and heads back into his workroom with you. Anger issues daddy, seeming to only have two modes: annoyed and pissed off. “If I’m doing something wrong, you could just tell me to stop? Or, I don’t know, let me go?” You suggest, head craning to see his face, not that you can tell anything from it. The growl that rumbles from him, though? He’s pissed. Again.

• “Let you go?” Snarling, he flicks his servos so you go airborne with a scream and catching you again. Your terror not nearly as satisfying as he expected it would be as you cling to his servos, sobbing. “Don’t speak.” He adds, annoyed with you and himself. Moving to his workstation, he drops you on top and ignores you to resume working. Aware of his three cassettes in the doorway watching, drawn by your scream. And you are mostly silent, sitting with your back to him and trembling, breath hitching. The fact that those little noises make him feel guilty only making him angrier. You don’t belong here, they don’t need you. He doesn’t need you.

#transformers x reader #earthspark soundwave #soundwave x reader

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imloyaltoscoups · 9 months ago

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it's fiction | jeon wonwoo

Wonwoo leans on the door frame, his arms crossed, looking at you focused on your laptop. Your fingers keep typing nonstop, the clatter of keys the only sound in the room.

"You've been engrossed with your laptop for days," he says, breaking the silence.

You stop typing and close your laptop immediately, turning your head to look at him. "It's just some research stuff," you reply, trying to sound casual. But the truth is, he has no idea you're writing a fanfic about him—not just any fic, but a R18+ one.

You stand up and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a hug. "Soo how's the progress on the album with Hans?" you ask, hoping to divert his attention.

He rests his chin on top of your head, his arms encircling you in return. "It's going well," he says softly. "Just preparing for the MV maybe this coming week or so... But I'm more curious about what you've been working on."

You feel your cheeks heat up, your heart racing as you hold him tighter, "I'm just searching for a new game that's all," you reply, trying to sound convincing.

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Your chrome isn't even open."

You look up at him, caught off guard. He points to his glasses. "My vision is clear," he says, smiling.

You let out a nervous laugh, your mind racing to come up with another excuse. But the way he’s looking at you, with that teasing glint in his eyes, makes it hard to think straight. So instead, you tighten your grip around his waist, hiding your face in his chest.

"Okay four eyes, you caught me," you mumble into his shirt. "But it's really nothing."

He chuckles, his hand coming up to gently stroke your hair. "Alright, I'll let it slide for now. But next time, maybe you can show me what you've been working on?"

Your heart skips a beat, and you can only hope he never finds out the real reason behind your late-night typing sessions.

He then gently removes your arms from around his waist and he directly head straight to your workstation. Panic sets in as you rush to stop him, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind.

"Yaaaa, wait!" you plead, trying to hold him back. "You said you will let it slideee."

He laughs, a deep, genuine sound, and continues to move forward, dragging you along with him. "What are you hiding, hmm?" he teases, enjoying your struggle.

"Seriously, it's nothing!" you insist, your grip tightens.

He pauses, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder, still smiling. "You know, you're making me even more curious."

You groan, knowing he won’t give up easily. "It's just… embarrassing, okay?"

He turns around fully, facing you, his expression softening a bit. "I won't judge, you know that," he says gently.

You hesitate, then sigh, loosening your hold on him. "Fine. Again don't judge me and don't even laugh." as you point your finger on him.

He grins, reaching out to lift your chin. "I promise."

With a reluctant nod, you step aside, watching nervously as he approaches the table.

Wonwoo sits on your chair and opens the laptop, starting to read. You panic and cover his eyes as he begins to speak, "Really, babe?"

"Stop, stop," you nervously plead.

He removes your hands from his glasses and looks up at you. "I thought you didn't like being rough, but here? You even describe my dick well, props to that," he says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You cover your face with your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment spreading across your cheeks. He grabs your waist and settles you on his lap, and you nudge your face into his neck, mumbling, "It's just fiction."

He chuckles, "But the details… wait, am I a mafia boss here?"

You blush even more deeply. "And how do you know this kind of position? We haven't even tried this one yet," he continues.

"Stop reading." You plead, but he ignores you and keeps reading.

"Have you been watching porn while I'm away?" he asks.

"It's just for reference, Won," you reply weakly. "You know I have more experience than you, right?" he counters.

"Well, then it wouldn't be fiction, it would be like your diary or something," you retort, looking at him. "And my readers like this kind of stuff."

He laughs and scrolls down, continuing to read. "And you even make me a cold, possessive jerk? Really, babe?"

You bury your face in his shoulder, mortified yet unable to suppress a giggle at his reaction.

"Well, this is already a fanfic since you made me a mafia boss," Wonwoo remarks, pausing in his reading. "You make Mingyu my rival... wait, will he... uh, fuck around with the female lead too?"

He's now fully invested, and you try to cover the screen, but he removes your hand, his expression turning serious. "Behave," he instructs firmly.

"Why is the female named as Y/N?" he asks, his tone softer now as he realizes you're writing a reader-insert fanfic.

You hesitate to answer, but he catches on, teasing you, "So you're imagining yourself being fucked by a mafia boss, huh?"

"It's not like that," you deny it quickly,

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You know, you're missing some details in this sex part," he points out, gesturing to the screen.

"What's wrong with that?" you ask, feeling defensive.

"Since you haven't tried this position, you need to experience it firsthand to be able to describe it accurately," he explains matter-of-factly.

He then stops reading, setting your laptop aside. You think it's over, so you stand up. He does too, but to your surprise, he grabs your hand and drags you to a nearby couch in the room.

As Wonwoo positions you on the couch, he bends you at the waist, your upper body resting on the cushions while the arm of the couch supports your hips. Before you can fully comprehend what's happening, he swiftly removes your shorts along with your underwear, making you gasp in surprise and arousal.

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "You know, I read something in your story about fingering and sucking first," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Before... before fucking her hard."

You shiver at his words, feeling a rush of heat pooling between your legs. "Y-yes," you manage to reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without further preamble, he descends upon you, his lips trailing hot kisses along the curve of your neck. But his touch is not gentle; it's rough, demanding, leaving marks of his passion in its wake. He bites down on your skin, his teeth grazing against your flesh, leaving you gasping for more.

As his lips find their way to your shoulder, With a wicked grin, he murmurs against your skin, "Let's see if I got your story right." he grips your thighs tightly, parting them with a force that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. His touch is possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as he explores every inch of your body with a hunger that leaves you trembling.

Your breath catches in your throat as his words send a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You nod, unable to form coherent words, your heart pounding in your chest.

And then, without warning, he lowers his head between your thighs, his mouth claiming you with a primal urgency. He doesn't hold back: his tongue is rough and insistent, lapping at your core with a fierce intensity that threatens to drive you over the edge.

But it's not just his tongue that drives you wild; it's his teeth, sinking into your flesh with a delicious sting that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. He bites and sucks with abandon, his mouth a whirlwind of sensation that leaves you teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

You then gasp as Wonwoo inserts his fingers roughly, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His roughness only intensifies as he continues to suck and lick you, driving you to the edge with each relentless stroke.

When you finally reach your climax, the pleasure is so intense that you can't help but squirt, your juices spilling over his face in a hot, sticky mess. He doesn't flinch; instead, he stands up, slapping your ass roughly as you continue to leak your essence, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, straddling you as he forcefully slaps his cock into you like an animal. In this position, there's no room for romance—no eye contact, no kissing, no caressing. It's pure, raw, animalistic fucking, and you revel in it.

As he takes you from behind, you can feel his gaze burning into you, consuming you with lust as he uses you for his pleasure. You lowkey love it—the feeling of being dominated, of being nothing more than an object for his satisfaction. It awakens something primal within you, igniting your submissive side like never before.

As Wonwoo continues to pound into you with primal intensity, his breath ragged and his movements rough, he begins to utter possessive lines, echoing the ones you wrote in your fanfic.

"You like it when I degrade you, don't you?" he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You love being used like this, don't you, you filthy little slut?"

His words send a shiver of excitement down your spine. You find yourself nodding eagerly, unable to form coherent words as pleasure clouds your mind.

He continues, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "You're mine, Y/N," he declares, his grip tightening on your hips as he drives himself deeper into you. "No one else can have you like this. You belong to me, body and soul. Say it."

You moan in response, unable to resist his command. "I'm yours," you gasp, the words coming out in a breathless whisper.

"That's right," he murmurs, he then delivers a sharp slap to your ass. "And don't you forget it. You're mine to use, to pleasure, to fuck however I want."

Wonwoo's thrusts grow deeper and rougher, each movement driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. Your bodies collide with a primal rhythm, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room.

He hisses in pleasure, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "You're so tight," he gasps, the words slipping out between clenched teeth. "Even after all this time, you still feel so fucking good."

With a final, powerful thrust, he releases his hot, sticky essence deep inside you, filling you completely with his fluid. The sensation sends you over the edge, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Wonwoo pulls his cock out, releasing the last of his cum onto your back. You breathe heavily, reveling in the fact that this is the first time he's been so rough with you during sex. He then gently picks you up and settles you both onto the couch.

As he plays with your hair, he smirks and asks, "So, who’s the better fuck—the mafia version of me or the real thing?"

You squint your eyes at his absurd question, trying to suppress a laugh. "It's just fiction, Babe, Mere fiction," you reply, shaking your head.

He chuckles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I know, I know," he says, his voice gentle. "I was just curious... At least you got to experience the sex position you wrote about," he added as he resumes on toying with your hair. "And if you need to try more for the sake of realism in your stories, I'd be open to it. No need for extra research when you have me."

You roll your eyes playfully, leaning against him. "Whatever." But he's not done yet, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Are there other stories you've written that I haven't read? Are they rated 18? And do you write about other members too?" he fires off questions.

Before he can ask more, you hush his mouth with a kiss, which he eagerly reciprocates, pulling you closer. You sense there might be another round, but this time, he'll be gentle like he used to be.

....... ≿━━━━━༺MASTERLIST༻━━━━━≾ .......

722 notes · View notes

penvisions · 25 days ago

Text

services requested {chapter three}

Pairing: Older! Joel Miller x Sugar Momma! Reader

Summary: Secrets are the undoing of everything good. That much you know for damn sure.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: no outbreak au, modern au, age gap (joel is mid 50's, reader is late 20's / early 30's), reader is more of an oc written in the x reader style, reader is described to have a scar and tattoos, mommy vibes, reader see's joel and knows she wants to provide for him, joel is older and tired, power dynamics, sexual undertones, instant connection, mutual pining, flirting, casual touches, mutual attraction, angst, family drama, strained family dynamics, mentions of past drug use, mentions of past trauma, mentions of physical attack (very brief), allusions to predatory behavior, allusions to power imbalances within the tattoo world, verbal threat, argumentative language, joel's sharp tongue, reader is depcited to have a manic anxiety attack, angst, we also get a nickname reveal in this one!

Fic Notes: please, if you have any qualms about the setting of this fic, do not reblog or comment with hate. my dms are open for discussion if you feel like you need to say anything. let's be respectful going into a new year, there are ample warnings and you are in charge of the content you consume

A/N: hi, i'm back with chapter three for y'all! ♡ feel free to (kindly) holler at me once you're done ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

You’re in the middle of recanting of a funny story from one of the last camping trips you took, giggling at the memory of over a dozen wild turkeys running through your campsite and taking the unfastened rainfly with them when you hear the bell ding over the front door.

The deep rumble of Joel’s voice says your name and the two assistants at the front desk snap out of whatever they’re doing to greet him and tell him that you’re in the middle of a session. He assures them that he knows you, knows he’s coming to visit and then you hear the soft footsteps of your personal assistant as they approach through the curtains that hide the workstations from the entryway.

“Grey, there’s a really handsome man asking after you. Says he knows you.”

A gooey smile overtakes your lips as you picture Joel in the other room, standing tall and displaying confidence you now know is a front when he’s in new environments. He is confident in his own settings, in his own element and there’s something endearing about the way he’s trying his best to maintain that as you expose him to new things and introduce him to a different facet of the world.

“That’s my friend, he can come on back. If you’re cool with that?” You pause in the shading you’re stippling through the finished outline of a fox skull, muted pastel colors to highlight it beside you on the table set up. At her quick nod you smile at the younger girl, she’s focused on her book while you work on her thigh, a large piece she had been excited to knock on all-in-one sitting.

“Mr. Miller, you can come on through!” You raise your voice enough for it to carry, you’re pretty sure he’s partially deaf in his right ear. There’s a deep scar there that lines his temple, probably from some work accident, but you haven’t asked about it in case it’s a sensitive spot. You know all about scars carrying heavy stories. Maybe he’ll share it one day, maybe you’ll share you own story about the one you know he glimpsed that first day you met him.

As soon as he walked through the curtain you could tell something is wrong. But you try to maintain your professional mask and push forward. If something is truly wrong, he’ll tell you. You trust him to be honest with you, to be real with you.

He’s not smiling and he looks entirely uncomfortable. Not even trying to be collected beyond his polite words. But he shouldn’t be, if the glimpse of his bullseye tattoo on his hand has anything to say about the setting. He gingerly sets the to-go cup on the non-plastic wrap part of your desk. Right by where your phone is propped up on a framed photo beside the tablet you’re using as a reference.

“Hi, hope the drive wasn’t too much? I know this is pretty deep downtown.” You watch him take in the room where he stands with his hands in his pockets. The gallery style frames that are everywhere, mixed with posters and paper artwork, the little figurines- it’s a mess really. Something you don’t particularly like about the scene, how overcrowded and decorated personal spaces are. But it is what it is, you wonder what he’s thinking as you rinse off the mixture of white and black you had been using. The hum of the tattoo gun is quiet, one of your charged ones in favor of the traditional one you love. It’s still in the box from moving, though now it’s nestled in your own garage instead of your parents.

“Was okay.” He barely get out, voice low and deep. Like he’s holding back what he really wants to say and it triggers alarm bells to ring in your head.

“…everything…good?” You can see the same tension in his body from when you had taken him to the salon, but this…this was so much heavier on him now. His brother- it probably hadn’t gone well with his brother, but you weren’t about to ask him in front of people who he didn’t know and didn’t know him.

“Good.” Is his short reply and you feel dread settle like little pebbles in your stomach. That tone. It’s a lie, it’s forced. And your instincts fire up to the point where you’re turning the machinery off and tapping the girl on your table.

“Hey, gonna take a quick smoke break, let you get up and stretch your muscles. It’s been a good two hours to start.” She nods, putting her book down finally and watching as you spray a solution onto her skin and gently wipe it away with one of the many stacked paper towels you set up.

He’s stiff when you stand and stretch out the muscles of your back from hunching over. The cracks that sound in the air feel good as they release tension, but you don’t pay them any mind as you walk him back out to the entrance. There’s a filing cabinet for each artist here, four in total. And you can feel his eyes on your back as you dig around for the copies of the permits you made and their corresponding paperwork.

“The block I purchased is a few streets down. Closer to the south side, where the buildings begin to thin out. Didn’t want it to be too crowded for construction but also wanted to stay in the loop of downtown events. We can check it out when you have some downtime this week around your job, but there’s no pressure. I’ve got the deed and land survey here for you as well to go over.” Turning, you see his eyes flash to your hands, how they curl around the manilla folder so like the one you had handed him a few days ago.

“I’ll look it over, the permits are already submitted?”

“Yes, for building two shop fronts. One is classified as a prospective rental space while the other is classified as a business operation. My license was accepted by the state as a temporary transfer, but I won’t be able to operate a personal business until the application for an official one is approved. Didn’t really plan on moving until construction was completed anyway, need the cash flow to fund some of it and prove the validity of the business.”

“Got it, I’ll be in touch once I check on these. Drive by the lot too, check it out.”

“Oh, okay.” You feel a little dismissed as he takes the folder from you carefully, like he’s avoiding your hands brushing against each other. He’s avoiding your gaze too, now that you’re thinking about it.

“Probably be in touch before we leave for Philadelphia. But you have my number and work email if not.”

He’s turning away, just like that. And you let him. But not without reminding him he can use the card you gave him for any travel expenses he might need help with.

“Don’t worry, the trip is already budgeted for. But thanks.” His word sting, landing hard on your tense shoulders but all you can do is watch him walk out the door, voice caught in your throat.

It’s been more than a few days since you’ve heard from Joel. He never emailed or texted anything about the paperwork he came to get from the shop. He was there for a handful of minutes, when you thought he would at least stick around for a little tour and walkthrough of what kind of work you did.

Pushing the hurt away, you suspect it has something to do with how things went with his brother. At least, that’s all you had to go on and it was only a hunch. You know there’s strain there, an underlying strain to their connection. He offhandedly mentioned a nephew during one of your quiet conversations, but you don’t recall if it was a recent development or not.

Setting down the book you’re trying to read through, the last in a series of four romance novels by your favorite author, you pull out your laptop from the bedside table. The only thing on your mind as every description of a flawed but perfect man on the pages roves beneath your eyes is Joel.

Philadelphia.

That’s where Sarah lives, is attending graduate school and working an internship in her chosen field. He is so proud of her, so happy he could help give her the chance at an opportunity to do what she loves, even if the intricacies of social work are lost on you. You did a small guest spot at a shop there a few years ago, back before you had established yourself, back when you were still honing your skills. But you remember a lovely little spa that you had gone to with a friend, and you look them up now.

With the purchase of a package treatment for four, you attach the corresponding verification and specifications to a new email. The swoosh of it sending successfully helps to ease some of the anxiety built up inside you.

On the other side of town, Joel’s phone dings in his pocket. The new one that had arrived at his house that morning still in the box it showed up in. Already set with a tough case to withstand the elements of his job and a thin glass screen protector. His heart flutters even now as he recalls the beautiful looping scrawl of your cursive on a note saying he deserved a nice phone he didn’t have to worry about cutting his hand on. That you counted on those hands to create good things for you, and you wanted to ensure their safety moving forward.

A kind gesture and joke that both landed badly.

His phone was still an older version of the most popular brand, cracked screen but still worked. Your face when he used it in front of you for the first time had made him bark out a laugh. A comment about not being glued to his phone like you were meant he didn’t really care what it looked like as long as it worked.

Squinting through the dated prescription of his sunglasses, he sees your personal email address at the top of his notification list. With a grunt, he swipes open his mail app and opens up the message.

‘Mr. Miller,

I know you said you would be in contact and I don’t want to intrude on your business hours so this will be quick. Attached is a receipt and verification for a spa I loved in Philly. For you and your girls to enjoy during your visit, as well as Sarah’s boyfriend. There is also a reservation made at a restaurant that one of my friends is the sous chef at as well, a nice steak house. A birthday present and meal for you. I’m unsure of the date but wanted to make sure you received something from me.

Hope the day is good to you,

Grey’

With a scoff that burns through his throat, Joel stuffs the phone back into his pocket. He was still stewing on the fact that you’re married.

Sighing deeply, Joel sinks into the cushions of his worn leather couch. Ellie is in the kitchen putting some dinner together, planning it just right based on the response to when he anticipated being home- reasonably for once. He can hear her easy-going laughter and soft conversation with the girl she’s begun to bring around more.

It’s good for her, she deserves to be happy. Been dealt so much heartache that it’s about time she finds the joy in living and taking things into her own hands. He’s proud of her.

He’s bone tired, entire body taut with working all day in the summer sun. The deck is nearly complete, something he’s thrown himself into working on while admittedly giving you a wide berth. He’s not sure how to proceed. He’s already signed the contract and despite the… complication, he still really wants to fulfill it. You obviously need the help from someone who you trust to do the work, offering to hire him either way because you admire the way he went about renovating your parents’ house across the street.

He feels like a dick for the way he interacted with you last, when he visited the shop downtown. You were so excited for him to see where you worked and earn your name in a world he didn’t know much about. To show him around and talk about that part of your life. He recalls the way your glittering eyes dulled when he barely managed to get out short responses to your concerned questions. He had been too caught up in being blindsided by the new information about your personal life.

The demeanor he adopted was short, his eyes watching your every move to read more about you that he may not have originally caught on to. There was no ring on your finger, at least not one that could be mistaken for a wedding band. Perhaps it was by omission? A way to avoid the conversation.

He had acted like he didn’t know you, like you weren’t friends or at least on friendly terms. A business partner, that’s what he had acted like. Has been acting like.

His email in response to your kind one didn’t acknowledge the original content, instead he had forged ahead with a brief synopsis of how your permits all looked good and should be approved by the end of the month. He tried not to picture the crestfallen expression on your face as you opened the email to see his clipped words.

He’s furious. Two weeks later and he knows it’s because he’s hurt.

The photos of your wedding are the last post on your account. Marked a year and a half ago. He knows you moved here six months ago. He can see the fact that you’re online based on the little green dot beside your icon. You obviously still use the account, that much is clear even if you haven’t posted anything recently. You’re smiling in the photos, absolutely glowing in the arms of someone who looks exactly like the type you’d be into.

Younger, longer hair, slim waste and paired with lean muscles. Thick brows and suave sense of self, palpable even through the screen. How could he have been so stupid?

The betrayal of his own circumstance rears up, making him feel the whole ordeal again in bright, striking memories. Sarah couldn’t have been two years old, crying her little heart out in the living room as she had been set in her rocking cradle. The sounds of deep moans and slapping skin raining down the stairs like some sort of fucked up scene. Home from work and exhausted like he is now, but younger by more than two decades. He hadn’t even bothered to disturb them, the woman he called his wife and whoever she had deemed more important than her own daughter.

He had waited in the living room, soothing his little girl as best she could. Getting her to calm down while his heart raced and his mind moved a mile a minute wasn’t an easy thing, but he had managed to get her to sleep. That’s when they had both come down the stairs, her in her robe and him fastening his pants back up like he owned the damn place. Jokes and laughter bubbling up until they spotted him sitting on the couch cradling a relaxed Sarah.

It had been a mess, they were both high as kites. Something Joel had never expected from the woman he had married, had dated his entire senior year in high school and then into his first year of college. But when she realized she was pregnant, he dropped out and started working construction to bring in the money they would need. Allowing her the freedom to keep her own light schedule of classes to appease her parents and work part time at their grocery store.

He feels the sting of her words now, as he gazes down at photos of you smiling with another man. That he hadn’t been enough, that he didn’t give them enough of his time and attention. He wonders if your husband knows the offer you made him, maybe have made to others before. The words you said to him echo in his head alongside hers.

Other men have embellished their skill sets in order to receive the same offer.

He has to admit, he didn’t think you were the type of person to be so causal about an affair. But then again, he didn’t think his now ex-wife would’ve turned to illegal drugs to handle her postpartum manic depression and bring her drug dealer into their house to fuck him while their baby cried her head off.

It’s hard to reconcile the person he’s gotten to know over the last month with the shifting image of you now knowing the things that he does. The kind and spunky daughter of his best friend across the street. The one who he’s heard nothing but good things and gentle praise about for years since he moved into this neighborhood. Always saying that he’s raising two strong girls just like their own, and maybe when you visited, they could be friends.

Your soft smiles and harmless taunts make his chest hurt, he can’t tell if they were real or all some ploy to get him to soften up around you. He doesn’t feel like they had been fake, not the quiet words you both shared over cups of coffee and while he had you watch over the detailing of specific tasks to ensure it was what you wanted. The way you always made sure him and the crew had coffee and food, wanting them to not feel pressured about the deadline and still be able to focus fully on the tasks at hand.

It can’t have been fake, he saw your veneer of polite professionalism come down. He comforted you when he saw tears spring up in your eyes and you kept grabbing at the spot on your lower back where he knows there’s a scar.

You’re friends. You and him. At least…you were friends. He doesn’t feel like it at the moment, he feels like he’s caught his ex-wife cheating all over again. The feeling of your soft, gentle hands running through his hair surprise him, the way you had soothed him while he sat in a salon chair for the first time in a long time. The setting was new to him, a nice place with rich and colorful decoration, beautiful people with luscious hair and fantastic artwork painting their exposed arms. Long lashes, immaculate make-up, expensive looking clothes. He was out of place, same with the tattoo shop he had stopped in later on in the day.

It made him nervous in a way he didn’t anticipate. Like you would see him, really see that he was just some blue-collar man who did harsh labor day in an day out. Someone who could provide for himself until his last breath, but then again- that’s exactly what you saw. The contract offered, read over, and signed proves that. He just can’t fathom the why, now that he knows you’re married.

As soon as Ellie and Dina are ascending the stairs after a decent meal, one in which he tried to be as present during as possible even with his mind a blur of conflicting thought, Joel is taking the keys from the bowl beside the door and heading out the door.

He needs to get to the bottom of this now.

“Hey, Joel, is everything okay?” Your mind is working overtime as you swing the door open to find the man standing there on the stoop. It’s small, just enough space for your giant potted elephants ear plant, a little table, and one patio chair. The railing is gone, something you had taken down before you moved in, the furniture in easier and something you wanted to replace anyway.

You worry for a second that something is wrong, the radio silence wasn’t quite so profound, the understanding that he was working his last job before going out of town and then you being busy with a few clients who had big pieces to complete. But the emails you had exchanged were…strained? Something’s off, has been ever since that first day he handed over the signed contract and then came to the shop to visit. Despite that conversation going over relatively well, perfect even.

He's not moving to come into the house, though you open the door to offer him room to pass by and enter. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly, you can see it twitching with the force he’s grinding his teeth together with.

You know you look a mess, face washed for the night, baggy clothes and knotted hair pulled up off you the back of your neck. You didn’t have anything scheduled tonight so you’ve just been mindlessly scrolling through the streaming services, not really focusing on finding something to watch. It was always the same routine until you settled on something you’ve watched over a million times already. It’s a comfort thing, that’s what your therapist says. To avoid being exposed to something you aren’t expecting in new media.

“Dunno, why don’t you ask your husband if everything is okay. Considering you just hired me as a personal contractor with an intimacy clause in his goddamn contract!” You flinch at the volume of his voice, the echo of it as it bounces off of closed garage doors and back through your open door. Your nails dig into the worn wood of the front door, catching Joel’s eyes as they do so.

“I don’t have a husband.” Your jaw clenches as your mouth snaps shut. Phantom pains break out all over your skin, pebbling the skin in goosebumps as the sting of a blade lances in your back. “Please just- come inside where we can have a little more privacy.”

“No? Sure seems like your client from the other day is convinced you’ve got one.” Joel towers over you, standing right in front of you settled against the back of the couch once he follows you inside. “Checked your account, saw the damn photos myself and here I was defending you against my shithead brother that you had no ill intentions.”

When you don’t say anything, too taken aback by the vehemence in his words, he continues on- overrun by the emotions he’s being bombarded with from every angle. The ones he had thought he dispelled after talking with you, after mulling over the stipulations of the contract a few times. But day one is here and he’s not sure how he feels anymore- other than betrayed and lied to. Played like a goddamn fool. That much is obvious, but the not one, but two mentions of the reason for your sudden move across the country is triggering and it’s hard to catch your breath let alone speak the soothing words you want to.

“I thought this whole thing was too good to be true, young thing like yourself offering me the chance of a lifetime. Turns out you’re married and have a husband who probably just doesn’t give you enough attention so you go looking for it with people you can keep around with the promise of money. Thought this would be a way to spend more time doing what I wanna do and focus on my girls, but no. Played like the fool I am once again. It was all a sham, this whole thing-“

“It is not a mistake!” Rage takes over your entire body, flames of it striking hot and consuming you.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it really does look like it is. Well, where is he? Off on some business trip or does he like to be in the house when you’ve got your men over? I sure as hell didn’t, but I don’t presume to know anything about you anymore.” And the self-depreciating smile he gives you sends you hurling over the edge of caution. Giving you the fuel to let the flames consume you and speak the words you haven’t to anyone but your lawyer.

“You wanna talk about my ex-husband so bad, Mr. Miller?” You push off the back of the couch and punch a sharp nail into his chest. You know he could feel the point of it through his clothing if the pinched expression he makes is any indication.

“You want to know about the man who was soliciting his apprentices right underneath my nose and then attacked me when I approached him about it, when I threatened to report him? You want to know about the man who probably did the same fucking thing to me, set his sights on me when I first started in this career and making a name for myself? You want to know about the man who he hired after our shitshow of a divorce to solicit me and give the community more reason to doubt my skills and hard-earned establishment? The guy I thought was such a breath of fresh air in the wake of something so fucking horrible only to find out the whole thing was a set up? He set his focus on fueling the rumors that I used my body to get where I am, that I slept my way into success. And I’ll tell you one more thing, Mr. Miller- you will not accuse me of being the shady motherfucker in this equation because I’m nothing like the man you assume is still in any part of my life.”

Chest heaving and body humming, you stare directly into his eyes. Seeing the weight of the words that rushed out of you settle in him, around the room, making it far more tense than it already had been. But it’s a different type of tension, one born of unease and spoken trauma. You left out the harder to swallow details, but the timeline you depicted is vile all the same.

His brown eyes flash with something like regret as his face slackens at your heated words. But it closes right back up into something unreadable. He doesn’t open his mouth to respond, it’s too busy frowning into a hard line. His plush lips almost white with the pressure of it. He’s poked and prodded at the one thing you have no patience for, insinuation of bad deeds and shady dealings. You realize that some conflict was bound to happen, either because of you or because of him- that’s just how human interactions and relationships went. But this?

This was something you never saw coming from the sweet, determined man who you had first met a month ago. His words had been vicious, biting and stinging where they land. Surely, he read something in the preconceived notion of your intentions, fueled by the dated knowledge of someone who you so thoroughly rinsed your hands of that they were serving time in prison with a restraining order against should he ever be free again. But right now you didn’t have it in you to ask after him, to make sure he was okay and if it was linked to something in his own past. Right now you were livid. The accusations he was slinging striking harder than the mistake of him taking you for a practiced sex worker who collected men.

“Jealously doesn’t look good on you, Mr. Miller. I suggest you get a hold of yourself and think about the next words to come out of your mouth very carefully. Otherwise you’ll be proven right that this whole thing is one big mistake.”

He’s just staring and your body thrums as you glare back at him. With nothing else to say in defense, you dismiss him as professionally as you can, even if right now you feel like absolute trash. You didn’t rage and ruin, you didn’t hurl fists or hurtful words. That isn’t who you are, even at your most angry and betrayed. Not anymore. He didn’t deserve it, deep down in your very soul you know he doesn’t deserve that despite the manner in which he approached you. He’s a hurt man, his pride and emotions blindsided by something you were working up to telling him about.

“Blueprints for the original foundation of the house are on the island, should you deem me a good enough person to keep working for.” You turn your back on him, instincts urging you to retreat before you say something you’ll regret. Anger and hurt colliding in you among the flames of rage and old situations filling you up so full that it’s hard to put one foot in front of the other without stomping. “I trust you can see yourself out.”

You wait on the landing upstairs, the plush rug you had put down over the hardwood giving you the opportunity to stand there in silence. You don’t move forward until you hear the swoosh of thick papers being picked up and the click of the door behind Joel as he leaves the house. But you don’t let go of the breath held in your lungs until you hear the roar of his truck engine, and the shifting of gears signal his leave of the property completely.

Only then do your knees give out and you land heavy on your palms right on the floor. The rug is soft beneath you, but it does nothing to calm the shaking of your entire body as the adrenaline leaks out of you alongside it.

He’s numb and stunned the entire drive back across town. On autopilot as he maneuvers his truck down the late-night streets. He had no idea what time it was, but the sky twinkled with the few stars that shone brighter than the city lights.

He’s torn. Between the emotions that assaulted him all week as he lamented over who he thought you were and what you were capable paired now with the way he had approached you with no doubts in his mind of how you manipulated him. Only to find out that you were nothing like he had begun to think.

You were you. The same young woman who asked after his company to fix up your parents house the longer it sat and aged, sent them on a long vacation in order to do it. The same young woman who soothed him as his anxiety spiked. The same one who he soothed himself when you experienced a similar episode. Because you were a victim of the things he accused you of.

And it fucks him up to picture you happily married only to discover that your partner was cheating on you, betraying your trust in such a devastating way. He knows what it feels like, he’s lived it and his confrontation most likely has you living through it all over again.

As Joel slows down to turn into his driveway, a waving figure catches his eye.

Your parents are seated on their porch across the street and with a guilt settled in his stomach like lead, he gets out of the truck and heads over. You mother is beaming at him, your father already pouring amber liquid into a third cup and holding it out to him as he ascends the few steps.

“Joel Miller! How could you keep such a big secret from us?”

Joel’s heart thunders in his chest, the tight coil of muscles around it almost choking as he reinforces his stance in preparation for everything to come crashing down around him. They know, his mind betrays him. They know about the hurtful words and dirty thoughts he’s been having about you, how he just lost any semblance of who he thinks he is and shouted at you like a child who needed to be chastised for grave mistakes. But he’s the childish one now, ready to face the consequences of his rash actions brought on by past experiences and moments lived. He’s transported back into that younger body of his, that younger mindset that everything is his fault. That he’s the bad guy and he fears he always will be.

Just as he breaths in, the controlled expression on your parents’ faces fall away into wide grins and giddy energy.

“Yeah, man, can’t believe you and my daughter conspired behind our backs to do the house over!” Joel is slow to take the offered drink, not sure if it’s the best idea to start now. But he downs it after clinking it against the two your parents hold up. Setting the thick glass down, he signals no more for himself, though they pour another generous helping into their glasses to sip at.

“We can’t thank you enough for all the attention to detail, it’s a dream come true. We feel so spoiled, you two are gonna be trouble moving forward, aren’t you?”

The porch light gives Joel the perfect view of your fathers humor, mirth dancing in his eyes as he jests that his close friend and daughter are cut from the same cloth. And even now, with how things are between you two- Joel feels pride at being compared to someone as good as you. He’s heard nothing but praise about you from your parents, from the two women who were at the tattoo shop, from the crew after they finished the renovation. You were good and he was a goddamn fool.

“Was just doin’ my job, Lydia. Treated it a little more carefully than other projects, but a job nonetheless.”

“Nonsense! You truly outdid yourself here, it’s just amazing. You have such a good eye, all we did was offhandedly mentioned things we might want to get done some day- eventually. But you and Grey have surprised the hell out of us.” Relief washes over him, giving him a reprieve from the torment he’s been wallowing in for most of the day. Hell, for the past week as he’s been subjecting himself to.

“That girl never rests, not even after the hard year she’s had. She gives so much of herself to everyone around her just like you and this is beyond anything we expected.” Lydia is near tears, no doubt due to a combination of being an overly emotional person and the alcohol she’s consumed in the late hour.

“She just moved back too, barely has had any time to get her own house fixed up but she goes and drops all the money to get ours redone after sending us on an unreal holiday for our anniversary? Bless her, she’s one of the best things I’ve ever had the pleasure in taking a part in making.” Her voice is strong even as she dabs at her eyes with a tissue.

“Grey is my crowning achievement. She’s stronger than I’ll ever be, that’s for damn sure. Not to get into it too much, but the day she showed up here with a black eye and told me she needed to move in, all I could see was red. I could’ve killed for her, but she said she had already taken care of it.” Your father’s words settle heavy in his stomach, making him nauseous as the reality of what he did hits him.

The stab of regret for his words, for your forced admission of your own trauma at his demand is sharp in his chest. Prickling over his entire body as he realizes the depth of his mistake in confronting you the way he did. Bidding them goodnight, Joel somberly crosses the street and retreats back into his own home.

“Hey, Joel! Did you know that the neighbor’s daughter, the one who you’ve been working on the renovation with, is one of the best tattoo artists in the Midwest? Her page is insane, I think I’m gonna need to ask you to use your connections to get me a consultation, I want her to design something for me, finally cover up this scar. But she’s booked up for months, her assistant said there’s something like a year long waiting period to get an appointment. That’s so freaking cool, just today she posted some designs and they are so awesome! She goes by Grey, cause of the way her shading is next level.”

To make matters worse, Ellie fires off quick words at him the second he’s back through the door. She’s in her version of sleep clothes as she sits at the kitchen table with a glass of milk and an open bag of cookies. Voice carrying to him through the house.

“Uh, yeah, baby girl, I’ll ask next time I see her.” He shucks off his boots, still dressed in his work clothes from when he had gotten home earlier. He must be staring off into space, face betraying how off kilter he feels because Ellie is quickly getting up from her spot and crossing into the living room.

“Hey….everything okay? You look a little more grumpy than usual. Which is saying something because you’ve been more relaxed lately. Did something happen?”

And for the life of him, Joel couldn’t hold back the tears he feels well up hot behind his eyes. His lungs lurch and a sob escapes through his lips when he opens them up to reassure her everything is okay.

“Woah, okay. Let’s sit, yeah?” She’s up in his personal space in a heartbeat, ushering him back into the living room and onto the couch with small hands and gentle movements.

“Just missin’ you and Sarah, is all. I feel like I haven’t given y’all enough of my time these past few years.”

“What are you talking about, you’re working to provide for us. College isn’t cheap and you’re only one man. A really good one, selfless and loving. I-I don’t know where I would be without you, dad.” When she reaches for his hand and tangles her fingers with his, he looks up to the ceiling to try and reign in the tears that are rapidly falling. He can taste them on his tongue as they drip into his mouth, nose and throat burning as they consume him. As everything hits him like a freight train.

And then it all comes tumbling out of him is quiet words, between heaving breaths and gasping exhales.

All of it, how he feels so conflicted being attracted to you with the difference in ages, the way he knows you through one of his close friends, because he started working for you. And then the contract you offered him for work, an opportunity to slow down and be with her more. How he feels like he’s failed as a father and brother. The argument he had with Tommy, the check he shoved at him as a way of showing him he still loved the man even if he couldn’t say it. How he feels left behind in favor of something better, a new life with new people he had no part of. All of it leaves him, deflates him as the words are given actual life as they pass through his lips. No longer plaguing his mind on a loop, unshared and unraveled.

To her immense credit, Ellie listens to it all with a closed lipped expression. Her bright eyes watching the way he tangles his hands together, how he runs them through his shortened hair and trimmed scruff. All of it is displayed so clearly in him, no longer hidden away for him to shoulder alone.

“You know, I was home from classes one day, and I saw you two unloading the truck. The way you two moved together, like magnets drawn to each other. That same goofy smile on your face as when I tell you a bad pun but aimed at her when she’s done nothing but simply breath. The smiles she gives you when you aren’t looking, it was- well, honestly, it was a little gross to witness. But it was also good, dad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so carefree and just yourself. The laughter and sounds of you two working together came out the open window of the house and it just…it sounded right, you know?”

When he doesn’t respond, Ellie continues on in a confident voice.

“Sounds like you’ve got a really important first job then, huh?”

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decentwritings · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 2

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

previous part <- -> next part

You twist the ring around your finger—a nervous habit you've developed since you got it last month. You were never a jewelry person but this ring means something. You can't find it in yourself to take it off. It seems to happen at random now, not just when you're anxious. The ring itself is light, but it feels heavy with the weight of what it represents.

There's a bulb above you that hasn't stopped flickering since you sat down. A buzzing sound flickers with it, and with each flicker, your patience wears thin. Usually, you can out wait anyone but your lack of sleep makes you easily irritable.

"Okay," Detective Bailey walks into the room, a manila folder in hand. You don't react, your eyes tracking him as he sits across from you, flashing that crooked smile. "Dennis," he says, his voice attempting a warmth that doesn't reach his eyes.

You don't bother correcting him, blinking.

"Just trying to ease the tension," he says, flipping through the file. He pulls out a sheet of paper and raises it to eye level. You can see your name printed neatly at the top corner. "Looks like you're a model citizen."

"Or just really good at not getting caught," you mutter under your breath. His eyebrow arches as he looks at you. You meet his gaze with an innocent expression.

He lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head before continuing. "The only question I have for you is," he pauses, resting the paper on the table as he leans in slightly, "how did they reel you into this?"

You raise your hands in mock disbelief. "Horrible timing," you say, deadpan, before adding with more sarcasm, "Rebellion. My cousin is dating the older one, the small one has adorable eyes, and I'm gay."

Bailey's mouth opens, then closes. He stares at you, clearly taken aback. His lips purse as he tries to process your response, and for a moment, he's at a loss. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out, like a fish gasping for air.

You just smile faintly, enjoying the brief moment where you've knocked him off balance.

Luckily for him, the door behind Bailey swings open. "FBI's here. They're claiming jurisdiction," a voice calls out from the doorway, prompting him to straighten up.

Bailey stands, gathering the files in one swift motion, and gestures for you to follow him. You roll your eyes in irritation, but you get up anyway, trailing behind him. He leads you into what you assume is his workstation, a cluttered space strewn with documents and loose papers. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and as you pass his desk, you glance down at the open files.

Before you can take in much, Bailey's hands slam down onto the top file, the sharp crack of it startling you. "Those are confidential," he says, his tone sharper, angrier than before. There's something in his voice—almost like he's been caught in the middle of something.

People are defensive because they're guilty, you recall from your American Literature class. The thought lingers as you raise your hands, feigning innocence.

Bailey's scowl deepens, and your eyes track his every movement as he approaches a short blonde woman nearby. He doesn't seem pleased by her presence, the irritation still evident in his furrowed brow and tight jaw. The scowl remains even as the woman greets Sam with a warm hug, her cheerfulness standing in stark contrast to his simmering frustration.

You take the opportunity of his distraction to check the first file, at least. You read over the name then see the highlighted address. You aren't sure what this Dr. Christopher Stone has to do with this case, but you aren't able to dig into it much when you hear someone call your name.

You shut the folder quickly, turning to face the voice. Bailey waves you over, and you jog over to join them.

Tara smiles, appearing relieved to see you. You can only offer her a smile back before the short blonde woman introduces herself.

"Special Agent Kirby Reed," she extends her hand towards you.

You take her hand in yours, shaking hers. "Cool. Like the video game character?" you can't help but ask.

Sam sends you a glare, so does her sister.

Kirby chuckles. "Yes. Like the video game character," she smiles, making sure they know she wasn't bothered by your question. She turns to Bailey. "But like I was saying, I'm not looking to get into a jurisdictional pissing contest here, I just want to help. I'll show you mine...et cetera."

You look between the two, and the hesitance from the man makes you question him.

Another cop comes over, handing over some evidence to Bailey. He shares it with Kirby, not that he has a choice. He shows her the file too, discussing where the mask was discovered. The name Charlie Walker and Jill Roberts comes up and three of them appear to know what it means. You and Bailey on the other hand, are a little lost.

"The GhostFace Killers of 2011. Charlie Walker gave me this," Kirby explains and lifts her shirt to show a scar on her stomach. You look but Bailey looks away like she's showing a different part of her body. She lowers her shirt, glancing between you all. "Like I said, I take a special interest. Is this the mask he was wearing when he attacked you?"

Sam and Tara shake their heads while you say, "I don't know."

All eyes fall on you and you lift your hands up, lost once again.

"It looks like every GhostFace mask I've seen at the store," you defend, crossing your arms defensively. You see a clock behind Bailey's head. "And I haven't slept."

Bailey sighs. "Okay, but this actually mean he's leaving them on purpose."

Kirby sends you a sympathetic glance. "Which means whoever's doing this is a student of the killers who came before. Maybe he believes Sam is the latest in a long line?"

"Good luck to both of you, but we're getting out of the city," Sam says, tugging her sister with her as she walks.

You follow close behind, like a lost puppy. You don't plan to leave the city but you don't want to be left alone here.

"Actually, that's not possible," Bailey's words halt Sam's movements. "You're persons of interest in a double homicide, so... you're not allowed to leave town. Sorry."

"Me, too?" you ask, pointing at yourself.

Bailey nods.

"Are you kidding?" Tara scoffs.

Kirby shakes her head. "He's right. But if we work together–"

"I'm not working with anyone," Sam's voice is firm, as well as her glare. "We're going." She tugs Tara along with her.

You come across Danny as you get closer to the exit. He looks relieved to see you, and his girlfriend. But Sam ignores him, like he isn't even there.

Your cousin orders you to follow him, so wordlessly you follow. When you exit, the sun is practically shoving the new day in your face. You shield your eyes, squinting as you navigate the steps. Your lack of sleep is making you cranky and upon exiting, there are reporters who don't help your mood.

Your jaw clenches as you try to find a way to push past them. Its difficult for you and Danny, but you know Sam and Tara have it harder since its them they care more for. You feel Tara cling to you. In support or just to see if you're there, you're not sure. But you offer a squeeze to her hand and lead her and her sister out of the chaos.

There's a pull on your hand and you come to a stop. You're not sure why.

"Gale Weathers, Channel 4! Do you ladies think you're the reason the GhostFace Killer has come to the Big Apple?"

You stand off to the side as Sam steps up to the woman. You raise your brow, feeling the tension but not sure why there is any between Sam and this stranger. Sam stares at Gale, standing there, mic outstretched then swings at her. Gale ducks in time to avoid the punch, making it look easy.

"Nice try, sweetie, but I've done this dance before–"

Your eyes widen and feel Tara release your hand then lunges to sucker punch the woman. You let out a "oooh" along with everyone else watching, unable to control a laugh escaping you.

"Stay away from us," Tara warns, eyes hard.

There are so many questions on the tip of your tongue, but Danny pushes you to move. You laugh but walk away, allowing the sisters to have a conversation with the woman Tara punched.

"That was awesome," you laugh, glancing back at them. "That made my day. I'm gonna go now."

You feel your shirt be pulled on, forcing you to remain in your spot. You groan, glaring at Danny.

Danny shakes his head. "I gotta head to work," he says. "You going to be alright?"

"I'm gotta go to my sister's," you inform Danny, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "She's on her anniversary vacation, so I have to walk her dogs."

"Mindy wants us all to meet up," Tara chimes in, announcing their return, then shows her sister the message on her phone. "All of us." She looks at you, clearly trying to rally the troops.

Danny pats your arm. "Go with them. I don't want you to be alone," he says, his eyes pleading.

You take a step closer and lower your voice. "I don't wanna," you whisper, shaking your head emphatically. He stares back at you, deadpan. "Don't make me go," you add, your voice a mix of desperation and stubbornness.

"They're going with you," Danny insists, looking at Sam and Tara with a hint of authority. You clench your fists and jaw, shooting him a glare that says you're not at all pleased with this plan.

He pats your shoulder, a small smile on his lips. "Take care. I'll check on your sister's dogs." With that, he walks off, leaving you standing there with the sisters, feeling a bit like a kid being handed off to babysitters.

You can't seem to escape from this circle. When you turn to face the sisters, they only nod then begin to walk away. You follow closely behind, expecting Tara to bring up the conversation they couldn't have a few hours ago. You stay close behind them, but not to close to get involved in the conversation.

"So..." Tara begins, tone returning to that iciness she had before. "Girlfriend? You're seeing cute boy from across the hall?" she begins, crossing her arms defensively.

You can't control the scoff that escapes your lips, hearing them refer your cousin as "cute boy." You purse your lips when they glance back at you, feigning interest in your surroundings.

"Yes," Sam answers her sister, stopping at the end of the street. They wait until it's clear to cross the street before continuing. "Look, I'm sorry, Tara, but I didn't want you to know because I wasn't even sure what it was."

Tara raises a brow, not satisfied with the answer. "Not sure what it was? Sam, he went to look for you, knowing there's a killer out there to get you," you bite your tongue to avoid intervening, to say you were actually the one who saved them both but...

"Tara, it's more complicated than that," Sam shakes her head. "Why are we even talking about this now? There's a killer on the loose and you're worried about my love life?"

Tara rolls her eyes. "Yes because it's not just about that. It's about trust," she says, scoffing at her sister. "I can't be left alone for one night, much less an hour without having you search for me like a dog. And you go on and have a boyfriend and don't bother mentioning even the possibility of something? I'm your sister and you don't trust me."

Sam clenches her jaw, unable to come up with a response.

"I want to know what's going on in your life, not find out through random encounters," Tara says, voice soft now

You can see it in Tara's face, as her expression shifts from annoyance to concern, her icy facade thawing just a bit. It's actually kind of sweet, in a way. You find yourself rooting for their sisterly bond—if only to distract yourself from the fact that you have no idea how to navigate your own emotions right now. Plus, your dad forced you and your siblings to get along so you always root for the sibling bond to grow, not dissipate.

"Okay, okay," Sam concedes, sighing quietly. "You're right. I'll tell you everything when things settle down. But first, can we just focus on surviving the day?"

Tara nods, allowing her sister to pull her in to her side. She relaxes in her sister's embrace, and you smile at the sight.

"Is there a chance we can stop by my dorm?" You speak up, interrupting the sister bond. They glance back at you as they continue to walk. "I need to get out of these clothes. I'm ninety percent sure I stink."

"I can reassure," Tara says, "its one hundred percent."

You frown, shoulders slumping and you hear the sisters giggle. You lift your arm to get a whiff and hate to admit it, but the Carpenter is right. And you groan when your college campus comes to view. You huff, realizing you were meeting Mindy on campus which is just a short distance from your dorm. You plan to sneak off at the earliest convenience.

You take a seat to the redhead's right, trying to maintain a distance, mainly to avoid her smelling your BO.

Mindy begins her rant and, honestly, you zone out, exhausted and drained from the last twelve hours. You know she's discussing the plot of what this killer may be wanting to run but you aren't all that invested on what some fanatics have planned. If someone wants to murder you, plan or not, run, right? If there isn't anything you can do to stop them, you sure as hell can run from them.

"We're in a franchise!" You flinch at the sudden raise of voice. You rub your eyes and shake your head, doing your best to get rid of your drowsiness. "And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise."

"I had a feeling," Sam comments.

"Rule One, everything is bigger than last time. Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count; longer chases, shoot-outs, beheadings–"

"Beheadings?" Chad looks up from his notebook. You tilt your head, suddenly noticing he's the only one taking notes.

Mindy nods, "you gotta top what came before to keep people coming back!" she exclaims like it obvious. "Now, rule two, whatever happened before, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations; if the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with Letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here."

You glance at the rest of the group, trying to read their expressions. The only one showing any kind of distress is Ethan, and that's practically his natural state. This is Anika's girlfriend and you can't help but wonder how she puts up with this girl's energy everyday.

You feel a headache surfacing.

Rule three is no one is safe, which doesn't ring well for you. You're going to be really pissed if you die before you graduate college. You did not put all your time and effort in the last two years for your life to end without receiving a degree. Plus, the move to New York was in hopes to finish faster. You can't finish if you're dead.

Mindy clasps her hands. "That means it's not just the friend group, any of us could go at any time, especially Sam and Tara."

You looks between the sisters, watching them share a look.

"That's comforting," you mutter, announcing your presence. The looks you receive from everyone but Sam and Tara is all questionable.

"Wait, any of us? Am I in the friend group? Am I one of the targets?" Ethan pulls the attention away from you. "Am I gonna die a virgin?"

"Weird overshare, but that brings us to our current suspects," Mindy looks at the boy who spoke, "Ethan. The shy dorky guy who no one suspects, because he's so shy and dorky."

Ethan looks offended. "Why am I on the list? Because I'm randomly Chad's roommate?"

You shake your head, still in disbelief. That guy's name is Chad. When he first introduced himself to you, you had to make sure you heard him correctly. Anika made you promise not to make fun of him for it. You held back during the meet but when you returned to your dorm, you released all the jokes in your chamber. Anika would never admit it, but she actually laughed.

"Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could have fixed it to get next to us," Mindy shrugs, then turns to look at the redhead sitting beside you. "Quinn. The slutty roommate. A horror movie classic."

Quinn, that's her name, you think.

"'Sex positive,' but thank you!" Quinn smiles.

"And how did you come to live with Sam and Tara?" Mindy questions, eyebrow quirking but doesn't wait for a response. "An ad online? Oh please. Don't talk, you have implicated yourself enough."

Tara shakes her head. "Mindy, it was an anonymous ad online, and you know we vetted her," she defends her roommate, who seems grateful. "Plus, her dad's a cop–"

"Your dad's Detective Bailey?" You lean over to ask her in a whisper. She raises a brow but nods. "I have so many questions–"

"Which makes it more likely she's the killer because having a Cop Dad is a great cover;" Mindy sends Tara an exasperated glare, one the girl frowns at. "Do you not remember how these movies work? And finally, Anika," she moves on.

You look at your roommate and smile at the kiss she blows her girlfriend.

Mindy smiles. "Never trust the love interest." she deadpans. She turns to you and you stare back at her like a lost puppy. "I don't know what category you fall under," she admits.

"How about innocent background actor who can't seem to escape the story no matter what?" You offer but Mindy doesn't seem convinced. "I just wanna go home." you relent.

"I don't buy it," Mindy mutters, squinting her eyes. "What's your major?" she asks, surprising you.

"English," you reply, expecting the snorts of laughter from your fellow students. "I just need a degree, I don't care what kind."

Mindy smiles, like she pieced it together. "I got it," she claps and you shake your head in annoyance. "Its a cover, to get close to us by having Anika invite you to the party last night."

"I forced them to go," Anika speaks up in your defense, sending her a pointed glare. You don't question it and send her a grateful look. "Plus, they have a car and we needed a designated driver," she shrugs.

You remember your car. "Aww, my baby," you say to yourself, though loud enough for them all to hear. "Can I go now? I really don't have anything to do with this. My cousin is dating Sam, that's all the connection there is."

"Your cousin?" Chad asks.

"Danny, cute boy across the hall," you answer and Sam covers her face the moment they all bombard her with questions.

"This is bad, really bad then," Mindy says suddenly, ending the barrel of questions for Sam. They all frown in question. "Another suspect added to the list, how are we suppose to narrow it down?"

"By taking me and Danny out," you say, standing up slowly, afraid of passing out from lack of sleep. "Or maybe just me, because I'm out. This is not my horror movie–I've never even seen a horror movie, so whatever trope that's going on, I'm missing it."

"Oooh, twist!" Mindy shouts and you're beginning to lose your patience. "You've never seen a horror movie, which makes you the perfect candidate for the 'unwitting hero' trope. The one who doesn't even know they're in the game until it's too late. Classic!"

You sigh, unable to control your curiosity. "That can't be a thing," you state at first, but as seconds tick by with silence, it becomes a question. "Right?"

"Oh, it totally is," Mindy counters, eyes wide with excitement. "You're not some side character. You're the wildcard! The one no one sees coming because you're too 'out of it.'" She emphasizes the last part with air quotes, as if she's cracked some secret code.

You rub your temples, feeling a headache coming on. "I'm not a wildcard, I'm just tired. And I need to go check on my car and, you know, live my normal life, away from all this slasher nonsense."

Mindy steps closer to you. "Sorry to break it to you," she pauses to read your name tag, "Dennis, but once you're in, you're in."

Tara stands, stepping forward, tone soft. "Look, I get it. But right now, none of us can just walk away. GhostFace isn't gonna stop because you don't want to be involved."

Sam, remaining in her spot, obviously just as exhausted as you, nods. "They're right. Whoever this is, they've targeted us. All of us." She looks at you pointedly. "I get that you didn't ask for any of this, but neither did we."

You glance between them all, torn between bolting to your car, to your dorm, to your sister's house–anywhere but here or staying, caught in the gravity of their shared fear. It's true—you didn't ask for this, and you definitely don't want to be anyone's secret weapon or wildcard. Let alone be the supposed hero they expect you to be. But the look in Sam's eyes tells you something important: no one's getting out of this alone. And well, Tara's eyes are your weakness so with just one look, she's reeled you in again.

With a heavy sigh, you slump back into your chair. "Fine. I'll stay," you say, getting shout of excitement from Chad. He raises his hand, waiting for a high five. "But just know, if it comes down to it, I'll push any of you in front of GhostFace without hesitation."

You high five Chad's hand and he lowers his hand slowly, unsatisfied with the gesture. He stares at his hand like you assaulted it instead of honored it.

Mindy hums at your comment. "Fair enough," she mutters. "Welcome to the team, hero Dennis!"

You peel the fake name tag off your shirt immediately after.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #scream vi #scream 6 #the unwitting hero

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viennakarma · 1 year ago

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Satisfaction [Part 1]

Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: Four times you tried to befriend Lewis, and one time you didn't.

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: female!reader, asshole!Lewis (he will get better), physiotherapist!reader, no romance yet, Lewis is being rude, reader is trying, cursing, a bit angsty, not beta read

Note: Lewis is being kind of an asshole, but I promise he will grovel a lot. This is a two part story. Gentle reminder that english is not my first language (so please bear any mistake), I'm also taking requests for F1 drabbles and oneshots (at this moment I'm writing for Lewis, Fernando, Max and Toto Wolff).

Find me on Twitter!

You drank the rest of your iced tea in one gulp, pushing the nervousness away. It wasn't exactly anxiety, but more first-day jitters at a new job. Adjusting your ponytail, you stood up as one of the team approached.

“Y/N? It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Ellie from the HR team, we spoke on the phone. Lewis is around, so we thought we’d introduce you two now, okay?”

“Of course, of course, it’s nice to meet you, Ellie.”

Ellie showed you around, giving you a tour of the entire motorhome. You were aware that it was difficult to join a team after the season had already started, especially to take the place of a person who was very loved by everyone and who had been there for several years, but you were willing to do your best to get along with everyone.

Finally, Ellie took you to a training room, where Lewis was inside. He was sitting in an armchair, drinking water from a bottle when Ellie introduced the two of you. You smiled and offered your hand for a shake, but he just ignored his hand with a blank stare.

“Lewis, this is Y/N Y/L/N, your new physical therapist, you'll be seeing each other every other day” Ellie introduced them, not seeming to notice the cold way Lewis greeted you.

“Nice to meet you,” you murmured, trying to ignore the awkwardness between the two of you. Lewis just nodded his head briefly and turned to pay attention to his own cell phone.

Ellie then went over your entire routine for the next few weeks, as well as giving you a short guide to Lewis's physiotherapy sessions over the past two years, and required exercises from fitness to pre-race and post-race.

Your official working day began the following Tuesday at seven in the morning at one of the Mercedes workstations in Brackley, where the entire team was gathered. You needed to be there to look after Lewis' fitness as he had team meetings, and you needed to follow him wherever he went to be able to do your job. Honestly, it wasn't a big problem since you used to work with the Real Madrid football team, so you were used to the traveling routine.

As soon as you entered the building's small gym, Lewis was already inside, tying the laces on his shoes.

"Good morning!" You walked in with a smile, setting your bag aside and holding the two glasses of iced tea you had purchased on the way, “the weather is kind of warm today, huh? I bought iced tea for both of us.”

“No thanks,” Lewis said, standing up, “can we get started?”

The sharp tone left you speechless for a moment, but you soon recovered, tying your hair into a ponytail. You had hoped that the mood on the day you met Lewis was just because he was stressed or had some problem on that specific day. But it seems that today he also wasn’t very interested in being polite to you.

You took a deep breath pulling your iPad out of the bag where you had prepared the day's entire session. Okay, you were patient, you could win him over with time and maybe you could even become friends, or at the very least, on friendly terms.

“Alright, let’s start today’s session with some intense stretching to prepare your body for the intensity of the next few days’ sessions,” you murmured, pointing to the mat on the floor.

“Angela didn't use an iPad during our sessions,” he commented casually.

“Because Angela had been with you for years and had already memorized her exercises. Can we start?"

II.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” you said, entering the gym, plopping your bag on a nearby table.

“You could have a little more respect for other people’s time,” Lewis said, suddenly. You froze in place, your eyes fleeting to the watch high on the wall, that showed you were barely ten minutes late for the session.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” you repeated, pulling your iPad open.

You were a few weeks into your new job, and acquaintanceship with Lewis had not gone better in the slightest. If anything, it had gone even worse. Lewis was adamant in not opening up to you, not even in the professional sense of your work relationship. Every time you tried small talk, or even professional talk, he had shut you out barely politely. He was constantly annoyed by your presence, and didn’t engage in anything other than the exercises you were helping him with. You noticed his performance was going bad in the season, and you attributed his bad mood solely to that. That’s why you usually brushed off his rude remarks and his questioning of the quality of your work.

“We’ll do core strength today, Lewis.”

You spent the next two hours walking him through every exercise you had for the day. Sometime during your session, you tried to help him fix his posture by pressing a hand on his shoulder, but he brushed you off, only saying he was able to do it himself.

By the end of your session, he was visibly tired, and you reached in your purse to your small stock of protein bars. You grabbed two and tossed one to Lewis. He caught it in the air, staring at it with a frown.

“It’s a protein bar. It is healthy, vegan, and doesn’t taste like cardboard, for once,” you giggled, trying to strike up conversation, “honestly, I found this small brand from Hungary out of sheer luck and my life hasn’t been the same ever since, now I just order like this crazy-”

“Are we done?” He cut you off, you stopped smiling.

“What?” you said, staring at him going to his bag.

“Is our session done?” he insisted.

“Yes,” you said, deflated. Lewis walked away, and on his way to the door, he dropped the little protein bar you gave him in the trash.

You felt a lump in your throat, defeated. You had never had a client so difficult to deal with. Most of them were usually standoffish in the beginning, but they became friends with time, some of them you had a great relationship even now, years later.

Lewis just- he just hated you for apparently no reason, and it was making your professional life pure hell. It was hard not bonding with someone you work so physically close with. And honestly, you had tried everything in the book to help him acclimate to you, but he was just- immune. He didn’t like you, you had no idea if he even liked your job because he refused to give you any feedback whatsoever.

You refused to go to HR because it would make you look like a kid throwing a tantrum because the other kid doesn’t like you. What would HR do? Force Lewis to tolerate you? He would probably hate you more if that happened.

You just sighed, swallowing the tears as you left.

III.

“I was considering adding pilates sessions once a week, we can do reformer and clinical pilates alternating” you told Lewis as he did the final stretching of the session.

“I don’t like sudden changes in my exercise routine,” he said, getting up.

“Well, I believe it would do you good. And we can start slowly for you to adapt better. Does every other week work for you?” You taped your schedule on the iPad.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he muttered, visibly annoyed now.

“I can forward you a few articles I have been reading to show you, why I think it-”

“No, I don’t want that,” he shut you off completely, “can I go now?”

You sighed, enough was enough. You were pissed at him, being difficult, being annoying, fucking up your routine by being rude and being a fucking asshole.

“No, you can’t,” you said, voice firm, which kind of surprised him, since it was the first time you ever used that tone with him, “what is your fucking problem?”

“What are you talking about?” He folded his arms.

“What is your problem with me? Is it something I did? Or maybe something I said?” You pressed, walking towards him, the closest you have ever been to him.

“I have no problem with you,” he said and you scoffed, “we are not friends, you’re just my physiotherapist, nothing more, nothing less.”

You felt grateful he left as soon as he said that, otherwise he would have seen the tears filling your eyes.

IV.

“I went back to therapy, because I’m feeling like a failure,” you told Angela over the phone.

“Is he being so difficult?” She asked, sounding worried.

“You have no idea…” you whispered, pressing your temples.

“You want me to talk to him?” Angela said, concerned. You stared at your own reflection in the mirror inside the gym, seeing the dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep. The last encounter with Lewis was enough to take a toll on your mental health and trigger a bit of insomnia.

“No, I think it would make it worse, but I appreciate the offer,” you sighed, exhausted, “I’ll work around these difficulties, and if it gets any worse, I’ll call you so you can talk to him. Deal?”

“Deal. Just- Don’t burn yourself out, ok? I know how he can be hard to deal with. Let me know if you need anything.” Angela offered, and you wanted to cry with the kindness in her voice.

“Yes, of course. Thank you very much for letting me vent, yeah? Talk to you later” You said, and noticed how Lewis entered the gym, seemingly surprised that you even were there.

That would make two of you.

This time you went through your training session in complete silence, only talking about his physicality and the exercises. You didn’t joke with him, nor did you make commentaries on the session. You just did your job silently, staring at him with a blank face.

As you finished, you packed your bag and left without a word, going straight to HR to put in your resignation letter you had written during your day off.

Lewis noticed your absence as soon as he entered the gym for your session. You hadn’t been late ever since that time he called you out the first and only time you were late. Since then, you were always there when he arrived. But you weren’t there and he felt something was off. Maybe you had a cold or something and HR forgot to tell him.

He walked up to Ellie’s office, knocking lightly before entering.

“Hey there, Lewis! Can I help you?” She asked, putting away a few papers.

“Hey. Where is Y/N?” He asked, sitting down.

“Oh, I thought she had told you… She resigned two days ago.” With Ellie’s words, Lewis felt his stomach drop, but Ellie just continued talking, “she said she didn’t adapt very well to the routine, which is sad considering she is such a big fan of Mercedes and Formula 1. And, you know, since she was a recommendation from Angela Cullen, I really thought she would fit perfectly with the team.”

Lewis felt his mouth go dry. He didn’t know any of this. He didn’t know you were a fan of the team, as he didn’t know Angela had put you in her own position after leaving. He felt so, so bad, he was suddenly nauseous.

“Did she say exactly why she was leaving?” Lewis asked, heart beating in his ears.

“She said she wasn’t adapting to the traveling routine and it took a toll on her. She also apologized profusely, but I told her it was alright, it happens more often than she thinks.”

Lewis knew exactly the reason you left. He had made you go through living hell by being a stubborn asshole. You tried to befriend him, to be nice, to start small talk, to be kind and his only response to your attempts were flat out rudeness.

“Well, these things happen, right?” Ellie shrugged, sympathizing with you more than Lewis ever did. “So, while we find someone to fill her position, you’ll do your pre-race and post-race with George and his physiotherapist.”

Lewis didn’t hear any of the other stuff Ellie said, guilt eating up at him with such force he was out of breath. He didn’t even think before treating you that way, his brain just turned to that everytime he remembered he was alone now, that he had lost his best friend and confidante. Stress of the season had also caught up to him making him more irritable than ever.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered as he left Ellie’s office, he needed to do something.

He called your phone, but you had blocked him already.

“Fuck, I need to fix this.”

[Part 2]

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #formula 1 #formula one

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mohitjoshi041 · 28 days ago

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"Manual vs. Electric Height Adjustable Desks: Which One Suits Your Needs?"

"Choosing between a manual and electric height-adjustable desk can be challenging. In this guide, we compare the two options based on ease of use, cost, adjustability, and overall convenience. Whether you're looking for a more budget-friendly solution or a sleek, effortless adjustment experience, we’ll help you determine which desk style is the best fit for your work environment and lifestyle. Visit Manual vs. Electric Height Adjustable Desks: Which One is Right for You?

#manual height adjustable desk #electric height adjustable desk #sit-stand desk #ergonomic desk #adjustable desks comparison #office furniture #productivity desk #standing desk #workspace solutions #home office furniture #height-adjustable desk guide #ergonomic workstation

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interiorergonomics · 8 months ago

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How Technological Integration Affects Employee Productivity

Let's all agree on how technological integration in a workplace furniture significantly boosts employee productivity. This can be achieved as it streamlines workflows, enhances communication, and automates routine tasks.

Modern office furniture like electric standing desks Dubai and software facilitate efficient collaboration, allowing teams to share information and work together seamlessly, regardless of location. Automation of repetitive tasks like switching from sitting to standing frees up time for employees to focus on higher-value activities. Without any doubt, this increases overall efficiency and reveals the benefit of investing in ergonomic furniture.

Diving deeper to real-time data access and analytics enable informed decision-making to further enhancing productivity. Moreover, technology enhances flexibility, allowing employees to work remotely or adapt to different work environments, which can lead to increased job satisfaction and better work-life balance. By leveraging technology, companies can create a more dynamic, responsive, productive workplace.

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nowimjustastranger · 3 months ago

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Feral ford? Just any feral ford stuff?

Or Ford finding out that Stanley no longer has a kidney, his hearing is bad and he no longer has natural teeth so he uses his sci-fi magic mojo

to make Stanley’s body regrow new ones. He’s doing this because he’s worried about Stanleys health (that Stanley will die first because of his health problems which Ford cannot accept) and because he feels guilty for not being able to protect Stanley from getting those in the first place.

And it’s not noticeable at first. Stanley is like think “huh, I feel off, oh well Imma just gonna ignore it” but he knows Ford is hiding something because Ford is all like

“Take it easy Stanley, there’s no anomalies or Cryptids around for miles. We are just going to have a relaxing month, while you recover”

And Stanley of course raises an eyebrow

Ford refuses to budge though. Yeah but Stanley eventually finds out because his natural teeth start growing in, he’s able to breath a lot easier and his hearing has never been better.

It’s my bread and butter!

If you have any slots left of course.

If not feel free to ignore this 🥸🫵 (pls)

Lee should’ve known that Ford was up to something the moment he found the man in his sub-basement lab at some god-awful hour, clearly in a manic state due to lack of sleep. He had been standing at one of his workstations, vials of unknown colorful fluids scattered across the cluttered surface as he scrutinized the tube of shimmering iridescent liquid that he held in his hand, the other deftly scribbling notes into his journal without even having to look down.

Thankfully, it had been easy to coax Ford to come up for breakfast, the man obediently setting the vial aside in favor of trailing after Lee after he laced their fingers together and started to head for the elevator. Ford leaned against Lee heavily on the ride up, eyelids drooping and movements sluggish as he mechanically shoveled his omelet into his mouth moments later. And Lee would find the situation more amusing if Ford wasn’t two seconds from falling out of his chair.

Lee shared a worried look with Fiddleford, who shrugged helplessly to indicate that he had no idea what Ford had been up to in that lab of his either. Lee frowned down at his plate at the disquieting realization that Ford was shutting himself away, poking at his own loaded omelet until Ford sloppily nudged him, his worn face expressing nothing but concern as he pointedly glanced between Lee and the food in a wordless question.

Lee had choked down the damn omelet.

Ford slept for almost fourteen hours straight once he laid down, and Lee would know because he was in their shared room –there were only two bedrooms in the shack and one of them was Fiddleford’s– for all thirteen hours and thirty-nine minutes that Ford spent asleep. Ford was a restless sleeper, tossing and turning as nightmares and memories plagued him.

But Ford had assured Lee that having him nearby made it better, which is why Lee never strayed far from Ford when he was getting some much-needed shut eye. Honestly, Lee had learned to take at least one nap while Ford was conked out, which screwed up his sleeping schedule but it was undeniably worth it since he could actually spend time with Ford once he woke up.

Anyway, when Ford had stirred later that night he looked recharged and ready for whatever the universe had to throw at him. Lee was sitting up and rubbing his eyes with a huge yawn as Ford puttered around the room, exchanging his colorful pajamas for his usual all-black attire. Lee had just gotten to pulling his covers back by the time Ford was dressed, striding over to where Lee sat to lean down for a nuzzle.

Ford suggested that they watch a movie, offering to fix some hot chocolate and snacks for Lee when he agreed that a lazy night spent cuddled together on the couch sounded amazing. Ford had seemed riddled with a mix of excitement and nerves as they relocated to the living room, but Lee hadn’t pressed the man about why he was acting so shifty because he honestly wasn’t sure of what to make of Ford’s behavior.

He really should’ve known better.

Lee had drained the mug of hot chocolate without even thinking about the unpleasant aftertaste, but he had written it off as Ford’s ability to make even the simplest of recipes taste questionable at best and downright toxic at worst. And all things considered, the hot chocolate ranked super low on the gross scale, it was just a little bitter.

It wasn’t until daybreak that Lee started to feel… not so great. He was smoking a cigar on the front porch when his gums began to ache, Lee forced to take out his partial dentures to relieve the pressure. It was a fleeting respite from the throbbing pain, which only seemed to worsen. Then, something came loose, Lee’s stomach dropping as he raised a hand to spit a tooth into his waiting palm.

He doesn't remember yelling for Ford, but he must have because the man was at his side in an instant, speaking in rapid-fire that Lee couldn’t seem to hear over the static buzzing in his ears. It wasn’t until Ford took Lee’s face in his hands that everything came rushing back, Ford’s calm and steady voice explaining something about the tooth in his hand having a cavity and that’s why it was replaced.

Lee blinked, unable to process the implications of Ford’s words since the ache in his tender gums increased sharply, his muddled thoughts grinding to a halt. He cupped a hand over his mouth as more bloodied teeth fell out, his mind reduced to a whirlwind of panic and horror as he helplessly waited for whatever was happening to end.

He could feel Ford’s warmth pressed flush against his side, an arm stretched across the front of his body to act as a support as well as function as a makeshift hug. Meanwhile, Ford’s other hand gently carded through Lee’s hair, brushing the wayward strands out of his face. Lee’s uncomprehending mind latched onto the sensation, using it to anchor him to the present.

Lee actually blacked out when pain tore through his side, boots uselessly scrabbling against the porch as his body convulsed. Resurfacing into consciousness to the sound of Ford berating himself about not testing the serum more thoroughly, which made a lot of things rapidly click into place. Incredulous anger swelled and Lee blindly grabbed a fistful of Ford’s stupid t-shirt before throwing a sloppy punch that Ford made no effort to dodge.

“What… the fuck… Ford!” Lee panted, his whole body feeling weirdly warm and tingly. Blood dribbled from Ford’s nose, but he didn’t even seem to care. Ford’s hands jerked up to cradle Lee’s face, his expression shattered, and the anger subsided all at once. Lee was left to flounder in the face of Ford’s guilt and terror, his brother practically climbing on top of him as his hands roamed over Lee’s body.

“Hey, what– Am I dyin’ or somethin’?” Lee haltingly asked, catching one of Ford’s wrists when he tried to shove it under Lee’s rucked up shirt, his exposed midriff flexing as the chilly morning air caressed his feverish skin. Ford made one of those animal noises of his, something between a whine and a snarl. Which, as far as Lee could tell, translated to Ford being both irritated and distressed by his perfectly reasonable question.

“No.” Ford answered tersely, his voice closer to a growl than an actual word. Regardless, Lee was able to discern that Ford wasn’t panicking because he had slipped him something that could kill him. It had fucking hurt –hands down the worst pain he had experienced outside of that one time that he got his kidney taken– but he had survived whatever the hell that was.

Which brought his thoughts back to the so-called ‘serum’ that Ford had mentioned earlier.

“What the fuck did you put in my hot chocolate?” Lee demanded, holding Ford’s wild gaze until the man’s previously tense posture shifted into more of a defensive hunch. Now Ford looked more like a kicked puppy than an injured animal about to lash out, which was just unfair because how the hell was Lee supposed to stay mad at him when he was cowering?

“It… it was supposed to help.” Ford said with effort, speaking through grit teeth as that damn spark of self-loathing flared to life in his dark eyes. Lee sighed and reached up to take Ford’s earlobe in two fingers and gently tug, redirecting his attention. When they made eye contact, Lee’s arms wound around Ford’s neck to drag him down into a hug that knocked the wind out of both of them as Ford’s entire body weight landed on top of him.

“Help how?” Lee coughed once he had regained the ability to breathe, lungs rattling with his first proper inhale. Lee immediately tilted his head in a wordless invitation that Ford eagerly took him up on, scraping his three-day stubble against Lee’s bared throat.

“So many wounds… so much pain…” Ford mumbled distractedly, nuzzling his way up to Lee’s jaw, his brows furrowing at the drying blood that stained Lee’s mouth. Ford slowly sat back on his haunches, Lee following him up, the two of them sitting on the bloodied porch. There were teeth and several questionable fluids scattered about, the sight making Lee’s stomach roll.

“You… fixed me?” Lee asked, his brows drawing together. He felt the nearly overwhelming need to strip down and examine himself in front of the full length mirror in their room wash over him, but he settled for a perfunctory pat down to try and figure out what exactly the serum had repaired. He was floored to discover that his scars were gone, the constant tightness notably absent. His eyesight was better too, the eye contacts that he’d taken to wearing since highschool missing.

“The serum regenerated what was damaged or missing.” Ford confirmed with a stilted nod, timidly scooting closer. Lee instinctively accommodated Ford’s need for closeness by spreading his legs wider, which was more or less unspoken permission to crowd into Lee’s personal space. Ford was only too happy to plaster himself to Lee’s front, the man’s arms closing around his waist as he sat down properly.

“A heads-up woulda been nice, Ace.” Lee huffed, propping his chin on Ford’s shoulder as he melted into the embrace. Ford was having a similar reaction to their proximity, relaxing more and more with every deep breath. Ford mumbled something along the lines of never giving Lee anything without his knowledge or consent again, and Lee didn’t doubt that he’d be fully briefed on the effects and potential drawbacks as well. Ford was nothing if not thorough, after all.

“I’m not cleanin’ this shit up either.” Lee warned, wrinkling his nose as his eyes wandered to the mess on the porch. It looked like a fucking crime scene; or maybe the aftermath of a torture session. Either way, Lee wasn’t gonna spend the day trying to get his blood out of the wood.

“I’ll handle it.” Ford assured, giving Lee’s jaw one last tender nuzzle before he pulled away, smoothly rising to his feet before helping Lee up. Lee grimaced at the state he was in, drying blood covering nearly the entirety of his front and hands. A shower and a change of clothes was definitely on his to-do list, along with burning what he was currently wearing because there was no way the blood was coming out.

“We’re talkin’ about this after I get washed up.” Lee stated, wiping his hands off on a relatively clean patch of his jeans before looking at Ford expectantly, the man obediently nodding.

“It won’t happen again.” Ford promised, opening the front door for Lee so he wouldn’t smear blood everywhere, his hand lingering on Lee’s back as he followed. Lee turned on the staircase, his eyes searching Ford’s expression for a few moments before he smiled.

“I know.”

#gravity falls #fic request #somebody to call my own au #ford pines #stan pines #lee pines #stan and ford #lee and ford #stan twins #writing

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crispywriter · 18 days ago

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Halsin's bleeding. Again.

And it's not just a little bit of blood—like from a graze after falling over, or a slip of the fingers whilst handling a knife—no. There's blood oozing down the left side of his face, hair and leaves stuck in the red as it streaks down his skin, dripping down his square jaw and staining the leather of his armour a dark red. The giant elf fills your doorway, grinning down at you despite his bruised, ruffled appearance, clearly rather pleased with whatever mischief he's been up to.

"Oak Father's great bushy beard—" You drop your knife and the aloe leaf you'd half-peeled onto your workstation table and swerve around your furniture to get to the druid, grabbing his bloodied face in your hands and dragging his head down to eye-level, inspecting the dirty, jagged wound. "What have you done to yourself now?"

There's four distinct scratches across the left side of his forehead, three of the nasty streaks ripping through his thick eyebrow. They're deep—not at all evenly spaced enough to have come from any kind of weapon you're familiar with.

"Gods, woman, be careful." Halsin winces as you just about dig your thumb into the smallest, leftmost slice, inspecting the wound as best you can what with so much blood seeping out and obscuring it. His large fingers wrap gingerly around your wrists and he pulls your hands away before he straightens up. "Let me get inside first."

You suck your teeth and step back out of your entryway, throwing a now very red hand toward the inside of your humble little home, flicking blood everywhere and sighing. "By all means, invade my space." You huff down at the crimson smattered on your floor and then look back up as the large elf shoulders his way past you, your eyes narrowing and tone sharpening as you watch him head right for your bed. "Don't you even think about it, Halsin. Sit at the table."

The druid tips his head back, his eyes rolling as he lets out a dramatic groan, but he complies with your command—steering himself away at the last possible moment from your clean blankets and taking a seat at your small dinner table instead. It's quite comical—how big Halsin is sitting on one of the regular sized wooden chairs, looking part giant with his knees tucked up and his shoulders hunched over as he faces you. You kick your front door closed and detour to your workstation, collecting a pitcher of clean water, an unused bowl and rag on your way to the dining table.

Halsin watches you silently. His green eyes are inquisitive as he observes you pour the water into the bowl and dip the rag into it, blinking at you as you stand as close as you can without getting too much into his space, gently picking the leaves and hair from the wounds so you can begin to clean it.

He's been like this since the day you met him all those decades ago, still just a boy. Cheeky, too curious, mischievous, always disappearing into the most treacherous parts of the forest far from the Grove and coming back hours, days, even weeks later covered in gore and filth, some kind of trophy in hand and a pleased smile plastered on his face. There's always been discussion about him, disapproving eyes shooting glares his way, coupled with years of rebuke—the elders say he's cocky, reckless, unaware, that he'll never grow out of it—despite him still being so young, despite his uncomparible strength, despite being the most powerful healer the druids have seen in centuries. But these things only seem to cause him to be all the more rebellious, something you're rather fond of deep down, his friendship and reliance on you never once tiresome or draining. You've had him sitting at your table countless times, much as he is now, while you stitched split skin back together as he complained, or had him delirious with poison-fever in your bed, sputtering nonsense as you spoon-fed him and nursed him back to full health again.

"Why do you never simply cast a healing spell?" Halsin says—as has become his routine.

You tut your tongue and sweep his hair back again, brushing the long russet tresses over his broad shoulders and hopefully well out of your way. "My skill lies in practical healing, Halsin." You try not to crowd him too much, but you're bent at a rather uncomfortable angle like this, dipping the dirtied cloth back into the water as you clean him up, "something you well know as we've had this conversation near a hundred times. You're the most talented healer I know, why not just cast a spell on yourself and save all the trouble? It'd certainly save you all the fuss of having me clean you up."

The druid huffs and hunches forward, his large body closer now and a modicum easier to reach. "Isefa likes to remind me of how I am not to rely entirely on my magic." Your Grove's First Druid is perhaps the only other creature that sees Halsin in a positive light—sees the great potential in him. "Potions and poultices and what have you are just as important. Which I will never understand." He rolls his eyes and gives a slight shake of his head. "You wouldn't have the time to whip out a vial and drink in the heat of battle—it's not as if the enemy will patiently wait their turn to strike."

"And what if you've been silenced? A potion would do you a great deal of good then." You're stepping into the space between his parted knees before you can really think too hard about it, thumb and forefinger on his chin as you tip his head back toward the sunlight still thankfully streaming in through your kitchen window, set to work on cleaning the actual cuts themselves now. "Or perhaps you're travelling with a non-magic user? If you were to fall in a fight, how could they possibly heal you?"

You brush the cloth over the first of the gnarled splits in his skin, and Halsin's eyes are angry as he looks up at you, clearly frustrated by the topic he's chosen to speak on. "And if I were alone and subdued? Restrained? What good are moss concoctions for my injuries then?"

"Halsin." You immediately pause in cleaning him, placing the cloth back down into the water bowl and your other hand gently on his shoulder. "You talk as if you must choose either magic or medicine—you know it's not my intention to speak greater of one over the other, rather that we learn both so that we may use the best of both."

The handsome, irresponsible druid stares up at you, the stubborn set of his jaw clenching twice before he the fire in his green eyes ceases. You pick up your cloth and find yourself cradling his face in one hand as you work carefully over the second gash. "I apologise." He mumbles, pursing his lips in a silly pout you've seen a million times.

"It's fine." You brush your thumb over his cheekbone, flashing him a soft smile. "Though perhaps you shouldn't choose to speak about things you know will make you angry."

It's quiet a moment, the druid allowing you to work in peace, wincing every now and then when it gets a little too sensitive. You're as careful as you can be—gods know you've been much rougher with him on more than one occasion in the past.

"It was a bear." He says suddenly, softly, chuckling to himself. "I was in wildshape."

"I hope you're not about to tell me you've been in bear-form for the entirety of the three months you've been gone." You hum, totally anticipating him to say how he's been doing just that, but nonetheless still shocked by the expected confession.

"It was necessary. And don't chastise me for it—I heed the warnings. Usually." He doesn't.

"I would very much like to lecture you, but since you're bleeding I'll put it in my back pocket for now." You shake your head, "at least it explains why you're so grumpy today." At mid-wipe you pause, your gaze lifting to the window across from you as the reality of what Halsin has just said dawns on you. "Wait... Isn't it mating season?" You glance down at the tall druid and he looks amused, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"She was quite offended by my rejection." He's grinning now—ear to ear, totally pleased with himself.

Your mouth falls open around a breathy laugh of disbelief and you lower the cloth from the elf's face, completely gobsmacked as you thwack your free hand against his chest. "You did not go wandering about in the forest in the middle of godsdamned mating season!" Halsin catches your wrist before you can bat at him a second time, holding your palm flat against his chest as he laughs, his head tilting back in delight, obviously pleased by your reaction to his reckless behaviour. "Silvanus help us all—you stupid fool, what were you thinking?"

"Not about female bears or the rut, I assure you." There's something about the way that the word 'rut' sounds rolling off of Halsin's tongue that sends a fizzle of heat down your spine. "There's... strange things happening in the village. At Moonrise. A camp of goblins came through, stayed in the outskirts and used spells to hide—Thaniel is worried."

You hear the strain in his voice. "Regardless, what you did was foolish." You've gotten closer to the druid amidst the laughter, and when you lift the cloth back up to his face, Halsin has to tip his head backward completely. "Did Isefa send you?"

He shakes his head just slightly. "They camped far too close to the Grove. I could sense them, I'm sure Isefa could too, but I had to investigate. They clearly weren't here for us, but even that knowledge didn't cool my blood." You feel one of his strong hands on the back of your calf and your body hums with sudden warmth at the proximity. His face is level with your chest, almost resting upon it, and you wet your bottom lip before you find you instinctually raise your hand to slip it around the back of his neck, holding him tenderly as you continue to clean his wound. "I tracked them across the forest, spent three weeks on the borderline of Moonrise Towers. The guards were shockingly ignorant of the presence of a huge beast."

"You could've gotten hurt." You blink slowly, realising what you've said and scowling at the smile slowly spreading across his face. "Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. It's not an easy punishment for tresspass—Ketheric seems a kind man, but you can never be too sure."

"They didn't know." Halsin protests gently and you feel his arm snake further around your legs and it forces you even closer, your body pressed right up against his. "In any case, the bear was surely far more frightening."

"I'm not sure... This feels... significant." You take a shaky breath, trying to ignore the rapid beating of your heart. Since when did this man have this kind of effect on you? It must be the information he's told you. Nobody likes goblins. "Are you planning on telling anyone about this?"

"Isefa, yes. The elders? Absolutely not." Halsin replies indignantly. "You know they wouldn't listen to me."

There's a brief moment of silence, the depths of his injuries much clearer now they're cleaner. You sigh softly and feel the imposing elf thumb rubbing absent half-moons at your leg. "Calypsa was rather put out when you didn't show face at her nameday celebration. I wonder what she'll think when she sees what you've gotten yourself into this time?"

Halsin groans, the weight of his head dropping back further into your hand, your nails scratching at the back of his skull as you smile. "Gods, don't even start."

"Her mother is quite determined to see the two of you together, it seems." You tease, dipping the cloth once more into the muddied red water. "Says it'd calm you down to take a good, level-headed druid by your side."

"Is that so?" You feel Halsin's large fingers squeeze at your calf, the touch burning even through your trousers. "Most of the mothers here gossip like old crones. Though I suppose matchmaking their children makes them happy, since druid's are famously noncommittal."

"Yes, well, they must keep occupied somehow." You have to focus harder on the task at hand to stop from reacting to the low rumble of his voice, cleaning the last little bit of the wound, the skin raised, raw and pink under your careful touch. "I can't really imagine you ever settling down anyway."

The elf smiles, raising his injured eyebrow as he looks up at you. "Ah? Why not?"

"You'd be a pain, for one." You swat the dirty cloth at him playfully before you drop it into the water bowl, then raising your hand to inspect the gash, blood seeping much slower now. "All the druids here are far to soft for you. You're a tad rebellious—I don't know if anyone's told you that before."

"Hmm..." Halsin's grin grows as you tease him, his chin still tilted back, head sitting heavy against your palm that continues to rest on the back of his neck. "Only a tad?"

"Maybe a little more." You smile back at him, then sigh deeply, your eyes flitting between the unwavering focus of the large druid's own and the fresh scratches carving up his face. "It's nasty. You may as well heal yourself, you know." You say softly. "I have herbal remedies, but they—"

"I want you to do it." Halsin interrupts, his palm is up around the back of your thigh now, trying to draw you closer. He's almost unblinking, his eyes clearer green than you've ever seen them. "You have to teach me your natural remedies, remember? Like you do every time."

"I don't—" You falter, "—it's not going to be enough. It'll scar. Badly." By Silvanus's hand, how much blood did he lose? What's with all this brewing tension?

"I'm not afraid of having scars. As you well know." The elf whispers and tips his head slightly to one side to show the one across his chin, but it forces your gaze to his and your breath catches, eyebrows furrowing as you try to convince yourself there's about a thousand reasons not to cross this line. He's your friend—you're friends. "I want it to scar." His voice is softer than the brush of wind over flower petals, expression sweeter than the wild honey he loves so much. "Then every time I see it, every time someone asks me of it, I'll think of you."

*~*~*

sorry y'all, this one probably isn't gonna go anywhere. i can't get the plot to plot. but I really liked this beginning so here you go!

#halsin x reader #crispywrites #bg3 #halsin #halsin x tav #young halsin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #drabble #tw blood

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