#also sorry i switched it out for an audio file... I think it just looks better! enjoy! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

folliesandfolderols · 7 months ago

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Writing prompts days 109-111

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Days 105-108 here

***

42. “Rough or gentle?”

59. “You want to come?” “Y-yes, I— please—” “Hm, but do you really deserve to?”

66. “You’ve got me all hot and bothered.”

67. “You don’t get to touch yourself until I say so.”

69. “Please let me come.”

91. “How do you want me to touch you?”

129. “I wanna eat you out so fucking bad.” “Then why don’t you?”

133. A whispered, “Then come for me,” right next to their ear after they beg for release through tears and soft whimpers, because they’ve been edged for way too long.

136. “No one does it like you.”

142. “Can’t— can’t you go faster than this?”

143. “You like messing with my head, don’t you?” “Only because it clearly turns you on.”

***

Despite his revulsion, the hours of recordings passed by, and before he expected it he reached the final files of material. Since he’d given himself more to review than Jason and Damian, they were done already and had moved on to other avenues of investigation.

The problem with human brains, even the best ones, was that they were incapable of truly multitasking. Tim could switch more rapidly than most between the open tabs in his mind, but when it came to surveillance review, the job required his full attention because it was too easy to tune out. So he sat at his desk at home listening to all the tawdry and cringe-worthy conversations and tried not to fall asleep.

“Oh, my goodness, you're so silly,” Katarina said in his earbuds, her own boredom coming through loud and clear even with the pounding bass in the background. Underneath the client's reply, a pair of male voices held a conversation nearby.

Tim sat up straight in his chair. Why in the hell hadn't he thought about isolating the audio of adjacent conversations before?

Cursing his own stupidity, he scrambled to capture the noise profiles of Katarina's conversation and remove it, then isolate the men's conversation and restore it to the track. It took some work with high-pass filters to get the bass out without removing the men's voices with it, but finally he could turn up the volume and hear most of what they said.

And there was Falcone's lieutenant Johnny Viti, talking about bases of operation.

"The one on Field Avenue near Mercy Bridge," he began, and Tim snatched his keyboard to begin typing frantic notes one-handed while yelling at his phone to call Damian.

It rang five times before a decidedly grumpy voice snapped out, "What," in greeting.

"I think we've got them!" Tim crowed, watching the auto-generated text feed across the screen. "I suddenly realized I can—"

"Drake, are you aware of the time?"

"No, no, Damian, you're not listening, I have to tell you about—" A long-suffering sigh directly into the phone cut him off. "Okay, fine, it's, uh . . ." He peered around, looking for a clock display on any of the screens around him.

Some of the irritation in Damian's voice smoothed into something gentler. "Look at your phone."

Tim did so, then cringed. Five forty-five. "Oh, hell. I'm so sorry. You've only got like half an hour before you have to get up for work."

A breath of laughter. "A little longer than that, since I won't be going into the office today." Tim's silence must have betrayed his confusion, because Damian clarified, "It's Sunday."

Meaning, his one day this week to truly sleep in. Tim cringed harder. "Shit. I was just really excited and I forgot to check. I'll let you go."

"There's no need." Damian's sheets rustled in the background. "I'm awake now, and I'd like to hear it."

"Are you sure?" Tim paused the recording.

A quiet grunt, the type that usually accompanied Damian stretching. "Yes."

Tim brightened. "Okay! So I was listening to the last hour of Katarina's recordings."

Damian listened to the explanation and the new information in silence, then said, "That's excellent work. You've just given us a huge step forward."

A tidal wave of heat flooded Tim's entire body. He went rigid, trying to process it and figure out the reason.

Oblivious, Damian continued, "I imagine you'll discover even more vital information as you review the previous recordings. You should take yourself off the patrol rota for the next week so you can devote yourself fully to the task. I know you won't be able to focus on anything else in any case. Not until it's done. And no one does it like you."

That had to be a record for the highest number of positive things Damian had ever said about Tim in a single sitting. Tim opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. His heart pounded in his throat, immobilizing his vocal cords.

"Are you still there?"

Fuck. He had to say something. Something that didn't acknowledge the extremely weird boner situation currently happening.

Tim clicked his mouth shut, cleared his throat, then finally managed to spit out, "I, uh. I." His gut churned, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. "I. Thank . . . you?"

Amusement colored Damian's tone. "You're unsure?"

"No. It's just . . . um. I'm." Tim swallowed and rolled his eyes at himself. "This is embarrassing, but I'm really—” Shit. Maybe he could joke this away. “You've got me all hot and bothered."

This resulted in a long pause, during which Tim alternated between wishing for a quick death and wanting to grope himself. Finally, Damian said, "May I ask why?"

If the words hadn't been rough with clear arousal, Tim would've lost courage. As it was, his hand dropped to the growing hard-on tenting his pants and he rocked against it. "You know. Robin curse. You said nice things about me and now I'm—" He cut himself off with a whimper as his zipper pressed into the sensitive skin. It didn't hurt, precisely, but it wasn't comfortable either. "Plus it's been like a week."

"Turn on your video."

Tim tapped the video icon and propped up the phone where the camera could get a better view. Damian appeared onscreen as he got it situated. He sat propped against his pillows, shirtless, just a gauze pad over the bullet wound now. A flush darkened the skin at the base of his neck. The bulge of his cock grew beneath his underwear even while Tim watched.

"Let me see you."

Tim obediently unzipped his pants and shoved down his underwear to free his erection, sighing in relief. His fingers moved toward his dick, but Damian said, "Wait."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Damian folded his lips inward so tightly they disappeared, then said, "You don't get to touch yourself until I say so."

Tim groaned in protest, but decided to play along and moved his hand back to the armrest of his chair. Damian's eyes glittered with satisfaction. He lifted his hips and angled off his own underwear.

"Very good." He smirked as Tim's cock twitched at the words. "You may, however, watch me to your heart's content." His fingers wrapped around his erection and began to stroke at a leisurely pace, guaranteed to be insufficient for orgasm purposes.

Tim's mouth watered; he swallowed and clutched the chair tighter. “Can’t—can’t you go faster than this?”

"I could." Damian slowed, foreskin slipping back and forth over the head in a tease that had Tim squirming in his seat. "But where would the fun be in that?"

Damn. He'd always been a fast learner. “You like messing with my head, don’t you?”

"Only because it clearly turns you on."

Well, Tim couldn't argue with that. The evidence was currently throbbing in full view of Damian's gaze, intense as ever despite the studied relaxation evident in the rest of his body.

Damian leaned further back so that Tim could see farther down. Tim bit his lip at the sight. Sometimes he just had to internally revel in how fucking sexy Damian's body was in particular. Smooth brown skin with generous, well-groomed body hair, the scars telling the tale of the violence he'd endured and inflicted, powerful thighs, balls hanging heavy between his legs, abs currently tensing and smoothing out as he caressed himself, clearly outlined pecs doing the same while his arm moved—everything about him seemed to be designed to drive Tim wild.

"God, Dami. I'm gonna die if I don't get to touch you soon." His voice was too raw, too honest, but for once he couldn't make himself care. His cock ached, desperate for stimulation.

"I want you to touch me too." Damian tilted his head back and sped up the slightest bit. His other hand fondled his balls, then slipped lower so he could press at his perineum.

Tim grabbed at his own thighs, rocking back and forth as Damian moaned, his fingers rubbing tiny circles just above his hole while the hand on his dick moved faster. "Oh my God." Dimly, he recognized how pathetic he sounded, but that was secondary to what was happening on his phone screen. "How do you want me to touch you? Rough or gentle?"

Damian shuddered. He stopped moving, chest heaving as he gasped for air. "I—I don't know. I want whatever you want to give me."

"Oh, fuck." Tim dug his nails into his skin.

Damian's hand started stripping his cock again, this time with purpose. His feet drew up flat on the mattress, legs spreading so Tim had a clearer view. "Please," he panted.

"I wanna eat you out so fucking bad," Tim blurted. Precome beaded at the tip of his cock and dripped down onto his pants. He didn't care. He wanted Damian to come worse than he wanted to take care of himself.

Damian whimpered, fingertips massaging the tender skin at his entrance. "Then why don't you?"

Tim shivered at the thought. "You'd let me?"

"There's not much I wouldn't let you do to me," Damian gritted out between his teeth. The hand on his cock twisted on the upstroke, rubbing with single-minded impetus. "I—I'm going to come. Fuck."

Tim leaned forward, clutching his chair. "Yeah? C'mon, sweetheart, I wanna see."

Damian arched up, groaning, and spurted all over his torso, glistening drops spread all the way to his neck as he found his release. Tim watched avidly, an echo of Damian's onscreen pleasure reverberating through his own nerve endings.

Damian breathed out, settling deeper into his pillows, and turned his sleepy gaze toward his camera again.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me," Tim half-joked.

"No. Not yet. You want to come?"

Tim nodded like a marionette on its strings, hands spasming near his cock, which was rapidly leaving "aching" territory behind for "real pain." “Y-yes, I—please let me come—”

"Hm, but do you really deserve to?" A tiny smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. "You did wake me up, after all."

One part of Tim's brain recognized that he could put a stop to this at any moment, just grab himself and finish, but he was having too much fun to let that part take over. Another, sizable portion of it felt like if Damian didn't give him permission to orgasm he would have to go die of blue balls and hurt feelings like a wounded animal. The rest wrestled with the actual question, too overwhelmed with lust to find the right answer.

"I don't know if I deserve to," he finally whispered.

The smile faded, but Damian's gaze softened into indulgent affection, unmistakable and rare. "You do. Of course you do. Go ahead, come for me."

Moaning in relief, Tim grasped his cock and came embarrassingly fast, so hard that his muscles protested afterward like he'd pushed himself too much during a workout.

When his vision cleared, he saw Damian's face close to the screen. He picked up the phone to do the same. "Hey."

Damian's eyebrows swooped down in petulance. "I do not care for sleeping separately. It's highly inconvenient."

Now that he'd come, a different sort of ache lodged in Tim's chest. This was the drawback of virtual sex—the lack of post coital cuddling. He'd gotten spoiled while he stayed at the Manor, being able to touch Damian almost whenever he wanted. "Yeah, I actually kind of hate it."

Damian looked down, like he couldn't bear to see his own face at the moment. "Well. I certainly won't be able to sleep now. I might as well drive to the Nest and assist you in cleaning the remainder of the audio tracks."

That ache in Tim's chest swelled past the boundaries of his ribcage until it suffused every cell in his body. "I think that would definitely be the best use of your time."

Damian's cheekbones pinkened, but his expression remained austere. "Very well. I'll see you soon."

"Can't wait," Tim replied, and barely managed to hang up before laughing with sheer happiness.

days 112-117 here

#damitim #tim and damian and 150 prompts #like I know what you want #folliefic #nsft

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draconic-ichor · 3 years ago

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In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 11: Warmth in the Ashes

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, blood/gore, master kink, fingering, nipple play, penetrative sex, oral sex, biting

Summery: In wake of Sturm Heisenberg gets back to the grindstone with easier projects. Juniper on the other hand is always a distraction

Feedback appreciated. 18+

Rock music blared from the old speakers, radio static mixing into the chorus of sound. Heisenberg stood over a new soldat, pulling a rod free from a machine. The rod was connected to its holder by a thick wire. He deftly flipped a lever, the rod sparking to life.

Ropes of electricity arched around the metal end of the rod. The bright flash caused Heisenberg’s silhouette to become a black shape against the red light.

Juniper watched him through the doorway, worry keeping her from getting closer. She liked to watch him, especially in one of these moods. He was passionate and ever moving forward, even in the way of a glaring failure like the day prior.

He was like a Phoenix, she mused.

The music drowned out all extra thought, the task before him consuming his mind in the moment. He took the rod, the electricity alighting his shades, shoving it into the chest of the soldat.

The power jolted though the corpse, it’s form trembling.

He was the perfect picture of a mad scientist. Heisenberg extended his hand, the lever flipped back down without his touch. He pulled the rod free of the flesh, stepping back.

The soldat sat up, muscles twitching under its stitched skin. It’s core glowed warmly as its feet met the concrete floor.

“Yes.” Heisenberg smiled widely, “You’ll do just fine.” He patted the Soldat’s arm, leading it towards its holding area.

Juniper sighed with relief.

Heisenberg fiddled with another core, trying to rewire it to match his updated schematics.

“Hey Heis?” Juniper’s brows were in a knot, looking down at the necklace compass in her hands.

“Hm?” He pushed away from his desk to look at her.

She was sitting on an operating table, bare feet swinging off the edge. Her gaze was very intent.

“I don’t think this compass works.” Juniper frowned, “It always points in different ways.”

“Maybe you should stop moving around then.” He spoke matter-of-factly.

“I’m serious.”

“Let me see.” He stood, striding over to her.

He took the compass from her hands and looked it over for a second. He turned it over in his gloved palm, going as far to move it around himself in different directions.

“Nah, it’s fine.” He concluded, handing it back over.

Juniper pursed her lips as he sat back down.

Her pondering was shattered however when realization struck her like an arrow.

“Oh my god.”

“Yes?” Heisenberg didn’t look up from his work.

“It’s you!” She jumped to the floor, holding the compass out in front of her.

“It doesn’t point north at all!”

“Took you long enough to notice.” He pointed out cheekily.

“Sorry I’m not used to my men being magnetic.” She scoffed.

“What can I say,” he smirked, “I’m one of a kind, baby.”

As the evening grew on Heisenberg began to transcribe audio recordings into files. Juniper found herself in his lap, facing him and cuddled into his chest. He had his chin resting on her shoulder, writing away. Juniper’s face was buried in the crook of his neck, her breathing slow and peaceful.

Her warmth put a blanket of comfort over him, his free hand pulled her a bit closer. He had never sought out companionship, thinking himself ostracized.

Sighing heavily, he thought of all the times he tried to become unfeeling entirely. But then Juniper fell into his lap; an outsider that didn’t view him as unapproachable. Her compassionate understanding and endless affection started to buff away his rougher edges.

She made him realize he still had the ability to feel such things. Not only that, but he could also reciprocate them. That fact still baffled him.

He realized he had long stopped writing, looking down at the still pen as the recording droned on. He carefully reached out and pressed stop on the recorder, moving back more comfortably in the chair. He joined his now free hand with his other, folded in the small oh Juniper’s back.

Heisenberg let out a steady breath, just enjoying the moment.

His eyes grew heavy, lulled by the rhythm of Juniper’s tender snoring and the hum of machinery.

Hours passed by in a dreamless sleep. By the time he woke his muscles were stiff and sore, complaining about his choice of bed. Juniper had scrunched up more into his chest, hands tangled up in his coat. Feeling wetness he glanced down. She had drooled through his shirt.

He rubbed his face for a moment, trying to wake up more.

“Buttercup.” Heisenberg spoke loud enough to try to wake her.

“Huh?” Juniper’s head shot up, voice still thick with sleep. Her cheek was red and moist where her face had been plastered to his shirt.

“My legs are asleep.” He chuckled softly, patting her ass.

She looked down over him, trying to figure out exactly where she was. The grogginess eased as she pushed up into a more sitting position.

“Not the wetness I’m used to from you.” He smirked and looked down at his shirt. Juniper's cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

“Sorry.” She squeaked.

They made their way back to the apartment, Heisenberg stretching out his sore muscles as they went.

Juniper donned a thin nightdress, jumping into the bed on-top of Heisenberg. He grunted out at the impact, her falling into his bare chest.

She was a mess of giggles as she ran her hands down his bare sides.

Heisenberg tightened, squirming a bit under her.

Juniper’s lips widened into an evil smile, “Oh! Is his Lordship ticklish?”

“No.” He growled, trying to keep his composure. Juniper doubled down, sitting on his hips and fluttering her fingers down his sides.

He couldn’t hold it in, his chest heaving under her onslaught. He surged upwards, grabbing her and overpowering her quickly. He flipped her over, switching their positions.

Heisenberg went limp over her, pressing her into the bed, snickering.

Juniper squealed under him, the sound becoming a gasp.

“Karl! I’m dying!” She tried to wiggle, but he was too heavy over her. He could still hear the laughter in her voice, telling him she wasn’t in any real discomfort yet.

“No mercy.” He growled out playfully. Juniper tried to scramble out from under him as he started to laugh.

She finally admitted defeat. Heisenberg felt her muscles go slack under him. He lifted a bit, “Buttercup?”

“I died. You killed me.” She murmured, keeping her eyes shut.

His lips curled as he bent down, giving her a few kisses over her face, smiling wider as she tried not to giggle.

She blinked up at him sweetly, “Hey Heis?”

“Hm, love?”

“I’m hungry.”

“So?”

“Let’s make food!”

Heisenberg gave an exasperated sigh, knowing she wouldn’t let him rest until they made something.

They headed to the kitchen, Juniper instructing to get butter, bread and cheese. Heisenberg eagerly complied, happy that they weren’t making one of her ‘healthy’ meals.

Juniper started making something she called a ‘grilled cheese’. He was very used to eating bread and cheese, but mostly just ate them cold.

Juniper placed a plate down in front of him, resting upon it was a toasted sandwich.

Heisenberg picked it up. It was still warm and melty. He took a large experimental bite, crunching into the buttery exterior.

He swallowed, sitting the sandwich down and looking forward for a long moment. His eyes were glazed over and he looked almost astounded.

“You like it?” Juniper giggled as she made one for herself.

Heisenberg nodded slowly. He picked it back up and ate it in a few ravenous bites. “Can I have more?” He asked, voice muffled around his last bite.

“Sure.” She nodded happily.

Five grilled cheeses later Heisenberg was laying in the bed groaning out. Juniper rubbed his stomach softly, “Was six too many?”

He shook his head, “They were fucking great.”

She cuddled up to him, “God help you if I ever make pizza.”

Heisenberg sat at the steel workbench, attempting to finish transcribing the audio files from the day previously. He was having trouble concentrating however. His legs were widely spread, Juniper’s head slotted between his knees. She knelt under the desk, holding his legs open as she nuzzled into his clothed thigh.

Her eyes were alight with playfulness as she blinked up at him. He tried to ignore her, scribbling away with his pen.

That is until her hands drifted up his calves, fingernails scratching deliciously through his trousers.

He tapped his pen for a minute tensely, pressing stop on the recording. Juniper smiled up at him with mock innocence.

“It’s hard to think when you’re doing that, Doll.” He huffed.

Nuzzling deeper she purred, “You don’t need to think, all you’re doing is copying words.”

“I still have to concentrate.” He argued, feeling her cheek brush over his concealed groin.

“My apologies, my Lord.” She tried to say the last word seductively, and watched for a reaction.

He chuckled dismissively, “The ‘Lord’ bit doesn’t really do it for me. Reminds me too much of the stupid village girls.”

Juniper huffed hearing him start up the recording again. She thought for a moment before smiling deviously.

“Sir?” She chirped, when he didn’t respond she purred out, “Or….Master?”

Now that word went straight to his dick, and Juniper could instantly feel his reaction. She felt him throb through his trousers, the material tightening.

He clenched his free hand trying to continue writing evenly.

“There we go.” Juniper smiled with victory, her hands drifting up to his belt buckle. She undid his belt then moved to his pants, freeing them enough to slip his rapidly hardening cock.

“Let kitten be good for her Master?” She hummed. Her hot breath combined with that delectable word sent blood rushing to his member.

She gave a small giggle to his reaction, flicking her tongue out to lap at the tip.

He coiled above her, his muscles tense as his pen-work teetered on the erratic.

Being very mindful of her teeth she took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue. She heard the recording stop, and the sound of him changing out the tape. She gave a little moan as she pulled her lips free of his cock.

She glanced up to his pale eyes watching her, piercing and direct without the darkness of his shades.

She smiled up at him, his cock sending a shadow across her sweet face.

He squared his jaw, “Get up here.”

“Hm?”

“I said get your ass up here.”

“Yes, Master.” She couldn’t contain the victory shimmering in her eyes. He pushed the chair out, giving her room to rise. She bounced excitedly beside him, watching as he cleared up the more important papers from the desk.

Heisenberg leaned back in the chair, giving her a long tight look.

“Strip.” He commanded.

“Yes.” She nodded, and started to lift her dress.

He stopped her, “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.” She responded cheekily, taking her dress off. She took more time with her bra and panties, drawing the act out to rile him up.

She saw the muscle of his jaw twitch as she continued. She had lost her boots much earlier.

Now standing before him, naked save for her compass necklace, she waited patiently for her next direction.

Heisenberg began to pull his gloves off slowly, pointing to the desk once his hands were free, “Get on the desk.”

Juniper paced over, starting to sit onto the steel. He made a sound of displeasure, making her change her position. She leaned over the desk, pressing her breasts into the cold metal, looking back at him for approval.

He nodded, standing. He stripped his coat, placing it in the free chair, before closing the distance.

“You’ve been such a brat today.” He palmed the back of her head, gently forcing her face down against the desk. She murmured, wiggling her butt back towards him.

He chuckled a bit, seeing her so needy.

Instead of giving her what she was practically begging for, he smacked her ass. Her core clenched as she whimpered, him giving her another smack.

He continued until there was a pronounced red print on her pale ass. She was whimpering and trembling on the desk, her legs wobbling a bit to keep her supported.

“What was that kitten?” He leaned over her a bit.

“I-Im sorry.” She answered but quickly added, “I’m sorry, Master. I’ll be good.”

“Mhm.” He nodded, not at all convinced. His hand drifted down to her core, moisture dripping down her thigh. He traced the opening before plunging two fingers in, not giving her time to adjust.

She jumped under him, mewling out as he set a quick pace. His fingers quickly made obscene wet sounds from her arousal.

“You’re such a little whore.” His voice was low. He kept up the rough pace until he felt her start to clench and buck under his hands. He pulled away, a string of liquid connecting his fingers to her cunt.

She whined out at the loss of contact, earning her another smack to her, already tender, ass. She quieted down, putting her head back down dismissively.

Heisenberg lifted his fingers to his lips; sucking them free of her slick, groaning at the taste. His free hand loosened his trousers, they fell and bunched around his ankles.

He dove into her hot core, cock first. She cried out at the feeling, of him stretching her out. He gripped her hips, pulling out almost completely before snapping his hips forward burying back into her.

Juniper cried out with every thrust, trying to lift her hips to meet his. Heisenberg pushed her head back down, leaning over her and trapping her between his chest and the cold desk.

She was too caught up in the feeling to notice when Heisenberg pressed the record button on the small tabletop recorder.

His lips split his face in a devilish smile, seeing the small red blinking light on the machine.

He started to rut into her harder. Juniper mewled out, feeling the coil tighten in her stomach.

“Tell me what you want.” He growled, fingers digging into her hips.

“To, c-come…please!” She cried out, “Please master!”

He thrust into her like a piston, snaking a hand down her belly. His fingers found the sensitive bundle of flesh, teasing it in time with his thrusts.

The coil snapped, she wailed like a cat in heat.

Feeling her walls clench around him he growled, “That’s it, be a good little whore for me.”

He pulled out of her fully, watching her core tremble from the loss of his cock.

He lifted her, flipping her over into a sitting position on the desk, pulling her to the edge and filling her up again.

She cried out as he started bucking into her anew. Juniper grabbed his arms for support, her face a mess.

Heisenberg bent forward, taking one of her peaked nipples into his mouth. He sucked feverishly, keeping up a good tempo with his hips.

Juniper tangled her fingers into his coarse hair, her nails scratching his scalp. He groaned into her flesh.

He felt her legs tighten around him, promising another release. He bit into her soft breast just enough to break the skin and hear her mewl. He lapped away the blood, soothing the wound.

The pain mixed with the pleasure being all too much for her.

He pulled back enough to place his forehead against her own. He smiled at the glassiness of her eyes, watching her fall apart.

She clung onto him as she came.

The way her cunt was gripping him he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. His thrusts became erratic, breaths coming out in gasps.

His hips sputtered as he tried to speak, “Tell me w-where you want it.” He demanded, “Beg for it.”

Her vision was hazy with pleasure and words were foreign. She made a gurgling sound looking down. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes, holding her hip with his other hand.

“In me…p-please Master!” She cried out, begging him, “Fill me up!”

He groaned, hilting himself fully inside her. Juniper could feel his balls tighten as his cock jolted with his release.

Heisenberg huffed out hotly, her core milking his cock for everything he had. His legs wobbled a bit as he fell forward. He supported himself on his arms above her. Careful to check that she was too blissed out to notice, he quickly pressed stop on the recorder.

He smiled toothily, that tape would definitely come in handy later.

She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, little sweet breathes ghosting his skin. He dropped a kiss into her hair, gathering her up, his cock still fully hilted in her soaked folds.

“You are such a little tease.” He whispered, unable to hide the smile that tugged at his lips.

She murmured something, holding onto him.

“Hm?”

“I said, you love it.” Her voice was thick with tiredness. He patted her thigh, chuckling as he began to head back to the apartment.

As he rode the elevator up he complained halfheartedly, “How am I ever going to finish making those damn files with you acting like a bitch in heat?”

Juniper murmured something into his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“You could just ask me to work on it while you work on haulers.” She giggled slightly, “Didn’t think of that, did ya big boy?”

There was a long pause, before Heisenberg cursed under his breath, “��fuck.”

It caused Juniper to snicker into his shirt, and him to grumble.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg #in the steel steeds heart #heisenberg smut #resident evil

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onechicagorpf · 5 years ago

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Equal Justice Under Law

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Prosecutor)

Requested? Yes - Are you still accepting requests? If you are can you do one where the reader is a prosecutor and working a case alongside intelligence. She gets in trouble and jay is the one to save her?

Warnings: Mentions of sexual abuse and murder. Swearing, the usual cuss words.

A/N: Okay so this is HELLA long. I really meant for all my requests to be blurbs (i.e. short fics) so please note that future requests will probably be much shorter than this! I just got carried away on this one! 😅

Also I realise the anon asked for the reader to be working alongside Intelligence, but in mine she’s kinda taking over after the police case is done, which is what happens in the episodes of Chicago Justice most of the time so that’s what I had it my head - hope y’all still like it! I also tried to switch it up this time and write in past tense, which I realise is sooo not my thing because I kept instinctively writing stuff in present tense and then having to go back and change it lol Let me know if you have a preference one way or another because I’m very curious as to how people feel about this!

Up next? 3 more Jay x Reader requests to fill!

PS: Send me asks/messages/leave a note if you liked this and want to see more!

You sighed, dropping your face in your hands. Some days, you wished you hadn’t taken up the job as the Cook County Assistant State's Attorney. The late nights and high stress situations sucked, but more than that your job had a way of bringing to light the worst things about humanity.

Looking down at your desk, you ran your fingers across the scattered pictures. Amelia Langstrom, age 16. Pamela Park, age 18. Lacey McDonald, age 19. Julia Sanderson, age 15. Maggie Thane, age 16. Every photo of the girls, smiling at the camera, came with another one. This other photo wasn’t as well-lit, as happy, as pretty. It was an emotionless, clinical photo taken of their naked bodies, covered with injuries and bruises and cuts, surrounded by leaves or trash depending on where they were dumped.

It was an awful, awful thing. 5 young girls, all missing for over a week before their bodies were found. All with signs of sexual assault, yet no DNA left behind to trace back to the killer. All of this, by itself, would be enough to turn your stomach over. Which it did, but above that, watching your boyfriend come home every night with his head down, shoulders sagging, looking completely distressed as he and his team were no closer to finding the perpetrator of these crimes…it was terrible.

“You guys will get him. I know you will, Jay.” You said, brushing his dark brown hair out of his eyes as the two of you laid in bed together. Your boyfriend’s green eyes, usually bright and full of life, were dark and distant in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“How many more girls does he have to kill before we find him?” Jay whispered, not even looking at you, as his frown - one that seemed to have made itself at home in his forehead over the last two weeks - deepened.

It was a week later when Anna Valdez, your second chair, knocked on your door. Her face was dark, and her lips were tight.

“Another girl?” You asked, your voice cracking.

Anna shook her head. “Intelligence got the guy.” She replied, still looking troubled.

You frowned, tilting your head at her. She paused, crossing her arms across her chest, trying to shrink herself. Like as if she didn’t want to say the next words. You stood up, now beginning to fear what was coming.

“What is it?”

Anna swallowed. “They’re saying he confessed.”

***

“Jay - ”

“You don’t believe me?! Seriously?!” Jay’s eyes were wide with outrage on the other side of your desk.

“It’s not about whether I believe you! It’s about - ” You lowered your voice, remembering that there were many, many people who were working right outside your office. “ - it’s about the fact that Voight is saying this guy confessed. Hank Voight. He’s not exactly a shrinking violet. And all this on top of the fact that - ”

Jay opened his mouth to cut in, but you silenced him with a raised hand and bulldozed onward.

“ - On top of the fact that there just so happened to be no one else in the room with Voight when Dylan Rhodes confessed? Hmm? And it happened in a - in a cage that’s in basement of your district? No cameras, no audio, no video?” You glared at Jay, barely hiding the seething rage that was boiling under your skin. You leaned across the desk, shoulders tight, voice now raised without a care about what anyone outside was going to hear. “Not to mention he’s got cuts and bruises all over his face from ‘resisting arrest’ even though he’s a 20 year old who’s maybe 120 pounds soaking wet and there were seven of you cops, all armed with guns when you went to arrest him!” You yelled, flinging several of Dylan Rhodes’ mugshots across the table, some of them flying all the way over to hit Jay’s body and land at his feet.

There was nothing in the air but the soft whirring of the ceiling fan, and the squeaking of wheels as you dropped back into your chair, exhausted.

Jay called your name, his voice different now - softer and sweeter. You tried not to look at him, tried to let him know just how angry you were…but you weren’t angry at him. Not really. You were angry at the man he worked for. When your eyes connected back with Jay’s, you could see that he knew that. He placed his palms on your desk and leaned towards you.

“You know that I have issues with Hank sometimes, with the way he does things. You know that. But Y/N, you gotta believe me on this one. I looked in that kid’s eyes. I know he did this.” Jay whispered, and you ducked your head, letting your vision graze over the one remaining photo of Dylan Rhodes on your desk.

You just sighed. Looking back up at him, you shook your head.

“It’s not about him, Jay. I know he did it too, I can feel it. But if I’m putting him away, it needs to happen the right way.” You offered, your voice almost didactic.

Jay’s jaw clenched. “Needs to happen the right way, or not at all?” He straightened, pulling away from you. The look he was giving you was one that you could only describe as fervent disapproval. Like he hated what he was seeing in you.

You decided you were done with the argument. Leveling Jay with a cold, emotionless stare, you spoke.

“Yeah. Because there’s some of us who still believe in the law. Who choose to serve and protect in the right way.”

The words spilled out of your mouth so matter-of-factly that they became so harsh. Jay was speechless, and in the beat of silence that followed, you regretted your words.

Your door opened and you jumped, too absorbed in your tête-à-tête with Jay to even give notice to the outside world. Anna looked over you and Jay - who was staring at his feet, jaw tight - with concern in her eyes.

“What is it?” You asked Anna for the second time in a day, just as terrified as the first time.

“Defense counsel just filed a motion to suppress the confession.”

***

“Mr Howard, if you’re ready we can begin - ”

“Sorry to interrupt, your honour, but it won’t be necessary.” You announced, standing up in the courtroom. Everyone’s eyes were on you, even the court stenographer’s.

The judge raised his eyebrows.

“The People will not object to Mr Howard’s motion to suppress the defendant’s confession.” You said, and a flurry of excitement broke out in the gallery - reporters shouting questions, members of the public yelling, camera flashes going off.

“So,” Anna began, facing you as you stopped to grab a cup of water from a dispenser in the hallway. It’d taken about five whole minutes of gavel banging by the judge to settle everyone down, before she dismissed the session. “Your boyfriend and some of his coworkers are at the end of the hallway, and they keep shooting us looks but no one’s coming.”

You tipped the paper cup into your water, swallowing the ice cold water, flinching a little at the tingly sensation it left in your mouth.

“Do you want to go the other way, or do you want to go talk to them? To him?” Anna asked, softly. If anyone else had been saying it, you would’ve snapped at them to mind their own business. But it’s Anna - Anna, who from day one has been by your side, who’s practically made it her mission to be the person you count on.

You shot Anna a gentle smile, squeezing her shoulder. “I’m good. I’ll take the south exit. Meet you back at the office after lunch?” Anna nodded, trying but failing to hide the concern in her eyes.

Side-stepping her, you walked down the hallway, away from where Jay and the rest of Intelligence must be gathered. A part of you hoped, strangely, that he’d come after you, even though you knew that there was no way he wouldn’t be pissed at you. You’d been with him long enough to know how he operated. How he felt everything so intensely, how he was wired through the heart. Jay lived and died by his instincts and his emotions, and there was something to be said about the simplicity of it. The man was a soldier, and maybe in war you didn’t have the time to think about procedure and precedent, about the sharp edges of red tape and the rules and regulations in a bureaucracy. The cosmetic battles didn’t matter to him – he didn’t care what something seemed like, he cared what it was.

But you weren’t Jay. You loved him, but you were not him. You weren’t a soldier - you were a lawyer, and your battle was in the courtroom, not Afghanistan. And in the courtroom, almost just as much as what something was mattered, what it looked like mattered too.

Dylan Rhodes had to be brought to justice, yes. But it had to be done the right way, not by way of coerced or falsified confessions. Equal justice under law was what you swore to uphold, and damn Voight if he thought you couldn’t put Dylan away while doing your job the right way. And damn Jay too, then.

***

“So, how’s the case coming along?” Will Halstead asked, pouring maple syrup over his waffles.

You leaned against the red leather seats in the diner, in an example of truly terrible posture. Shrugging, you answered him: “You know I can’t really talk about that.”

Will scoffed, picking up a fork and knife. “I think you’re allowed to tell me how you’re doing.”

You raised at eyebrow at the doctor, a smile starting to creep onto your face. “But those aren’t the exact words you used, and you actually asked me something completely different - ”

Will threw his hands in the air:‌ “Okay, we get it, you’re a lawyer and I shouldn’t argue with you.” He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and you laughed, leaning forward to swat at his arm.

“Really, though.” Will said eventually, and you just nodded. “I’m feeling good. I think I’ve got motive, and I think I can get him to snap if I put him on the stand.”

Will smiled wide. “Attagirl.”

As you sipped your coffee, you kept going over your question in your head, trying to find the best way to phrase it. But just like his brother, Will could practically read your mind.

“Jay’s…you know how he is.” Will said, in a gentle tone.

“Stubborn, adamant, refuses to think he’s wrong about anything, ever?” You shot back in a grouchy tone, and Will raised his eyebrows. “Wow, you just said the same thing three ways - you must be pretty pissed!” He commented dryly, and you glared at him. Chuckling, Will waved you off before leaning across the diner table. “Y/N, he knows he shouldn’t have pushed you the way he did. He knows that. And he’s sorry.”

“He can’t come say that to me? Send me a message, come by my office, come home? He’s still gotta crash on your couch?” You shook your head, struggling to contain the hurt in your voice.

Will shot you a sympathetic look. “You know us Halstead boys; it takes a little while before the mea culpa can come out of our mouths.”

You stirred the spoon in your coffee, watching the little bits of foam go round and round and round, before dragging your spoon across in the opposite direction. The foam still swirled around a few times before stopping. Too slow.

“My bed’s been empty for a week, Will. I miss him.”

Will didn’t say anything; the good doctor just slid over a piece of tissue, and that was when you realised you’d started crying.

***

“You’ve got this.” Anna whispered, as the defense attorney took his seat. The judge turned to you and called for you to make your closing argument.

This was usually your favourite part - getting to talk directly to the jury, showing them the facts of your case, walking them through every step of the process with all the detail in the world so that they could get to the conclusion that you knew to be true.

But today was different. You shoved your hands in your pockets to hide that they were shaking. And when you looked over your shoulder at the gallery, you couldn’t see Jay.

He’d never missed any of your closing arguments. Ever.

Until today.

“Ms Y/L/N? Can we begin?” The judge tossed a concerned look your way.

Your eyes landed on Dylan Rhodes, who was smirking at you like he’d won.

Smiling back, you calmly turned to the judge. “Let’s begin.”

Starting from Dylan’s teenage years, where he racked up countless misconduct records in high school for all sorts of problems, you traced the development of this man, this awful human being. You painted a portrait of him as needy, sad, and lonely, and connected that to his need to hurt and attack girls who were otherwise unattainable for him. As you spoke, you could see the jury process your words and go where you were taking them.

Dylan had, by this point, dropped the cocky smirk. Instead, his face was red, his jaw was clenched, and veins were popping in his neck. You knew you had him - you knew it was over.

“Members of the jury - I have just one final request to ask of you. Today, you have the opportunity to see that justice is served to a man who more than deserves it. A man - a boy, who decided that raping and killing girls was the only way he could live with himself, because that was the only way he could have these girls.” You paused, turning to look at Dylan, who was shaking with rage.

“A boy who decided to hurt girls to cover up the fact that he is so weak, and so pathetic.” You punctuated the tense air in the courtroom with words so sharp they felt like the final nail in Dylan Rhodes’ coffin.

There was a moment of bliss, you knew you’d done your job, you knew you’d brought the jury over, you knew you’d succeeded - but just as quickly as things came together, it all came crashing down.

It happened so quickly - Dylan roared, lunging over the table towards you. Everyone started screaming, and you froze in shock and in fear.

The bailiff intercepted Dylan on his way over to you and tackled him to the ground. It all seemed settled for a second, but they kept struggling on the ground, and all you saw was Dylan’s hands reaching around the bailiff’s and - and his fingers wrapping around - oh god -

“Gun!” Anna yelled, and the release of that one syllable was followed immediately by a gunshot. And then another.

***

“You gonna talk to Y/N? She’s closing the Rhodes case today, you know?” Hailey Upton asked, lifting her feet up to place them on the dashboard of the GMC Sierra.

Jay shrugged, fiddling with the radio in his hand.

“This is the part where you use your words.” Hailey remarked in a slightly sarcastic tone, smiling and Jay just shot her a look. Reaching over, he shoved her feet off the dash petulantly, and Hailey laughed.

Moments later, she turned back, cheek pressing against the headrest of her seat. “Jay.” She said, her tone gentle but still a little pushy. It was what he needed then, and she knew it. The last few days had been tough on him - he hadn’t talked to her about it, other than updating her that he was staying over at Will’s, but his entire demeanour was off - he’d been down and depressed.

Jay shrugged again, frowning. “I don’t know what to say. I screwed up, and I know it and she knows it and - I don’t know. I’m starting to think…” Jay ducked his head, eyes scanning his fingers as they traced the outlines of his radio. “…starting to think maybe she can do better than me, you know?” When he finished, his voice was much lower, much softer than it was when he began.

“Oh, she can definitely do better than you.” Hailey grinned, her dimples showing and Jay just reached across, punching her shoulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Hailey chuckles, before turning to face her partner again.

“Seriously though, I’ve seen the way she looks at you - that girl is one hundred percent in love with you.”

Jay’s heart felt full hearing that, and he knew it to be true, too.

“So get your shit together, stop sleeping on your brother’s couch, go back to her and apologise for being an idiot.” Hailey advised. Before Jay could say anything, his radio went off.

“10-1, 10-1, shots fired at the Third Municipal District, hall 5! Dispatch, get Intelligence on the scene now!”

“Isn’t that where - ” Hailey started to ask, frowning. She didn’t have to finish her question, because she got her answer when Jay, who suddenly went as pale as a ghost, turned on the lights and sirens and floored it.

***

“Dylan…just - think about this, okay?”

Your hands were out in front of you, shaking.

Dylan Rhodes was about 10 feet from you, with a gun in his hand. The gallery had cleared out and the people on the jury had managed to escape to their deliberation room, separated from the courtroom with a thick wooden door. The only people who were left with you and Dylan were the judge, Anna and Mr Howard.

Your eyes flickered down to where the bailiff laid in a pool of his own blood. Dylan had fired two shots straight through the bailiff’s chest. You didn’t need to be trained in medicine like your boyfriend’s brother to know that the bailiff was dead.

You’d said hi to him once, in an elevator. He’d smiled back, and asked you how your day was.

You can’t remember what you told him.

“You’re scared now, aren’t you?” Dylan asked, and you snapped back to him. He had a deranged smile on his face.

“Dylan, please, it doesn’t have to be like this - ” You started speaking, but the judge - Judge Kinnaman - cut you off.

“Son, I swear if you don’t drop that gun now, you will never see the light of day. I will personally ensure that.” Judge Kinnaman’s voice resounded in the empty courtroom with authority. Dylan turned to him, gun following his line of sight.

“Fuck you.” Dylan punctuated his words with a squeeze of the trigger. Anna screamed, and you heard a loud thump. When you turned over your shoulder, you couldn’t see Judge Kinnaman at his seat behind the counter anymore - all you saw was blood splatter on his chair and the wood behind him.

The numbness you’d felt until this point suddenly gave way to waves upon waves of fear. It felt like a chill going down your spine - your body was cold, your mind was racing, and you were absolutely terrified.

“Dylan - Dylan, listen to me.” Jon Howard, the defense attorney, spoke softly from the defense table. “Just - just put the gun down, okay?”

Dylan’s eyes practically went red with rage. “You - you fucking…you’re useless, you’re pathetic, you know that?” Dylan swings back around, yelling at you and Anna. “He asked me to make a deal! A deal! What kind of a shitty lawyer gives up before he even tries to win, huh?!” He yelled at Jon, spit flying out of his mouth. Jon flinched, leaning back as Dylan moved closer to him.

Suddenly, a voice on loudspeaker boomed from outside the closed doors of the courtroom.

“Dylan Rhodes! This is Jay Halstead of the Chicago Police Department. We have the courtroom surrounded!”

Your knees almost buckled as you heard Jay’s voice. Relief flooded your veins, but you were still scared as you watched Dylan suddenly turn around, eyes wide.

“We do not want you or anyone in there to get hurt, okay? Just let the people in there come out, and I swear I will help you.” Jay finished, and Dylan just grabbed his head in his hands.

“No, no, no, no!” Dylan whispered to himself, tears springing out of his eyes. You turned to Anna, both of you equally terrified. Suddenly, Dylan raised his head, almost like a lion that had suddenly spotted a gazelle over the lines of grass.

Dylan surged towards you. Screaming, you flattened yourself against the witness stand, but it was to no avail - Dylan’s left hand grabbed your throat, and he pulled you to him, turning you so that you were in front of him, his left forearm like a bar going across your neck. You felt the cool metal of the gun against your temple, and you gasped.

“I have a hostage! I’m coming out, and I want everyone to stand back!” Dylan barked, before walking you to the door. You were shaking against him, tears streaming down your face at this point. The pressure of the gun against your head seemed to be drilling into you. As you reached the door, and Dylan instructed you to open it, all you could think about was that at least you’d get to see Jay before you died today.

The door opened with a loud creak, and you were stunned to see so many fully uniformed police officers with assault rifles standing right outside. Per Dylan’s instructions, they were all standing back, but still it was absolutely terrifying seeing all those guns pointed at you.

Your eyes immediately found Jay, who had his head tilted, looking down the sight on his rifle but the moment Dylan had brought you out, he picked his head up. His mouth was open slightly, his eyes were wide and wet, and he looked to be completely distraught.

Seeing him finally after days apart…it made every argument you’d ever had feel so inconsequential. You were so full of love for him and the only thing you wanted to do was run, run to him and wrap your arms around him. Unable to do any of that, you just mouthed “I love you” as you tried to hold back sobs.

“I want a car, and - and I want a - a jet fueled at O’Hare!” Dylan shouted.

Jay just shook his head. “You need to let her go first, alright?”

Dylan tightened his hold on you. “I’m not a fucking idiot!”

“We know that, okay?” Hailey spoke up, from a few feet to the right of Jay. “We don’t think you’re an idiot. We just want to make sure you don’t do anything you don’t want to do.” She said, putting her rifle down. Raising her hands, she took a couple of steps towards Dylan, who at this point had completely turned to face her.

“No - no, I don’t want you to move! Just - just stay where you are!” Dylan snapped, his voice raging. Your heart was beating so loudly that you could almost hear it in your ears. Closing your eyes, you just prayed silently.

“I know you don’t want to hurt her. So let’s just make sure - ” Hailey spoke gently, but Dylan cut her off, laughing sharply.

“You stupid bitch! You’re all stupid bitches! Damn right I want to hurt her! This bitch - ” Dylan shouted, pulling in his forearm, the immense pressure against your neck strangling you, “ - called me pathetic! I’m gonna show her how fucking pathetic she is when I get her somewhere alone and I - ”

A loud bang goes off, and you jumped. Your eyes flew open just in time to feel Dylan sag against you, and you instinctively leaned out of the way so that he fell to the ground.

Arms wrapped around you, and your first reaction was to flinch, to scream, to turn with eyes wide, trying to claw away from whoever it is. But then you heard his voice.

“Baby! Baby - it’s me, it’s Jay!” Your boyfriend’s eyes were wide and teary. His eyebrows were furrowed deeply, and he looked like he was in pain.

Everything clicked in your head.

“Jay,” You moaned, shaking fingers clutching his vest as you engulfed yourself in him. Jay’s arms wrapped around you tightly and you soaked in his scent, his warmth, his safety. Sobbing into his neck, you refused to let go, still not really believing this to be real. Jay didn’t say anything for a while and you weren’t sure why. But then you heard him crying into your hair, and you pulled back to see him. His eyes were wet, pooling with tears, and you immediately brought your hands up to hold his face. Jay leaned down as you got on your tip toes and you kissed, wet and soft and scared. Jay’s hands cradled your face, and when the two of you eventually split to breathe, you just looked up at him, speechless, shaking your head.

“I’m so sorry,” Jay whimpered.

“It’s okay. We’re okay. Just - just come home, please,” You begged, running your thumb over his jaw.

“Of course. Of course. I’m never leaving you like that again, okay? No matter what. Y/N, I love you so much. When he came out with you - I - I almost died right where I stood.” Jay told you as his face contorted into something painful. You pressed your lips to his again, quick and chaste. Pulling back, you smiled up at him.

“I love you too, Jay.”

The rest of the day was a mess - the cops moved Dylan’s body, as well as the bailiff’s and Judge Kinnaman’s, while paramedics cleared you medically. You flung yourself at Anna when they brought her out, swearing to her that you were okay and asking repeatedly if she was fine. The two of you held on to each other, crying, as Jay kept rubbing your back. In fact, he never left your side, not even for a second. After you were done giving your statement, Jay took you home, and the two of you got undressed and sat in a warm bath together for a while. You kept thinking at times that you were fine, but then you’d remember the feeling of the gun against your head, or the way the bailiff slumped over, and you started crying again. Jay brought his arms around you, pulling you to his chest and peppering your face with kisses as he soothed you.

At night, you curled into each other. The two of you drifted asleep, in the safety and warmth of your embrace.

*** Please leave a comment/like/reblog!

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #will halstead #will halstead imagine #cpd imagine #chicago pd imagine #onechicago imagine #onechicago

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confusedmocha · 3 years ago

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Journal Entry #0210613 Regarding a New Job, a Tape Recorder and and Upcoming Trip Entry recorded 6/13/21 Written statement by Mocha Entry Begins I'd like to start off by apologizing. I didn't post an entry last week, mainly because I was stressing about a trip I'm going on soon, which I'll be talking about later, and I ended up forgetting all about the entries. So yeah. Sorry, I guess. Thankfully, that week was rather uneventful, so I don't need to squeeze in anything. Instead, I can talk about the things that happened this week! Firstly, I got a new job. I won't say where, cos, yknow, privacy (why do you guys think I never post my actual name or specific details here?), but I will say that it's basically a pet supply store. I was going to continue that paragraph, but I started slipping into customer service mode and talking about the benefits of becoming a member at the store and. . . No. Just, no. I'll just summarize by saying I'm enjoying working there and my coworkers are wonderful. Secondly, I recently bought a tape recorder! Yes, I know, I'm a bit of a TMA nerd, but I have a genuine reason for it as well. Namely, I want to do an audio diary at some point. Sometimes I don't even have the energy to write or type anything up, and if that happens on a day I'm supposed to do a diary entry (for myself, obviously, it's a separate thing from these entries), then I'm screwed. So why not switch entirely to audio? I thought about having it on my computer, but there's two problems with that: Firstly, I don't trust digital. For some reason, modern tech doesn't work with me well. I love it, and I love using it, but something always goes wrong and I end up getting fucked because of it. And this audio diary I want to do is far too important to me to risk it being digital and therefore being susceptible to my curse of not being able to operate technology without crashing or some shit. I've never had an issue with analog, it tends to be a lot simpler to use and harder to fuck up in a way you can't fix. At least, for me. So analog is what I want to use. Secondly, analog is safer. These aren't just things I've put out on the internet to ramble about my week, these are private, deep thoughts. Things I don't want people getting their hands on. And I'll admit, I'm a bit paranoid about technology. I'm always worried I'm being watched, and I'm more worried about someone hacking my shit and going through my files. Which is why all of my most important shit are copied on to physical media. Documents, paper, books, and analog things like cassette tapes. It's less likely to be taken remotely. If anyone wants these recordings, they're gonna have to physically get past me. Anywho, I've also got a trip coming up! I'm going to visit my Dad in Texas. It's been awhile since I've seen him, since it's so far away, and I wanted to surprise him for Fathers Day. I'm also making him a gift. I won't say what it is, but I think he'll like it! At least, I hope so. Oh, I also got my vaccine. Second dose of the Pfizer vaccine! I'm fully immunized, bitches! I'm so damn excited! I can go into Walmart without a damn mask on! Finally! My glasses won't get fogged up, my heat hives won't act up! Everything's really looking up now! Just can't wait to get that recorder, though. Entry Ends.

#journaling #journal entry #diary #tape recorder #texas #trip #flight #new job #got a new job #woo!

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ksyescribe · 4 years ago

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The Boys™ Speaking A Foreign Language (HQ Edition)

Featuring: Oikawa, Osamu, & Ushijima

Warnings: Some slight manga spoilers!

A/N: This headcanon is centered around these bbs speaking Spanish but I think they can really be applied to any language! I hope you guys enjoy! Also thank you @cttnclouds for the Osamu fusion idea you’re literally an angel and i love you.

Oikawa Tōru

Why he learned:

He moved to Argentina. It’s either learn or get really got at using hand signals.

Learning Process:

Honestly? Probably tried the whole DuoLingo thing the first few weeks after he got the okay to move to Argentina. But after a while he burnt out.

He probably got up to like the introductory phrases and then fell off. Probably because he had to deal with all the logistical stuff that comes with moving.

(Someone help him cause he literally thought moving would be an easy one two three job :’) Iwa-chan help!)

The next time he remembers that he’s literally going to a new country with a new language is like a month before he moves.

He’s shopping with Iwaizumi for some new clothes and stuff when Iwaizumi just goes “So how’s your Spanish coming along?

freeze frame, his face looks like this: (∩╹□╹∩)

Anyways he really like stress buys like three different Japanese books that he then FORGETS ABOUT for the rest of the month.

He reads them on the flight to Argentina. The only things he learned were how to ask for the time and directions.

Oh boy, Argentina’s going to be fun :’)

When he uses Spanish in front of you for the first time:

Right so, the first time you see him use his sorry excuse for Spanish is at the little corner coffee shop down the street

Of course everyone’s like eyeing him cause, why is a foreigner here in the hidden gem of the city? But also he’s kinda cute what?

Anyways, you’re minding your own business until you hear the heavily accented Spanish.

And pues, we’re all little chismosos so of course you pay attention to what he’s trying to do (order a coffee but he literally cant remember what the word for sugar is dear god someone help this man)

After cringing you step up with the translator app on your phone open and obviously help him out.

He’s a little impressed because: 1. Your Spanish is so smooth and flowy it sounds like you’re reciting poetry and 2. Why didn’t he think of the translator app tf??

So you get his order shoot it back to Sandra over the counter in fast Spanish and then order your own stuff before moving off to the side to wait for your coffee.

Oikawa might be an idiot right but he’s not going to pass up the opportunity to ask you to teach him Spanish??

I mean you’re cute, you’re obviously a local from the way you were greeting everyone inside the shop, and well, you’re the only person who’s tried to help him out so far and that means a lot to him.

For some odd reason you actually agree? You still don’t know what caused you to say yes. Probably the pitiful look he had when he told you he had to move cause of work and he knew nobody else here.

How you help him with learning/bettering his Spanish:

Honestly, he bitched a lot at the beginning but forcing him to only communicate in Spanish really helped him out.

So taking him on town trips and having him tell you about what he’s seen or what he wants to do in Spanish really helped him. Also having your friends come with is really fun cause he tries to teach them some Japanese words while they translate that into Spanish.

Also being immersed in the language is a big plus.

But I think the #1 thing that really helped him was watching novelas with you.

Like he wants to understand what Gabriela is yelling to Sofia about in real time not through the subtitles. (But damn Gabriela really slept with Sofia’s fiance? Wack, that man is not worth it hun)

You know his Spanish’s getting better when you walk into a completely new bread shop that the two of you are visiting and he just goes ahead and orders in fluent Spanish.

Leaves both you and the attendant in shock. But he just comes back and asks you in Spanish too, “Lo hice bien? No me trave verdad?”

The woman literally swoons from the whole encounter. He is now a danger to any woman within five miles of the vicinity. Gets all cocky about it.

Favorite Spanish Word: Alborotar - Disturb? That’s what google says but it’s more like mess up.

Miya Osamu

Why he learned:

Honestly? This Mexican-Japanese fusion place opened up and he just wants to talk to the chef about where he gets his ingredients from because this shit tastes amazing!!

Learning Process:

Went home the first night after eating at that restaurant and bought a year subscription for Rosetta Stone.

He’s kind of regretting it because like, maybe he should’ve gone with the monthly plan? Fuck he shouldn’t have gotten ahead of himself.

He tries to do an hour of the program a day minimum. There’s some days where the hour like drags on and other days where he’s so pumped that he does more than one hour.

His max was one day where it snowed so hard that nobody could go out so he spent like 10 hours doing Rosetta Stone.

He tried going to like one of the Brazilian stores around his house to try out his Spanish with them but was sorely disappointed to learn that Brazilians do not speak Spanish.

Still got some bomb ass brigadeiros though so who’s the real winner here huh?

Actually put up a craigslist ad for a Spanish partner.

It’s up for a whopping 5 minutes before he promptly deleted the ad.

Instead!! This man signs up for one of those international pen pal services and gets matched with someone fluent in Spanish (it’s you hello).

And it turns out said person is coming to Japan soon for a year abroad?? And they have a basic Japanese foundation?

Yeah dude he lucked out.

Out of all three boys, his alone learning goes pretty well. Gets a good foundation of Spanish.

When he uses Spanish in front of you for the first time:

This one’s so cute!! He actually does it sort of by accident?

He’s made friends with everyone at the fusion restaurant including the chef because he actually managed to hold a decent conversation in Spanish.

His brain just automatically switches to Spanish when he enters the restaurant.

So when you hear him bust out into a full fluent Spanish conversation with the waiter you kind of sit there like: (・о・)

This man even orders and asks you if you want to split a bottle of wine in Spanish.

You could only nod because holy shit.

Like yes you’ve heard him speak it over the discord calls before but in person?? That’s a whole nother story.

Specially because his pronunciation is so good?? And he has the right accent? It’s so smooth like it just flows naturally from him.

And he can actually roll the r’s god damn sir

How you help him with learning/bettering his Spanish:

So he has a pretty good grasp on the language which means he doesn’t need much help with learning.

But you can help expand his knowledge. Like teaching him about how in some countries/dialects things might be said differently. (Like how there’s 17 ways to say straw. Hondurans say pajilla and that’s all I knew for a bunch of years)

He’ll also need help with learning about a lot of food names. He only knows the basic names, not any special fruits or like combination dishes so that’ll be fun.

You actually start cooking new latin recipes every Saturday so he can familiarize himself with the cuisine.

Some ingredients are hard to come by but the adventure in finding them is so worth it.

His favorite recipe so far? Making Pollo con Tajadas from Honduras. The Bandeja Paisa from Colombia is a close second.

Favorite Spanish Word: Popote: Straw (in Mexico)

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Why he learned:

His last current concern is literally “he would like to work harder at studying languages”.

Fair, makes sense.

But instead of going with a familiar language he just says fuck it time to learn the latin alphabet with Spanish.

yeah okay why not

Learning Process:

Ushijima is more of a visual learner.

Which in it’s own makes sense. He’ll probably get a book that has like those floating numbers over items and it tells him what it’s called in Spanish right?

Wrong.

You know what he does?

This man. This 24 year old man. Goes home, opens up Netflix, and puts on... wait for it... DORA.

I kid you not!! Ushijima Wakatoshi will always begin learning a new language by watching children’s shows.

You know why?

Because he read an article a while back where it said that the best way to start learning languages is by watching children’s shows due to the fact that the shows are literally tailored to teach kids the language.

See what he did there? Y’all thought he was a big dumb dumb but in reality he’s a big smart smart.

Uh, anyways.

He will sit down to watch the children’s shows with a notebook. He takes very good notes, has a Japanese translation for everything.

His show watch list: Dora la Exploradora, Plaza Sesamo, Maya Y Miguel, Go Diego Go, and Handy Manny.

The crazy thing? It actually works. He literally gets his Spanish base from these shows.

Crazier thing? HE LITERALLY PICKS UP THE CORRECT ACCENTS.

I kid you not bro, he literally somehow managed to sound like a FLUENT speaker. I-

But from there he picks up some more books and audio files to try and increase the complexity of his knowledge.

He’s the best speaker out of the three.

When he uses Spanish in front of you for the first time:

Honestly? He’s been looking for a Spanish partner for a while and he genuinely doesn’t know how to go about it.

One day though, he overhears you on the phone with your mom.

He’s seen you before. You’re one of the girls working under the main manager and you’re actually really helpful. If he remembers correctly, you’re the only co-manager that can wrap the compression sleeves just how he likes them.

Anyways, not uh, important.

He’s not one to eavesdrop but, well you’re in the equipment room and he needs to grab one thing. Just a quick in and out. He’ll even turn off his ears.

But then you start speaking like fluent Spanish? And suddenly his ears are very active.

He doesn’t harass you while you’re on your call. Instead he waits until after practice.

Then he just comes up to you and goes, “Perdóname por molestarte pero, estabas platicándo en Español anterior?”

Kind just sat there like: ◉‿◉ - (￣ー￣) - ⚈ ̫ ⚈

You can’t even speak, you’re still processing that he just spoke Spanish like a natural??? So you just nod.

He launches into a whole talk about how he’s been learning but he needs a speaking partner so that he can get better.

At some point during his whole speech you sit down because your brain IS NOT CATCHING UP.

In the end you agree to become his partner. He’s paying you in food how the hell can you say no?

How you help him with learning/bettering his Spanish:

Like I said before, he’s already good.

You mostly help broaden his knowledge about the culture from Spanish countries and their cultures. A lot of it is through food and the small glimpses of hispanic life from Japan.

Can’t really teach the customs and traditional stuff unless it’s in person.

You’re actually getting ready to go back home for your once a year family reunion when suddenly this man invites himself to your trip?????

I mean, it’s not a bad idea in the first place but then he offered to pay for your trip and well...

You’re kind of broke and he’s rich so it works alright?

God but going back home? Ultra boosts his spanish.

Not sure if it’s the atmosphere, your family, or just the fact that the country is now in a whole nother language, but this man just adapts.

It’s really uncanny.

While he’s here, your family teaches him a lot of Spanish idioms and phrases that don’t translate over well and he starts incorporating them into his every day usage.

Someone on the team got hurt and he literally walked over and rubbed their wrist and went “ Sana, sana, colita de rana. Si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana.”

When you leave his apartment? “Te veo Mateo”

But he also gets to see how unique and beautiful the culture in your country is.

His favorite part of the trip? Probably your family’s land that’s just surrounded by nature.

He also really liked the traditional shops that the old ladies from the village ran. (They also liked him and pinched his cheeks and called him a big strong boy so maybe that has something to do with it.)

His favorite Spanish word: Topogigio (to-po-i-yo): In Honduras, frozen ice cream (? not really but don’t know how else to describe) that is typically sold in a small bag. Flavors: Fruit juice or traditional ice cream flavors.

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thatsgay-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Clara Lille x Reader

Summary: You and Clara are each others ride or die.

Warnings: Death, Violence

You had known Clara way before meeting Aiden. You both had met when you took a hacking job overseas. She was your target and the hardest challenge you had faced yet, early in your career. You were also known for getting you hands dirty, so after the 5th time of trying to hack her, you decided you needed to meet face to face.

If it isn't obvious, you didn't end up killing her. The two of you actually ended up teaming up and taking down other hackers that were causing unneeded mayhem. When the two of you moved back to Chicago together, Clara joined DedSec while you stayed a free agent. The two of you had been together for almost 5 years when you met Aiden. Or more like Clara pulled you into all the crazy shit that Aiden was doing.

---

"I could use help... I could use your help." Aiden stated as he leaned against a wall. "Like a team?" Clara asked. "Sure like a team." "Well, in that case..."

---

"Holy shit, you guys got this place up and running?" You say as you exit the crate that acted as an entrance. "Imagine what this thing looked like in its heyday." You let out a whistle as you walk down the stairs and look at the screens displayed across the wall. Aiden placed a hand over his gun, not knowing who you were or how you managed to find them. Clara put a hand on his arm causing him to look at her in confusion and anger, who were you? You just ignored the man standing next to Clara and walked over to her to give her a kiss. "Sorry I'm late, people don't always like to cooperate." You say as you release from the kiss. You hold your hand out to the man, who was look at you in shock, and introduce yourself. "Y/n Y/ln, at your service." He took your hand and gave it a firm shake. "Aiden Pearce."

---

"So Raymond Kenney is in Pawnee." You state as you stand behind Clara who is working on trying to find Aiden an exact location. "Yes..." Clara's voice falls off as she continues to work. You lean down and give her a kiss on her head, "I have some business I need to do in Pawnee, I'll join Aiden when I'm done." Clara stops working and turns to give you a look. You throw your hands up in a surrendering manner, "I know I said no more dirty jobs, I promise this is the last one..." Clara stares at you still, with her arms crossed. You let out a groan and place both your hand on each armrest of her chair, trapping her in. "I promise that after this, we will take a long vacation. No hacking, no jobs, just you me and the sun... And other fun activities." You say with a wink, causing Clara to blush and roll her eyes. You lean in to give her a kiss and wink at her when you pull away. "I'll be back before you know it."

---

You lied about the reason you needed to go to Pawnee, it wasn't to finish a job. It was to pick up a ring. You and Clara had been together for a while and while you both don't really believe in weddings, you wanted her to be your wife. You figured a ring would be enough to signify that you wanted to be by her side for the rest of your life.

It was pretty quick to get the ring from the man you paid to make it and you were on your way to Aiden pretty soon after. "Holy..." You mutter as you watch black cars pull up to a pretty trashy looking place. You could hear the gunshots from down the road and ditched your car so you could sneak in. "This is the last one!" A man with long hair yelled as he and Aiden crouched behind a half wall that was being shot up. "There's so many!" Aiden said with a grunt as he peaked the wall to fire a few shots. "You guys need some help!?" You yell from behind the sea of men dressed in black and start shooting them in the back, taking the attention away from Aiden and the other man, who you could only assume was Raymond Kenney.

"Who the hell is that?" Raymond asked as he finished setting the last bomb. Aiden just shook his head, "A teammate."

---

"I'm happy your well. Do you want to tell me what happened?" Clara asked, semi-mad as she walked towards you, Aiden, and T-Bone. She eyed the shoulder wound on your non-dominant arm with slight anger and sadness, she never liked it when you got injured. You were going to speak up but T-Bone beat you to it. "Corporate espionage. Crooked cops. Big explosions, honey. And you are?" T-bone asked as her walked a circle around Clara. You squeezed the arm rest of the seat you were in, you did not like the way he was looking at Clara. Clara didn't respond and Aiden stepped in, "This is Clara. Clara, this is T-Bone otherwise known as the legendary Raymond Kenney." Clara looked between you and Aiden in shock before looking at T-Bone. "Really?" "We can't all be pretty in this game, honey." "No. I... I mean -- Wow! I'm a fan." Clara stuttered over herself. You chuckled to yourself, you hadn't seen Clara so flustered since the last time you two had... well, you know. You also decided to actively ignore how T-Bone flirted with her. "Oh... enchanté." T-Bone said as he kissed Clara's hand. You let out a low growl as Clara looked a little uncomfortable. "Alright." Aiden said as he placed a hand on T-Bone's shoulder. He didn't need any bad blood in the team now that he was so close to getting what he needed.

Luckily, T-Bone released Clara's hand and turned to talk to Aiden. "Are you okay?" Clara asked in concern as she checked over your bandage. "I'm fine, it's just a flesh wound. Some guys were also covering our exit as we tried to escape and surprised us." You said as you grabbed Clara's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Alright just be more careful next time." She said as she gave you a kiss before turning to join in the conversation with Aiden and T-Bone.

---

"Iraq is trying to black mail the whole city." Clara stated as she looked through the files they had and then suddenly, everything went to shit. "We're getting hacked!" You say as alarms blare through out the room as you tried to figure out a way to stop the other hacker. "Fuck..." You muttered as the words "I know what you did Clara" displayed across the screen. "Who is it, Clara? He seems to know you." Aiden stated as they all looked at the screens. "I don't know... I don't know." She said in French before switching back to English.

"I'm going to play it." Aiden said as an audio file appeared on the computer screen in front of him. You all listened in silence as the audio played. Letting you hear how Clara was giving information about Aiden and Damian to an unknown man. "Clara..." Aiden said, disappointment clear in his voice as he looked at her. You just stood in silence as alarms blared through the room again and T-Bone started shutting everything off, hoping to save the data. "Gird yer loins! I'm killing the power!" T-Bone yelled out as he shut off the power.

"Aiden..." Clara started as she took as step towards him. You stood up from your seat when he grabbed her arm roughly. "Who was it? Who ordered it?" "If I knew I'd tell you. I swear I would. I'm so sorry." Clara pleaded as she looked at Aiden. Aiden let out a low growl, "Get away from me." He said as he pushed Clara away from him roughly. With out thinking you punch him across the face, busting his lip, before grabbing Clara and leaving. "C'mon, lets dip."

---

"I need to make it up to him..." Clara said sadly as she sat on a bed in the hotel room you rented. You let out a breath and sat next to her. "I thought hackers weren't supposed to get all emotional." You tried and joked. Clara gave you a small sad smile and you just pulled her into a hug. "It's okay, we'll figure something out... We always do." You mutter as you press kisses against her forehead, hoping to give her some sense of comfort to ease her guilt.

---

You didn't know that Clara had contacted Damien or that Lucky knew she was unreliable. You didn't expect the day to end so terribly or so soon. You were both just going to pay your respects to Aiden's niece, Lena. You and Clara had barely been there for a second when Aiden came running from behind yelling both of your names. "Clara! Y/n!" You both turn to look at him before turning back around to see men with guns getting behind trees and other grave stones. "Oh shit." You say before you duck down and watch as Clara gets hit by a bullet. "Clara!" You yell as she gets hit by two more before falling to the ground. "Clara! C'mon, open your eyes!" You yell at her, not even caring if you get hit anymore. "mmm, y/n..." She groans as she opens her eyes some. "I love you so much, okay?" You say, and let out a pained sound as you felt a bullet enter your side.

"I know you feel guilty about what happened with Aiden, but you tried your hardest to make up for it okay? You did so well." Clara gave you a smile and you could tell she was slipping away quickly. "I know this isn't the right time but... fuck!" You stop for a second as a bullet enters your shoulder. You reach into your pocket and put out the ring you had been carrying around for the last couple of weeks. "Marry me? Be my wife?" You ask as you slip the ring on her finger. You look at Clara one more time, who now has tears running down her face from pain, sadness, happiness or all three. You pull her in for a final kiss and let out sobs as you feel her body go slack.

You lay her body down before standing up and pulling out your gun to help take down the remaining men. You got off maybe 5 shots before getting hit again and going down for the last time. Your breathing was labored as Aiden ran up to you. "Y/n..." You waved your hand at him and pulled off your necklace before handing it to him. "There's a flash drive in there... With a virus powerful enough to shut down the Ctos... One time use, so don't fuck it up..." You say as you hand him the necklace and let yourself relax next to Clara's body. "Get that bitch for me..." You say before letting darkness consume you, knowing that you'd see Clara again real soon.

---

"Hello Aiden. I can't decide where to begin. The first time I saw you, you were playing chess with Jackson in the park. Both of you still very sad from the -- funeral. I could see how you made him feel safe. In our world we hide in the dark, behind monitors. That's the only place we feel safe. It isn't enough to say I didn't know. That lives would be lost or that it was only a job. I thought if I could help you heal, help you find answers -- maybe I could heal myself. But I can't. When this is all over, I hope we can at least talk. Or if not... at least I can disappear. That's something I'm good at."

#watch dogs #clara lille x reader #x reader #female character x reader #watchdogs x reader #watch dogs x reader

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zrtranscripts · 4 years ago

Text

Season 9, Mission 5: Sandstorm

Summer Holiday

[ship horn honks, waves crash on shore]

PETER LYNNE: Listen, all I'm saying is he could have dropped us off a little bit nearer.

JANINE DE LUCA: Our captain was clear from the outset, Peter. Our information on Tunisia is limited. He did not wish to deliver us to a port which might present unknown dangers. Or docking fees. Hence the empty stretch of coast we've landed on.

SAM YAO: Oh, it's nice though, isn't it? The sandy cliffs, the crystal blue sea, the rocky beach. Way better than that tiny ship's hold. Not that I didn't enjoy helping Janine tick “win 1,000 consecutive games of chess” off her bucket list. Oh, oh hey, careful how you carry the briefcase, Five. Remember, it's got Veronica inside. [shouts] You okay in there, Veronica?

VERONICA MCSHELL: Sam, for the last time, this case contains hardware running a full copy of my personality connected to a full suite of sensor systems, including auditory. You do not need to shout. Janine, Amelia gave me a message to play upon our arrival in Tunisia. Stand by.

AMELIA SPENS: Hello, Tunisia team. Let's make this super clear: you are not over there sightseeing. You're infiltrating a secret base codenamed Red Scorpion at the behest of General Bakari. He's directed you to a city near Red Scorpion called New Agadir. Until you reach New Agadir, where you must impersonate the mercenary group Death's Hand, you should pretend to be independent UK traders.

This is a covert mission, so if things go badly, I can't help you. Remember, the red fungus endangers the whole world. If it's in Red Scorpion, we need to know. Don't mess this up. Amelia out.

PETER LYNNE: Right, right, right. So just-just to make sure I've got this right, we're in another country with no support and we left our only doctor on the boat. Fantastic!

VERONICA MCSHELL: It's fortunate Maxine was present to identify the measles outbreak on the ship. If we hadn't left her to take care of it, it might have become a pandemic, Maintaining herd immunity via vaccination has proven almost impossible since the apocalypse.

JANINE DE LUCA: I see a road atop the hill heading west. Miss Spens’ preliminary scouting identified settlements on the Tunisian coast. That road leads to an outpost called Kalaat El-Amal. From there, we can arrange transport south towards New Agadir. Miss Spens also provided me details of a contact she's established in New Agadir who can assist us, a man by the name of Mohammed Boujettif. We must find him there.

Aside from anything else, we may need him to take Dr. Myers’s place in Death's Hand, although if he has no medical experience, that could prove difficult. The alias of the team member Dr. Myers was to impersonate is Doctor Death.

International subterfuge... it has been some time. Remember people, we do not know how the apocalypse landed here or what dangers await. Watch out for each other and keep your wits. Up the hill to the road, run!

SAM YAO: Oh, I thought the going would get easier once we reached the top of the hill, but now the road's covered in sand!

PETER LYNNE: Well, there's not much to stop it blowing in from the desert. As far as local scenery goes, you've got potholed roads and sand dunes and that's basically all you're going to get.

SAM YAO: So I get that we're pretending to be traders for now, then when we reach New Agadir we'll be impersonating Death's Hand, but what do we do if the actual Death’s Hand show up? I mean, my briefing said my cover is someone called Sven “Psycho” Mountback, who I don't exactly want to meet.

PETER LYNNE: Well, Amelia is recruiting the mercenaries now for a job in the UK. That's a trap that'll keep them out of our way. And they mostly work in the shadows, so their faces aren't well-known. So in theory at least, we should be able to pass for them. And Bakari swears he can get them - by which I mean us - onto the base.

JANINE DE LUCA: Gamma 1 insertion protocols, as Tom would have said.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: (in the distance) Guys, it's me!

SAM YAO: Does anyone hear that? Look, behind us. There's someone coming up the road dressed like a deckhand from the ship, waving.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Guys, it's Frances!

PETER LYNNE: Oh, you've got to be kidding me!

JANINE DE LUCA: Miss Dempsey, what are you doing here?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I, uh, stowed away on the ship. Hid in a storage crate, swam to shore when I'd heard you'd landed. Bribed a sailor to tell me when you did. A bit wet from the swim. I know you didn't want me to come, but I swear I'll be useful.

JANINE DE LUCA: Miss Dempsey, this is unacceptable! You were expressly forbidden...

SAM YAO: Uh, Janine? Usually you don't drift off when you're berating people.

JANINE DE LUCA: The sky, it's turned white. Winds are rising. If my memories of Algeria hold true, this indicates an incoming dust storm. We must get to cover quickly.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Does that mean I can come?

JANINE DE LUCA: It means, Miss Dempsey, that since there is no way to get you back to the UK, you are unfortunately in danger with the rest of us. There, gleaming structures on the horizon. Kalaat El-Amal. All of you, in that direction. Run!

[wind blows]

SAM YAO: The outpost is ahead. Yeah, I think I see an outer wall. It's hard to make out in this sand. [spits] It really gets in your teeth, doesn't it, Five?

VERONICA MCSHELL: Changing global weather patterns, likely brought on by a large increase in methane emissions from decaying flesh, have left this region more prone to dust storms. My sensors should have alerted us to the stormfront. And I failed to predict Frances's arrival.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Um, quick question. Why is the suitcase talking?

PETER LYNNE: That's our... computer expert, Veronica. She's our expert... who is also a computer.

SAM YAO: Guys, look behind you. There's-there's like a solid wall of sand looping towards us.

JANINE DE LUCA: We're on the storm's periphery, but the eye is approaching fast and the dust already feels cutting in these winds. Everybody switch to comms, cover your mouths. You should have desert goggles and masks in your packs. Miss Dempsey, take mine. I will use my shirt.

PETER LYNNE: Wait, wait, wait. Janine, that's ridiculous. She can have my mask.

JANINE DE LUCA: It is done, Peter, there is no time to argue. I see no rocks large enough for shelter. Our only hope is reaching Kalaat El-Amal before we're subsumed. Run!

[wind whistles]

FRANCES DEMSPEY: God, it's like being in a blender full of dust! Getting hard to balance in the wind. Five, grab my arm so we don't get separated.

JANINE DE LUCA: I do not see the road! Does anyone have a visual?

VERONICA MCSHELL: Janine, I have run estimates on the wind speed and density of the storm. There is less than a 3% chance of our surviving.

PETER LYNNE: Oh, fantastic! Thank you, Veronica. Helpful as always.

VERONICA MCSHELL: If I'd warned you of the storm sooner, you might have been able to shelter near the cliffs. I'm sorry.

PETER LYNNE: Janine, not to seem overprotective, but obviously you should take my mask. I'm literally indestructible!

JANINE DE LUCA: You have an anti-P-type bomb in your body, Peter. Inhaling sand might damage it. We cannot risk that. I appreciate you're afraid of losing me after the Hebrides. I let you join this mission because I trust you, but I'm as worried for you as you are for me. Do not disobey my orders!

[zombie shrieks]

SAM YAO: What was that?

PETER LYNNE: Look, those are human shapes being whirled about in the wall of sand behind us. Some are missing limbs or torn in half. They're all thrashing about. Yep, they're zombies.

JANINE DE LUCA: We cannot let them catch us. We have no idea if the zombie virus has variants here. Even if we survive the storm with our cure stocks intact, they might not be effective. Likewise Mr. Yao's immunity. We can't let them catch us. Go!

[wind whistles]

SAM YAO: Five! Five, is that you? If you can see me, I'm waving.

FRANCES DEMSPEY: Sam, we see you! Five and I are to your left. Keep moving through the dust.

SAM YAO: Oh, thank God. I can barely make out your outlines. I was worried you were zoms. Have you seen the others? We were trying to keep hold of each other, but the winds kept knocking us down. Storm's interfering with comms beyond point blank range.

FRANCES DEMSPEY: Everyone's been scattered, visibility's practically zero.

VERONICA MCSHELL: I'm trying to calculate everyone's probable vectors, but there are too many variables. At home, I would have more processing power, but this portable me can only handle so much.

During our voyage, I heard Peter talk about Frances's desire to join the mission, but my limited resources did not allow me to model her probable behavior. I was also unable to perceive the worsening weather because my capacity was devoted to reviewing mission files. My limitations have undermined my usefulness.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Not as much as this sand will if any of it gets in your circuits. We've got to get you inside, Veronica. Janine shouldn't have given me her mask. What if she chokes? She's the most important person to the mission.

SAM YAO: Don't think like that, Frances. We just got here. We're not losing people already, not like the Hebrides. I promised Sara we'd come home safe, that we'd bring her fun travel stories.

JANINE DE LUCA: [static] Repeat. [garbled audio] Repeat.

SAM YAO: Janine!

VERONICA MCSHELL: I am detecting faint electromagnetic activity. It may be the outpost.

[zombie growls]

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Sam, behind you!

SAM YAO: Oh God, that whirling wall of zoms is almost on us. Five, speed up! They're just gristle and bone, the flesh is torn right off them. The wind’s tossing zoms straight at us. Run, everyone! Head south... gah! That way, I think. Just run!

[wind whistles]

SAM YAO: That's it, Five, keep holding my hand. I've got Frances, we're in a chain.

[zombies growl]

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Everybody duck! Oh God, did you see that? A flayed zombie torso, ripped to shreds by the sand. It flew right over our heads in the wind. I'm sorry, Sam, I shouldn't have come.

SAM YAO: Frances, it's okay.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Peter warned me it was dangerous. I just, I really thought I could help. But I know you're all scared of losing people after the Hebrides, but you're all at risk here and I'm making it worse.

JANINE DE LUCA: Mr. Yao, Runner Five, this is Colonel De Luca. Mr. Lynne and I have made it into Kalaat El-Amal. Can you hear? They have equipment monitoring your approach. They're boosting our comms. They're sealing the entrance against the weather and activating a signal beacon on the outer wall.

SAM YAO: There! Hard to tell in this suit, but those look like... yes, flashing yellow lights ahead.

JANINE DE LUCA: The gate is in front of you, but it is closing fast. If you don't hurry, you'll be trapped outside. Sensors indicate torn zombie flesh has made that swirling storm wall infectious. You cannot risk being engulfed. You must get inside. Run!

[alarm blares, gate creaks and slams shut]

SAM YAO: That's it, Five, we're in. Made it through that gate by inches. Don't see anyone around, just a big metal room with big metal doors. Gate must be automatic. First bit of wider world we've seen since Z-Day, Five, give or take Finland. I wonder how people here are doing.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Guess we're about to find out. We're okay, everyone's okay. We all made it.

VERONICA MCSHELL: And my estimations of Kalaat El-Amal's location were accurate. It will take me time to get used to operating at this capacity, but I will persevere. I am confident I can keep the team safe. After analyzing the Hebrides files, I know how much difficulty you all have without me.

[door rattles open]

SAM YAO: Janine, Peter!

JANINE DE LUCA: It's good to see you all intact, including you, Miss Dempsey. It seems you've left me no choice now but to consider you one of the team. The locals were rather shocked to see us approaching through the storm.

SAM YAO: But they let you in, so they're friendly, right?

PETER LYNNE: Oh, they are very friendly, and very worried. You see, apparently the last few foreign traders to visit Kalaat El-Amal carried serious diseases. Measles, flu, multiple poxes. So they're putting us under quarantine until we're vetted, for a period of no less than three months. That means if we can't find another way out of here, the whole mission is over.

#zombies run #zrs9 #s9m5 #zr transcript #zrs9 spoilers

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thebraingremlinsaremad · 3 years ago

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Daily Blog #15: August 22, 2021

Dollar Tree is honestly pretty fucking awesome 👌👌👌

I set my alarm for like 6:25 this morning, but it took 6 minutes for the "Horsin' Around" theme song instrumental to wake me up. I was pretty tired lol. I just dismissed it and went back to sleep.

I only went back to sleep because I knew I had another alarm set for 7:00. That got me up.

I should mention that this was still in the RV over an hour away from the house.

After I got up, I went to go get a shower, and did so successfully.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten my brush this time and had to do it afterwards after my hair had a bit of time to dry, which did make it a little more difficult lol.

I got dressed and grabbed my stuff, putting it into my car.

I made it a point to see and say "see you later" to my grandparents before I left for the flea market.

My dad insisted that I stayed to say goodbye to my mom, so I left.

I did NOT have cell service up there, as was mentioned in my previous 2 blogs of which I could only post today, so finding my way was a tiny bit difficult until I got some service to ask Google to take me to "...".

It worked and I got there.

On my drive, I listened to 1 by Simple Kid, a CD I had previously purchased at a Dollar Tree location.

I got a call from the guy at the flea market saying that I had some people there waiting for me. He asked how far away I was, to which I said "about 10 minutes." Ironically, that call made me miss my exit, as Google couldn't talk during the call, and added about 3 minutes to my arrival time lmao.

I did sell the Xbox that he said someone was interested in. I got $40 for it. I spent 27¢ on it. Pretty good return if you ask me.

I couldn't sell it with anything other than a power cord because the controller and AV cables I had been using to play it there were for my personal console. I'm just glad I can actually hook my Xbox up and stop having to drag them to the flea market along with a small library of games.

Not too long after I sold the Xbox, someone came in and asked if I wanted to see some electronics he had in his car. I went out with him. It was a pair of 3ft speakers and a Pioneer audio system with dual cassette decks (although neither of them works) and a 25 Disc CD-changer, as well as the standard AM/FM tuner. Additionally, there was a Fisher amplifier and AM/FM tuner as well as a Fisher Direct Drive turntable. He said he wanted $60 for em, but before that he casually, and probably accidentally, dropped that he was just gonna take em to the thrift store.

Big mistake.

I got em for $35 lmao. THERE GOES MOST OF MY PROFIT.

Oh well.

I tested everything. As I mentioned, the cassette decks don't work, but everything else does apart from the turntable needing a new stylus.

I posted some new photos of the shop to Facebook, and someone soon DMed me about a stereo system.

I priced everything, and it turns out I have about $300 worth of equipment from that deal, the Fisher amp and tuner being worth about $150.

The buyer will hopefully show up next weekend, for he wants to buy the Fisher stuff ($185 with the turntable), the 3ft speakers, an 8-track deck, and a Kenwood deck we've had for a week or two.

The speakers are listed for $50 (and are worth around $100-150), the Kenwood Deck for $50 as well, and the 8-track for $35. That makes it about $320 in equipment. Since he's buying so much, I'll knock it down to $270 and essentially give him the speakers or cassette deck for free lol.

Apart from that stuff, not much happened at the flea market. I sold some records, cassettes, CDs and I think 2 DVDs. One person bought a VHS tape? That money was the other guy's though. Oh well xD.

I can't say that I didn't miss my wonderful partner while on the trip. I actually brought along the stuffed animal they gave me (who's name is Greg) and snuggled with him both nights.

I was very happy to hear from them UwU.

They let me rant and I let them rant.

I honestly give them too much responsibility over me xD. I'm like, "Okay, I'm gonna do this. HOLD ME TO IT."

I know I can't hold myself to anything I personally say (this blog being the only exception apparently), but I listen to them pretty well I think 🤔. If they tell me, "No, you don't need that VCR," so long as it's not some weird specialty thing, like a worldwide VCR 🥵, I'll be like "Yeah, you rite bro."

I love you man xD. You control my craziness pretty well. I'm so thankful for you UwU.

#relationshipgoals

So part way through the flea market day, I went over to Dollar Tree to buy some snack, but ended up looking through the CDs to see if there was anything good. I took photos of about 18 CDs and flipped through them online for the remainder of the flea market day.

I deleted the photos of the ones I didn't want and kept those that I liked. Surprisingly, I ended up buying 13 CDs there, but not before dropping them on the floor like the dumbass I am.

Also, sorry for all the nerd shit I spilled on your lap earlier. No one cares about amps and tuners xD.

I'M LISTENING TO ONE OF THE DOLLAR TREE CDS RIGHT NOW THO.

I already transferred over to my online library on iBroadcast and put the disc into my CD changer, which is now holding 164 CDs.

Its max capacity is 300 discs 🥵

WHY AM I NERD

Oh well

I like being a nerd gurl

Also maybe a technosexual 👀

I get really excited over some electronics. Like. REALLY excited.

Some editing VCRs are like "Holy shit that is SEXY. Look at those goddamn VU meters 🥵. And hhhh there are like 7 inputs on this thing and individual controls for left and right audio gain, not to mention Hi-Fi S-VHS recording. Hhhhhhhhhhh please gimme 😭. Why are you so expensive?"

I uh, mean, uh, *cough* look, pretty lights.

Oh yeah, I was gonna say the album I was listening to xD. MAN I GOT SIDETRACKED.

It's 37 Everywhere by Punchline. Def give it a listen; it's pretty heccin good.

Another notable album I picked up was Page One by Steven Page. I very much like the first track, "A New Shore." It's quite catchy and he has a great voice imo.

Also at dollar tree, I bought a regular bag of Fieras and 2 bags of Fieras Sticks, which were marked down to 75¢/bag because they're expiring soon.

I honestly like the generic Dollar Tree version of Takis more than actual Takis. They're a lot more flavorful when it comes to the lime, but also hotter at the same time.

Don't get the hot nacho ones tho. Hot nacho? More like hot pile of shit.

HAH

Goteem.

They're not that good xD.

THE REGULAR ONES ARE FIRE THO

"How do you do fellow kids?"

I got home and started working on putting the CDs onto my computer, and then onto iBroadcast, but not without first adding The Music Man to my digital library, something I had neglected for a month or two. The CD had just been sitting there lol.

I also switched my digital file for "The Black Parade" to that of the uncensored CD, which I had purchased before I event started working over 2 months ago.

MAN I'M LAZY

I eventually get around to shit tho lol. I guess it's just a matter of priority.

What usually takes priority is digging through everything to find something that I forgot about but then remembered, making a mess in the process that I would then have to clean up, at least partially.

I think the album just ended. I've been writing for a while xD. I'ma start "I Made You Something" by The Island of the Misfit Toys.

I'll tell you where that album came from in a minute.

In the meantime, where was I?

I kinda lost my train of thought despite reading up to see where I was. Oh well. On I go.

I ate dinner and kept working on those CDs, eventually putting my clothes from the week into the washer.

I FORGOT TO PUT MY SHAPING UNDERWEAR IN. FUCKING HELL MAN.

I wanted to wash em for this week 😭

No tight pants for Leonna I guess qwq.

Meanwhile, the box of my CD album cases is overflowing. I need another box.

I keep all of the album artworks in a big CD folder. That's almost full.

I wanna fill my entire CD changer. That's one of my big goals in life. Idk why, but I just wanna legitimately fill the entire thing.

My clothes are in the dryer now. I don't think I have the time (or energy) to fold them tonight. I'll leave that for tomorrow morning before work.

And God. Fucking. Damnit. I start school again on Wednesday. NOT looking forward to that, and neither are my 2 coworkers. We already have low enough staff, but only the two of them working is gonna be a pain in the ass.

I'll still work Saturdays.

I need to contact my guidance counselor to get out of the gym class I signed up for. I scheduled this shit before I found out I was trans, and I don't wanna deal with the fucking locker room situation 🙄 I have far more important matters.

Okay so anyway, the album I'm listening to came from a cassette. I bought this cassette a few months ago at the flea market along with a few others. The reason I bought them? They were all newer cassette releases from the 2010's, and they're all actually pretty good music from very indie bands.

Currently getting mad at iBroadcast's compression algorithm. It's unnaturally fucking anything over -10db up. Oh well, there's not really anything I can do about it.

I have like 13GB of music on my phone btw. That's about 3.5k songs on 268 albums.

I'm kind of an audiophile, but I'm too cheap to pay for a lossless service. Oh well.

They do actually have a lossless service on iBroadcast, but once again, too cheap.

Someone just sent me a friend request who legitimately posted that BLM and the democratic party are hate groups.

BLOCK.

Goodbye ho.

I don't get that. They call the democratic party a hate group when they hate people like me, and I, being more of a democrat although not fully because the 2-party system is fucked, think nothing more of them than they're very wrong about certain things, especially, as shown, that black people, as well as asian, Indian, native, and people of all ethnicities and backgrounds, are not equal to white people.

Yeh.

Totally.

You go buddy.

Anyway, yeah, I can, and do, convert music and video from analog formats to digital files in order for me to archive and listen to whenever and wherever I please. I've actually made a bit of a business out of it, but I don't get too much work from it. At least I'm not overloading myself xD.

I honestly have so much more to say, but I should probably go to sleep soon.

A few final shoutouts to the following people and companies:

-Dollar Tree

-Steven Page

-Broken World Media

-The Island of Misfit Toys

-Simple Kid

-Punchline

-My incredible partner QwQ I love you so much. Thanks for being the best all the time. I hope I can give you the best life ever.

Anyway I suppose this is goodnight. Lmk if you want a full list of the CDs I bought today! I'll link that song by Steven Page here.

And here's a good song from Simple Kid

I really like music lol. Enjoy these pieces.

Anyway, goodnight lol.

Lots of love,

-Leonna.

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nite-shay · 4 years ago

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His Hero Part 3 -Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

AN: I am so so so so so sorry for how long this took! :/ I wish I had a valid excuse for this but I don’t… I hope ya’ll enjoy it!

Links: Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

Also side note I know I’m messed up a few little things but I will edit tomorrow as I go through it. Its late D: But I promised myself I would post this today.

******

Two days…

Two long, boring desk duty days.

Kirishima sighed loudly as he signed and initialed what had to be the same form for the tenth time in the same case file!

Ah, bureaucracy of the hero world at its finest.

Now UA prepared him for a lot of things.

How to use his quirk fully, fighting villains, saving people, etc.

But one thing they didn’t prepare him for was the amount of paperwork that came with his hero career.

Hmm… maybe that’s why they gave so much homework…

Sign. Initial. Sign. Checkmark. Checkmark. Sign. Date. Wait, was he suppose to sign here or there? Crap, is that the right date? Did he just date everything wrong?! No wait, false alarm, the date is correct.

His chair gave a loud creak as he stretched his back, glancing up at the clock. He’d been at this for hours now, and he still hadn’t even made a dent in the wall of folders on his desk.

His mind started to wander as he stared up at the clock hands that he swore he saw moved backward a few times.

I wonder how (Y/N) doing…

It was crazy how badly he wanted to call up to the hospital and check on you, but… he was nervous. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he’s some creepy ex stalker who you literally barely knew you.

He just… was worried about you. He wasn’t looking for another hookup! No, no, no! He just wanted to see how you were. He did care about you, not in a creepy way just in a general way!

Luckily he wasn’t completely in the dark about your condition, thanks to his green-haired bro. The morning after the robbery, Kirishima woke up to a thoughtful text on your condition. He even got an update on your son, who loved his news toys and played hard with them till he passed out in his mother’s arms.

God, he wished he could have seen it.

He sighed loudly before tossing the file in the ‘completed’ section while reaching for the next one. He blinked as he lifted up the hefty folder.

It was the toy store robbery.

Damn, this was going to be a long one—numerous villains, along with multiple injured civilians and a fair bit of collateral damage. This was going to take the rest of the day. Thankfully, though, Fatgum should be just getting back from lunch, and the store just had a damn good security system installed last week.

“Well, would ya look at that? I guess paper really does beat rock.” A slightly slimmer Fatgum chuckled as he walked in their shared office, arms full of takeaway bags.

“Ha Ha,” Kirishima laughed sarcastically, glancing over to the older hero. “Got enough food, Toyo?”

“I used quite a bit of energy yesterday on that emergency call. Gotta bulk back up.” He dumped the food on to the small table across the room. “Plus, we’re going to be here a while when those reports.”

“Yeaaaaah. Just got to the toy store one. Did the detective ever send the surveillance footage over?”

“Yeap, got it this morning. Check your email. I think you’re on it too.“

"Sweet. I’ll load it up.”

“And I got the snacks,” He grinned as he held up one of the bags.

After some quick furniture rearrangement, two sat side by side in their chairs, video buffed, snacks to side, pen and paper at the ready for notes. This was still work after all. They chose to use the blondes’ monitor since it was bigger. He had seniority, so he typically got the good stuff, which the redhead was cool with.

The first 20 minutes of the video was pretty boring so then ended up fast-forwarding until a familiar pair entered the frame.

It was you and your son. The two of you were slowly making your way down the sidewalk towards the store. Kirishima, who’d previously been slouched and looking rather bored, was not hyper-focused on the screen in front of them. Which didn’t go unnoticed by his mentor, who just snickered quietly to himself.

“Look! There they are!” The younger hero couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two you. You had a sly smile on while your son, who was looking rather frustrated, said something to you. He watched as your lips moved, but nothing came from the speakers. What were the two of you talking about?

Damn, he wished there was audio.

“They look pretty happy, don’t they?” Fat gum comment just as you pointed to the shop, the kids’ faces lit up like a Christmas tree. The kid wasted no time as he grabbed your hand and dragged you inside the store.

“Yeah, they really do.” Kirishima grinned as he pressed a key, switching the view to inside. The redhead beamed as the two of you bounced from isle to isle, your son getting physically more and more excited.

Something churned in him.

Something that’s been happening here a lot recently. He noticed it a few weeks ago.

How his gaze would linger on families he’d pass down the street or on Bakugou as he interacted with his daughter. He really didn’t know what it was at first and just tried to ignore it.

But when he ran into you and your son two days ago, those emotions were brought to the forefront. And these last two days of drowning himself in work wasn’t just to get you off his mind. It was to drown out his feelings.

He… wanted this…

A wife…. A kid… A family…

Not that he doesn’t have a family! He’s still got both of his parents plus his sister he talks to on a pretty regular basis. He’s also really close with his friends to the point where he thought of them as family. Hell, his literal best friend lives right next door to him. You’d think he has it all?

A loving and supportive family. Amazing friends. An awesome career that is literally his dream.

Sounds fantastic, right?

But sometimes, after the long hard days. His apartment just felt empty.

He was greeted with a quiet (Bakugou’s yelling is more like background noise to him now) home.

No one to greet him when he gets home after a long day.

No one to just cuddle and share thoughts with. Even the stupid or random ones.

No one to share meals with while they go over plans or talk about their days.

No one to have petty arguments with like who ate all the cereal and didn’t put it on the list, who left the cap off the toothpaste, not replacing the toilet paper.

No one but himself.

He had a few roommates for a while, but they all moved out to live with their s/o. He’d tried dating and even had a girlfriend move in with him once, but that ended badly. Hero life was hard. Being the significant other of a hero, well, that could be even harder some days. They broke up not long after, and he’d been single ever since.

He mentally sighed. Guess it was the bachelor’s life him…

He continued to watch the two of you browse another aisle as you made your way to the back of the store. From the angle of the camera, he could barely see you now. His hand itched to switch the view to the rear camera, but he restrained himself. This was his job; he needs to watch for the villains, not ogle you. No matter how beautiful you were. How soft and sweet your voice was. Or how quickly that demeanor changed when it came to the safety of your son. He knows first hand you don’t come between a momma bear and her cub. He wouldn’t lie, seeing you go into protective mode, just… damn.

Thankfully, before that thought could go any further, two figures walked through the front door and into the frame. It was the villains. They could only watch as the villains made their way over to the front desk and the shopkeeper.

The villains split up, the smaller one stayed near the desk while the larger one stalked around closer to the racks. He could see the villains and the shopkeeper talking but couldn’t make out what was being said. Lip reading wasn’t his thing. But it was apparent the villains were trying to intimidate the scared-looking man.

A flash in the corner of the screen brought his attachment back to you as you and your son moved closer to the front and ultimately closer into danger.

“No..go back…” Kirishima whispered under his breath as he watched the next bit unfold. The brute yelled something, gave his partner before giving the rack on end a hard shove. Toys and plushies tumbled from their metal shelves as the racking toppled over into the one beside it.

He already knew what was coming.

That rack fell into the next, which fell into the next one. Line by line, row by row. All the shelves dominoed into each.

His eye darted from the villain back to where you were, his body on full alert. Your head jerks to the side, no doubt from the sound of the loud crashing. With reflexes that surprised even him, he watched as you grabbed your son just as the shelf beside you gave in to the weight of the rows before it.

“Is there any other view on them?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking. Yeah they were suppose to keep their eyes on the villain's for the report but...

“Yeah, there’s one in the back.” Fat was already reaching for the keyboard as he glared at the screen, his food seemingly forgotten. The screen flashed for switching over to the back of the shop.

It was total chaos. Toys, plushies, and other items were scattered everywhere from the falling rows. And there in the middle of the disaster area was you and your son. Nearly all of you laid beneath the rack currently pinning you to the floor, save for your one arm and your head. Your son wasn’t in any better of a position; he could only see the top of his head. Suddenly the video stopped. Fatgum had paused the video before playing back the part of you, grabbing your son, right before the rack fell.

“Good reflexes.” The older man sighed in relief. “Little guy would have been crushed if he’d stayed .” Kirishima could only nod as they continued to watch. The video was back to where it was before, with the two of you being pinned under the rack. Even though he couldn’t seem much of you, he knew the two of you were scared. How could you not be? Damn, he should have gotten there faster!

If he’d been faster, maybe… you wouldn’t have gotten hurt as bad, or your son wouldn’t have been as scared. Though, to be honest, it was just chance they’d been in the area. Guess you could say it was a right place at the right time kind deal. The two heroes just finished their shift and were heading back to the agency. They’d gotten into a debate on food and made a wrong turn, which put them on that street. A loud crash caught the attention of a civilian across who called to them from across the street.

If they hadn’t been there, how long would it have taken for the call to come in? How long would you have been pinned there? How long would your son have to watch you suffer, alone, scared?

A shadow in the corner of the screen shook him from his thoughts. It was the bigger villain making his way towards the back of the store.

“Hide…” Kirishima mumbled as they watched the villain make his way over to you. You shifted, hiding your son further into the small hollow, but leaving you exposed and unprotected.

“The detective said in the email that a part of this was pretty hard to watch, I’m guessing that’s about to come up…” Fatgum muttered sadly, putting his snacks down on the table. They watched as the villain stopped in front of you. The man was clearly saying something to you, but you only kept your head down, shielding your young son. The villain tensed for a moment. Was it something you did? Or maybe you said? Whatever it was clearly angered him as he gave you a wicked grin before putting his foot on the rack above you. Before, the redhead wished there was sound, but now, he was grateful for the silence.

"That bastard!“ He saw red as he watched you scream from the man applying more force to the shelf.

"Easy Red, they’re both ok, that guy won’t be able t-.” The older man tried to calm down his partner, well, until the villain kicked you in the face. That made the older hero jump to his feet. “That fiend! Just you wait till we get there! You’ll regret that!” As enraged as Kirishima was, he couldn’t help but smile and chuckle at how quick his mentor’s demeanor changed.

After picking his char up off the floor, Fat sat back down, and the two returned to watching the video. It wasn’t long, for they saw the villain’s lip moves, still looking over for walking off-screen. You weren’t moving, and your face was now covered in blood.

Nothing moved on the screen for the longest time. Fat was just about to reach over and speed up the video when something caught his eye.

It was your son.

Kirishima’s heart broke as he watched the small boy pull himself out from under the wreckage. He was shaking, and his clothes were torn, but thankfully, he wasn’t hurt. Well, not physically anyway. How the kid managed to walk away from that unscathed was a miracle. (Y/S/N) looked in the villain’s direction before turning back to you. It was hard to see the kids face at this angle, but the heroes didn’t need to. They knew he was crying as he gently shook you, trying to wake you up.

Sadly you weren’t waking up, not then anyway.

If he’d been in that kid’s shoes at his age, he would have given up right then and there.

But not this kid.

No, instead, he grabbed your arm and started pulling you. Trying to drag you up from under the rack.

This elementary school kid, who was just the victim of a villain attack, was trying with all his might to save his mom. He jerked and strained as he tried to pull you from under the massive weight, but you weren’t budging. He gave one final strong pull before slipping on remnants of a displaying, causing him to fall back on his butt. Kirishima had to physically stop himself from moving.

The kid was back on his feet in a flash, this time though he was trying to lift the rack. He knew he couldn’t lift the shelf; even with a quirk, it would be impossible for him given his size. But there he was still pushing with everything he had.

“Poor little guy. He must have been terrified but look at him. He’s really giving it his all."

"He’s an awesome kid. If it’d been me, I’d be too scared to move.” Kirishima’s voice was full of pride but held a trace of sadness. The redhead was proud of the squirt. Most kids, hell, most adults would have been paralyzed with fear.

But not him.

Despite the fear.

Despite the pain.

Despite the hopelessness.

He still kept trying.

He’d make a hell of a hero one day…

A flash of red in the corner of the screen jolted him from his thoughts.

It was himself. They’d finally arrived to help. While the video played out in front of them, the rest of his senses played his memory. He could hear the kids cry for help. He could feel the weight of the shelf as he moved behind the kid to rescue you. The warmth yet limpness of your body as he pulled you from the wreckage. The wailing of your son calling out for you. The relief when he felt your pulse still beating beneath the fragile skin of your neck. The overwhelming emotions as tried to comfort the small, terrified child in his arms.

Fatgum paused the video once everyone was out of frame. You on a stretcher and him with your son still in his arms.

“You did really good out there today, Red.” Fatgum grinned at him before reaching over to the file on the desk, flipping through the report.

“Thanks.” Kirishima sighed. “I just wish I could have done more. Maybe if I’d been faster, (Y/N) and (S/N) wouldn’t have had to suffer as much. Some hero I am…"

"Don’t say that! You did everything you could and believe me when I say this, at that moment, you truly became that kids hero.”

“Hmm…" Fatgum gave the folder in his hand a puzzled look before hit rewind on the footage.

"What’s up?” Kirishima glanced up at the larger hero.

“It’s nothing really. Just wondering something. The paramedics said the kid was ok right?”

“Yeah, they checked over him at the scene. His clothes were torn up some, but surprisingly, the little guy didn’t have a scratch on him.” A light bulb went off. “Wait, How did he do that? He was under that rack too!”

“That’s what I was wondering. Maybe he used his quirk? If he did, given the shape he momma was in, it might have saved his life.”

“Hmm… well, he did say that his quirk was kind of like mine. But I didn’t see him use it.” He thought back. Fat paused the video to right as the rack was falling on to the two of you. It was still hard to watch, but they went through it frame by frame. “I can’t see anything resembling a quirk…”

“Hmm… I can’t tell anything. If he has a defensive quirk, it doesn’t really stand out. Plus, with all the objects falling around them, it makes it harder to tell.

"Maybe his clothes are hiding it?”

“Hey, can you go to the part where he crawls out? I think there was a pretty good shot of him there.” Fatgum nod hit a few keys to comply. “There! Right there!” They let the video play out from there.

Until they saw it. For a split second, the kid is looking right at the camera, showing his whole face. And something… just looked off. Was something wrong with the camera? Maybe it was a trick of the light or the lens?

“Can we zoom in on his face?” Kirishima leaned forward, looking closely at the screen as Fat zoomed in on the boy’s face. The screen was blurry for a minute, but slowly the video started to render, making the image clearer.

What? Was his skin…. hardening?

No, it was just hardening.. it was sharpening too… Just like his…

Kirishima felt his heart take a free fall into his stomach.

The kid didn’t have a quirk similar to his.

No, his quirk was exactly like his!

The room started to spin as he felt like every molecule of breathable air suddenly took an exit stage right, right out of the room.

“Hey… Kirishima… when did you meet (L/N) again?” Kirishima could barely hear Fat’s question over the ringing in his ears.

Links: Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

Tags: @hot-pocket01

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sfiddy · 4 years ago

Text

So Bad

For @academialynx , who made a donation to her local food bank in return for a fic! This is a college AU, moderately prof/student (though the theme is that they DON’T break the rules) boatloads of yearning, and janky building maintenance that leads to getting locked in a closet. She asked me to consider the Brandon Colbein song So Bad. Which I did. :)

Thank you, Dear! Here we go!

Rated T

On AO3

On FF

On Tumblr! (keep reading!)

Another champagne cork popped and a delighted cheer spread through the room. Glasses, plastic cups, and hastily drained coffee mugs were refreshed and the party carried on. Theirs was not a large music department, so to have attracted a fresh, exciting, multi-talented composition and collaborative piano specialist with a few international awards, one ‘early career’ grant and another from the National Endowment for the Arts meant their modest program was about to gain a little fresh clout at interdepartmental tenured faculty meetings.

“Congratulations again, Erik!” Dr. Nadir Khan hauled Erik into a vigorous handshake and pumped for a full three seconds.

Erik winced. He’d be hamfisting the keys tomorrow if they kept this up. “Thank you, Dean Khan. It’s an honor to join as a full professor.”

“I am Nadir to you, and don’t forget it.” Nadir refilled Erik’s plastic cup and tapped his department coffee mug against it, sloshing their champagne into frothy heads. “It’s hard to believe it’s been five years, Erik! You cost me a bet, I’ll have you know. I didn’t think you’d stay after you had to teach that semester of History of Rock and Roll for non-majors.”

The lantern-jawed oboe professor laughed. “Or the infamous Intro to Music Theory.”

“No, no,” disagreed Umbaldo Piangi, the portly voice teacher. “When I went on sabbatical to Teatro La Fenice and you gave him The Chamber Music Outreach Project and graduate tutoring. No warning!” Even the big man’s clucking tongue was musical. “But, Piangi is back, no? I will cut back my performance hours and take back all the lessons and weekends and let Dr. Erik Devereaux return to his writing!”

“Actually,” Erik said, and the room stilled. “The only part I disliked was the public part. I never minded the private instruction. If you would like to split the load, I’m happy to keep the instructional portion while you handle the tours, performances, and...outreach?” He suppressed the grimace well enough.

Piangi, Italian down to his fine shoes, let out a whoop and grabbed Erik in a hug so tight it pressed his ribcage and nearly dislodged his delicate porcelain mask from it’s fine wire and leather fittings.

“Ah, my partner now! I will call donors and show off the little tweeting songbirds with my lovely Carlotta while you teach them not to call for worms! A toast!” Piangi held up his plastic cup once again.

Erik accepted a toast that crackled the edge of his plastic cup and hoped for something new and shiny to distract them. Or for the lights to suddenly flicker and fail as they were prone to do, along with randomly closing doors in the terribly laid out office and work spaces. The college had access to talent pipelines that the underfunded and neglected department had not been able to tap. Their aggressive recruitment of him was a last ditch effort for change before the tiny group was relegated to a four piece for the university reagent’s cocktail brunch and a marching band for the far-better funded football team.

“To Dr. Devereaux!”

With a conspiratorial grin, Erik drained his cup and winked at Piangi. “To the songbirds.”

…

Tenure in hand, Erik started his campaign. Once he ditched the worst teaching credits to lecturers and adjuncts, he could focus on recruiting. Specifically, to score a few respected but not-yet-headliner talents. Emerging performers without a good gig had few options and the status and modest stipend to be a ‘visiting artist’ might be more attractive than the floating gulag of a cruise ship.

A few excellent but relatively unknown performers could teach and perform, receive some finishing, and get quickly farmed out into the world. The reputation-building move would be pricey, but no one gets paid dividends before investing.

His development grant would cover three such artists. He got more than fifty applications. Erik rubbed his eyes under the mask. It was a good thing he never had plans-- it would be a long weekend.

…

The old music labs building had settled over the years and gained what the senior faculty referred to as ‘personality’. Erik took this to mean ‘genially hazardous’. No amount of facility requests or complaints brought the doors and keys division to do maintenance.

He was a quick learner though, and only got locked in his workroom twice before catching the door with his foot became second nature. He even set a flaking brick, plucked from a neglected flower bed outside, in the corner by the door and kicked it against the frame as a doorstop. Every time he came to his workroom, a narrow converted closet with a work bench and packed with shelves of manuscripts, music, errant repair kits and recording equipment, he would hit the outside light switch, unlock the door, step in, catch the door, then kick the brick.

Switch, step, catch, kick. His shoes were gaining new wear marks.

After kicking the brick into place, Erik opened his laptop and went over the last files. He’d asked the department admins to strip out the audio files to just the audition pieces and remove identifying details from the fifty applications. If he was going to invite talent, their first hurdle would be their musicianship. Once he’d culled the herd to ten, he’d submitted his picks to the dean to select the three finalists. Now they needed invitations. Two vocalists and a classical guitarist made the cut and he spent the next few hours getting more acquainted with their files and ignoring the pings of his filling inbox.

At least it was just his inbox. No one came to the music labs and his closet if they could help it.

If he was honest, no one came to meet him in person if they could help it.

…

Most performers were beautiful. Entire websites and product lines were devoted to skincare for singers, makeup tutorials, look books and wardrobe consulting. Erik’s particular variety of deformity would stand out in any circumstances, but in an entire department stuffed with the striking, stunning, and unconventionally glorious, he bordered on eyesore. Even Piangi could command a room with his generous, rosy smiles and booming laugh.

The mask was the best combination of memorable and functional he could muster. Yes, surgery was an option but who signed up for years of unnecessary pain and the risk of infection? He had better things to do.

Like meet with his new visiting artists.

The classical guitarist had supple wrists and forearms like Popeye. His rolled cuffs drew the eye to the action while his cleverly knotted scarf kept you looking at his face, framed by artfully mussed hair.

“We’re looking forward to your first concerts and hope you’ll consider collaborations with local programs.”

The baritone had a one in a million voice. How he hadn’t been snapped up for opera yet was a mystery but Erik supposed it was his poor presence. When you had the goods, you still had to sell them, and the young man’s love of neon, bad hair, and questionable repertoire (pin the tail on a Hal Leonard page) needed polish. His work was shockingly precise and sounded like he had a cathedral in his mouth.

“Our faculty and staff are a rich resource for young performers and are always eager to assist. We often work in parallel with the communications department and local professionals to prepare our artists for the culture and community as well as the stage.”

The soprano was the risk. The recording had been largely boilerplate and her prior experience thin. The reason she got in was a one-point-two second pause in her audition tape. It was the silence that told Erik she had chops.

Imagine, a soprano unafraid of silence. It had been late in the weekend when he selected her and had not yet been able to examine the head shot.

“I… um...”

“Yes, Dr. Devereaux?”

“Welcome, Miss Daaé.”

…

The visiting artists would survey classes, provide demonstrations and guest lectures, and appear at university events, auditions, and generally get the word out that the department was shifting to a growth phase. That was the official description. Unofficially, there would be a mountain of effort to make each emerging artist a shot on goal for the department. Recording deals, major and paid appearances, and successful auditions all counted toward the tally.

Guitar was not Erik’s forte, and as much as he could contribute to the baritone’s look and polish, Erik had cultivated a far more… refined profile than the young man aspired to. Erik maintained collars sharp enough to cut bread and a spotless sheen on his porcelain mask. Right now, Dean Khan aspired to cut the young man’s mullet tail off.

“Excellent, Miss Daaé, right on time.” Erik slid the fall board up and they prepared to work. She understood how to modulate her tone, how to select the emotional pitch to match the song, to contrast with it for effect. She explored her range and willingly failed to find her borders. It all made for an excellent student.

It was the quiet that made her breathtaking. The anticipation of her. Tenths of seconds that tightened the chest and made a quiver run through the blood. Not often, only when it mattered, and only when it would matter enough to do so.

When he could stand it no more, he asked her about it.

“I’m sorry, I can try to stop.”

“I didn’t ask you to stop, I asked when you started doing it.”

She considered him, her ribbons of curling hair twisting as she shifted. “When my father was sick. I could feel the need for silences because he couldn’t talk anymore. It just felt… right.”

Erik nodded. “Again.”

…

She’d been a late bloomer. A ghost on the scene and at least five years older than the rest of the sopranos at her stage. It also meant she hadn’t spent her entire high school and college career belting Broadway in the recital rooms, building nodes on her vocal chords.

They finished late one night and he walked her to her car. “So what did you do for practice?”

She pinked under the parking lot lights. “I, um… waited tables at an Italian restaurant. You know, where your server might sing opera when they bring you breadsticks?”

Erik nodded. “Parmesan and Puccini?”

Bless her, she giggled. “Bellinis and Bellini. A few really knew when they were hearing but most just wanted to hear Nessun Dorma because they heard it on Youtube. I managed to get a few singing jobs out of it but I mostly just waited tables.” They stopped at her car but she hadn’t reached for her keys yet. “I was a bartender and the second understudy for a Gilbert and Sullivan society when I saw your announcement.”

“Their loss,” Erik said. He left off the second half.

“Thanks.” Christine hesitated. “I didn’t expect to be accepted, so… thanks.”

Something changed in the breeze. Something cool and soft in the night air mixed with the gold light pouring down from the lights. It highlighted the curls that spiralled out of control around her neck as she tilted her head just so.

It was just a moment, a funny thump that ricocheted in his chest at her upturned face, her soft smile. Maybe her eyes flicked down, maybe her sharp inhale had a little catch in it. Maybe it was the way her lip twitched, but a red flag suddenly waved in Erik’s head and he stepped back carefully. He had a powerful fear of heat and burns.

“Yes, of course. The, uh, department was very happy to offer the opportunity.”

She blinked. “Of course. Well, thanks for the great session and walking me to my car. Have a nice evening, Erik.”

Christine drove away and Erik stood in the parking lot for some minutes after her taillights had faded. He imagined it. Surely, he’d taken a friendly conversation the wrong way. She wasn’t his student, strictly speaking, but he had influence over her career, which would be just as bad.

Besides, he had completely misread the whole thing. Surely. Women didn’t look up at him like that-- like he would kiss them. After a walk after dark, telling him about themselves, and looking at him like that.

No one looked at him like... that.

Oh no.

…

She wasn’t strictly his student. He was her mentor. Even a brief thought made it obvious and completely inappropriate. Did she think it would improve her opportunities?

Erik swallowed. No, if that was the game she wouldn’t have backed off. Surely he’d misread the situation.

…

They brewed tea together. She remembered his favorite oolong.

…

He saw a cascade of curling hair on his way to the post office and his heart leapt.

It wasn’t her. The disappointment was too confusing to examine.

…

His mouth went dry when her sweater slipped from her shoulder. Then he knocked the music from the stand.

She smiled and helped him pick up the sheets.

There were freckles on her shoulder.

...

Five months into the visiting artist tour and Piangi had the concert hall packed for their first performances. Franco the guitarist, who preferred just the one name, would play a twenty minute set, followed by the baritone Burton Armstrong, as baritoney a name as Erik had ever heard, then Christine, and finally Franco would play again with accompaniment.

Erik was content to stay in a tiny box seat far to the side as Piangi introduced each performer. Franco had gained the stage he deserved, and Burton had been convinced to get a proper haircut and suit, and sang a particularly impressive Russian ballad set.

Christine was introduced and settled onto the stage. She was radiant in dark blue, and decorated her baroque set with agility. From his perch, Erik could as easily imagine her distributing bellinis as gracing an opera stage. It was not an insult. After her short set, she nodded and was joined by Burton. A duet?

She looked up and found him, up in his perch. She nodded, and the two launched into a series of excerpts from Semele, Handel’s somewhat neglected tale of a torrid affair between a mortal woman and the god, Jupiter.

Their gazes met as she sang.

O Jove! In pity teach me which to choose,

Incline me to comply, or help me to refuse!

The baritone thundered.

Too well I read her meaning,

But must not understand her.

If Erik’s ears heard the rest of the concert, he could not recall it later.

…

Dean Khan adjourned the faculty meeting. “Oh Erik, if you have a moment?”

They waited until the room was cleared and Nadir closed the door, then casually looked over the remaining pastries. “Excellent concert last month. The work with Burton is certainly paying off.”

Erik leaned against the table. “His socks were bright green, but we felt it was a workable compromise.”

“Franco is excellent in front of the crowd. Has he met the flamenco dancers yet?”

“I put in a call. I think he’s going to their weekly meeting next Thursday.”

“Marvelous. Let me know how that goes when you hear, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Erik felt his chest tighten the longer Nadir perused the snacks and chose to tear off the bandage himself. “Anything else?”

“There is, in fact,” Nadir did not look up from the muffins. “Christine’s performance was exceptional. Truly filled with passion.”

Erik tried to take a sip of coffee but his cup was empty. He faked it. “She’s a wonderful artist.”

“Yes. I couldn’t help but notice--” Nadir paused over the croissants, then passed them over to examine the cookies. “You two seem to have a unique and strong mentor-trainee relationship.”

“Thank you.” It had not been a question. There was nothing here… yet. “We work well together.”

“I’m glad to hear that. The program you’ve created is admirable for it’s transparency and integrity.”

“I agree. Thank you for noticing.”

Nadir looked up with a slight nod, then selected a macadamia cookie. “I’m sure the remaining six months will fly by, Erik.”

He had no idea how to respond.

...

Six months. There were six months left in the visiting artist term. There were more sessions, a mini tour, and a series of small concerts meant to showcase the new talent the department had ‘produced’.

Six months of lies, pretending he was misunderstanding something. Pretending he didn’t notice the way she was at his side and on his mind. Then she would leave him to the dull, overworked life he’d made for himself in the hopes of making a name for himself while simultaneously avoiding attention. More lies, but easier to swallow.

Her voice came from the hallway. “Erik? I’m heating up some water, would you like tea?”

“Is it the one you brought?”

A light laugh. Sparkling. “Of course.”

He dropped his work and grabbed his cup. “Be right there.”

…

A very successful fundraiser was wrapping up on the top floor of the performing arts center. It had a view over the campus, the nice side, and the glow of downtown caught the streaking rain on the tall glass walls.

The donors had been generous, delighted with the new features of the program and the willingness to be accessible. Erik stayed to the side, avoiding the center of the room where Piangi and his wife Carlotta took up residence. Nadir circulated the room, nudging him out from time to time for a refill and to participate. When forced to do so, Erik sloshed some middling red wine into his glass and let himself slip into Christine’s gravity for a few minutes before drifting away again.

He could feel her gaze.

The cocktail party was to end at eleven-thirty, and by then nearly all the guests had left. The last ones were rushed out and Piangi hurried to the bar.

“Open season!”

A quick crush to the bar and every open bottle was ‘liberated’ to the long-suffering exhibits. Christine topped off her glass and passed the bottle to a fellow soprano, hardly twenty years old, and the two laughed and kicked off their heels. Piangi and Burton laughed over an earlier flub and the cello player, finally able to pack his instrument and relax, demanded and received a full glass.

Erik tipped back a hearty, warm swallow and emerged from the hinterlands.

“Oh, hi Dr. Devereaux! Did you just get here?” teased Carlotta. “Your legend only grows the more you hide.”

“All part of my devious plan,” he conceded. Christine’s giggle mingled with the laughs of her peers. “If you’ll excuse me. Piangi, brilliant as always.”

“Same to you, Erik! We plan many parties now, no?”

Easing his way towards the mirth, Erik relaxed. There were plenty of others around, and this was just the after party to a long dog and pony show. Listen to the pretty songbirds and throw money at the program, invitation only. They all deserved drinks after three hours of that.

Christine was plucking a pin from her hair. She shook the curls loose. “Hi Erik! God, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Oh?”

She held up a bottle. “Yeah, you need a refill.”

It had been a long night. These events could be tricky to navigate. Sometimes there was politics, other times business rivals. More often, donors expected special privilege and access in exchange for their checks, as if the last hundred years of progress meant nothing. The way a few of them had looked at Erik, maybe it didn’t.

He let her pour some white wine over the dregs of his red. Improvised rosé. “Everything go okay?”

“Good enough. I think I have some auditions, and some stuff nearby might open up for me.”

“That’s great. Who with?”

A nice chorus. A solid baroque group. Both could springboard to bigger things. A few bigger things were here.

“What’s bigger?” She asked, her eyes dark and soft.

He had not meant to speak, and now he rushed his words. “Things! Choirs, operas. There’s a few small opera troupes and there’s churches that need choral directors that know how to work with organ and piano.”

She sniggered. “Organs.” The other soprano dissolved into giggles.

Erik pulled out his phone. Clearly neither was driving tonight. He absently tallied up his glasses and admitted he wasn’t either.

“Do you play the organ, Erik?”

“Yes.”

Christine stepped closer and, on pure instinct, Erik put his arm around her as she turned her head to speak.

“Can I watch?”

His collar was tight. He pulled up the app and ordered a car.

They ran through the rain, more than sprinkled, less than soaked. Plenty wet to shiver from the chill of the driver’s exuberant air conditioning, though. Between giggles and poorly composed directions, they dropped off the other soprano who wobbled successfully to her door before their driver sped away. Christine did not shift away to the other seat, but leaned into him, tucking herself against his side.

The driver glanced in the rear view mirror, then looked away.

She was cool and smooth. Her loosened curls had tightened from the wet and tickled his neck and brushed against his mask.

Her hand on his thigh. Erik said nothing. If he was silent there was a kind of deniability, or denial at least, of what was happening. If he could deny that her fingernails caught on the inner seam of his trousers, then she could deny that his hand was firmly planted at her waist, holding her close.

And if she could deny that, then she could also deny that her nose bumped his chin, her ragged breath loud in his ears. And they could both deny that their lips grazed, a not-kiss somehow more intimate than if their lips moved and pulled at each other. Like her singing, it was the pause that made your breath catch and your insides tug.

“What number?”

Dashboards lights reflected in her eyes. “That one,” she said, and cautiously settled. The driver pulled forward and Christine unbuckled.

“Good night, Erik. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Christine.”

The driver glanced in the rearview. Erik looked down. “Sorry.”

The driver shrugged.

One more month.

…

He was hiding. He’d been hiding for weeks; stopped looking for her, stopped even wondering where she was or if she was alone. There was no way to be near her without the pretense of a piano that wouldn’t leave him shaking. No way to think about her without wanting.

He was Erik, a composer, a conductor, performer, designer of auditory spaces and translator of music. He was a collaborative pianist and vocal specialist. He’d given everything to music and the service of it, the delivery of it. He didn’t need this. He’d never had this.

No one ever offered. So he’d found fulfillment elsewhere, until now.

Erik hunched over his work, safely tucked into his corner of the music labs building. Between grading, senior thesis submissions, revisions to his own publications, and a request for a letter of recommendation, he could be plenty busy late into the night with no need for anyone to--

“Hello? Erik?”

Erik snatched at his mask and settled it. He’d been found. Time to lie, except he can’t lie to her.

“Can I help you with something, Christine?” He gathered a stack and stood. She met him by his door.

“Well, yeah,” she paused, blocking his path momentarily before stepping aside. “I need your signature on my visiting artist release. And another on my endorsement for my new job.”

Erik hefted his armload to the work closet. “I’m sure they look forward to meeting you. Come on.” He unlocked the door and held it open, then followed behind her, hitting the light switch with his elbow before catching the door on his foot, then he kicked the brick into place. He had to hold the stack to keep it from spilling across the work table.

She handed him the forms. Erik moved to a span of clean tabletop and started scanning the release form. Government agency boilerplate to satisfy the grant was mixed with flowery language so no one would suspect they were anything but artists. Yesterday Franco had brought Burton’s form-- yep, this was Christine’s. So on and so forth.

Erik had just finished scratching out his signature when he heard a familiar scrape.

“Why on earth do you keep a-”

Click.

“--brick?”

Erik pressed the heel of his hand into his chin.

“Are we… locked in?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” A faint rumble vibrated in the walls. “I don’t suppose that was just… construction?”

Erik let out a mirthless laugh. “There were storms brewing earlier. Besides, does this building look like they work on it?”

“Not really.”

Another rumble, louder, and the light fixture jittered.

Christine finally took a deep breath. “Have you been avoiding me?”

“No! Yes. I don’t know.” He touched his hairline, recapped a pen. “We crossed a line. I had to get back behind it and I couldn’t if we…” His hands skated across the table top nervously.

“Is this about being my mentor?”

Erik barked an ugly, bitter laugh. “What else? God, you just, out of nowhere, with your smiles, and the way you look at me, and sing to me, and the Semele…” Erik’s skin grew tight as he recalled the cocktail party. He turned, face growing hot beneath the porcelain and his throat tightening. He was a ruin.

“--and the touching and wanting and you’re… you’re just going to leave! I’m a fucking idiot!”

On cue, an extended, throaty roar of thunder rattled the stone and brick until the bare bulb above could suffer no more. With a loud pop, the narrow room went dark. They both scuffled in the dark until they had hold of something sturdy.

“Erik?”

He was embarrassed. He was frustrated. “What.”

“You need to sign the other form.”

“Want to get away that bad? Fine.” He reached for a desk lamp and tried to turn it on. He flipped the switch furiously. The power was out.

“Here,” Christine held up her phone and lit the screen. Her screensaver was… them? Beside a piano together?

Erik snatched a pen from the table and slashed his name. “There. Just search for facilities or call the university police. They can unlock the door.”

“Erik, did you even look at it?”

“Why bother.”

She snorted at him. “God, you’re so blind.”

“The lights were out.”

“Fine, you want to be a jerk, be one, but at least look at where I’m taking a job before you decide to walk.”

She lit up her phone once more and he glared at the page like it was staring at his mask. He tracked the offer and terms until he reached the party names and…

“You took a job at… a middle school? Here?” He looked up into the dim light. “You’re not leaving?”

“Meet the new grade six to eight choir director. Go Scotties. And now you have no direct influence over my career.”

Her screensaver dimmed, and before it went dark, Erik could make out a flash of their faces, turned to each other. He wondered if Nadir had seen this moment, because they looked as passionate as lovers despite being feet apart.

The room went black again, and he could hear her moving.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That much has been apparent. What do you know?”

She was close. Close enough to feel the way she shifted the air. “I know way too much about motif design, lyric phrasing--”

Closer. “Go on.” Her hips were near his.

“Harmonic theory, vocals”

“Can attest.” Her fingertips were at his jawline, tracing his mask. “I thought it would be cold.”

“It’s been on my face all day. Early Romantic era competition and,” his voice scraped over gravel, “that I want you. So bad.”

Her kiss was her reply. Erik’s hands flew around her as she pivoted to the table with him, dragging his mask upwards. He gasped as cool air brushed his face, followed by light, curious fingertips and her hot mouth. Erik knocked over the stack of papers and files with a satisfying splatter.

“Is that light over there?” she asked, dragging her lips from his. “Around that cabinet door?”

“What?” he panted. “I thought that was a panel.”

She pushed him off gently, peering up at the wall. “Right there, see?”

Sure enough, there was a thin line of light. It was a hidden door with a magnetic latch.

“They can’t keep the regular door from locking you in but they put a trick door at the back?” Erik complained as he climbed through awkwardly. Very awkwardly. Her lips were red and swollen.

“Let me grab my things and we can get out of here.”

Erik checked his watch. “First, we’re turning in your forms.”

“It’s almost five!”

“We’ll make it if we run.”

Panting, they caught the dean just as he was packing up to leave.

“Erik, Christine? Are you alright? That was some storm we--”

Erik shoved the forms at him. “Yep. Terrible storm. Here.”

“Indeed, Erik. Why, your hair is a mess and I’ve never seen your shirt untucked.”

“Big wind. Yep. Almost hit by lightning. Here, time stamp?”

“Miss Daaé, you may want to adjust…”

“For God’s sake just take the stupid form so we can go!” Christine shouted.

Nadir laughed and scanned the forms. “I don’t want to see you until Monday, Erik. You better be late.”

He didn’t make it in until Wednesday.

...

#academialynx #poto fic #modern au #POTO college AU #e/c #yearning #So Bad

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realm-sweet-realm · 4 years ago

Text

Audrey and the Dark Revival: chapter 1- First Encounters

Audrey and the Dark Revival is intended as a sequel series for Bendy and the Ink Machine. May the actual sequel come out soon and completely blow mine out of the water.

I was going for a “first chapter of a puzzle/action game” vibe for this.

Sorry for the little hiatus, I was making the plot outline for this. It will have at least five chapters.

---

Audrey took one last look at the letter in her hands.

Audrey,

This is your mother. About a year ago, your father purchased a mysterious machine, and as of now, he’s missing. What I’m about to tell you will sound crazy, but you have to believe me. The machine has the ability to create a dimension that your father is now trapped in. He is literally at the center of his own little world, and he’s continuously making it bigger. Every night before he disappeared, he would come back later, more ink-stained, and less coherent than he had the night before. I tried to get him to stop, but he wouldn’t. As of now, he either can’t leave, isn’t sane enough to, or doesn’t want to. The dimension is growing to the point where it can’t be contained anymore. Objects in our house are beginning to look like the ones he creates. It’s as though the dimension is leaking. One of the creatures from the dimension appeared in my room yesterday. I can’t call the police- I don’t think they’d be much help, and I’m complicit in so much that he’s done. Audrey, I need you to go in there and save him. If you don’t, I fear the dimension will spill into this world more and more. He can control the dimension. He’ll help you.

-Mom.

Half of the room Audrey stood before was her father’s old study- though the carpet and some of the fine furniture had been replaced since he’d kicked her out half a lifetime ago. The other half of it defied explanation. Its colour had completely faded to nothing but white, with black lines at the edges of objects like they’d come out of a newspaper comic strip. It was all surrounding one door- a door which when opened, revealed a simple storage closet, and which had a meter-wide pentagram in front of it.

Why had she come here? Why wasn’t she at home with her husband and daughter? Loyalty to Mr. Arch (Audrey refused to call him a ‘father’)? Sheer curiosity? She supposed it didn’t matter. Whatever the reason, she’d come across state lines for this.

Audrey rifled through her father’s chestnut desk until she found a key within an open, unmarked envelope (apparently, he hadn’t switched hiding places in nineteen years), and used it on his locked filing cabinet. Amongst the files, there was an unmarked black book- each page of which contained a pentagram and some instructions on how to activate it. Kneeling before the pentagram her father must have drawn, Audrey paged through the book until she found the closest matching pentagram. It was identical, except for a foot-wide center of its star- on the page it had been blank, but on the ground, its design was as intricate as the shrunken-down blueprint of an unknowable labyrinth.

The page contained a picture of what appeared to be a tattooed hand, a knife taped to the page, and the following instructions:

The dimensional pentagram enables one to move a dimensional portal from one place to another. In order to do so, draw the following pentagram, with the layout of desired dimension at its center. In to become a person who can operate the pentagram, cut your hand in the following pattern, and offer up your blood.

The design on the hand was in the shape of a spiral, centered on the back of one’s hand, but extending to the palm to and around the thumb.

Audrey dropped the book. Nope, she was not doing this. She strode back to the door out- but it was locked.

“Mother!” Audrey yelled. “Mother, I’m locked in here! Let me out!” She stopped. Surely she’d been loud enough that her mother would have heard. But no one came. A few hours passed, with Audrey calling for help periodically. Audrey didn’t even hear footsteps or distant voices. Audrey supposed she should have counted on her bitch of a mother to pull a trick like this. It seemed that the only way out was through.

Audrey took the knife in her right hand, and cut into her left, carving that spiral design and grunting with pain as red blood fell to the ground and flowed onto her pantlegs. Her craftsmanship was rather shoddy, but who could blame her with a flesh canvas to work on? By the time she finished, she was panting. She drew her hand over the pentagram and let the blood drop. As soon as the blood hit the pentagram, her cuts began to scar over, leaving her hand looking as though it was tattooed.

Audrey tried the door again. It was unlocked. The second Audrey stepped through the door, it slammed hard behind her. The hallway within was still in that cartoonish style, and it was also gloomily dark. There were posters on the walls for Bendy cartoons and comics.

Oh, Hello? A greasy voice called- apparently from nowhere. It was her father’s voice- albeit a more deranged version of it. What’s a pretty girl doing in such a dangerous place all by herself? Oh, don’t answer that. I know. You’re here to come get me, aren’t you? Well, it’s a long ways off from here. Why don’t I give you a little power to help you along?

Audrey’s left hand shook, then crackled with electricity. Suddenly, her scar was glowing.

Oh, but what’s power without the opportunity to use it?

The wall at the end of the hall opened up in a swirl of black goo, and a massive blob of ink made its way through it before splitting off into several man-sized black blob abominations with arms and tortured faces. And they were coming straight for her. With a cry of panic, Audrey jerked out her arms to try and protect herself. Electric sparks flew from her left hand, arcing to one of the monsters, which fell over, melted into a puddle, and disappeared. Suddenly empowered, Audrey repeated the motion to take out the rest of them.

Very good. I think I’ll leave you be to wander a while. Oh, this will be so entertaining to watch.

“Wait, Nathan, where are you?” Audrey called out, “I’m here to come get you.”

Silence.

“Nathan!”

Still nothing.

“Father?”

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. With that, Audrey continued on. The place mostly just seemed like a ghostly, abandoned animation studio, with the addition of spilled ink and pipes everywhere. She also found a few audio logs of her father’s employees, but nothing that brought her closer to finding or rescuing her father.

Eventually she came to the art department, sporting rows of desks with unfinished Bendy cartoons upon them and puddles of rubber ink upon the floor. A small, chimp-like creature was huddled under one of the desks, drinking a can of soup. Cautiously, from a safe distance, she knelt down to its level.

“Hey, there. Um, can I ask for directions?”

The creature stood up and came after her, babbling in gargled tones. She stood and shocked it, but to her terror, a similar creature- or a spider-like one, or a decapitated pirate-like creature- was coming out from under every desk. Audrey ran. It was clearly too many to take on. Eventually, she ended up at a dead end at the end of a hallway. She’d put a solid twenty feet between her and the butcher gang, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Frantically, she tried all the doors for an unlocked one while shocking as many of the abominations as she could with her left hand.

Then, one of the doors burst open, and a horned woman with a machete and an axe-wielding cartoon dog with a mechanical arm stepped sprang out of it. Audrey, now frozen from confusion, watched as they stabbed their way through the horde. Then, the wolf turned to her and lifted his axe to strike.

Audrey put her arms out. “I mean no harm!” she yelled quickly.

The horned woman came over to her. She appeared surprised to see Audrey. “Oh. Okay. Who are you? I’ve never seen you before. But I’ve seen someone like you. Are you a human? State your name and business.” Her voice and demeanor was gentle, aside from the fact that her machete was pointed directly at Audrey.

“My name is Audrey Arch.”

The swordswoman’s eyes grew wider. “Daughter of Nathan Arch?”

“Yes. And I’m here to rescue him.”

Allison’s eyes hardened. “Tom, take her arms. We need to take her to our base and decide what to do with her.”

In a moment, Tom was restraining her, and she was blindfolded and walking to who knew where.

“Don’t worry too much about this,” Allison said gently, “Tom and I have to take precautions like this, but if you really do mean no harm, you have nothing to fear. Honestly, it’s a hopeful sign that we’re seeing another human.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #my fanfiction #Audrey Arch #nathan arch #Allison Angel #butcher gang #Audrey and the Dark Revival

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 4 years ago

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The Montgomery Files: Chapter 4

No pairing, really

by @adventuresintooblivion

Word Count: 1306

Summary: Montgomery has to team up with Wolfe for the day. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

A shrill voice suddenly came from Montgomery’s headpiece as she switched to a new Judge, “Hey, is this thing on?”

Montgomery physically recoiled from the hypothetical ice pick that suddenly jabbed into her ear.

“Yeah it’s on, Wolfe. Stop shouting.”

The red-head replied cheerily, “Oh it’s you. Montgomery isn’t it? I hear you on the comms with Y/N all the time.”

Montgomery closed her eyes and prayed to any god that was listening for some shred of patients, “Yeah, though did she give you permission to call her by her first name?”

“Of course! We’re awesome friends, and we make great partners. You sound pretty cool too, wanna be friends.”

“Hmmm, is talking to Y/LN the only thing you remember me from?”

“No, This is the first time I’ve ever met anyone named Montgomery.”

Montgomery ignored her for a moment and went over the schematics, “You’re coming up on Sector 62. There was a noise complaint so it should be pretty cut and dry. I’ve been authorized by-”

The red-head interrupted, “So I was thinking that maybe you could come over for a game night on Tuesday. We could probably have-”

“Wolfe, focus. Now isn’t the time for this. It might just be a noise complaint, but it could also be a lot of other things too as you should know. Be on your guard.”

Wolfe pouted as she turned the camera on, “Fine, but I don’t need your help. I’m a total badass. You probably noticed huh? I got this one guy right between the eyes yesterday and-”

Montgomery thunked her head on the back of her chair and mumbles under her breath, “How did you ever become a Judge?”

“Did you say something?”

“Nothing.”

Wolfe stormed through the building, her the sound of her boots echoing off the walls despite the chatter of hundreds of people. Her gun remained in her holster. It was like disturbing a beehive, the moment the people living in Sector 62 saw her. Most went into their homes too afraid or too tired to mess with a Judge. Others stiffened, their eyes following her hands. Montgomery noticed some men speaking into walkie talkies.

“Two men communicating with an unknown entity. Possibly alerting others to your presence. Acknowledge.”

Wolfe ignored her as she entered the elevator.

Montgomery actually growled before shouting into the microphone, “ACKNOWLEDGE.”

Wolfe yelped and jerked away, unable to remove her earpiece or helmet.

“What the FUCK Montgomery?” she shrieked.

The brunette groaned, “We have these protocols for a reason Wolfe. They’re here to keep you and innocent civilians. If you don’t know that already maybe I should send you back to training.”

A loud thump sounded over the headset. Did she just stomp her foot?

“You can’t do that!”

Montgomery rubbed her eyes, already done with this mission before it’d even started, “Acknowledge or you’ll fucking find out.” Wolfe muttered under her breath. “Sorry, Wolfe, I didn’t hear you.”

She was answered by exasperation, “Acknowledged.” The elevator door finally opened.

The noise complaint turned out to be a fight between two men. A deal had devolved into a physical altercation when the seller accused the buyer of trying to short him. Good sex slaves, especially one like Jade, were hard to come by.

When the door opened it revealed a classic scene of debauchery. Filth and clutter mingled on the furniture alongside people. Smoke made the air hazy as old booze made it stale. Seven more women were chained and kneeling in formation, preparing to be sold to the other men in the room. While one curled about her barely clothed form, trying to protect herself from the arguing men on either side of her.

Wolfe hadn't checked any of the information provided for her before she'd kicked down the door. Otherwise she might've known that this particular Sector was well known for human trafficking. She also possibly just might have not been so rough as she stormed into the room. Then maybe the door wouldn't have completely splintered under her weight and scared the ever living daylights out of the girls being sold. And there is the thinnest chance that, had faced with a more considerate salvation, they wouldn't have bolted.

The man who was selling these women, later identified as Lewis Pentric, reached for his taser the moment the door opened. The women behind him screamed. One yanked on their chains. Another ran for the door. The two remaining customers who were waiting their turn, toppled beer bottles as they stood.

Glass crashed. Bodies hit each other. The grotesque sound of bones snapping filled the air. And suddenly the building tension broke as both Lewis fired his taser at the stunned Judge. It missed her by mere inches. Her retaliation was to shoot. Blindly. Missing every. Single. Target. Except for Jade. A bullet ricocheted off a nearby metal table before lodging itself into her shoulder.

After several women had squeezed by the red-head, the buyer decided it was his turn. He shot forward with a burst of speed, hitting Wolfe across the chest to send her flying.

“Wolfe! Get off the ground. Don't let anyone pin you.”

As the buyer’s footfalls disappeared down the hallway another customer, a large burly man with tangled, greasy hair, loomed over the smaller Judge. He slowly stepped down onto her neck. Her breath left her lungs in a short spasms as she attempted to fight him off. She feebly hit the man's calf, with little to no effect.

“W..Montgomery. Call for backup.” She croaked.

Montgomery didn't have the option for backup, they wouldn't arrive in time. Hell, a quarter of the people she could send would probably be on the take for something like this. If they found out Wolfe had crashed a deal, they'd be pissed.

It took her a moment to find out if she herself could do anything. Then finally a happenstance turn of Wolfe’s head saved her life. The man was standing right in the doorway. A few lines of code later and the door came crashing down on his head.

He collapsed like a bag of potatoes right on top of Wolfe. Montgomery winced at the video of the incoming bulk but there wasn't much she could do about it from Control. Lewis took this opportunity to make a run for it.

“Wolfe, the primary target is getting away. Please pursue.”

She was answered by a whine. After a few grunts, Wolfe was free from the weight of the man who had tried to kill her.

“Wolfe? Please respond.”

The Judge in question glanced around. Her and Jade were the only ones left in the room.

After a few more moments of pestering Wolfe finally answered, “Montgomery, I don't give a shit about what you have to say. I'm not moving.”

Montgomery practically screeched into the mic, “You don't WANNA? Excuse me but what happened to all that ‘best Judge on the street’ talk? Cause if you were, we aren't done. You have to order a MedEvac, a clean up team and you have a perp to chase down!”

“Says who? You're not a judge.” She snapped as she remained leaning against the wall.

Montgomery began typing furiously, “Fine, if you won't then I will.”

Before she could get more than a few keystrokes in, her feed went dark. No video. No audio. Just blackness.

Montgomery sighed heavily, “Mission failed.”

Rodriguez approached her cautiously, “Bad mission?”

Montgomery slowly looked up at him, “I don't want to talk about it.”

A few days later, Montgomery found herself snooping around the MedEvac records. Maybe it was a morbid curiosity but she found herself scrolling down to the date of her and Wolfe’ first mission. After a couple minutes of searching, a realization dawned on her. Wolfe hadn't called a MedEvac all day.

#dredd imagine #dredd fanfiction #dredd fanfic #reader insert #the montgomery files #Dredd OCs

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agent-ccarter · 5 years ago

Text

tricks. quentin beck (mysterio)

Request from @filthydeatheaters

***SPIDERMAN FAR FROM HOME SPOILERS***

(Not my gif!!)

Request: maybe an Quentin Beck x ShieldAgentReader and how y/n figured out quentins plan and get into an argument and she left and went to the shield hideout and tell quentins plan to "nick fury" and "maria hills"

Pairing: Quentin Beck x reader

Warning: angst, swearing, violence

A/N: I’ve only seen far from home once and that was a couple of days ago, so i’m sorry if i mess anything up!! Also, instead of going into an argument, I decided to make it more like the movie, with Quentin tricking the reader with the drones. Hope you enjoy!!

Part 1 | Part 2

***

“Y/N! I’m back!”

“Shit,” you muttered, shovinQuentin'sns burner phone back into the drawer before running into the bathroom.

“Where are you?”

“Bathroom,” you shout, flushing the toilet to keep up your facade before entering the living room of your rented apartment in Venice. Beck and yourself had met through Fury, who trusted you as one of the best Shield agents in the field. You quickly had begun a fling, but it wasn’t long until you noticed how secretive Beck was. You’d ask him questions about the Elemental’s, about his home, but he’d always shoot them down; originally, you believed that this was simply him not wanting to talk about the horrific things he’d been through, but you also noticed that things about the stories he did tell weren’t quite right.

“Parker’s a good kid,” he said, putting food into the fridge from the brown paper bag he carried, “Smart.”

“Sure is,” you smiled, complimenting the young boy you’d come to know well, “Stark taught him well.” In response to this, Beck scoffed slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just think the kid did that himself, it had nothing to do with Stark,” You noticed an almost annoyance in his tone, followed by him muttering, “Stark did nothing but help himself.” He thought you hadn’t heard, but you definitely had.

“When’s the next attack?” You asked, attempting to change the conversation, but you also tried to find out more. Quentin sat in the chair, reading some Shield file as he rested his feet on the coffee table.

“In a couple of days,” he said, refusing to look up from the paper. You switched on the t.v, flicking through to find an English channel, but you were stopped your phone buzzing in your pocket. You pulled it out, seeing that you’d been sent an audio file from another agent, with the caption “URGENT: QUENTIN BECK.”

“You speak Italian now?” Quentin asked, referring to the Italian channel the T.V had ended up on, snapping you from your daze. You attempted to feign a laugh in response, before telling him you needed to call Fury and heading out to the balcony. You checked behind you, making sure the door was shut and Quentin was still sat in the chair looking at the file, before pressing play on the file. You heard Quentin ranting about Tony Stark, complaining about how he had wronged all of ‘them’, to which an apparently large group of people cheered.

You should’ve known. You knew there was something wrong from the start.

“Oh, Y/N,” you heard an all to familiar voice from behind you, making you know you’d been caught, “I should’ve known there was a brain in that pretty little head of yours. It was only a matter of time before you figured it out, I’m just surprised it took you this long.”

You considered your next move; you could either try and talk him down, or you could fight. Beck was a smart guy, and can talk his way out of any situation. So, you scooped your leg up, twisting your body to aim for his face with your foot. Unluckily for you, he predicted this move, and grabbed you foot in mid air. He uttered a series of tut’s, mocking you and your attempt to escape. Beck fiddle with something on his wrist, and before you knew it, you had been plunged into a nightmare.

You felt something grab at your neck, pulling you off of your feet and leaving you struggling for air. You watched as the floor beneath you began to fall apart, shattering into almost glass shards which plummeted to the black floor beneath you. The hand around your neck let go, leaving you to curl into a ball as you fell to prevent the most damage when you hit the floor below.

“Agent Y/N?” You heard, stopping you even realising that you had stopped falling. There stood a teenage boy in a familiar red and blue suit, but it was all ripped and bloodied, and Peter’s eyes were filled with tears.

“Peter, what happened?” You tried to scramble to your feet, but you felt like you’d been strapped to the floor.

“You, Y/N. You could’ve saved me, why- why didn’t you save m-me?” Peter gasped for air as a line was painted across his white throat, angry crimson blood pouring out as the boy began to collapse to the floor. It was only then that you noticed Fury and Agent Hill stood behind, in a similar state to the boy.

You screamed, “WHAT IS HAPPENING? SOMEONE HELP!”

“Y/N,” you heard Quentin from behind you, the heavy echo of his boots surrounding you, “you could’ve stopped this. You could’ve stopped me. But you didn’t, you silly little girl. And now, you have to die.” He pulled you to your feet by your neck once more, leaving you gasping for air once again. He gave you one more sickening smile, before throwing you, allowing you to collide with a brick wall and to pass out.

You woke with a groan, feeling yourself propped up. When your eyes opened, you were surrounded by men, all speaking a different language. You stood to your feet, using the wall to help you up, much to the dismay of those who found you.

“I’m ok, I’m ok,” you repeated, hoping that if you said it enough it would finally be true. They continued to shout, but you staggered away, sights set on getting to the Shield base before Quentin did. You walked through the streets, gaining many strange looks from people as they saw your bloody face. Eventually, you found your destination, where you were greeted by Quentin having a conversation with Fury and Maria.

“-I honestly don’t know what happened, she just went crazy, kicking and screaming. It was terrifying!” Beck said, managing to produce convincing tears to well in his eyes.

“You areshole.” You shouted, leaning against the curved wall for strength.

“Agent Y/L/N!” Fury said, shouting for a medic to help you.

“She needs help!” Beck shouted.

“He attacked me, he messed with my head, he’s-he’s not on our side, Nick. You can’t trust him!”

“What is wrong with you, Y/N? You just lost it, I didn’t do anything!” Nick helped you stand up, and then helped you onto a stretcher.

“Nick, Nick!” You held his arm as you were pushed down by a medic, “We can’t trust him, Nick.”

The man merely winked at you, grabbing your arm reassuringly before checking Beck was out of earshot, before uttering, “Don’t worry, I know.”

****

Hope you like this!! it was super fun to write, and I’m totally open to writing more FFH and Quentin Beck imagines!! Request are open!

#quentin beck #quentin beck imagine #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck x y/n #mysterio #mysterio imagine #mysterio x reader #spiderman #spiderman far from home #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #jake Gyllenhaal imagine #jake Gyllenhaal x reader #tom Holland

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